Fractured Suns

by Theresa Kay

  Flint watches me from the corner of his eye and the edges of his mouth go up too. “You seem to be feeling better.”

  “I guess so.” I shoot a glance at him and then study the ground as we walk. “Are you going to tell Jace?”

  “Tell him what?”

  “The whole bond thing. I don’t think he’d take it well.”

  Flint lets out a strange half-choked laugh. “That’s an understatement if there ever was one.” He stops walking, tilts his head back, and closes his eyes. “Everything’s just so messed up. He and I used to tell each other everything, and now… I don’t like keeping things from him, but he’s so different lately. I never know how he’s going to react, and I don’t want to cause any problems.”

  I take two steps backward so that I’m standing next to him. His fists are clenched at his sides and his jaw is strained as if he’s biting back words. “Flint…” I place one hand on his rigid bicep. “You guys will figure it out. Jace is… He’s been through so much…”

  Flint jerks his chin down and meets my eyes. “We’ve all been through something. Doesn’t mean…” A loud exhalation through pursed lips and a brisk head shake. “Never mind. Let’s get moving. It’s going to take forever to get back to Peter’s.” He starts walking, head down. “Maybe you could do some of that mental mumbo jumbo and call your brother for a ride?” The laugh that escapes his lips is cold and sardonic. “Not like I won’t already be in trouble for this, might as well save us the walk.”

  I let him pull ahead, his long strides quickly taking him far out in front. My shoulders and my smile drop. He’ll need some time to cool off, and I’d prefer to “talk” to Jace in private. Maybe I can prepare him for the news of our little trip. It’s not Flint’s fault. If my brother is going to be mad at anyone, it should be me.

  You there? I, uh, kinda need you to pick us up.

  Jace’s voice cuts into my head, sharp and cold. Where have you been? And what the hell was that earlier?

  I’ll explain when we get back.

  His sigh echoes from his mind to mine. Fine. Where are you?

  On the southeastern edge of the city. We—

  The city? A heated rage trickles through the link. Why are you anywhere near that place? Don’t you remember—How could he let you—

  Stop it. I send those words with an extra push and let my exasperation bleed to Jace. Flint didn’t let me do anything. This was my choice. He came along to protect me.

  Whatever. Circle around and start heading up the road. I’ll find you. He shuts the link down before I have a chance to respond, slamming the connection closed and resisting any attempts I make to reach him again.

  Jerk.

  I speed my steps and find Flint leaning against a large oak, his arms crossed over his chest. He raises his eyebrows in question and I nod. “He’ll be here. We have to get around to the road.” When he doesn’t move, I continue. “He’s not mad… just worried.”

  Flint rubs the bridge of his nose between two fingers and then straightens. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go then.”

  We walk, silence hanging between us. It takes us an hour to reach the road, and even then the quiet stretches out in a taut string of discomfort and tension. I feel like screaming just to break it.

  I knew they’d been fighting. I knew they had their problems, but I never really took the time to consider that maybe they wouldn’t be able to work them out. Granted, we’ve all been stuck together in Peter’s cabin, and close quarters are bound to cause problems in any group, but I never really expected this… wrongness to exist in Flint’s relationship with my brother outside the house. And it’s almost as if it’s getting worse instead of better—as if rather than being a rubber band that will eventually draw back together, their connection is like taffy stretching farther and farther, getting thinner and thinner until… it just breaks.

  Flint walks slightly ahead of me. I take in his drooping shoulders and dragging feet. He’s not my brother, but he’s like family, and I don’t have it in me to stand back and watch him suffer. I run up to him and sling an arm around his waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll work out,” I say. “I’ve already told him it’s all my fault. I won’t let him be angry with you.”

  Initially a little stiff, he relaxes and brings his arm up and over my shoulders, pulling me to his side. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve already done so much.” I bump his side with my hip. “Besides, I think I already owed you one from when you let me outside without an escort back in Bridgelake. We can just call it even.”

  His shoulders shake with weak laughter. “What about when you knocked me out? Don’t you still owe me for that one?”

  “Yeah, well, what about the time you let your dad marry us? I don’t know if you can ever make up for that one.”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “I think I make a pretty good husband.”

  I give him a light punch on the arm. “It was still your worst idea ever.”

  Flint shrugs. “Only because I got saddled with such a difficult wife. I mean, she never listens to me.”

  “Nope. And I never will.” I send an exaggerated scowl his way.

  A loud laugh bursts from his mouth and he grins, the melancholy air that surrounded him lifting. As his mood improves, my worries over his and Jace’s relationship recede. Things between them are clearly strained, but they’ll get better. They just have to.

  It’s another hour before I hear the rumbling sound of a vehicle approaching. What took him so long? Peter’s house is close enough to the city that most people avoid it, but it shouldn’t have taken more than an hour or so to drive here.

  Flint glances at me out the corner of his eye and pulls me off the side of the road and into the bushes. “We should make sure it’s who we’re expecting.”

  “Who else would be out this far?”

  He shrugs. “You never know. Just humor me and do it.”

  An argument rests on the tip of my tongue, but the tense set of his shoulders leads me to push it back. No point in antagonizing him. I close my eyes and reach along the thread of connection that leads to my brother. It’s there, strong and close, so at least one of the vehicle’s occupants is him. The connection flares when I mentally brush against it, growing brighter as Jace attempts to connect with me. But I’m not interested in listening to him berate me again, so I shut it down. “We’re good. Let’s go.”

  Flint and I step from the bushes, walking slowly along the edge of the road until Peter’s beat-up old truck crests the hill in front of us. As it draws closer, I see only two people in the cab: a short, dark-haired figure at the wheel—Peter—and my gangly, redheaded brother in the passenger seat. Where’s Jastren?

  A minute later the truck pulls to a stop beside me and Jace glares out the window, first at me and then over my shoulder at Flint. I roll my eyes and pull open the door.

  “Knock it off. I already told you this was my fault.” I shove Jace’s shoulder until he scoots across the seat and closer to Peter.

  Flint piles in behind me and slams the door shut so the four of us are squeezed together shoulder to shoulder. Just great. Another long ride stuck between two battling boys.

  Peter clears his throat and opens his mouth, but then he shakes his head and shuts it again while putting the truck into gear and turning around. Even the priest is speechless.

  Silence surrounds us, and frigid irritation flows from my brother. It’s times like these when I’m grateful Flint is fully human. As far as I know he can’t pick up on Jace’s emotions as well as I can, and he definitely doesn’t transmit them. There’s enough tension in this cab without both of their moods splashing back and forth in my head.

  I sigh and throw one arm over each of their shoulders. “Come on, guys. There’s no need to fight about this. You both know I’m going to do what I’m going to do no matter what either one of you says.” I pinch the tendon in Jace’s shoulder until he elbows me in the side. “And you, dear
brother, went gallivanting off to do something I didn’t want you to do today, and you don’t see me getting all bent out of shape over it.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I continue, “And I needed to do this, Jace. I had to see him. He—”

  “Why?” A quick, sharp retort as he shrugs out from under my arm. “After what he did? You know what Grandfather says about him, about his family. Hell, it was his uncle who tortured me. And you, too. Or don’t you remember that bit?”

  “I remember just fine, but—”

  “There is no but!” The words hiss from his mouth. He turns his focus to Flint. “You should know better!” The subtle flow of his emotions has turned into a raging torrent of heated anger, a crashing wave against our connection. This volatile anger isn’t exactly new, but as his emotion escalates it becomes clear that he’s losing control—and he’s not making any attempts to regain it. I slide closer to Flint, and finally realization dawns in Jace’s eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his hands into fists, and takes two deep breaths. “Sorry,” he mutters after he manages to pull back the flow of rage.

  Flint coughs and rubs one hand over the back of his neck. “Nothing happened. I went along to make sure she was safe. And she was.”

  Before Jace can respond with the venom I can sense brewing in his mind, I hold up my hand. “It’s already been done. There’s no use arguing about it.” Jace rolls his eyes at me, but he settles back against the seat and doesn’t say anything more.

  And now the quiet is back. Jace picks at his nails and Flint continues to rub the back of his neck as he stares out the window. When did it get so bad between them that they can’t even talk to each other?

  Unable to stand it any longer, I blow a loud breath past my lips and lean forward to look at Peter. “So, how’d the trading go? Did you guys get everything we need?”

  Peter’s gaze darts from me back to the road. “Well—”

  “It went fine,” Jace says. “We’ll be fine.” But he won’t meet my eyes, and when I try to reach out mentally, it’s as if he slams a door in my face.

  “We’ll be fine? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Whatever.” I lean back and cross my arms. Things are probably nowhere near “fine.” It’s obvious something went wrong and Jace doesn’t want to tell me. Too bad he didn’t get the same lecture from Peter that I did. Maybe then he’d stop trying to protect me from everything. Sometimes it’d be nice if we could have a normal sibling relationship rather than him trying to take Dad’s place all the time. If only he would realize I’m not the same broken girl I was a year ago. Hell, a few months ago even. Everyone else seems to recognize it—why not him?

  The next hour passes in silence, bringing the buzz of anxiety into my limbs. By the time we pull into Peter’s driveway, I can’t stand the tension any longer. I lunge over Flint and jump out before the tires even stop moving.

  Jace calls out behind me as I run up to the front door. He tries to get through to me with the link, but I ignore him, bat his mental feeler away, and shove my way inside.

  I untie my boots, then kick them into the corner as I walk through the living room toward the kitchen. I’ll see how “fine” we actually are. If Jace wasn’t able to get us enough supplies to last us through the winter… well, I’ll figure something out.

  Lost in thought, I don’t notice the living room’s occupants until I’m already halfway across the room. I come to an abrupt stop and stumble back a few steps as the sight of the two men smacks into me with an almost physical force.

  One man is laid out on the couch; the other is perched on the arm. The supine one doesn’t look exactly welcoming or anything, but it’s the sitting one who has hatred oozing from his eyes. It stabs into me, twisting my stomach.

  The man on the couch gives a wet cough and wipes the resultant blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, isn’t this special? The gang’s all here,” says Lenny with a red-toothed grin.

  STU GLARES AT ME from his position on the arm of the couch. I hold the gaze of this man—no, this boy, for on closer inspection he can’t be much older than twenty—whose brother I killed. Who, by simply sitting at his injured father’s side with that look in his eyes, brings back wrenching waves of guilt that leave me drowning in their wake.

  The door bangs open and footsteps pound up behind me. Fingers wrap around my arm and I’m so locked in place that I barely register the presence by my side until he starts talking.

  “Just stay calm,” says Flint, his breath brushing past my ear.

  Jace steps forward, slings an arm around my shoulders, and gently pulls me out of Flint’s grasp. A warm splash of reassurance comes from him, but it’s tinged with an edge of confusion and worry.

  “This is fine?” I whirl on my brother with wide eyes. “You brought them here? And you thought that—”

  Shut up! I don’t know what they’re doing here. He lifts his eyebrows and darts his eyes to our intruders. No one was at the store when we went to trade. The place was destroyed. They must have shown up here looking for Peter or something. Didn’t you say the priest knew them?

  “Ain’t this touching?” Lenny sneers. His eyes slide down my body and then back up, pausing at Jace’s arm around my shoulders. “Back to humans, eh? What happened to the erk boy? Not man enough for ya?” The laugh that explodes from his mouth is wet and dirty, grating against my nerves and echoing in my head.

  Strangely enough, though my feet are frozen in place, it’s not the frosty lick of fear that takes over but a fiery anger that sparks in my stomach and races out through my limbs. As the heat travels down my arms and into my fingers, Flint inhales sharply and drops his hand from my arm.

  “What do you want?” My voice is flat.

  Lenny snorts. “Not what yer thinkin’, that’s for sure. Even the Breeders wouldn’t want some alien’s sloppy seconds. That is, if any of ’em were left alive.” A cough rumbles up from his chest and everything stills except for Lenny and his ragged hacking into his shaking fist. What seems like hours later, he finally gains control of his lungs and steadies his hand. Blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth and he wipes it away with the back of his other hand. “Your erk buddies seem to have wiped them out.”

  “Are you saying the E’rikon attacked you?” Jace asks.

  “Yep, not more than a few hours ago.” He coughs again, and this time Stu shifts from his seat to hand his father a rag to wipe the blood away. “Started early this morning. Them silver ships, two or three of ’em, flew over, and then there were some flashes over by the Breeder camp. ’Bout an hour later one o’ them Breeders wanders up all covered in dust and blood. Barely made it through the door before he collapsed. He was the last one left.”

  I can’t say I’m sad to hear about that. One less problem to worry about. But what does that have to do with why they’re here?

  “Sit me up, boy.” Lenny reaches a hand to Stu and struggles and grunts until he’s sitting upright on the couch. “We were next. Thankfully we had a little bit of a warning what with that straggling survivor, but we didn’t move quite quick enough—or at least I didn’t.”

  Stu hovers off to the side, his eyes downcast and his jaw tense.

  Lenny laughs again, a horrible, damp rattle that echoes in my ears. “Thought we’d come over here and warn the old priest. He’d done good by my boys.” He shoots a cold glare toward Peter. “We was just gettin’ settled when you come traipsing through the door. Seems the priest made a deal with the devil, yeah?”

  The deep pools of pain and anger that are Stu’s eyes find mine. “Not the devil, Dad,” he says. “Just some murdering erk whore.”

  Why this is funny to Lenny, I have no idea, but he chortles and slaps at his knee in… glee? “Have to thank you for that one, girlie. Thought Stu was going soft on me too, until you came along.”

  Peter finally takes the opportunity to step forward. “Now Leonard, how about I take a look at your injuries, yes? It can’t be v
ery comfortable for you. I mean, that couch was around well before the Collapse, and the cushions are just about threadbare and the thing sinks in until you’re practically on the floor. I keep a clean house and all, but the floor is no place for a guest, especially an injured one. Why don’t you—”

  “If we’re the guests, then what are they?” Stu waves his hand toward me. “She killed Zach.”

  “I know,” Peter whispers, and those icicles of hate that had been darting toward me turn on the priest.

  “You know? I thought… How could you…”

  Moving slowly, Peter approaches Stu and moves to pat his arm. But based on the molten rage emanating from Stu, that’s probably not a good idea. Definitely not. A fist comes up and heads toward Peter, but just as quickly—quicker even—Jace is in front of Peter grasping Stu’s hand. I’ve never seen Jace move so quickly. Is that what Jastren’s been teaching him? And speaking of Jastren, where the hell is he?

  A look of shock flits across Stu’s face before he settles his expression back into a bland glare and the two boys simply stare at each other for a moment. Stu is the first one to look away, and Jace releases his hand.

  “Whatever issue you have with my sister, she did what she had to, so back the hell off,” Jace says. “And regardless, leave Peter out of it.” He bristles with protectiveness, but he maintains control of his anger.

  Well, someone needs to be in control of something, because I’m not. The sound of the knife lodging in Zach’s neck is pounding out a drumbeat in my mind, and my hands are starting to jerk. I curl my fingers and press my nails into my palms. Do not do this right now. My eyes water from being forced to stay open. If I close them… there will probably be pictures to accompany the sound. The air in my lungs stalls and my chest shudders as I struggle to pull in a deep breath. I can’t handle the panic attacks like I used to—closing eyes and counting breaths. The tremor climbs up my arms until I have to tense my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.