Atonement (A Science Fiction / Fantasy Romance)

by Fall, Carly

  Chapter 7

  Blake woke up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Brandy was lying on her side, her back to him, softly snoring. If she was asleep, why did he feel like he was being watched?

  He sat up in bed and looked around the room, his head spinning from the booze and drugs he’d consumed. He was somewhere between still being high and hungover.

  He caught a glimpse of something in the corner of the room, and his breath caught in his throat.

  A woman stood staring at him, and he wondered if he was seeing a ghost or if he was hallucinating. Maybe he was dying and she was the angel who had come to take him to his final resting place. He decided that was what she looked like: an ethereal angel. The silver-colored form shimmered from the streetlight shining in through the blinds.

  He nudged Brandy, trying to wake her. “Wake up,” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the ghostly figure.

  “Knock it off, Blake,” Brandy mumbled.

  Blake got out of bed and slowly walked toward the woman. She startled, as if surprised he could see her.

  “Who are you?” he whispered.

  Her eyes widened as he approached, and he reached his hand out toward her. Just when it seemed he would make contact with her, she disappeared.

  Blake stood there a moment staring at the spot where she had been. What had he just seen?

  Although he wasn’t able to make out the coloring of her features, he did realize that the ghost or angel—he wasn’t sure what to call her—was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

  Was it a spirit trapped between life and death? Rayner would know, but if it was, why could Blake see her? Was this some type of new skill he suddenly developed?

  He didn’t think so. He’d been pretty damn average his whole life, except for the fact he was part Colonist. His paranormal abilities were as close to zero as one could get.

  He crawled back into bed and stared at the ceiling. His heart thumped in his chest and his mind churned. As he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened, a profound sense of calmness washed over him.

  Chapter 8

  Sophia woke and stretched her legs as the sun filtered through the blinds. She knew it was right around eight, but she glanced at the clock to confirm.

  The pitter-patter of Megan’s little feet reverberated down the hall, and Sophia smiled at the tentative knock on her door.

  “Come in, Megan.”

  “Hi, Mama,” Megan said, crawling into bed next to her.

  “Hello, little one,” Sophia said. “How was your sleep?”

  Megan sighed. “Fine.”

  Sophia hugged Megan close, worried about her. Perhaps human children were sullen a lot of the time, but she remembered being a child on SR44 and running and playing. It seemed Megan rarely did any of those things, but was more introverted and seemed to walk around with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was far beyond her years. Perhaps if there were other children for Megan to play with, she would be happier.

  “Can I have pancakes?” Megan asked.

  “Yes, you can, but only if we pick some strawberries and you eat them before the pancakes.”

  She was getting the hang of this parenting thing. The ability to bribe and negotiate had almost become second nature to her.

  “I don’t want strawberries,” Megan sulked.

  “Well, what good food do you want?” Sophia asked. She was proud of her skill of not only bribery and negotiation, but also her ability to offer the child a choice, making Megan feel as though she were deciding her own destiny.

  Of course, only a few choices were on the shortlist, and Megan seemed to instinctively know this.

  “Can I pick some green beans and have those instead?” Megan asked.

  Sophia smiled and tossed back the covers. “Of course, little one. Green beans it is. Just let me take a quick shower.”

  Moving into the bathroom, she used the toilet and turned on the hot shower spray, looking forward to feeling it cleanse her body. After a few minutes, the water was finally warm and she took off her green nightgown and matching shorts, stepping into the hot jets.

  The water burned her skin, and she reveled in it—not hot enough to scar her, but its heat cleansed her skin from the encounter with Micah.

  This was where her guilt began.

  She knew her position in this life was important. It was her job to produce children as pure as possible for the long-gone SR44 race. However, her meetings with Micah left her feeling dirty and violated, with a strong need to cleanse his scent and fluids from her body. She always held out until the next morning before showering to up the chances of creating a child. However, they had been trying since Megan’s birth, and their efforts had proved fruitless.

  Sophia blamed herself.

  Perhaps if she didn’t find Micah so intimidating, her womb would be more willing to accept his seed. She followed a healthy lifestyle and diet, so it wasn’t as if her body lacked the proper nutrients in order to create life. As she scrubbed in between her thighs with a washrag, tears streamed down her face.

  Last night Micah had said that if she wasn’t able to produce a child in this fertility cycle, he would send in Jael to see if the male could be more successful. Micah was bad enough. She didn’t even like being in the same room with Jael, let alone letting the animal into her private flesh.

  Taking a deep breath, Sophia pressed her hands against the cold tile, closed her eyes, and tried to calm herself. She needed to focus on the here and now, not what might or might not happen in the future. Megan was the priority, and right now, Sophia needed to dress, pick green beans, and then make pancakes. After that, they would study cause and effect, as well as go over some multiplication tables. Sophia wanted Megan to be schooled in case the world outside ever calmed down and the child was afforded a normal, human life.

  Well, as normal as a child with glowing eyes at night could be given.

  Again, something she couldn’t think about.

  For now, they were safe.

  After Micah’s departure last night, Sophia had practiced her astral travels again. She’d cautiously visited the city, and even gone into the homes of others. It was interesting to see the way the humans lived. Most were sleeping during her visit, but other were awake, watching television, reading books or spending time with friends. She had also walked in on one couple in the throes of passion, and she was surprised at how much they seemed to enjoy the sexual act. Would it ever bring her pleasure? Unless she had a different partner, she didn’t see how.

  After seeing the cramped apartment buildings, Sophia decided she’d rather live out in the middle of the desert than like that. She’d been shocked when they male could see her, as she’d been in the same room as other humans and no one had ever noticed her. She couldn’t hear what he said—she heard nothing in her travels—but it looked as if he were speaking to her, and when he actually reached for her, she’d been frightened and hurried back to her body.

  The male looked tired and pale, his dark hair messy as he ran his fingers through it. She couldn't help but feel that he was ill, and as a healthy male he would be very handsome.

  In the daylight hours, thinking about it made her excitement soar, and she decided she would visit again and see if her original assessment of the male being able to see her was correct. Her astral travels had become her little taste of freedom. No one could hurt her in her spirit form.

  Sophia shut off the water and stood tall. Although she had not seen in her travels the remnants of war Micah talked about, she had no reason to doubt him. Perhaps she hadn’t visited to the right part of the city, or maybe the war wasn’t taking place in the city she was visiting. Therefore, it was another day as an SR44ian in an awful world filled with hatred and cruelty, and she would do her best to shield Megan.

  Chapter 9

  Damn, he should have seen that coming.

  Blake braced for the impact of Jovan’s size-twelve sneaker connecting with his chest. He flew backwar
d and landed on the mats, gasping for air. Rolling to his side, he focused on catching his breath as Jovan crouched down in front of him.

  “You should have seen that coming,” Jovan said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a white towel.

  “I know,” Blake mumbled. He couldn’t get his mind off the apparition he’d seen the night before. He certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with any of the Saviors, as they’d most likely think he’d finally lost it. Hell, maybe he had.

  Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers, only adding a headache to his already tender body. It had been weeks since he worked out, and he would have been happy to stay on that track except Jovan cornered him when he got home from Brandy’s this morning. All he wanted was a shot of bourbon and a bed so he could catch up on sleep he missed out on the night before. As hindsight was always twenty-twenty, what he should have done was gotten a little heroin from Brandy. That way he could have floated on his cloud for the rest of the day, thought about his angel or ghost or whatever she was, and then eventually doze off.

  But no, Jovan had been up when Blake arrived at the silo and had been a chatty bastard, and eventually he cajoled and berated Blake until he broke down and agreed to work out.

  “You’re getting slow and sloppy,” Jovan called over the music. “When was the last time you were in the gym, anyway?”

  Blake didn’t bother to answer, just rolled over to his back and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal, and it no longer felt like he had a tank resting on his chest. He was fairly confident there weren’t any cracked ribs.

  Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see Noah standing over him, his big arms crossed over his wide chest. He wore jeans, combat boots, and a blue T-shirt. The guy stood at six foot eight and looked like an absolute giant from Blake’s current point of view.

  And that made him think of a book he’d heard Annis reading to Killian—Jack and the Beanstalk. He shut his eyes again, wondering how everything always led back to Annis.

  Fuck it all to hell.

  “Are you going to lie there all day?” Noah asked.

  If he had his way, he would. “No. I just took a good one from Jovan. I’m trying to make sure my heart will continue beating when I stand up.”

  “If it hasn’t stopped by now, I think you’re safe,” Noah said, nudging him with his boot. “Get up.”

  Blake got to his feet and looked around the gym. Jovan was gone, and there was no one else besides Noah.

  Uh-oh.

  “So you want to tell me what’s going on, Blake?” Noah yelled as he walked over to the stereo and shut it off.

  Blake shrugged. He didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t about to tell Noah about the shit storm his life had become or how far he had fallen.

  “Not feeling too talkative, huh?” Noah asked.

  Blake didn’t answer.

  “Well, something is up. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

  Blake sighed.

  “You want to tell me what happened last night? Why you were standing around with a thumb up your ass while Cohen was taking a beating?”

  Yeah, probably best not to answer that one. Noah wouldn’t like the fact that Blake was actually hoping Cohen would die.

  “You want to tell me why I haven’t seen the reports I asked you to run three days ago on this month’s murders in Phoenix?”

  Oh, wow. He’d totally forgotten about that one, but then again, Noah had asked him to do that when he was coming off a high. He remembered feeling agitated at the request.

  “You listen to me, Blake,” Noah hissed. “I don’t know what you’ve got going on, but you’ve been a complete bastard for quite some time now, even more than usual.”

  Whatever.

  “You’re different. You aren’t all there,” Noah said, flicking Blake’s forehead. “You’ve lost weight. You look like shit. You’re pale and look like you haven’t slept well in months. So, I’m left to wonder what's going on. You almost let Cohen get killed, and your appearance, attitude, and brains have all gone to hell, and I need a reason as to why.”

  Noah stared daggers at him while Blake looked at the space right next to Noah’s ear. Maybe if he ignored Noah long enough he’d just give up and go away. Blake simply wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t giving up his secrets, or the cause of all his problems: Annis. He wasn’t going to admit a woman had destroyed him.

  “Did you break up with Brandy or something?” Noah asked, his voice a little more gentle. “If so, I know that can devastate a male. I also know that it can help to talk things out.” Noah put his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “You were there for me when Abby left. If you need someone to talk to . . . I . . . uh . . . I can be that person.”

  Blake almost laughed. Almost. Look at Noah going soft and wanting to “be there” for him. He knew Noah would rather have his fingernails removed with tweezers than listen to someone else’s “poor me” bullshit story.

  Noah waited for an answer, and then after a moment, he growled, “Fine, Blake. But here’s the deal. Get your shit together, man. Seriously. I don’t know what you’ve got going on, but you aren’t doing anyone—including yourself—any favors."

  Noah stormed out of the gym, his fists clenching at his sides.

  Blake exhaled and his body relaxed, as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time. Although he didn’t want to think about Noah’s accusations, he knew in his soul that they were true. Truth and reality were two planes that had spun out beyond his control. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and waited five minutes.

  He followed in Noah’s footsteps, flipped off the lights, and sent the gym into darkness. Standing there a moment, he realized he was nine stories underground. Although it never bothered him before, it now felt like he was being buried alive.

  Chapter 10

  Blake rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock—five p.m. He had slept away a good portion of the day.

  His stomach rolled. It was tough being off heroin for any length of time, and as he checked his watch, his last hit had been about sixteen hours ago. His back hurt, and he felt like he had a flu-like fever.

  Damn. He should have gotten another hit from Brandy before leaving her this morning.

  He slipped on his cargo pants from the night before, ignoring the Ruger LC9 still in the pocket. Upon checking his mini-fridge, he saw he had nothing in there but Diet Sprite. He chugged a can and realized that in order to feel better, he would need something else, something a little bit stronger. After his meeting with Noah, he’d gone straight to his room and was able to sleep. Now, he needed something to numb the pain throughout his body.

  Riding the elevator up to the kitchen level, he wondered what the odds were that he could get a bottle from the bar without running into anyone and came to the conclusion that his chances weren’t very good. The damn place was too crowded now with all the Warriors and their mates. Well, too crowded for him anyway. Everyone else seemed happy living in the domestic bliss they had created.

  Bastards.

  He stepped off the elevator and relief swept through him when he found an empty kitchen. Voices carried from the dining room, and he went into the great room. So far, so good—he’d gone undetected.

  As he stood at the bar looking over his choices, a decision was hard to come by. Bourbon? Nah. Vodka? Maybe. He could mix it with orange juice and depending on how much he drank, he could call it a serving of fruit for the day. Wine? No, he needed something stronger.

  He heard voices coming down the hall and recognized them as belonging to Annis and Liberty. Hell. He didn’t want to see either one of them, so he did what any mature thirty-five-year-old man would do; he ducked down behind the bar. He’d let them pass, and then he’d get back to figuring out which bottle of poison he would use to kill the pain in his body.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Liberty asked as they came into the room.

  Annis sighed, a sound he’d recognize anywhere. His gut c
lenched as he sat down, and the gun in his pants poked his cock, and not in a friendly way. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and set it down on the ground. He wondered how long he would need to sit behind the bar until he was discovered or Annis and Liberty left the room. He pulled up his knees, leaned his elbows on them, and rested his head in his hands.

  “I think I’m pregnant, Liberty.”

  Oh, fuck. Blake almost groaned out loud, but then remembered he was supposed to be incognito.

  “That’s wonderful news!” Liberty squealed. Blake pictured her jumping up and down, grabbing Annis’s arm. “You are pregnant, or think you are? Because Beverly has these wonderful tests where you urinate on a stick and—”

  “Yes, I’m aware of the tests,” Annis interrupted. “And I don’t know if this is wonderful news, as you put it. This is . . . unexpected.”

  “It’s a beautiful surprise, Annis!”

  Annis sighed again, and Blake heard the frustration in the small sound. He guessed the next words out of her mouth would be something along the lines of Annis considering herself a Warrior, not mother material.

  “I’m a Warrior, Liberty,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a mother.”

  How well he knew her.

  “Nonsense! Have you told Cohen?”

  “No. We practice birth control, but it has failed.”

  “Oh!”

  “I-I don’t think I want this child, Liberty,” Annis stammered.

  Man, he really shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. It was doing nothing for his headache, and the images swimming in his brain of exactly how that child had been conceived weren’t doing anything for his sanity.

  “What are you going to do?” Liberty asked, now sounding concerned.

  “I don’t know. I think I may end the pregnancy.”

  "Annis! I—”

  “Annis?” Cohen called. “Where are you, babe?”