The Twisted Vine

by Alyce Caswell

  It was tempting to grab the nearest vidscreen and hurl it halfway across the room. Fei settled for a loud growl of frustration, glad she had the basement to herself. She might have gone mad if she couldn’t show how she really felt now and then.

  Oh well. If she couldn’t yell at Moz, she could at least take her time in obeying him. She snatched her techpad out of the top drawer and allowed it to start displaying images of her and Zareth. Beside her colourful hair and sunny expressions, he looked troubled, distant, his expression absorbing none of the sunlight. He seemed like a shadow instead of a man.

  She couldn’t think of anything she’d said to upset Zareth — she’d been so good at keeping her feelings tightly wound, buried in her chest, afraid that if she unleashed them she’d drive him away. She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered. He’d left her anyway.

  Fei wriggled her hands over the brightly lit keys on the desk, pretending she was writing code, but her fingertips never hit the surface.

  And her eyes never left the techpad.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kuja stomped through the curved columns that lined the entrance walkway. They were white, soft, eternally smooth — and completely unnecessary because they did not hold anything up. Even if there had been a ceiling, it would have hovered without the aid of any tech, kept there by the impossibilities that existed in this realm.

  Kuja had called it the Everything Portal since he was very small, because it was here that every god brought their unique array of powers. His brothers and sisters considered his name for the realm childish, much to Kuja’s annoyance. He might be the youngest in the Galactic Pantheon, but he was now seventy-five years old. A mortal might even call someone of that age wise.

  Kuja stopped by one particular column and stared at the floor. Years ago, he had watched Sandsa fall from grace in that very spot, cast out from the Everything Portal because he’d wanted to leave the deserts to seek the woman who had been haunting his dreams. Callista Krendasta — a beautiful woman, Kuja recalled, and she would stay that way forever. Though she had left the Desine, she had not given up the immortality granted to her by her marriage.

  Kuja abruptly threw himself the side. A torrent of water exploded against the column a moment later, showering him with tiny pebbles made of liquid. Rolling onto his stomach, Kuja slapped the ground in an attempt to get to his feet, but his older brother’s telekinesis was keeping him pinned. This would have been an excellent time to manifest that particular ability, Kuja thought sourly.

  He gritted his teeth. ‘Fayay. Let me up.’

  ‘Still unable to defend yourself,’ the Watine said, tsking. His dank hair fell over one side of his face in a wet, greasy curtain that complemented the strands of rotting seaweed he wore as a cloak. ‘Did Sandsa send you here to whine to the Ine about his banishment from this realm? Or is he still sobbing like a baby because that woman left him?’

  Fayay swatted the vine that Kuja had sent creeping over his shoulder, but the sharp point evaded the water god’s touch and managed to open up a gash on his cheek. Fayay tore the vine in half in retribution, distracted enough by his anger to lose control of his powers. Taking advantage of this, the Rforine leapt up from the ground unhindered. Kuja then threw out his hands, streams of brown-streaked greenery tearing from him, swirling into a howling vortex that encased his older brother. A great crash told Kuja that Fayay had fallen to his knees.

  But then he felt the breath on the back of his neck. Kuja froze. His attack subsided, leaving only bare floor in its wake. Fayay had teleported into a position behind him.

  The Watine brimmed with vast power, as frigid and endless as the depths of an ocean. His lack of mind-reading abilities had never impeded him in an open fight. Kuja knew that firsthand.

  ‘You are even weaker than before,’ Fayay noted, his voice raspy. ‘I could destroy you.’

  ‘I haven’t come here because of Sandsa,’ Kuja said and winced when he heard how plaintive he sounded.

  ‘But you have seen our brother. Do not deny it, Kuja.’

  Kuja jerked his head from side to side. ‘No! Not for a while, anyway. I wouldn’t wish Sandsa’s pain on anyone. Except maybe you.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t have let that woman lure me from my duties the way she did Sandsa,’ Fayay said, grabbing Kuja’s shoulder and jerking his younger brother around to face him. The Watine towered over Kuja, his shadow eclipsing the rainforest god. ‘You should have stood aside instead of hindering our restoration of Father’s grand design.’

  Kuja lifted his chin. ‘I couldn’t stand aside. I had to defend him.’

  ‘Even when you knew your attempt was doomed from the start?’ Fayay hissed at him.

  ‘Yes.’ Kuja swallowed. His failure had been inevitable, but he didn’t regret what he’d done for Sandsa. ‘If you ever try to hurt him again, whether by insults or by powers, I will kill you.’

  ‘You would die trying.’

  ‘I’d die for my brother,’ Kuja said, planting his hands on his hips. He didn’t care if it made him look infantile. ‘Because I love him. You don’t understand love. You don’t understand why Sandsa wanted to leave us for Callista and his son. And it terrifies you that you might want the same thing one day!’

  Fayay lifted a hand, a sphere of water rolling above his palm, but his threat lost its impact when a broad line of fire shot past the ball, turning it into steam. The Watine turned away to frown at the newcomer. ‘Finara. You have no place in this quarrel.’

  ‘The stark I don’t,’ said the goddess of fire, striding over, dark hair trailing behind her.

  The Firine’s olive skin was glistening, barely covered by her scarlet two-piece outfit, and her eyes were filled with flames, their hazel irises completely hidden. Only decades younger than Fayay, she was powerful, but didn’t seem to care about proving this to her siblings. Kuja had to admit that this failing tended to afflict more sons than daughters of the Ine, known to the mortals as the Creator God.

  Finara looked aside at the Rforine. ‘Are you going to let him beat you up again?’

  ‘I can’t exactly stop him,’ Kuja said with a sigh.

  ‘Kuja, bro, the only reason you lost against him last time was because you used up all your power hiding Sandsa and his family for months.’ Finara whistled in appreciation. ‘That was really impressive. But hey, none of us could beat Sandsa in the end. No one can beat him.’

  Fayay made a sound in his throat. It was somewhere between ominous and indignant.

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Finara said, spitting her older brother with a glare. ‘You’re still afraid of the Desine, otherwise you’d be over in the deserts antagonising him instead of going after our poor little Rforine here.’

  ‘I’m not that little,’ Kuja protested, but a grin exploded across his face. He had missed Finara. She was usually a recluse, preferring to hide out in volcanoes or lurk around buildings destroyed by fire, helping people to fix up the ruins left behind. She also had a habit of rescuing small children.

  Kuja hoped she didn’t think of him as one of those. But he was grateful for everything she had done for him. The Firine had threatened to singe off his eyebrows if he ever let the other gods know that she had nursed him back to health after that disastrous encounter with Fayay. She didn’t possess healing abilities, but she did have a good deal of compassion. It seemed to embarrass her.

  ‘We will speak of this later,’ Fayay said and vanished inside a swirl of water that smacked onto the ground once he was gone.

  Finara’s expression became pinched. ‘You really need to stand up to him.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Kuja said, wringing his hands. He grimaced when he realised what he was doing and shoved his fingers into the pockets of the cargo pants he was wearing. ‘I don’t have his telekinesis and I’m not brave like you. And he’s right. I’m weak.’

  ‘Well, bro, I can’t change your mind. But I can ask you why the stark you’re here. Please don’t tell me you’re going to see Father.’

  K
uja looked at his feet.

  ‘Oh, Kuja.’ The flames in Finara’s eyes flickered, a hint of hazel peeking through. ‘You can’t do anything for Sandsa, not now. Our brother was the one who decided to jump out the airlock of sanity and into that mortal’s arms.’

  ‘The Ine as good as pushed him,’ Kuja said, shooting a nervous glance down the long ornate corridor, half expecting to see the Ine walking towards him. But it seemed his father was busy elsewhere. Even though the Creator God now had plenty of immortal children to look after the galaxy’s growing number of lifeforms, he still had important work to do.

  Finara raised an eyebrow. ‘Do tell.’

  Kuja leaned forward and lowered his voice, despite knowing it was pointless to mask his words since the Creator God was aware of everything that went on in both realms. ‘You know how the Ine lets GLEA use his powers through those chips in their heads, so they can protect other mortals? Well, Father made Callista have those powers naturally. She was meant to attract Sandsa’s attention so that he would fall in love with her.’

  The Firine rested a hand on Kuja’s shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Are you sure about that? Could be that Callista was meant to do something else and Sandsa just blundered into it.’

  ‘No, Finara, it’s true,’ Kuja insisted, shrugging off her touch. ‘I asked Father about it. And he did not deny it. I was so angry. He lured Sandsa away from his duties on purpose! Do you know what the Ine said? He said it was a lesson. Sandsa needed to learn how to love mortals enough to care for them, so Callista provided that lesson. If Sandsa chose not to come back as the Desine, then he and Callista were expected to provide a replacement — they’d have had to give up their son! And Father stood by and let Fayay go after Sandsa’s family, to force our brother to make a decision, so of course I’m upset and I’m — ’

  Kuja fell silent, horrified. Most of his siblings detested it when he rambled.

  But Finara was smirking. ‘I get it. Little Kuja’s horny and he’s upset that he’ll get punished for falling in love and doing the nasty.’

  ‘I am not — ’ Kuja cut himself off, thinking of Lorena. His cheeks burned. Finara had to have seen that memory when it flashed through his mind, however briefly. She could read thoughts just as well as he could.

  The Firine tutted. ‘Kuja. It’s normal. It’s part of us.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Kuja demanded, refusing to meet her eyes.

  ‘Well, our mother was born a mortal, wasn’t she? It makes sense for us to have human desires!’ Finara said, chuckling. ‘And the Ine doesn’t seem to care if we have sex, because he hasn’t sent Fayay after me or the mortals I’ve gone to bed with. It’s the love thing we can’t do.’

  Kuja gaped at her. ‘You’ve had…sex?’

  ‘Absolutely. You’re really missing out, bro.’

  ‘So if I…if I had sex, would that stop me having trouble around women?’ Kuja asked, lining up his feet so that they were exactly parallel to each other. ‘You saw how awful it was in my memories. That woman shed her clothes in front of me and I could barely think. Will that happen to me around men as well?’

  Finara shrugged. ‘Could do. I like men and women both.’ She grinned. ‘So? Are you interested? I know this great place in the mortal realm. I can pay for you.’

  ‘How do you have mortal coin-chips?’ Kuja blinked. ‘I don’t even have those.’

  ‘Kuja. You live in a hut and work for food and board.’

  ‘You live in a volcano!’ he exclaimed.

  Finara waved her arms around and streams of fire circled her body, seemingly unaimed but never leaving their tight orbit. ‘I also work as a fire dancer at some luxury resorts. The mortals love that stuff. And I get to see how many of them take the fire goddess seriously.’

  Kuja stood very still, hoping she would leave him alone if he didn’t say anything.

  Finara rolled her eyes. ‘Kuja. You can talk to the Ine and get angry with him again or you can do something about your little problem. C’mon. Give it a shot.’

  I wonder if Sandsa ever considered just having sex with Callista to get her out of his mind, Kuja thought, but then he remembered how his brother had looked at his wife on their wedding day in Atsa City. Sandsa’s blue eyes had been swimming with moisture and he had felt so alive, thrumming with something even greater than the powers he had rejected.

  Kuja shuddered. Lorena might try to corner me again. I don’t know what I’ll do if she does. And I’d rather not do that with her. I don’t even like her!

  ‘We’d better get this over with, and fast,’ Kuja said as he and Finara began walking. They could have teleported out of the realm with their powers in an instant, but they both favoured the traditional exit between the last two columns.

  ‘Don’t worry, your first time won’t take long,’ Finara assured him.

  Kuja didn’t dare ask her what she meant by that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fei eventually gave up hoping that Moz would come back to rescind his orders so she dutifully rewrote the code for the Yalsa 5 simulation. While the compiling program ran, spitting out a new bevy of error messages, she grabbed her techpad and headed for the hoverlift. It had taken her almost the entire two Old Earth years she’d worked here on Enoc to realise that every other TerraCorp programmer spent their spare moments doing more exciting things than calling their mothers. They often stepped outside to take in some natural light or even to get a cup of coffein.

  Fei had at first prided herself on working harder than the rest of them, especially those who were in charge of inferior tasks such as writing code for Web-based advertising apps, but then she’d discovered that sometimes she actually needed fresh air to clear her cluttered mind.

  Stepping out into the lilac fog spewing from the sea, Fei lifted her techpad and ran her thumb over the corner, activating the Web. Thanks to her, only communicators were allowed to connect to the Web inside the building.

  That’s one thing Moz finally listened to me about, she thought, shaking her head. It’s not safe for consoles or techpads to have Web access, because anyone could hack their way in and steal our files. I wish Moz had banned communicators too, because people might listen in to our conversations…but then I wouldn’t get to talk to Mum at my desk…

  Fei caught sight of one of the other programmers exiting the building. She ducked her head, afraid he’d try to talk to her, but when she chanced a peek she saw that he was frantically tapping on his techpad, brow furrowed. Not everyone had been keen about the changes to Web access — Fei assumed they’d been watching vids on the Web instead of working — but after TerraCorp had avoided the data theft that other corporations had recently suffered, Moz had been hailed as a genius for his idea.

  Fei clenched a fist inside her pocket, mindful of the surveillance vidcam hovering outside the foyer doors. She’d love to let Moz know how angry it had made her when he’d stolen the credit for her idea, but whenever she saw him she felt like she’d been struck dumb.

  Fei sighed and flicked a finger over the screen of the techpad, pulling up her preferred Webchat feed. Several of the names listed there were familiar to her. She fancied she knew more about these anonymous, faceless people than she did any of her colleagues. Working in the basement wasn’t exactly conducive to networking and she avoided people outside of work because they tended to get that blank stare which meant she’d been talking too much again.

  Anticipation shivered through Fei as she brought up on the on-screen keyboard. Hey, CC here. Anyone know why GLEA isn’t tolerant of desert god worshippers?

  CC was her Webname, an acronym of Code Compiler. She had found this funny as a teenager, but now it caused her to cringe every time she signed in. At least no one else on the Web had figured it out yet.

  ‘Why is it I can talk really well on this starking thing but I can’t do it in real life, when it actually counts…’ Fei muttered. ‘Oh. Here we go. I knew I could rely on BozzMed.’

  BozzMed, a regular of this particular
feed (devoted to people who were fed up with their bosses or the corporations they worked for), had pinged her back almost immediately. I’ve spoken to a few Chippers and desert tribespeople in my time. They’ve never had much love for each other; for starters, the Desine is considered a lot more violent than the Creator God.

  But it really depends on who’s calling the shots at GLEA. There have been entire decades where GLEA doesn’t mention the desert folk at all. But then the Agency elects a new Head General who’s been nursing a grudge against the Desine’s followers for years and suddenly has the power to go after them.

  You’re talkative today, Fei replied, throwing a furtive look between the surveillance vidcam and her colleague. She curved a hand over the top of her techpad, shielding the screen.

  And you’re not, BozzMed noted. Why do you want to know all this?

  Fei bit her lip. Are the Desine’s followers a threat to GLEA? Enough that the Agency would want to destroy any deserts they come across?

  BozzMed’s response arrived a lot faster than she expected. Well, if you look at it with safety and security in mind, those with desert powers can turn them on innocent people and use them like weapons. It’s another way to hurt folk and that could be why the Agency is concerned.

  Fei closed her eyes briefly. ‘Yeah, like GLEA’s agents don’t have their own ways of hurting us.’ She belatedly remembered to seal her mouth back up when her colleague gave her an odd look.

  Ideologically speaking, BozzMed went on, it looks bad if the Creator God’s ‘chosen’ protectors of the galaxy have to get their powers from tech while the desert worshippers are born with theirs naturally. GLEA might want to wipe out the tribespeople simply because their existence is damaging the Agency’s galactic reputation.

  I’ve heard the Desine actually speaks to his followers, Fei sent to BozzMed, then glanced up at the sky, frowning. She’d never heard anything from the god she was supposed to worship, but then again, her father and her ex-fiancé must have heard something that had made them want to stick chips into their temples.