by K. Gorman
But, without outside feedback—and Tylanus did not count, in this case, even if what he’d said in those dreams had come back in hearsay as being true—it was hard to tell which of those times, if any, had been real.
“If you can get through to here, then you have the ability,” Tia said quietly. “And if you did it before, you can do it again.”
She gathered up Karin’s hand in her own. Warmth slipped through the bandages, as well a pleasant sensation as she rubbed her fingers between her own. Tia closed her eyes, a strange, shuddering emotion making her face pinch together, pressed her lips to the bandages, then lowered Karin’s hand back to the bed, smoothing it down.
“I’m going to send you back now. When you’re done, come find me.”
Panic slid into Karin’s chest. She stiffened. “What? No, I—”
“Shh.”
Energy slid into the air, strong and familiar. It followed Tia’s hand when she smoothed it over Karin’s arm. Karin drew in a surprised breath as it buzzed through her skin and burrowed into her marrow like the pulse of a drumbeat. Her entire body went still, her focus inimically locked.
She recognized its touch. That second energy. The one that had been dogging her heels for the past week—and had gotten her in trouble more than once.
“Find me,” Tia whispered.
Her voice was already fading, parsing apart, the room beginning to dissipate.
Karin fought it. Her hand shook as she clasped it around Tia’s wrist. In the real world, she felt the dull sensation of pain from the movement.
She met her gaze with wild eyes.
“Where?”
Tia gave her a small smile. Her shoulder twitched. A second later, she brought up her other hand to Karin’s face. Fingers touched her forehead, brushing across it like a mother would a child.
“I’m in the Cradle,” she said simply.
“We found a Cradle,” Karin said. “Maybe you’re in it. Maybe—”
Tia was shaking her head. “No. Trust me. You’ll know it when you find me. My Cradle is… unique.”
Karin made to speak, but Tia bent forward before she could. She halted her tongue, stunned as the scientist’s hand came to rest gently on her face, fingers touching her skin.
“Come find me, little light. We don’t have much time.”
The room quavered around them. Her second energy started to ebb. She slid down. Her eyelids closed, blocking out the rest of the room.
As the dream dissipated and darkness fell, Tia’s touch followed her down, gentle and strong.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You know, this is the second time I’ve been in a cell with you,” Soo-jin said. “I’m beginning to think you’re a bad influence.”
Karin groaned. The light flared, too bright for her eyes—which was saying something, considering who she was. She squinted against it. She was on the floor again and, by the numbing prickle of her lower left leg, and the way her shoulder felt like it had gone to bed in a vise grip, she was guessing she’d been there for a while.
At least she hadn’t been deposited in a boneless heap this time. She remembered coming back to the cell. Remembered, too, the disdain she’d given the stained mattress that decorated the dusty bedframe.
By Soo-jin’s sitting position on the floor beside her, she guessed they shared the feeling.
“Or maybe we should go lesbian,” Karin grunted. She made to push herself up, but stopped with a hiss as pain stabbed through her arm and chest. “Oww.”
“What, you think Marc would swing?” Soo-jin snorted. “Nah, he doesn’t seem the type to share.”
Karin let a slow breath pass through her teeth, easing herself through the pain. She’d expected the arm, but she must have broken—or at least cracked—a rib. Maybe even two. She closed her eyes, jaw muscles tensing.
Soo-jin’s tone grew more serious. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” With a grunt, she straightened herself out and pulled her legs out in front of her. They, at least, had come through unscathed—well, except for the bruises. There were a few of those.
She leaned back against the bedframe, wincing as the pressure pushed into her ribs again. On the right side, this time, to balance out the arm. When she opened her eyes again, Soo-jin had lifted an eyebrow, her expression skeptical.
“Oh, yeah? Since when did you get a medical license? Here, give me that.” Despite the levity of the words, and the way Soo-jin tried to brush it off, her brows furrowed as she took Karin’s wrist in her hand, features growing sharper from the tension in her face.
Pain bubbled up through her bones. She wrestled with it, swallowing the yell into a garbled noise in her throat.
“You need nanos and a brace,” Soo-jin said. “Neither of which we have.”
“Yeah, yeah, I fucked myself up.” She winced, the sardonic laugh drawing a hiss of pain from her chest. “I also broke a rib or two. Cracked, I’m hoping.”
Soo-jin swallowed. She laid the arm back down and swung to her feet, crouch-walking to Karin’s right side.
For the first time, she got a look at the other side of Soo-jin’s face.
“Holy fucking shit, dude. Are you okay?”
She looked like she’d been blindsided by a bus. Most of the skin was either red, brown, or purple. Her left eye had puffed up, deep purple and red-brown bruising forming a thick line where her occipital bone lay. Below, a green-tinged strip of bruising followed her cheek down to the corner of her mouth, which had swollen. What little Karin could see of the eye appeared bloodshot.
Soo-jin shrugged. “I got punched. Not the end of the world.”
“You got punched by a cyborg,” she corrected. “That’s a little different.”
“Yeah, but his mates had arrived by then, and he’d already beaten you guys up, so I don’t think his heart was into it.” Her eyes flicked up. “Marc is alive, by the way. At least, he was alive when they took him away.”
Relief flooded through her chest. The room seemed to spin. For a second, she didn’t breathe. Everything pinched together in her throat.
She leaned her head back as tears brimmed on her face. “Gods.”
“Yeah, I know.” Soo-jin gave a shuddering breath. “This is a fucked up situation to be in. Lift your arm. I need to get under your shirt.”
Karin complied. Cool air pressed against her abdomen as Soo-jin lifted the shirt. She clenched her teeth, breath catching in her throat as the other woman prodded her skin.
“Baik’s alive, too.”
This time, Soo-jin’s breath caught. “Thank the saints.”
“He didn’t look too well, but he was alive and walking. Saw him when they pulled me out for interrogation. I assume they did the same with you, too.”
“Yep. Didn’t have much to ask me once they found out I was a grunt.” Her shirt dropped back down. “This looks like hell, but I think you missed out on a full break. I didn’t see him punching you here, anyway.”
“I think it happened when I fell that last time.” Karin grimaced, wiggling herself straighter. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Yeah, we’re all a bit fucked up right now.”
Soo-jin gave her a pat on the shoulder and crouch-walked her way back to Karin’s other side, easing herself against the bedframe. The light wasn’t as glaring as before. Instead, it felt too dim, putting a gray cast on the old, neglected walls. The smell of rust, along with a more insidious, damp mold that seemed to stick inside her nose, grew stronger as she thumped the mattress behind them.
“At least we get a bed.”
Karin snorted—and immediately regretted it when the pain flared in her ribs. “This was Emanuel’s room. You couldn’t pay me to sleep on that.”
“You’ve done enough sleeping, anyway.” Soo-jin’s gaze ticked over to hers. “Did you have a dream?”
She groaned. “Was I talking?”
“Mumbling, yes. Couldn’t make out what you were saying. Was it…?” She trailed off, her eyebrow arching up.
/>
Was it a cross-dimensional dream, she was asking.
Mindful of the guards outside the door—and of the likelihood they’d put listening devices in the rooms, though she didn’t see any cameras—Karin nodded.
“Yeah, it was one of the weird ones. Lady confirmed the dimensional walking. Said I’m probably doing it.” She gave her head a small shake, mindful of the damage to her ribs. “It was weird. It actually felt like she was trapped somewhere.”
Soo-jin grunted. “Maybe she is.”
There was more to tell her than that, but Karin stopped, her gaze sliding down to the bottom of the door. Two shadows smudged the outside light, one on either side. The guards, silent but listening.
Gods, this was fucked up. She remembered many nights where she’d watched the line at the bottom of the door, looking for the shadows of passing guards.
She was right back where she’d started.
“All right.” Soo-jin blew out a breath, then patted her on the shoulder. “Sorry, hun, but we need to get this bra off. It’ll just press into your ribs otherwise.”
Karin groaned, but leaned forward as Soo-jin positioned herself at her back and lifted her shirt again. She yelped as the clasp came loose, a jolt of pain flushing through the side of her chest, right hand tightening its grip on her knee. Soo-jin fidgeted another moment—likely recognizing the style—and the straps pulled free soon after. Karin grabbed it from under her shirt, breathing smooth and shallow as the ache in her chest settled down again.
Good thing it wasn’t a pull-on.
Soo-jin patted her left shoulder in sympathy. “It really should be bound, but at least that won’t be pressing in.”
“Yep.” She groaned. “You know, I think I prefer being an Alliance prisoner. Centauri seems to be lacking on the medical care.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. At least, they’d given Baik and Marc enough care to stay alive.
Unless, of course, they hadn’t. And Baik’s current state of living was due to his augments. Or his status as an Alliance Commander.
Saints.
“Karin?”
“Yeah?” She peered over. Soo-jin’s face was serious, all sharp angles again.
“I’m going to have to forgive Baik for what he did to you. He really pulled through for us back there.”
Soo-jin swallowed. Her right hand flexed and rose up, showing a tremble in her muscles. There was a bruise on her wrist, too, and a few scrapes and cuts along her knuckles. Defensive wounds.
“Yeah?” Karin prompted.
“Yeah. He jumped in front of me and Cookie when that guy came after us. If it wasn’t for him…” She swallowed again. “Plus, it was my knife that—”
“You couldn’t have known he’d do that. No one could have.”
“No, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was my knife.” Soo-jin’s jaw muscles tensed. After a moment, she let herself lean back on the bed as Karin did, her eyes closing. “Gods, this is so fucked up.”
Yep. It was. And she didn’t see a way out of it. And where was Nomiki? Had she gotten free? Jon? Had they beaten that other soldier—Scaro Prell?
And what did Alpha Centauri want, exactly? How had they even found this place, anyway?
“Karin?”
“Yeah?”
Soo-jin leaned over and rested her head on her shoulder. The weight pressed in on her left side just enough to twinge pain from her wrist and chest. “If you can go, you should just go.”
Karin winced at the laugh that came up.
“That’s a big if.” But she laid her head against Soo-jin’s, eyes closing into painful slits. It took her a few breaths to relax against the sharpness in her chest. When it lowered back to a manageable level, she braced herself and lifted her hand. “Hold onto me.”
Energy spun through her arm at a thought, the light dancing and shimmering like water. On its heels came the deeper, heavier churn of the other energy.
Her arm trembled as she brought it forward. Tia’s voice, dry and earnest, slipped across her thoughts.
“If you did it before, you can do it again.”
The energy tingled, then seemed to catch on something, like an old engine waking up. It buzzed stronger, sliding through her body like a warm current.
She caught at it, strained, gasped. Gritted her teeth. Forced it through. Felt a fluttering at the edge of her senses. The world around her ebbed and flowed, light dimming and dropping like water. As a whirring sensation shifted into the front of her head, Soo-jin encircled her hand around her bicep, grip going firm.
The world around her quivered. When the light flickered, the room took on a gray cant similar to gull feathers.
Her brain stretched and thinned. A scramble of energy rose through her limbs, at once alien and familiar—she stiffened, recognizing it from the shift events on Nova—and her heart accelerated. A pulling sensation came over her. Soo-jin’s hand tightened on her arm.
Then, with a distinct click in her head, everything settled.
When she looked up again, the room was dark, the guards were gone, and the compound was silent.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The buzz from the energy faded into a sensation like summer rain. Everything was absolutely, singularly still. Quiet. As if someone had dropped a series of heavy, sound-blocking curtains between her and the rest of the world.
Which, in a way, she had.
This certainly wasn’t a dream.
She let her light flare, illuminating the small room. Beside her, Soo-jin’s eyes were round as saucers—even the swollen one looked around in incredulity—and the woman’s grip had doubled on her elbow.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?” Soo-jin breathed, the words hissing through her teeth in astonishment.
Karin, too, took a shuddering breath. “I guess it worked.”
Soo-jin didn’t answer. A few of her dreads slipped across Karin’s shoulder as she moved her head, taking it all in.
Then, she stood.
Karin followed more slowly, giving a pained hiss and grunt as she leveraged herself up on the bed.
“Guards are gone.” Soo-jin squinted at the bottom of the door. “From what I can tell, anyway. The light’s completely different.”
Karin spared it a glance. It was. Ignoring the absence of the lit tube above them, the corridor outside should have just been ablaze in artificial glory—a bright, strong, spectrum-rich light that had given them a good idea of the guards’ positions.
Now, it was subdued. Grayer. As if it were a sun shining through a cloudy day. The guards’ shadows were different.
The doorknob rattled as Soo-jin tried it. She swore.
“Sol’s child. Locked.”
“We have to get it open,” Karin said. “There are no other ways out of these rooms.” Her eyes wandered to the dresser. Her right arm lifted to point. “There. Get one of the drawers. See if you can swing the heavy end into it.”
“Oh, I’m all over that.” Wood screeched as Soo-jin yanked the drawer out, making the dresser skip a few centimeters ahead from the force. “Don’t worry. We’re getting this door open even if I have to break my foot on it.” She hesitated. “You sure we’re cool? No guards out there?”
Karin grunted. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
Soo-jin gave her a quick, sure nod. Then, she focused on the door.
Cr-crack!
The end of the drawer swung in off-kilter to its point, smashing into the door with a two-beat sound. Soo-jin adjusted her grip.
Another smash crashed through her ears. Part of the door’s façade dented inward, a small pockmark gleaming in Karin’s light.
Soo-jin swung again and again, bending down on occasion to inspect the lock. Damage piled steadily around it. More pockmarks, along with a few scrapes and bends.
The first crack appeared nearly a minute later. Soo-jin paused, inspected it, then hammered in harder.
Eventually, it gave way.
A break appeared to the left. I
nside, the door’s locking mechanism gleamed back like a hidden firearm.
Soo-jin drew back, planted her feet, and swung.
The lock gave way with a splintering snap. Part of the door—the piece directly around the lock—collapsed. With another blow, the entire thing punched outward like a soda top.
Soo-jin cleared the lock mechanism away, put her hand through the ensuing hole, and pulled.
The hallway swung into view, its light gray, dark, and drizzly.
They waited. When no one shot at them for ten seconds, they both poked their heads out of the doorway.
Yep. Definitely still in the compound. It was part of the first hallway they’d entered in, but farther down past the initial intersection where the dormitories sat.
“Suns, Karin,” Soo-jin said, looking around as she stepped out. “I may start a cult in your name.”
“Please don’t. I really have no idea what I’m doing.”
It looked the same as the normal compound, except for the weird lighting. At first, she’d thought that the odd desaturation she was seeing was simply an effect of her mind—that the act of doing the shift required a much larger power and mental energy draw than she was used to and that the weird vision was a result from that.
But her own light cut through the dim, depressing front like a crack of lightning. Stark shadows wavered as she pivoted in a slow circle, taking it all in.
“Is this… the Shadow world?” she asked, looking around.
It certainly seemed familiar, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. There were no Shadows in sight, but the strangeness of the light pulled at her.
“Hells, I hope not.” Soo-jin shivered, then leveled an even gaze toward her. “But let’s find out. Next time, you need to cross-dimension me into a chair outside a beach-front margarita hut.”
“Or that world with the sexy people and the Ecstasy in the air?”
“Yes. Or that one.” Soo-jin flashed her a sudden grin. “Raphael’s Keep. Remember it.”
“Gotcha.” Karin swallowed. “You’re, ah, taking this well.”
“Being in another dimension, you mean?” Soo-jin gave an audible swallow. “Honestly, I’m trying not to think about it.”
