Jeb copies his technique but falls hard on his ass at the final meter.
Slade laughs.
Jeb stands, clamping his teeth together. His legs ache, and his arms are burning from grabbing the rope of vine. His skin wears his inexperience in the raw abrasive mess of his palms.
He takes a few deep calming breaths as Slade’s sarcasm pushes at him without reprieve.
Prick.
The sun is glaring, and Slade moves into the shade.
“Self-preservation, Bloodling?” Jeb asks snidely, happy at any show of the Bloodling’s weakness.
Slade's eyes narrow. “One part of my ancestry is vampire, as you're aware, Jeb Merrick. Fondness for the sunlight does not come naturally, no matter the path of evolution.”
“Yet you can tolerate it?”
“For the most part.”
“What does that mean?”
Slade puts his hands on his hips. “Why does it matter?”
“It matters if you're going to suddenly be useless because I don't know what your limitations are.”
They stare at each other for a full minute, neither budging.
“Bloodlings generally cannot tolerate sunlight for more than eight hours at a time. We are at full strength only at night.”
Principle. “Splendid. Why didn't you convey these things beforehand?”
“You did not need to know. Those facts are not ones we blather about for public consumption.”
“Why?” Jeb begins walking in the direction of Dimitri's slaver fortress. “The nightloper is no threat to you during the day. In that, you have a distinct advantage.”
Slade annoyingly mirrors Jeb's gait. “True. But there are half-breed nightlopers who can run interference and scheme. That is how our females were taken,” he says with quiet ferocity.
Jeb and Slade walk a kilometer in silence.
Finally, Jeb disrupts the quiet. “How?”
Slade doesn't ask to what Jeb is referring.
“After the death of my sire, I was too young in Bloodling culture to succeed the crown. So Gunnar was appointed the reigning monarch for that period before I could take the position.”
They come to the edge of the forest, and Jeb feels the heat emanating from the desert. Pools of steam rise like toxic vapor above dune after dune of sand colored like pale-brown sugar.
He steps from the cool border of the woods into the scalding desert. Jeb and Slade wear white T-shirts styled like turbans, soaked in water from a nearby river that feeds the lake they'd used to jump to this sector.
Jeb feels an uncharacteristic pang of homesickness for his world.
Thoughts of Beth shove their way inside his brain.
He shoves back, determined to persevere.
“The night Gunnar was to be ordained, the nightloper's attacked.”
“Beth's mother?” Jeb cocks his head, vaguely horrified because he knows Rachett's version of the story.
Slade nods. “She was caught between the two factions, and they made a show of killing her slowly, in the most inhumane and vicious way a male can hurt a female.”
They're silent for a time, their feet sinking and rising as they climb one repetitious dune at a time.
A harsh exhale escapes Slade. “A great battle was waged. When one of the half-breeds spilled the knowledge of Lucinda…” Slade shakes his head, stopping for a moment. He shades his eyes against the twin suns that burn down on them, overlapping each other like bloody discs. “Gunnar lost his mind, tearing away from his command position to search for her.”
“I know what happened when he found her.”
Slade gives him a sharp look. “You know that Rachett discovered her first.”
Jeb nods.
“In any event, Gunnar jumped with her body, and he was not heard from for over a year. When he finally showed himself, his mind was gone and Dimitri had captured all our females of breeding age in his absence. Our greatest strategist had been brought too low to perform his duties. Dimitri informed us if we imprisoned Gunnar, he would free half our females in twenty cycles.”
Jeb gives a low whistle. Jeb instantly put Dimitri's real objective together: an entire generation without Bloodling births had effectively damned the species to near-extinction.
Slade nods. “It was a clever plan,” he explains with reluctant admiration. “Then Dimitri became consumed with his own greed and struck a deal with Ryan while he was here for a month, receiving punishment for a crime on Ten.”
Slade’s eyebrows slowly rise in question, and Jeb explains. “He hurt Beth. Rachett saw to the punishment.”
“Ah.” Slade tips his head back, the gesture speaking to the punishment's insufficiency. “Then he did not suffer enough,” Slade says in a low voice of anger.
“Agreed.”
“Once Dimitri found a way to upset the balance of the Reflective sector, he was running with a new plan. Releasing Gunnar made sense.”
“Please tell me Gunnar won't hurt Beth.”
Slade slackens his brisk pace, turning to glare at Jeb. “What do you think we are? We are not brutes—like some.”
The unspoken comparison of Reflective to Bloodling is obvious. Unfortunately, because of Ryan's behavior, Jeb can't defend his fellow Reflectives. Many were confused but still good of heart.
But a few had hearts of evil. And that was all it had taken to ruin his world. Jeb vowed to find each and every one responsible. They will suffer then die.
Slade resumes his pace. “What will happen if Beth's timepiece stops ticking, and someone other than you beckons to her?”
Jeb turns to study the other male, hating his intensity and the gall to inquire of things he knows nothing about.
He answers anyway, “I don't know.”
“I know, Merrick,” Slade says as the huge structure where the Reflectives were held for five years rises in the distance, like an ugly mirage of weathered stone.
“She'll choose, Reflective.”
Jeb snorts.
“She'll choose me.”
Jeb uses a clever turn of phrase he learned from Jacky. “Or she'll tell you to go fuck yourself, Slade.”
Jeb brushes past him, a smile on his face. He is not normally optimistic, but he finds himself wanting to whistle a tune, especially when the Bloodling follows him in sullen silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beth
“They are not the primitive species we have been led to believe,” Kennet states, his legs planted wide, muscular arms crossed over his chest.
Beth fights the temptation to roll her eyes.
He's just a horny Reflective male, ogling the gorgeous Bloodlings.
Graceful and tall, the willowy females are delicate, in direct opposition to the males. With skin so pale gray, it could almost pass for human complexion, their deep eyes are the only features that scream their otherness. The irises are so dark that the pupil blends with the deep brown.
Oh—and the fangs.
Even those are delicate, though. Beth was glad for the curious distance the females had maintained from her.
Beth has always been one to freely state her opinion. And because she is alone with Kennet, she doesn't hold back. “You just want to have sex with a Bloodling female because all our Reflective females are no longer in close proximity to be your whores.”
Kennet strides to Beth, his reaction immediate and visceral, his body trembling with rage.
“How can you presume I partook? There are many willing Papilio females who would spread their legs for a Reflective warrior.”
His crass words sting Beth's ears.
“Listen to yourself, Kennet.” Beth slaps the flat of her palms against his chest, and he staggers backward. “You are like the rest of the male Reflectives. We are not the gods of the universe. I've been beaten into my humility the old-fashioned way. You, Calvin, certainly Ryan, and sometimes even Jeb never see yourselves as you really are.”
Kennet grabs her wrist, and Beth pops her elbow to the side, twisting ha
rd and forcing him to loosen his grip.
“Don't even try to make me see reason by manhandling me because you don't like my words—keep your hands to yourself, Kennet.”
He glares but drops his hands.
“You forget who I am,” she reminds him.
“It's easy to do when you're slobbering all over the Bloodling instead of a Reflective warrior who has declared you.”
His comment gives Beth a wicked hiccup's pause. “Even if I were, what have you been doing? Preening before the Bloodling females like a peacock?” Beth whirls away from him in disgust. “Principle help me!”
The silence is total. Only the wind can be heard beyond Kennet's borrowed tree home. The structure is tiny but accommodating—though right now, it suffocates her. Beth's eyes tear over the highly polished wood, not really seeing, as she seethes.
“Beth, I apologize.”
She closes her eyes, sensing him step closer, but she remains facing away.
“Jeb asked me to watch over you. I can't condone you leaving for an expedition. What does it matter if the lake is the only surface that reflects on One? We are not set to leave until Jeb returns with Rachett.”
Frustration pulls between them like taffy. Beth knows how her conduct appears. Kennet and Calvin were always fair to her, unlike many of the Reflectives.
Beth exhales softly and turns.
Kennet holds his palms away from his body in apparent supplication. “Just listen. The Bloodlings and nightlopers are the natural inhabitants of this sector. One is the most dangerous explored sector for a reason. It's heedless to run off in search of a secondary reflection. Just wait for Jeb and Rachett. We will depart this place together.”
The lies Beth has uttered sit like carrion between them. She inhales deeply, nearly gagging on the stench of her deceit.
Just a moment more. Beth prays to Principle Kennet's attention is focused solely on her.
Her gaze remains on Kennet as Jacky sneaks up behind him. Kennet senses something and begins to turn, though Beth telegraphed nothing and Jacky was soundless in his approach.
“Kennet…” Beth calls softly, and he turns back from the weapon about to bludgeon him.
The wood comes down hard on Kennet's skull, and he crumples.
“I'm sorry,” Beth finishes softly.
“That sucked,” Jacky says in an ashamed voice.
Beth meets his tormented eyes. “It was the only way.”
“He can kick your ass for real?” Jacky asks.
Beth remembers Ryan's viciousness in the ring, her pause speaking for her. “I couldn't take the chance. And even if I could subdue a fellow Reflective, I'd be so damaged from the effort, I'd be worthless to you and Maddie.”
“You're not worthless, Beth,” Maddie says quietly, a sad smile rounding the corners of her lips. She steps over Kennet's still form splayed out on the rough wood floor.
“No,” she whispers, head hung low.
The Threes come to her, wrapping her in arms of solace, and Beth does something she rarely allows herself.
She sobs.
*
Poor Kennet is tucked underneath his cot-like bed and snoring faintly.
“See?” Jacky throws his palm toward Kennet. “He's alive and everything. Just gave the dude a love tap.” He rocks back on his heels, wearing a smug expression of contentment. He flips his dark-blond hair out of his eyes and winks at Maddie. “He'll be out for the count.”
Beth feels like she could puke.
She had to begin a fight she didn't believe in, knock a fellow Reflective unconscious, and sneak out like a thief in the night.
“Let's go, Beth,” Maddie says.
“What about my father?” Beth asks more sharply than she intended.
Maddie's cheeks infuse with pink color.
“You're not serious, Mad? He's like—an alien or some shit. He even has the gray skin!” Jackie whisper-shouts.
Maddie's blush deepens, then her beautiful dark waterfall of hair falls forward, hiding her expression. “Yes.”
“But?” Beth asks, her nausea deepening.
Her dark bluish-violet eyes flash to Beth then look away. “He told me—”
“What'd he tell ya?” Jacky asks, lightly touching her arm.
“He told me that kindred bloods are rare. They're so rare that finding your kindred blood in a lifetime is not typical.”
Jacky's eyebrows rise.
“His words,” Maddie says, a touch defensively.
“Well good for him,” Jacky says with slow sarcasm. “Don't ya see, Mad? He's just trying to get in your panties and make you a Bloodling or something. You should have never given him blood.”
Jacky stalks to the window and rests his forehead on the sill, gazing at the treetops.
“He'd have died,” Maddie says. “I couldn't let him.”
“Sorry, Beth,” Jacky says without turning. “I didn't mean to put down your dad. Really.”
“It's all right.”
Beth doesn't want to think of the last conversation she had with her father. It didn't go well.
He wants her to remain on One and give up The Cause.
Beth can't do that.
He railed against her. Sinking low, Gunnar accused her of being selfish.
He'd lost Lucinda. How could she remove herself from the safety of her father's watch care?
Simple: Beth is deadly, and she is Reflective. The two are synonymous. Living on One with Gunnar as her protector wouldn’t make her less Reflective—or more needy of protection.
They'd ended the conversation on bad terms. He was Beth's only family, and even that was a relationship she couldn't maintain.
Though she might be a proficient jumper, a skilled killer, and a just warrior of The Cause, Beth admits, if only to herself, but as Jacky would say, she blows goats at relationships.
Maddie rolls her quivering lip inside her mouth. “He won't like it if I just leave and don’t say goodbye.”
Jacky rolls his eyes. “God, Maddie. Leave the Bloodling.”
Maddie sighs.
“What's more important? Some dude that professes undying soul crap and sucks your blood—no small thing—or seeing your mom again and hanging out with earth people?” He shrugs, folding his arms. “No offense, Jasper.”
Beth punches gear inside her knapsack. “None taken.”
Kennet lets out a low groan.
“Shit or get off the pot, Maddie,” Jacky says in such a serious voice that Beth looks up from tying off the knapsack.
Maddie puffs her cheeks, blowing a stray hair out of her face. It floats to settle against her long eyelashes. She blinks. “Okay.”
“Don't be mixed up, Maddie. Do it or not. But go hard.”
Maddie lifts her chin defiantly. “I'll do it. I belong on Three—earth.”
She looks at Beth shyly. “He's your dad, though. Are you just going to leave?”
Beth releases an exhale in a rush. “Yes.”
Now isn't the time to get answers and satisfy her curiosity. There might be time for that later. Maybe.
“But—”
“Eff it, Mad. Let's go. Beth's a big girl; she can navigate her own business with Daddy Bloodling.”
Jacky pulls Maddie into a hug. “Let's get the hell out of here,” he whispers against her temple, and again, Beth is struck by how little of the boy is left. “I don't want to be within fifty kilometers of Reflective Kennet when he wakes up. The ass kickings will go on until forever.”
Maddie giggles and looks so young in that moment that Beth's heart hurts.
Beth grabs the knapsack, sliding the pack onto her shoulders.
Bright light streams through the leaves, which are so abundant that they hardly move without strong wind, instead tossing light around like snowflakes made of the sun.
“The Bloodlings assume we're sleeping while they're down.”
“Yeah, they're vamping out, in their coffins during the day, and running around at night.” Jacky waggles his brows
.
“They don't have coffins, Jacky,” Beth says dryly, eyes skating over the descending platforms they'll traverse.
“Tomato, to-mah-to. Whatever.”
Maddie silently moves beside them.
“Take my hand,” Beth says. Maddie grips her hand tightly enough to cut off Beth’s circulation.
Then she jumps, pulling Maddie with her.
Jacky follows. Beth gave him stern instructions not to whoop as he jumps. His oh-damn look made her glad she requested his silence.
Beth free falls, feeling like gravity isn't necessary.
The sadness in her heart weighs her down with each platform, assisting her jumps until she reaches the bottom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Slade
Jeb Merrick is a dangerous pain in Slade's posterior, but that alone doesn't make his own treachery easier to bear.
Slade holds no joy in giving the warrior to Dimitri.
And he's unsure whether he can convince Beth that Jeb fell at Dimitri’s hand. She might require proof.
Beth can never know that Slade orchestrated any part of it.
Beth is integrity driven. Slade hates to admit, even to himself, that the code of The Cause is a noble one. Even despite Ryan's debauchery, it stood the test of time immemorial. Whatever protestations he made to Merrick, The Cause had made the sectors secure and kept each world spinning more or less smoothly.
He plans to sacrifice the Reflective and gain Beth. Her timepiece might wind to a stop and reveal Jeb Merrick as her soul mate. However, if Merrick is dead, he would not stand in Slade's way.
Of course, Slade couldn't kill all who might be destiny's choice for Beth.
Slade smiles. But I can try.
Jeb lowers his specialized field glasses, and Slade admires the equipment the Reflectives have. It’s so advanced. The bulbous tubes hold convex lenses, flicking to a magnification a hundred times more powerful than even Slade’s vision can grasp in daylight. A Bloodling's vision is at near-microscopic levels after nightfall.
The short strap allows the field glasses to dangle, nearly brushing the ground as Slade and Merrick lie on their bellies behind an outcropping of boulders that blend with the transition to the non-arid topography.
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