Gabriel's Ghost

by Linnea Sinclair

  When I’d fought with Sully, Ren had brought me tea, not questions or recriminations. When I’d rejected Sully—though I didn’t tell her why—Ren made me understand the pain my rejection had caused. And Ren had sent me rainbows. That I did explain. His touch could send rainbows. Warm ones, loving ones, accepting ones.

  She opened her hands to stare at her palms. “Once or twice, maybe. I remember that. But I didn’t understand what it was.”

  “He has a gift. Gregor may call it a curse, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I know Ren. It’s a gift. He cares very much for your friendship, Dorsie.”

  “Gregor said he—they—look like jukors. They can change what they look like.”

  “I’ve spent most of my life in Fleet and have never seen anything proving shape-shifters exist. If they did, believe me, someone in Fleet would know. And we’d have been trained to deal with that.”

  She sat, shaking her head, then finally brought her gaze to meet mine. “Thank you. You’ve given me something to think about.” She stood. “I’ve got to finish inventory.”

  Sister Berri was just coming through her cabin doorway when I passed by. Dorsie’s suite, as well Verno’s and the one Marsh and Aubry shared, were on this deck. Sully’s cabin, Ren’s, and Gregor’s, as first pilot, were one deck up, behind the bridge.

  Berri looked flushed, excited.

  “All settled in?” I asked her.

  “Praise the stars, yes. Such luxury. My own bathroom. I shall feel quite spoiled.”

  “If you need anything, let me or Dorsie know. You know where the galley is?” I realized, with all the turmoil and Berri’s late entry, she might not have been given a tour.

  She shook her head, confirming my supposition. “I’m sure I can find my way.”

  “It’s not far.” I pointed down the corridor. “Dorsie’s there, working inventory. She might like some help.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Berri thrust her small chin higher. “Then perhaps later she might like to join me in prayer.”

  Some quiet, peaceful contemplation might do Dorsie a great deal of good.

  I couldn’t find Sully anywhere. Not in the ready room, not in our cabin. Not on the bridge. I called Ren on intraship.

  “I’ve not seen him, Chasidah. Have you tried the gym?”

  Not there either. Not in the galley, where I could hear Berri’s melodic voice and Dorsie’s sultry tones mixing.

  I checked the tender bay, storage holds, engineering twice. Finally I went back to our cabin; worried, but not overly so. He’d been pacing earlier. He might well still be doing that now, and we were simply like two planets on opposite orbits.

  We’d been off shift for several hours. I waited, not wanting to go to bed without him. I fought the desire to call for him on open intraship. It wasn’t anyone else’s business that the infallible Gabriel Ross Sullivan needed some time alone. I just didn’t understand why he needed that time away from me.

  That finally worried me enough to call Ren again. “Did I wake you?”

  “Not at all. Just finishing meditations.”

  “Sorry.” I paused. I’d hoped to hear he was finishing up a card game instead. “Sully’s not here, Ren. I haven’t seen him in a couple hours.”

  “A moment.” I heard Ren sigh and remembered what he’d said. He could link with Sully—or rather, Sully, being stronger, could link with him. I waited.

  “He’s blocking me.”

  Because he didn’t want Ren to know what Gregor had said. What Dorsie felt. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No. Only that his pattern is strong. He may be working some things through.”

  “It’s just that … well, never mind. Thanks.”

  “Blessings, Chasidah.”

  I clicked off intraship, then headed for the bedroom. I had to be on duty in five hours. I threw on my nightshirt and crawled into bed, leaving the light on the desk in the main room glowing on half power. I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the red numbers on the clock in the dimmed cabin lighting.

  The cabin door slid open, spearing the dim room with a shaft of bright light. Sully leaned against the doorjamb, then slowly walked in. He stopped at the chair, one hand on its back, steadying himself. Then stepped toward the couch. He collapsed onto it just as my feet hit the floor.

  “Sully!”

  He was angled into the corner, his legs splayed wide. He dragged one leg up, dropped his foot onto the low table with a thud as I kneeled next to him on the cushions.

  “Chazzy-girl.” He reached for me, his arm landing heavily on my shoulder.

  I leaned forward, kissed him. And tasted the cloying sweetness of honeylace. “You’re furred, Sully.”

  “Oh, very. Very, very.”

  I let out a sigh and touched his face. Chilled. Like his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Me? Sure.”

  I took his other hand and tried to rub some warmth into his skin. He felt clammy. His face was very pale.

  “You’re going to feel like shit when you wake up, you know.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Never do.”

  I remembered him sitting in the common room of the temple, the morning after Peyhar’s. His disheveled appearance then could dispute that.

  “Where’ve you been? I was worried.”

  “Looking in a mirror.”

  I didn’t know if he meant that literally or figuratively, though I knew he disliked mirrors. “Watching yourself get furred?”

  “Something like that.” His fingers skimmed my cheek. His touch was still very cold.

  “I think you need a hot shower. Then some sleep.”

  “Later.”

  “Sully, you’re like ice.” I framed his face. Icy and sweating. This was more than just an emotional shutdown. Was he having a reaction to the honeylace? Did someone put something in the honeylace? Poison?

  There was a med-kit in the bathroom. I rose but his hand caught my wrist, pulled me back down. “It’ll pass. It’s … nothing.”

  “I disagree. You’re cold, sweating—”

  “Respiration shallow, heartbeat erratic. It will pass.” He was still half leaning, half sprawling on the couch, but his grip on my wrist was strong and firm. He seemed to realize that. His fingers loosened. “Get some sleep, my angel.”

  “Not without you.”

  “I won’t be very good company. I’m certainly not a very good friend.”

  “Sully, don’t do this.”

  He watched me through half-closed eyes. “I can’t change what I am, Chasidah.”

  “I know,” I said softly. “I don’t want you to.”

  “Foolish child.” His voice suddenly rasped. He pulled me onto his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. His mouth pressed against my forehead.

  But it was a long while before I felt any warmth coming from his body.

  When I woke, I was in bed, alone. I sat up quickly. Sully was gone. I had an hour before duty shift. I showered, dressed, and plaited my hair in a sloppy braid.

  I went down one deck to the galley. Dorsie was making a fruit salad. I nibbled, then asked if she’d seen Sully.

  “Had some tea with Verno earlier,” she said.

  “You doing okay with Sister Berri?”

  “Sweet kid. No problem.”

  “Talked to Ren yet?”

  Dorsie took her gaze from me to inspect a bright-apple. “I’ll probably run into him later, if he comes in for tea.”

  I nodded, left. Didn’t want to push it. Some things have to come about in their own time.

  Verno was exiting the ready room when I walked up. “Will do, Sully-sir. Oh, blessings of the hour, Captain Chasidah.”

  I stepped in behind him. The hologrid was up, Sully seated in front of it. I could see the data on Crossley Burke and a list of shipping manifests. Sully watched me enter but said nothing.

  I sat on the edge of the table in front of him. He was clean shaven, his dark eyes clear. Not a whisper of a hangover. “Heada
che?”

  “Never. I told you.”

  “That’s disgusting. Everyone should have to suffer a little.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was the wrong choice of words.

  His smile was thin. “I suffer in other ways.”

  “I talked to Dorsie yesterday. Just about Ren. I think things may be okay in that regard.”

  “Aubry’s refusing to work with him.”

  “So let Gregor and Aubry work the same shift.”

  “I thought of that. I also don’t know if I trust them in control of this ship while the rest of us are off duty, or sleeping.” He picked up a lightpen from the table, held it between his fingers.

  “You’re saying they don’t care what’s happening at Marker?” Aubry had been very vocal in his hatred of the jukors.

  “I think my mishandling of the interviews recently has eclipsed that.”

  “You did what had to be done.”

  “That’s Fleet talking. Interrogations are Fleet methods. Not mine. Gregor was right. In the past, if I didn’t like what someone said or did, they hit the docks.”

  “The situation here’s a bit more serious than a disagreement over how to hijack a shipment of synth-emeralds.”

  “All the more reason I know I’ve made an error. I now have a crew who may choose to ignore my orders. Marsh is undecided, but Aubry’s been working on him. They want Ren off this ship or in the brig. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

  “You’re talking three of them against five of us, six if you count Berri.”

  “You’re assuming Dorsie will side with us, with Ren.”

  “I am.”

  “That still only gives us three who can actually run this ship: you, me, and, to some extent, Verno. Ren’s capabilities are limited. Verno’s job is navigation and only that. He doesn’t know the systems, isn’t certified as a pilot. Dorsie can cook but wouldn’t know a hyperdrive if it bit her. I imagine the same’s true of Berri. She can pray and bless us, but she can’t work a shift.”

  “You sound like you’re thinking of returning to Dock Five, letting Gregor go.”

  “I won’t put Ren in the brig. It would give credence to what Gregor’s been saying.” His voice rose, became hard. “I won’t have him persecuted for something he isn’t.”

  “Then make it clear to them. Ren is not a danger. If you have to, admit the Empire’s been ignoring the distinction between a Ragkir and a Ragkiril all along. The mind talents Gregor heard about during the war were Ragkiril talents, isn’t that right?”

  He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

  “People like facts. If you don’t give them the facts, they’ll start looking for them elsewhere. And they’ll make mistakes, like believing what Gregor says is also the truth about Ren. That’s not Fleet methodology. It’s just common sense.”

  He leaned back in the chair, lightpen twirling absently between his fingers. He glanced at the closed door. “I can’t prove to them that Ren’s not a Ragkiril without proving that I am. Ren alone couldn’t have pulled the information from their minds.”

  “If they can accept Ren, why can’t they accept you?” I asked softly.

  He slanted me a glance, as if he couldn’t believe I’d asked that question.

  “I did,” I persisted.

  “A fact that continually amazes me, my angel. But things are tense enough on board because of what we’ll face at Marker. Knowing there’s not only an empath but a Ragkiril on this ship may well be more than any of them, Dorsie included, wants to deal with.”

  “This is what happens when you withhold information from people, Sully.”

  “Reminding me of that doesn’t solve the problem.”

  The door to the ready room slid open. Berri Solaria stood almost frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide, her hood sitting awkwardly on her head.

  Then she charged in, fists clenched against her chest until she came within inches of Sully and myself. “Filthy, venomous soul-stealer! Accursed demon!” She pointed at Sully accusingly. “Mister Sullivan, you have a hideous Stolorth on board this ship!”

  27

  I was on my feet immediately. I grabbed the irate woman by the shoulders, forcing her into a chair. “Calm down, Sister, calm down!”

  She wrenched in my grasp. “I saw him! In the dining hall, about to attack Dorsie. I screamed prayers of exorcism to protect her purity. He fled! Vile monster.” She turned to Sully, ignoring my hand, hard, on her shoulder. “Brother Sudral. You must assist me. We can hunt him down.”

  Sully stood next to me, unmoving. I didn’t remember him getting up. He stared at Berri, reading her, I guessed. Feeling her hatred for Ren. For himself.

  “Ren’s part of my crew,” he said after a moment.

  “Brother, your name is that of the holy robe used to restrain these creatures. Your ship, the Boru Karn, the sword of purity. You know the dark evil that exists inside of them—”

  “Ren has none of it.” Sully’s voice was flat. “He’s blind.”

  She straightened. “Blind? You’re sure?”

  “He was raised on Calfedar.”

  “In the Purity Project?”

  “He was a student of mine for several years.”

  Some of her fervor dissipated. “He’s been cleansed, then. I see.” She knotted her fingers together. “I was not aware. That is tolerable. Providing, of course, he conducts himself properly.”

  Something in Berri’s tone, in the arrogant tilt of her chin, made me want to slap her. More than once. This was Ren she was talking about. An Englarian, like herself. The man Verno called his brother.

  Obviously, Sully wasn’t the only one with a tendency to omit the facts. Verno had never told her about Ren either.

  “You have nothing to fear from Ren,” Sully said.

  “I have no fear of their evil. As Abbot Eng dispersed the dark ghosts of Hell, so can I. Just as you have, since you’ve subjugated him.”

  I waited for Sully to say something, to explain that Ren was his friend. But his silence said more, his mouth taut, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. Finally he spoke, in a voice as deathly quiet as footsteps on a grave. “Have you performed your meditations yet, Sister? If not, permit me to suggest two for you. The Four Tiers of Tolerance. And the Seven Steps to Holy Humility. Now if you’ll excuse us, Captain Bergren and I have important matters to discuss.”

  He turned his back on her and stared at the data on the hologrid.

  Berri rose slowly. “Do not consort with demons,” she said tightly as she stepped toward the door. “Or their very foulness will become yours.”

  I leaned against the table after the door closed behind her, feeling drained yet angry. Sully still stared at the hologrid. It was a few minutes before he turned around. “We have a problem.”

  I nodded. “Verno never told her about Ren.”

  “You’re not going to add that I taught him well?”

  “As you said earlier, that isn’t the solution. But you know more than I do. How big of a problem is she?” When he frowned slightly, I continued. “You were reading her, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t normally do that. With her, it’s difficult enough just to deal with her emotions, her resonances. They”—he ran his hand through his hair in an exasperated motion—“they can sound, feel as loud as screams. Louder.” He let out a harsh sigh. “She’s very intense. And she’s also very devout.”

  “So’s Drogue, and Ren’s his friend.”

  “Drogue’s a different sect. Now. He once was a part of the original Englarians, the Purity Englarians, like I was. Guardian Lon heads that. Most of the inner-system churches follow Lon’s interpretations. Drogue’s part of the Reformed Englarian movement. There’s more tolerance of nonhumans, more acceptance. A push for unity, not for domination.”

  “But the Englarians have always cared for the Takas.”

  “Listen to what you said. They cared for them. As if the Takas were incapable of caring for themselves. Drogue doesn’t see it that way. Lon does. Both sects st
ill build schools, clinics, temples. But the reasons they do so are slightly different.”

  “Ren was raised by these people. How could they save his life and hate him?”

  “They saved his life because he’s blind. He’s been purified of the mind talents they feel are demonic in origin.”

  “This is what Berri believes?”

  “She’s a Purity Englarian. I didn’t realize they were part of the temple on Dock Five. That was a Reformed temple, last I knew. But I honestly haven’t been paying much attention to church politics lately.”

  “Will she still help us get access to Marker?”

  A smile twisted on his lips. “Not if she finds out what I am.”

  I couldn’t see the horrible demon Berri would think he was. So wrongly thought Ren was. “Maybe you ought to go check on Ren.”

  “You must be a mind reader.” He stopped just long enough to stroke my face with his finger, then strode for the door.

  I called Verno off the bridge. He’d heard none of Berri’s encounter with Ren. And realized now he never told her the brother he often talked about was a Stolorth. He didn’t know the temple on Dock Five was Purity Englarian.

  “I’ve only been there a few times. Sister Berri performed many of the ritual blessing of the ships, would invite crew to services. She’d distribute prayer vids or hymns for meditations. That’s how I know her.”

  He was upset, chastened. “I must speak to Ren. And Sully-sir.”

  “Sully went to talk to Ren. But anything you can say to help Berri see Ren is a valued, wonderful person would be a big help.”

  “Oh, praise the stars! Of course.” He went back to the bridge, quietly. And there was no more singing off key of Englarian hymns.

  Dorsie was my next destination. She was at her desk in the small office off the galley. “She showed me pictures on her bookpad last night. I remember those stories about shape-shifters who controlled this evil light. That stuff scared me when I was small. I thought they were myths, but she says they’re true. Then this morning, those names she called him. I remembered those too. Soul-stealer. Winged Hellspawn.”

  “Ren doesn’t have wings.” I gave her a soft smile. “He couldn’t hide them under that thermal shirt he wears.”