Black Moon Rising

by Frankie Rose

  “I don’t want anything,” he replies. “That’s the beauty of the Construct. There is no room for want. Or hope. Or desire. There is only the chain of command. There is only obedience, and respect.”

  “Now you’re the one who’s lying to himself.” I narrow my eyes at him. He hasn’t made any move to approach me since he let me up from the ground. I take another step forward. Honestly, I barely realize I’m doing it. “Is that what you need? Respect? Where’s your heart, Jass Beylar? Your soul? Your conscience? Can’t you see that the Construct is wrong?” I throw my hands in the air, spinning around, gesturing to the once fine structure that now sits in ruins around us. “They destroyed our planet. They killed everyone we ever knew or loved. They took our home, and they took our families. How can you want to return to them? I don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense!”

  I’m met with a wall of silence. Jass rises, straightening up. Then, in two long strides he’s suddenly standing in front of me. He was this close to me when we were in the Appointments Hall after Erika was murdered, but he was standing behind me. I didn’t have to look up into his face. I didn’t feel the full force of his gaze burning into my skin. I do my best not to shrink away from the inferno that I can feel storming within his chest, but my head spins from the effort, threatening to betray me.

  Jass floods my senses in the most penetrating way. My head is full of him, and there’s no escape. I take a step backward but he follows me, mirroring my movement. “This galaxy is filled with hardship, Reza. Death and destruction have existed since the dawn of time, right alongside life and creation. It’s all one and the same. There’s no good and evil. There is only the ebb and flow of the universe, and the transference of power from one person to the next. One day, peace reigns. The next, chaos. If the Construct hadn’t wiped out our people, then disease and pestilence would have eventually. Or civil war. Or natural disaster. Nothing in the universe is permanent. All things die. All things end. Every one of us has to choose how we navigate through the madness. I chose my pathway a long time ago. My course is set.”

  There’s a finality to his words that makes me want to sever the connection between us immediately and escape his head. If he’s telling the truth, then I’m wasting my time even talking to him right now. He’s not going to help us. He’s not going to sway or change his mind…or himself.

  Jass whispers, his voice filling my head. “The trouble is that you want too much, Reza. You want happiness. You want freedom. You want peace. I see it all on your face, every time you look at me. You wear your emotions like they’re a shield, but they won’t protect you. You want everything to be simple and clean. You want a home. You want…” He trails off, clenching his jaw, the threads of gold blazing even brighter against the soft brown of his eyes. His lips part—he’s going to finish what he was about to say—but then he stops himself.

  A cold, heavy deadweight sits in my belly—shock, warring with my humiliation. I know exactly what he was going to say. Exactly. And I can’t bear that he knows. Why doesn’t he just do it? Why won’t he simply spit the words out and get on with it? I want him.

  Jass moves slowly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of my face. His eyes are wide. Shocked. As if he can’t even believe he’s doing it himself. His fingertips graze my cheekbone, barely a touch at all, a feather-light moment of contact, but he might as well have struck me across the face. We both flinch at the same time, and Jass pulls his hand away like I’m the one who’s hurt him. “I couldn’t sense you,” he whispers, “but I know you’ve been here. I’ve felt you all the same. I know how badly you hate yourself for wanting me, Reza. It doesn’t have to be that way. It could be much, much simpler.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Even I know it’s ridiculous to deny how I feel, especially since he seems so much better at reading me than I am at reading him, but I do it all the same. He is so, so broken. And exactly how damaged am I if I can’t stop just turn around and walk away?

  Jass shakes his head, clenching his jaw even harder, so the muscles in his cheek jump. “You can’t save me,” he says.

  “I’m not interested in saving you,” I snap. “I only care about saving Pirius. Darius and his people helped me when I crashed here. They protected me as best they could. If I can’t help them by convincing you to help defend them, then I should go.”

  I turn, ready to walk away from him, to release my hold on the connection that binds us and return to my own mind, but Jass lunges for me. He grabs me, his fingers pressing into my arm, spinning me back around. My chest crushes up against his, and I feel the wild surge of his pulse, slamming through his veins. He folds his arms around me, steel bands holding me in place, and I freeze, immobilized by the violent, demanding way he pins me in his gaze. “Do you think I want to care about you?” he whispers. “Do you think I wouldn’t kill you if I could?”

  I raise my chin in defiance, returning his anger, reflecting it right back at him. “What’s stopping you?”

  “You know damn well what’s stopping me. You know it can’t be denied. It would be easier to kill myself than it would be to harm a hair on your damn head. If you die…” His face pales, a grey shadow suddenly giving his skin a sick, stricken pallor. “If you die, there will be no restraining me, Reza. I will set this galaxy on fire and I will watch it burn fiercer than the stars. I will make sure I live until every single light has gone out. I will tear, and I will rampage, and I will torture every last living soul until I am the only nightmare, the only dark thing left breathing, and only then will I be able to allow my blackened soul to escape me and give this place any kind of peace.”

  He doesn’t move quickly. If he did, I could be excused for what happens next. If he pounced, I could claim he took me by surprise, but Jass moves slowly, cautiously, and with obvious intent. The sound of my heart beat pounds inside my head like a frenzied drum as Jass lowers his mouth down to mine. I am locked in place, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think.

  Is this…?

  Do I want…?

  Should I try to…?

  How can I…?

  His lips meet mine, and my fractured questions disappear. His touch is soft at first, barely there, nothing more than a suggestion. I try not to react, but my body won’t allow such a deception. My legs are about to buckle from underneath me. It’s hard to tell if they do or not, because Jass holds me tighter, crushing me in his arms, practically lifting me from my feet. Every square inch of my skin hums and prickles, energy biting at my nerve endings as Jass increases the pressure he’s applying to my mouth. His lips part, insistent and demanding; my own lips follow suit, obliging him of their own volition, opening wider, allowing his tongue to slip past them. He massages and explores me, filling my head with fire until the amphitheater around us flexes and warps, vanishing altogether. I pay no attention. The world is darkness and silence, and there is nothing but Jass’ arms, holding me in place. Nothing more than his mouth on mine. Nothing more than his tongue, searching and tasting. His scent is overpowering, the warmth of his body maddening and frustrating. He kisses me with such a need that I know it will claim me. Perhaps that same need claimed me a long time ago. I fight it as long as I can, but it’s useless.

  My surrender is catastrophic. I crumble, my body taking control, and then I’m kissing him back. I slide my own tongue into his mouth, and I am lost. The connection between us explodes. Jass gasps for breath at the same moment I do, and we’re both swept away by the force of it. I’m being pulled to him even now, when there is no more space left between us, and the sensation obliterates any remaining control I might have. I reach up, running my hands along the taut, strong lines of his back until I reach his hair, and I wind my fingers into the thick, waviness of it. I’ve wanted to tangle my fingers through his hair from the moment I set eyes on him in person. It made no sense. It made me feel dirty and wrong, but still…the urge was there regardless.

  Jass groans breathlessly; the sound is incredible, desperate almo
st, and I can’t help but react. I arch my back, curving my body into him. Jass’ arms loosen a little and then he releases me, running his hands up the length of my body, too. He doesn’t sink his hands into my hair as I did to him. He cups my face in both his hands and he kisses me even harder, stealing my breath.

  I sink. I fall. I die, and I am reborn a thousand and one times in his arms, and the sensation never seems to end. The connection between us wasn’t the piece of me that was missing. It was Jass. He is my other half. And now that he’s holding me, kissing me, staking a claim on me in the most invasive, personal, mind-blowing manner possible, I can’t seem to figure out where I end and he begins. It’s amazing. It’s bewildering. It’s everything.

  It’s…wait…

  It’s terrifying.

  I unravel my hands from Jass’ hair, quickly shoving him as hard as I can, pushing him away. The vacuum yanking at my insides is instant and painful. Always so guarded, always so careful with what he allows me to feel or see down the connection, Jass isn’t quick enough to throw up his walls this time. I feel his rejection as if it were my own. It claws at me with razor sharp teeth, and then it vanishes in a cloud of smoke. Jass steps away from me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes almost glowing with emotion. We’re still in darkness, but I can see him perfectly. His shoulders are tense, his whole demeanor one of retreat, defense and indifference.

  “You should probably leave,” he tells me. His voice is hushed and gentle, but I hear the warning there, hiding between his words. “I think visiting hours at this particular petting zoo are over.”

  I place the tips of my fingers against my swollen lips, still reeling, trying to process what’s just happened. “You need to wake up, Jass. Your body is dying.”

  Jass takes a further step away from me, and shadows fall across his face, consuming him. “I’ll wake up when I’m meant to,” he says, as his body disappears. “I’ll wake up when I have to. Now go.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  REZA

  CHANCELLOR

  Col plucks nervously at the sleeve of his jacket, his eyes sweeping over the people gathered in the Appointments Hall. He’s dressed in a beautiful royal blue blazer, shot through with a fine silver pinstripe—quite dashing, and very unlike the dusty browns and beige robes the Pirians wear. His attire sets him apart, which I believe was the point. In between monitoring Jass and helping him through his withdrawal from the Light, Darius has been tirelessly championing Col to the people of the first sector, trying to convince them that he is the right candidate for chancellor. That he is one of them. Col’s done nothing of the sort. He’s hidden himself away behind closed doors, his mind clearly on other things. He had time to prepare for it, but Erika’s death has still destroyed him all the same. When I’ve seen him cornered and questioned him at length about how he would run the first sector, Col’s answers have been lackluster at best. And tonight, the night of the vote, he has purposefully donned clothes that prove he is not Pirian. It couldn’t be clearer that Darius’ nomination has been wasted.

  “How many of them do you think are out there?” he asks, unfastening the top button of his shirt, then changing his mind and re-buttoning it.

  I assess the crowd, trying to gage the number of people who have shown up to vote. “Two thousand? Maybe three?” Only members of the first sector will be able to cast their ballots to select a new chancellor, but there are twice as many Pirians crammed into the Appointments Hall right now. People have come from all over the sub city to witness this strange, unorthodox election. Erika’s unexpected death, followed by the nomination of a technical outsider, has clearly peaked the people’s interest. The noise levels rise from mildly irritating to an unbearable din, but Col seems to be deaf to it all.

  “When are they going to open the proceedings?” he mutters under his breath. “It’s time we ended this charade, so we can all get back to the real concern at hand.”

  “Col—”

  He violently shakes his head, tearing open his top button again. “Stryker and his men will be on our doorstep any day now, Reza. My mother predicted it. She said either Jass helped us, or we died at the next eclipse. It doesn’t look like he’ll be signing up to assist us any time soon, and we’re distracting ourselves with elections and voting? The double eclipse is right around the corner. We should be organizing an evacuation or something. We should be reaching out to our allies, seeking shelter from our friends. This is all so fucking pointless.”

  “You’ve said it yourself, Col. A seer’s visions can be misinterpreted. And if your mother saw two potential visions of the future, perhaps there’s a third. The Construct might not come here at all. They might—”

  Col tenses, his pupils dilating. He’s seen something over my shoulder. I glance behind me, and a broad, muscular Pirian with overly pronounced brow ridges is walking stiffly out onto the dais, followed by two people—a tall woman with quick, black eyes, and an even taller man, his head shaved just like Darius’. When the man leading the group lays eyes on Col, he does very little to hide his disgust. Col pivots, angling his back to the dais, blowing out a shaky breath.

  “Who is that?” I whisper.

  “Chancellor Farren and his retinue,” Col answers tightly. Where Farren looked clearly irritated by Col’s presence, Col looks riddled with anxiety by the arrival of the other man.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Farren feels we should be arming ourselves and training a military again here on Pirius. And he also feels very strongly that Pirius should be for true Pirians. His daughter and I—” Col doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Farren approaches him, hands concealed in the folds of his pure white dress tunic. He grunts to announce his arrival.

  “I’m surprised you even showed up,” Farren says, a sneer twisting his mouth. “There was talk you were going to hide in your quarters for the vote counting. I should have realized you wouldn’t have enough respect for our people to do that.”

  Col’s head dips in deference, but even I can tell the gesture is a false one. His eyes glint with hatred as he addresses the third sector’s chancellor. “Once more, I live to disappoint you, Chancellor. I’m only here to observe Pirian tradition. If I win this election, my first order of duty will be to step down and hand the position to someone else. I’m sure that news pleases you.”

  Farren rolls his eyes. He runs his tongue over his teeth as he looks over the Appointments Hall, a picture of arrogance and boredom. “Come on, Col. You know as well as I do you won’t be winning this seat. You’ll be able to return to your status quo, running around topside, knocking sand out of your shoes soon enough. Maybe you’ll consider setting up a rusting shack next to your friend’s,” he says, skating a malevolent glance in my direction. “Things will be changing down here soon. The Pirian lifestyle might not be for you, now that Erika isn’t here to protect you.”

  Col’s smile is saccharine sweet and as sharp-edged as a blade. “I heard,” he says, lowering his voice, “that even before the people stopped seeing, you never once had a vision yourself. That doesn’t sound very Pirian to me.”

  When I first met Darius, he spent many days explaining the intricacies and politics of Pirius. He told me how revered their visions were, and that a person’s first vision after completing their apprenticeships was a right of passage that was highly celebrated. And so, too have never had a vision? Farren would be considered half a man if people knew the truth. Less than that, even.

  Farren’s face turns a ghastly shade of purple. The man and woman he strode over with shoot embarrassed looks to one another, averting their eyes. Raising a finger and thrusting it into Col’s face, Farren struggles to get his words out. “You’re insolence won’t be forgotten, interloper. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up dead for what you’ve done. As soon as all this nonsense is over, I’m going to clean house. Erika had wild, outrageous ideas when it came to maintaining the safety of this sector, and of our people in general. I know who that arrogant upstart
you brought into my sector was, and as soon as the rest of the sub city finds out, they’re going to string you up and gut you for inviting such danger to their doorstep. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

  Farren spins and storms off, nearly knocking a short, motherly looking woman also dressed in a fine, white robe right off the dais and into the crowd. Darius is there to catch hold of her elbow, helping to right her. He sends a withering look after Farren, and then heads in our direction.

  “He knows about Jass,” Col tells him in hushed tones. “I don’t know how he figured it out, but he did. And he’s planning on telling everyone here after he wins the sector.”

  Jass.

  At the very mention of his name, a prickly heat rises up my neck; it feels like it’s choking me. That kiss was never supposed to happen. And yet, every time I close my eyes, every time the noise in the room falls away and I find myself disappearing into that darkness again, all I can feel are his lips on mine, his warm breath skating over my skin, his hands cupping my face. His tongue, tasting and probing…

  “Reza.” Darius lightly touches my arm, and I snap back inside my own head, the commotion of the Appointments Hall returning to wash over my like the wave of a tsunami. Col and Darius are both watching me, wearing their concern openly on their faces. “Everything alright?” Col asks.

  “Yes, sorry. It’s just…it’s very warm in here.” A poor excuse and I know it. I don’t think I’ve convinced either of them, but they’re both too polite to push me for a further explanation.

  Darius looks around to make sure no one is listening to us, and then asks, “Were you able to reach out to Jass earlier? Did he wake up? Farren’s a smug winner and an even sorer loser. It won’t matter what happens here tonight. He will tell everyone Jass is here. It would be better if we could secret him out of the sub city before that happens.”