certainly can’t see any gray. I’m happy she still remembered
where I lived.
Now I know what you’re thinking, there’s no way it could be
Connie. But her body was never recovered—everyone puzzled
over that, the best they could figure it sank to the bottom of the
stock pond. They drained it and dredged it, and still never found
a body. No one ever had a final answer about what happened—
until now.
If by chance there were visitors from outer space who were
moved by my plea, and took her with them to heal her, we could
assume—couldn’t we?—their space travel might involve near
light speed. That would explain her appearance. If you don’t
understand my point, google “time dilation”.
I noticed you haven’t written anything down for a while. I
don’t blame you. I’m not sure I believe this all myself. But here’s
one thing. On the report you had me fill out, there’s a space to
list stuff that was stolen. But you don’t have anywhere to put
things that were left behind.
When I came home, I found on the kitchen table a couple of
things that looked like they were dropped in haste. She probably
dropped them and left quickly when she saw your car. But she
still was able to leave me a message that makes me happy. After
all those years, I know she’s ok.
This is the rose, and this is the Baby Ruth.
As fresh as the day I bought it.
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A life-long science fiction reader, Lou Antonelli’s first story was
published in 2003 when he was 46. Since then he has had 96
short stories published in the U.S., U.K., Canada, and Australia
in venues such as Asimov’s Science Fiction , Jim Baen’s
Universe , Dark Recesses , Andromeda Spaceways In-Flight
Magazine , Greatest Uncommon Denominator (GUD) , and Daily
Science Fiction , among others. He has received honorable
mentions in The Year’s Best Science Fiction volumes edited by
Gardner Dozois in 2010, 2008, 2006, 2005 and 2004. His
steampunk short story, “A Rocket for the Republic”, was the last
story accepted by Dozois before he retired as editor of Asimov’s
Science Fiction after 19 years. It was published in Asimov’s in
September 2005 and placed third in the annual Readers’ Poll.
His four collections include Fantastic Texas published in 2009
and Texas & Other Planets published in 2010, and the Hugo-
nominated Letters from Gardner , 2015. He is a professional
journalist and lives with his wife and dog in Mount Pleasant,
Texas.
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Our next debut story is another dark tale, this one set in the
universe of Kate Corcino’s Progenitor novels, including Spark
Rising (2014) and the just released Spark Awakening. In it,
young Lucas faces a difficult choice between love and family …
B L O O D A N D W A T E R
( A S p a r k S t o r y )
By Kate Corcino
Zone Four
“He won’t do it, Grandfather. He’s weak.” The loathing in
Jacob’s voice had never been more clear. “He’s a blight on our
family.”
Lucas bit his cheek until he tasted blood. His questions had
already disappointed the old man perched behind the desk in
front of them, and he knew better than to speak out of turn. God
forbid he should ever forget his place and argue in front of the
man. Jacob might have earned those privileges. Lucas certainly
hadn’t.
Their grandfather’s head slowly turned. His pale, icy eyes—
the color Lucas had inherited—were frigid as he regarded Jacob
for a long, silent moment. When he spoke, however, his voice
was soft and encouraging. “A blight? How so?”
Lucas turned his head to look at his brother, who stood at
Edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt
attention beside Lucas.
“Yes, sir. A blight. For as long as I can remember, you’ve
always taught us that Sparks are demons, living proof of the
times of Tribulation. Why else would they have power over
energy, over fire? That Lucas was born to our family is a sign of
our shame.”
“Our shame? Stupid boy, Lucas is a sign of our favor.”
Grandfather’s stare bored into Jacob.
Lucas’s stomach dropped in shock.
Does he mean it?
“Our family’s birth record has been spotless—not a single
stain of Spark blood. Lucas was born a Spark, yes, but he was
born only a month after I was blessed with weeks of visionary
dreams that showed me I needed to send a Spark forth to infiltrate
the enemy.” The old man leaned back in his chair, steepling his
hands. “But where would I get such a creature? A loyal Spark?
A man with the abilities that would gain him access to their world
while retaining the conscience and piety, the humanity, of ours?”
Grandfather shook his head. He reached out to spin the teacup in
front of him, a meditative movement.
“I had done my work too well,” he continued. “Our Sparks
live apart. They know their place, even those that come to us as
agents from the Ward School. Our Reintegration Program
guarantees that. We don’t have a single Spark who could meet
the eyes of the non-powered, who could manage to pass as one
of them.
“I knew what I needed. I prayed for guidance. And I was
gifted Lucas. Why do you think I sent him away as a child?”
Lucas’s mouth opened and closed. Jacob stood motionless.
Was he as shocked as Lucas? He must be.
Grandfather turned to Lucas. “You’re surprised. Tell me why
you think I sent you away.”
Lucas cleared his throat. “You sent me away because you
could not bear the sight of me, but you could not stand having
one of your family living in the Kennels.” Lucas repeated the line
his mother had told him, using the colloquial term for the Spark
village that was set apart. She’d told him her version of the truth
on one of her rare visits to faraway Zone Six where Lucas was
fostered. And as if telling him the truth had set her free, she’d
never returned. Even as a boy, he’d justified her absence for her.
It was a long journey from the Pacific Northwest to the far side
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of the Great Plains.
Only Grandfather had ever made the trip after that.
“If I could not bear the sight of you, Lucas, then why did I
travel there twice every year, at my age and in my health? Why
spend weeks with a caravan just to see you?” Grandfather wore
a soft smile.
“But …” Lucas found himself shaking his head. “When you
brought me home last autumn, you told me I should never use
the Spark. Never mention it. I thought—I thought you were
ashamed of me.”
Lucas had violated that secrecy. He’d told Meredith.
She was the first person who’d ever loved him. She loved
him even a
fter he told her. She’d been shocked, of course. A
thing like that? Your secret boyfriend, the grandson of your
Councilor, is a Spark? But it hadn’t taken more than a few
minutes for her to smile up at him, green eyes glowing with her
belief in him, and tell him that he was still her Lucas. She felt no
shame toward him.
And no … Grandfather, too?
“Lucas. I have never been ashamed. I have been proud every
day that my grandson was chosen. Where others will see a mere
Spark, I see a flaming sword of righteousness.”
“I don’t understand,” Jacob dared to whisper.
Grandfather returned his gaze to Lucas’s brother. “Lucas is
not a curse, Jacob. Lucas is a blessing, a tool, given to us to show
favor.” Grandfather looked again at Lucas. “And that is why you
must go away again. I arranged this position for you at the Zone
Three Post-Secondary Training Facility so you could be fast-
tracked into the mid-range Agent branch. Zone Three is our next
target, and I am counting on you to lay the foundation for us. Do
you understand?”
Lucas nodded, but he knew it was slow. Too slow. His
grandfather’s eyes narrowed, prompting a verbal response.
“I do. But I—are you certain I’m the one to do this?” Panic
fluttered in his chest. He couldn’t leave. All the way to Zone
Three, across the Rocky Mountains and south, deep in the high
desert? That was even further than Zone Six had been. It was a
month of travel by caravan. What about Meredith? Lucas
grasped at the first logical argument he could. “Couldn’t Jacob
go? He’s been trained for this sort of thing.”
It was a mistake.
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“Fool.” Grandfather spat at him. “Only Sparks are permitted
to be Agents. You were created for this. You will not disappoint
me.” Grandfather took a deep, calming breath, and his snarling
lips trembled back into their usual ascetic expression. He leaned
forward, his eyes steady on Lucas’s. “You are the only Spark
born to our family. The only Spark I would trust with my fortune,
with my future, with my life. Or is that a mistake?”
Lucas’s head shook quickly now. He had no idea he was so
important to his grandfather. “No, sir,” he whispered, “it’s not a
mistake.”
Grandfather settled back again. He turned his gaze to a report
before him. Lucas was too tall and too far back from the desk to
read the scrawled words upside down.
“I believe you, grandson. But this mission is too important
for you to go without demonstration of your devotion. Are you
ready to prove yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As devoted as your brother Jacob?”
“Of course, Grandfather.”
Jacob shifted restlessly beside Lucas, but Lucas couldn’t turn
his gaze from his grandfather now. He was going to give Lucas
a trusted mission, meant only for him, one only he could achieve.
Lucas struggled to reign in his quickening breath.
Once I’ve proved myself, I can ask to marry Meredith. Maybe
Grandfather will send her with me? Or she can join me later.
“Edgar has betrayed me.” Grandfather tilted his head as he
looked at Lucas and paused.
His most trusted aide, Meredith’s father, was a traitor?
“But I find that I still have use of his particular skills, so I
cannot rid myself of him. Not yet. Still, he must be punished. His
oldest daughter must die.”
Lucas’s breath caught, strangled by his closing throat.
His oldest—Meredith?
“Kill her, Lucas. Your early training is complete. It is time
for me to take up the weapon that has been provided and strike
out at evil. It is time for you to earn your place at my side, by
smiting sinners. Do you understand, Lucas?”
Lucas’s head swam. He clenched the muscles in his back and
around his knees, determined to keep his feet under him. Kill
Meredith? Killing her would somehow show he was worthy of
the holy mission for which he’d been born?
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“Yes. Exactly.” It wasn’t until Grandfather beamed at him
that he realized he’d spoken the words aloud. “Edgar has sinned
against us, consorting with Sparks. Conspiring. He is a trusted
member of my team, Lucas, and I cannot lose his skills. But he
must be brought up short. He must know the cost of
righteousness and bear it. Kill his daughter. And then I’ll know
you’re ready to begin your work.”
Lucas was still. When he’d been summoned, he’d decided to
take the opportunity to ask Grandfather for permission to marry
Meredith. That wasn’t happening now. It wasn’t ever happening!
I am a flaming sword of righteousness. He said it. It’s truth.
Lucas waited for the wave of despair that he expected to
swamp him. He couldn’t be this calm. He should be reeling.
Hysterical.
I am a flaming sword of righteousness. I am meant to cut
down sinners.
How could he—?
He couldn’t. Perhaps that was why he felt nothing? He had
nothing to fear. He had no intention of doing as he’d been told.
Grandfather expected him to kill Meredith?
Never.
Grandfather clearly took his silence as confirmation. He
dismissed Lucas, holding up his cheek so Lucas could skirt the
desk between them, bend down, and offer his grandfather a kiss.
As Lucas started to withdraw after pressing his lips to the thin,
delicate skin, Grandfather whispered to him, “Do it quickly,
Lucas. I’ve waited so long for you to come back to me. I’m eager
to get started.”
Lucas nodded, his heart steady inside his chest. “Yes,
Grandfather.”
As Lucas backed away, Jacob leaned in to take Lucas’s place
and offer farewell respect, but Grandfather turned from him.
“We are not finished, Jacob. Stay. We must talk.”
Lucas stepped backward again, pulled the door open, and
backed out, closing it again behind him.
Am I a tool? A weapon?
Lucas turned his body, his gaze sliding over a pair of the
vicious, fanatically-devoted teenagers his Grandfather used as
guards. He had no reason to fear them.
Or did he?
Lucas shivered and glanced over his shoulder at the young
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men behind him now. If he failed to do as he’d been told, would
he be given over to the Youth Guard? They lived together like a
pack, in a separate barracks. They attacked with the feral ferocity
of a pack, as well.
Leaving Grandfather’s administrative suite behind, he
entered the halls of the main Council building and had to weave
between the plainly dressed people making their way to
appointments. The thought of their ordinary errands juxtaposed
against the horror grandfather had just asked
of him made him
wish nothing more than to flee.
I’ll go get Meredith. We’ll get away.
But instead of taking him from the building, his feet carried
him to the little chapel tucked into a corner. It was dark inside
the windowless room.
Lucas’s foster family had been almost as devout as
Grandfather. They’d taken him to services, and when they
traveled, they made certain to find a shrine or church for holy
days. This room had little in common with those places. In other
zones, churches were places of light and fellowship. Here,
Grandfather decreed that their prayer spaces should reflect the
state of the times they lived in. The room was dark, the ceiling
low and oppressive. The only light filtered in from the hall
behind him. Only a minimal amount leaked from the censer on
the low altar ahead.
Lucas hovered in the doorway, momentarily confused. Why
had he come?
Murder.
He blinked back the sudden flow of tears. The last thing he
needed was anyone witnessing and reporting his weakness to
Grandfather. He took a long, ragged breath and started forward,
stopping only when he was in front of the altar. Lucas took up
one of the long, skinny splinters of wood and fed it through a gap
in the censer to light it. His shaking hand lit a beeswax candle
before shaking the flame from the splinter.
The little flame burned tall and steady.
The way I’m meant to stand with my burdens. Lucas
swallowed and glanced around, self-conscious. He’d never been
good at prayer. He bowed his head.
I try. You know I try. Believing is hard for me. I’m not like
Grandfather. But if there’s a purpose for me, I have to see it. I
have to know it. Show me. Please. Show me the path. I know
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Grandfather is worthy. I know he’s chosen. But I—I’m just me.
If you don’t show me, I cannot do this. I can’t.
A vision of Meredith swam into his mind’s eye. How could
this be expected of him? Lucas thought about that for a moment.
He was a Spark, by definition soiled. If he’d been chosen to bear
that burden, what was to say he wasn’t expected to bear more, so
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