Dark Ember

by R. D. Vallier

  Are my wants even possible? I wondered. Complete trust? Earned acceptance? Intimacy? It sounded farfetched and out of reach. A love found only in fairytales.

  I bit my lip as Delano poked his meal. Weldon is right. I am broken, I thought, fidgeting with a bead on my shirt. But maybe Del is, too. And maybe … maybe … our shards and pieces can click together. Maybe we will form something new.

  Delano set aside his empty can and fork, then leaned against the wall and stared at the clump of electrical wires dangling from the ceiling. His index finger tapped his knee as if his troubled thoughts were trying to transmit through Morse code.

  My eyes narrowed. Magics and risks be damned. I survived one sham of a marriage; I won't live another. I refuse to be like Lydia or James, or Sam for that matter. I won't take the darkshine until Delano knows he is loved. He deserves something real, not a magically induced lie. We both do.

  Delano's face brightened when I straddled his lap. He clenched my hips when I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him.

  "What was that for?" he murmured.

  I pressed my forehead against his, smelling tomatoes and oregano. His black, feathery hair twisted between my fingers. "Because I appreciate you…"

  He tugged my waistband. "Mmm! Enough to repeat—?"

  I slapped my hand over his mouth. "Shut up. You need to hear this." His eyebrows jumped, and I felt him smile beneath my palm. His hand slipped to my hip. I forced a deep breath, my heart pounding. "I appreciate you, okay? I appreciate your patience and how you never pressure or judge me. I appreciate how you trust me to figure out my own path, yet support me on my journey. I appreciate how you sacrifice for the smallest of creatures, but refuse to take crap from anyone. And I appreciate how you see beauty in everything, how you exhaust yourself in an overwhelming fight to protect it, because you believe in goodness and duty and life." My hand slid to his ear, caressed the folded, bumpy ridge. "Now, don't get me wrong. You're an insufferable flirt, have an awful temper, are broody, and sometimes a total asshole, but—"

  Delano laughed. "Is this another attempt to seduce me? Because—"

  "But!" I pressed my hand against his mouth. "I adore it. I appreciate all of you. Your good, your bad, your beauty, and your rough edges. I like your fears and your insecurities, your weaknesses and strengths. I enjoy everything good about you, but I like your darkness, too." His smile faded beneath my palm. I slid my hands to his chest, felt his heart drumming, slid a finger down his tank-top's ribs. "I know you hold anguish and shame about your past, and I don't expect you to tell me any of it. But you need to know, although I wish you never endured it, I also accept it and don't think less of you. It made you the man you are today … and I …" I swallowed hard. "I really, really like that man."

  Delano twirled my hair around his finger. "Miriam, I—" He sighed, then gazed at me with a smile which suggested his heart was either swelling or breaking. "I really, really like you, too."

  Soon, a motorcycle's engine roared beneath us, my fingers tucked inside Delano's waistband, my cheek pressed between his shoulders. As we raced along twisty roads entering his territory, the days ahead seemed less daunting. With each throttle twist, my unease shifted toward confidence and a desire to fight for a stable future. Del will bring the intel needed, I convinced myself as aromas shifted from burger joints to sleeping cedars. The rebels will complete their mission. Lexine will support the cause, and the Realm's corruption will crumble. It might take years, but years we have. Together. The pavement blurred beneath us; the stars above shone strong and constant. I squeezed Delano's waist, smiling. Delano squeezed my left calf in return.

  We parked the motorcycle off an overgrown service road, then headed to the rebel camp, hand in hand. A half-mile out, Delano said: "We shouldn't mention us until after the consulate. It might cause distractions."

  I knew he meant Orin. I knew he was right, and I agreed. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. We kissed then, and groped, and … that was all. We separated, wincing and grunting. Delano's ribs were bruised, as well as his face, his pubis mound, his glutes. My everything felt tender and cramped. So we kept our fluids to ourselves, giggled about our age and how even darklings chafed, and hoped our kisses and caresses while walking relieved enough passion so temptation wouldn't expose our secret within the camp.

  Our worry, however, proved unfounded. When we entered the camp we discovered charcoal and ash. The rebels' hideout had been burned to cinder, and all the faeries were gone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  I never thought I'd be elated to find Cham, and I had shocked us both when I threw my arms around him. Although, technically, he'd found me, crossing a neighboring farmstead, a coyote at my side. Even with coyotes howling progress, Delano searching nights, and the rebels searching for us, it took two days to track them to an abandoned silo on the low west side of the territory, surrounded in gold hills and oaks.

  What remained of the rebels, anyway.

  Xalvador had been murdered up north, the general found in bed with his throat slit. Some people blamed sniffers, others a mole. Morale fractured, and the Realm pounced. Raina broadcasted that those who had been brainwashed into joining the rebels would be pardoned if they surrendered at the consulate, and given a second, although probationary, chance at citizenship. Those who refused her offer would find their families and relations executed, and then be hunted to the ends of the Earth. Most of the rebels had fled for the chance at their old lives. Tonight was the last night for the remainders to decide where they stood. Tonight was also when we were supposed to raid the consulate.

  The local rebels had dwindled to six, including the fourteen-year-old girl, plus Weeper and the sniffer bound in chains. Most of the women absconded for the consulate, children in tow. Orin and Kager remained, and had torched the camp to prevent turncoats from returning with Realm sentry tag-alongs. Dain, the surviving general, hadn't surrendered, but only five of his rebels stayed. He'd scrubbed the consulate attack plan, stating their numbers were too low to risk. Disagreements and fights had erupted. Cham laughed bitterly when he told me this. How can you risk rebel lives without rebels? I think he was trying for dark humor, but it came off sad and lost. Cham and his rebels silently splintered off and decided to continue with the consulate plan. A final act of defiance from a group dead on arrival.

  Now, I followed a coyote along a dry creek to a large culvert beneath a road. Warmth pulsed from inside.

  "Orin?" His name echoed inside steel.

  "Hey."

  I entered in a stoop; the coyote stayed behind. Orin sat halfway inside, his back against one curved wall, his Converse against the other. He moved his AK and BB gun and an empty box of Jujubes so I could settle beside him. A stream of pebbles stretched beneath our bent knees.

  "I heard what happened. Cham said you were doing rounds."

  "I needed a break." Orin's eyes were puffy and red. "How was your trip?"

  Ugh. I refused to go there. Alerting Orin that the darklings were becoming every bit the baby-snatching monsters he once believed, that their new leader had abducted and threatened to rape me because I was a fake messiah, and how a darkling position was open to create a queen ripe with power and potential abuse, would distract from tonight's mission.

  "Okay," I said, then added because it seemed safe: "Del now governs Yosemite Valley."

  "How'd he get saddled with that?"

  "He requested it. As a birthday present for me."

  Orin stared at the corrugation. His lips twitched into a smile. "Good."

  "How are you holding up?"

  Orin shrugged and plucked a pebble from the dry stream. "Those idiots who surrendered are deluding themselves. The Realm will kill them." Orin released a puff of breath and chucked the pebble out of the culvert. He gripped his skull, resting his forehead against his knees. After a moment he said: "Vina chose the Realm."

  My heart sank. "Did she say why?"

  "No. I don't understand. She agreed trusting the Realm was s
tupid, but this morning she disappeared."

  "Maybe she went somewhere else?" I said feebly.

  "Where else could she go?" He leaned back and barked a bitter laugh. "Whatever. She's free to do what she wants. In fact, good riddance! One less idiot to worry about."

  I frowned, wanting to tell Orin how great he was, how caring, how he'd someday make someone really lucky. But I knew that didn't mean jack right now. Instead, I placed my hand over his and said: "I'm sorry."

  Orin shrugged. "Why be sorry? If Vina wants her throat slit, that's her business. I don't care." Veins corded his neck as he studied an oxidation stain. His tongue poked inside his cheek, his upper lip, his lower.

  Death isn't always a gunshot or a crash or a cancer eating healthy flesh, I guess. Sometimes death gave no warning. Sometimes the person you loved most simply never came home.

  "You care, Orin."

  "No I don't! If she—"

  "I know you're together."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Oh." Outside, a flock of jays squabbled. He stared at his fingers and sniffed. "How?"

  "I saw you a few nights after the battle, outside the camp when she first kissed you."

  Orin's brow furrowed, his lips working. His eyes widened and he laughed. "That wasn't our first. I was trying to break up, but she kissed me and, well…" He smiled, color marking his cheeks.

  "You? Not? Wait," I stammered, reassembling reality in my mind. I'd been positive I witnessed a new relationship, love blossoming in dark times. But Orin wanted to end it? Had reconsidered because of lust? "Uh, okay … Why were you breaking up?"

  "I dunno," he mumbled. "I mean, Vina's smart, kind, brave. But…" He stared at his hands for several heartbeats. "I guess I never felt a connection." He groaned. "You're right, though. I didn't mean what I said. I do care about her, just not like that. I'm a bastard."

  "No, you're stressed."

  A car raced overhead, the whoosh echoing around us.

  "Cham says you're continuing with the attack," I said.

  "We signed our families' death warrants. We would be bastards if we don't."

  "Delano confirmed the intel."

  Orin didn't reply. I chewed my lip. "He and I will help," I added. "He'll even go on camera to show unity. Two of his darkling friends will fight, too."

  Orin's eyes widened. "Three darklings?" He sounded impressed, but his expression seemed upset. Maybe he knows about the magical backfiring.

  "Who knows? Bavol might help, too. That's four."

  My brain pinged. A spider crept from a crack in the metal. Orin squished it with his thumb. "If you take the darkshine, that's five."

  I blinked. Did Orin seriously urge me to become a darkling? Another car whooshed. "Er, well, that's a bad idea right now."

  "Then afterwards." His jaw tightened. "You clearly want to and the magic will make you stronger. Safer." Orin's stumble over the magic was slight yet punctuating. "Take the darkshine and make it official."

  My mouth went dry. Are we seriously having this discussion? How did I address my conflicted emotions, what happened with Delano and James in Las Vegas, my whirlwind of feelings and questions, my concerns about intimacy and acceptance, desire and love? Orin was a great friend and I adored our conversations, but he was very … male. He thought male. He fought male. Right now he even smelled male, the sunny, salty odor of ocean surfers. He was sculpted from drills and battles, could crack a rib in a hug, and wash laundry on his stomach. I'm sure he was—ahem—male everywhere else, too. If I mentioned words like vagina or nipples, though, he'd turn six shades of red. If I divulged I slept with Delano, he'd probably stiffen with machismo, then sulk in private and act strange and standoffish thereafter.

  I smoothed out my hair. "Well, you know, I hate the idea of an eternal marriage, and, uh, all that," I burbled, feeling hot. "Especially since darklings are forced to love each other. Ugh! It's creepy."

  "So what?" Orin said. "You already love Delano."

  The air evaporated. A car whooshed overhead. "Nn-no I don't."

  "Yes you do."

  "No I don't."

  "Yes you do."

  "No I—"

  "Oh come on, Miriam! It's freaking obvious! You glow when you're together, you pine when he's gone, and whenever he turns you admire his butt."

  My jaw dropped. "I do not!"

  "You do to."

  "Do not!"

  "Do to! Vina and I ran a tally," he said. "You're most active when Delano's in jeans. You prefer a frontal view when he emerges nude."

  I gaped at him, speechless. Another car whooshed overhead. I scowled and hugged my legs. "I'm happy to be your source of entertainment."

  "Don't be angry. I mention it because I care," Orin said. "You're having sex, right?"

  I squeaked and felt my face turn six shades of red.

  He nodded thoughtfully. "So it's your past holding you back. You still let Sam control your life."

  It felt as if Orin had ripped off my clothes and hung me, spread, on a freeway overpass. "Wh-What's your sudden interest in my relationships?" I blurted. "Have you been drinking?"

  Orin snorted. "I wish."

  My eyes narrowed. "You're acting weird. What are you up to?"

  "I'm not up to anything. I'm sick of pretenses causing people I care about to die and make devastating decisions. Vina destroyed her life, but maybe I can help yours."

  "But you hate darklings!"

  "My feelings about darklings are irrelevant," Orin said, "because I love you, and I want you happy. And right now you're cheating yourself."

  I turned to him, my ear pressed against my knees. "You love me?"

  "Uh, yeah," Orin said as if I'd asked: Do you appreciate oxygen? "You think I'd suffer this aggravation if I didn't?"

  I smiled. He scooted closer, wrapped a warm arm around me, and whispered into my ear: "You're not stupid, so stop acting like it, okay? I need my best friend happy."

  I rested against my best friend's shoulder. "I'll work on keeping my stupidity in check."

  Eeeee! I have a best friend!

  A car whooshed overhead. I felt a rush of excitement so strong my insides buzzed with the urge to clap and squeal. "We're gonna succeed tonight. Everything will get better. I feel it."

  Gold twinkled in Orin's blue zircon eyes. "Yeah." He grinned sunshine and daffodils, squeezing me tight. "I feel it, too."

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Weldon and Thida weren't coming.

  The vague text mentioned new regulations, James's leadership, and fearing for Thida's safety. They'd sent their apologies and promised to send us the cash for selling the Beemer, whenever we mailed them the title.

  Too bad the title was buried under a mountain.

  Too bad Bavol was in Las Vegas, numbing himself on a bender.

  That left six rebels, me, and Delano to besiege the consulate with two bound hostages and a hound. I had the least amount of fighting experience (even less than Alys, whose magic wouldn't manifest for at least a decade), so Cham put me in charge of planting Antipersonnel Explosives (APEs). We'd quarreled for an hour. Sam believed a police officer's wife who couldn't shoot was an embarrassment. He'd regularly forced me to the range, but Cham didn't care. My operation, my rules, Cham stated, Delano's threats strengthening his resolve. He didn't even allow me a gun.

  The night crept like a black cat. Chickadees had been roosting for hours. Kager and Alys already scaled the consulate walls, and Delano stalked the woods as a shadowman while we awaited their return. I set the last explosive outside the consulate's boundary, a hundred feet back in the surrounding trees. At the time, watching children manufacture explosives with painted plates, marbles, and nails seemed twisted and monstrous. Now, it seemed fitting their devices would help secure them futures, shed their chains, and avenge their murdered families.

  Our plan was what the generals had created before the fallout, modified for a much smaller force. My job was to create a massive diversion outside the front gates with Delano, Kager, and Alys. The
idea was the consulate guards would dispatch forward, believing they could call border sentries from the Realm gate if needed. Meanwhile, Orin would lead two snipers, Cham, and the hostages through the consulate's rear stream bed, near where Orin and I had escaped in January. The Realm was arrogant enough to believe the now fractured rebels could never mount a tactical assault against the gateway. The snipers would position themselves there to pick off reinforcements, creating a fatal funnel. Orin and Cham insisted the two snipers—along with strategically placed APEs and tripwires—guaranteed no one would get through.

  Meanwhile, Kager and Alys would maintain the front diversions to cover Delano and I as we hoofed it to the consulate. I'd place tripwire APEs along the trails as backup against potential unexpected patrols. Delano would enter the consulate to eliminate anyone remaining (although we anticipated everyone to have retreated to the executive bunker at this point). We'd then meet Cham and Orin and, with the sniffer's help, invade the underground bunker and secure the broadcast studio so Cham could prove the Realm's lies and ignite a revolution.

  The plan sounded simple and logical when Orin and Cham explained it using pen and paper, figures and maps. Outside the consulate walls, however, with a moon in the sky and an impending unknown future, it seemed outrageous. A single misstep would crash everything. And it wouldn't be until much later when I'd realize Orin only addressed resources for entering the consulate. The jerk never made a peep about leaving.

  Tree frogs chirruped. Please let us succeed, I prayed to anything listening. Yes, the Realm's corruption needed to be exposed and destroyed to save the Earth and ourselves. Bad people needed to be brought to justice and good people needed to prosper. But since Las Vegas, success meant much more. I feared what the darklings would develop if we failed. Success, however, opened a path to increase population through choice instead of force. Children would be protected, as would the darklings who dedicated their lives to their territories above all else.