“Something I said. But he woke up with the fever,” Alex replied, transferring Amanda’s breakfast into a bowl and giving her a fork. Amanda headed for the staircase and she leaned against the railing while studying the pictures again. With a fist around her fork, she shoveled messy bites toward her face.
“You know how it is when you take a step away from your stressful day job and you get sick the first day of vacation. His immune system is making up for lost time,” Jen explained. “And he did nearly overdose on the Zen.”
“She died because of me,” Danny sniffled, leaning his head against Jennifer’s stomach, pulling her hands around his shoulders. “I didn’t even try to bring her home.”
“Corey,” Alex said. Corey had been a topic of conversation before the crash, because Danny had been head-over-heels in love, and she was the first girl he’d fallen for since Amanda had Disappeared. Alex brought Danny a cup of water to rinse his mouth out, but Danny gulped the whole thing quickly. He seemed to be thirsty all the time.
Jennifer put an arm around Alex, and kissed his cheek. “You didn’t sleep a wink, did you?” she asked, keeping her voice low. Alex instantly felt the comfort of her focused attention.
“Maybe half a wink. But I didn’t sleep well,” he smiled.
“Mom?” Amanda called, setting her breakfast bowl on the stairs, staring through the three of them at the table, seeing someone else.
“She’s about to stab someone,” Danny warned, scooting his chair back.
Alex hurried to Amanda, catching her by the elbow. “It’s not real, sweetheart. Is it? What do you see?” Danny had warned him not to dismiss the content of Amanda’s psychosis.
“That. It was in the picture.” Amanda wrung her hand free, then tentatively pointed to the necklace that Jennifer wore. It was a blue gemstone on a simple silver chain. “You stole it from Mom.”
“No. She lent it to me for a date, and I never got it back to her,” Jennifer said, taking off the necklace. “I have been looking for this for days. I finally found it in my locker at the hospital. I put it on so I wouldn’t forget to bring it to you.”
Amanda frowned, studying the jewel in Jennifer’s hand. Then she gracelessly turned her back to Jennifer, swept her hair to one side, and waited. Her sandy, brown hair was streaked with blond highlights, but it was thin and stringy from lack of care. There were rough patches on Amanda’s skin, but overall, she’d suffered less sun damage than Danny, and she was healing faster.
“Any trouble last night?” Jennifer asked, clasping the necklace around Amanda’s neck. Amanda rubbed her thumb across the blue stone, her lips twitching in a smile.
“Trouble sleeping all around,” Alex reported. “I think I need to go to Kemah and see what I can find out about Sky before Coro gets impatient.”
“Sky?” Danny asked, taking the rag from his neck and dropping it over the runny vomit on the floor, cleaning half-heartedly. “How are they? Sky and Hawk?”
“I haven’t seen them since the medics took them to quarantine,” Alex said. “But Coro thought, since I helped land the ship, they’d talk to me. He wants to know about Sky.”
“She’s not exactly an open book,” Danny said, his lips twisting thoughtfully. “Open with ‘I’m married’ or she’ll try to kiss you.”
Alex cocked his head, surprised to see Danny getting starry-eyed over Sky when he was still torn up about Corey. Maybe he was reading too much into the expression.
“But how loyal is she to Sikorsky?” Alex asked. “Can she be coerced? Can she be bought?”
Danny resumed his seat and stirred his cold soup. “Loyal: no. She stands by her own principles. Coerced: yes, but she’s likely to burn down Kemah in the process. Bought: no.”
“Bought: yes,” Amanda said, taking her dish to the sink, then refilling her cup with bunna.
“She gets what she wants without paying,” Danny said.
“Mode of transportation,” Amanda enunciated, raising her eyebrow. “She does want things.”
Danny snickered and nodded. “That’s true. Show her a vehicle and she’ll claim it and run. If we tell her where to find the Bobsled, she’d probably skip town.”
“Bobsled?” Alex asked.
“Their personal airship. The one neither of them mentioned until the cab was half way back from Sanshin,” Jennifer grumbled, pulling a bottle from the purse she’d brought from the hospital. She filled two glasses with water, mixed a powder into the water, then set the cups in front of Danny and Amanda.
“What is this?” Danny asked.
“Nutritional supplement,” Jennifer said, massaging his shoulders. “It’ll help with the grogginess, the dehydration, and maybe even that fever.”
Amanda took a sip, then gagged and dropped the cup. “Danny, we have to get out of here,” she murmured, her body quivering.
“This is home now. You’re going to stay here,” Danny reminded her. “I have to go to Clover. My new identity should get me into the hospital to see Tray.”
Amanda’s teeth chattered and she clambered toward the stairs, tripping on the first one and dropping to her knees. “The water is poison.”
“Danny, if you want to go to Clover, all you have to do is say ‘I’m Danny Matthews, heir to the Vimbai name. This is my territory,’” Alex pointed out.
“It’s not my territory,” Danny groused, jumping to his feet, digging his fingers into his scalp. “It’s Ketlin territory and Ketlin wants Vimbai dead.”
“Zenzele would welcome you with open arms,” Alex said. It seemed like a simple solution, but came with so many complications, the biggest being explaining the ruse of his death without exposing Amanda.
“I want to see Tray, but it’s not worth identifying myself as Vimbai,” Danny said, stabbing at the air with his finger.
“The Matthews name carries plenty of clout,” Alex said.
“I can’t hide behind that name. I can’t!” Danny ranted, stalking into the living room. “Mom tried. She hid as a Matthews and took the Vimbai title when it was convenient. Vimbai killed her for it.”
Alex exchanged a look with Jennifer, then followed Danny into the living room. “Danny, your mother died of an incurable disease.”
“That’s what everyone says, but I had it and I survived,” Danny cried, dropping to the couch, burying his head in his hands. “We were poisoned because she left the family. That’s why Steven took us into hiding and he wouldn’t let us leave the house.”
“Your stepfather was a controlling narcissist, and he resented you so much, he turned you out and wouldn’t let you contact your own brother,” Alex said.
“Are you sure?” Danny asked. “I think I know, but then I come back to this city and I see the bosses running the streets. I see how life is, and I remember this whole part of my childhood, before Tray was born, when Zenzele and my mom were still… still Vimbai… I can’t claim to be one now. I can’t leave Tray with those people!”
“Danny—”
“Knife!” Danny cried, leaping off the couch, tackling Amanda to the ground.
Amanda kicked and screeched, throwing her hot bunna in Danny’s face and clubbing him with the empty cup.
“Danny, stop!” Alex cried. “She doesn’t have a knife.”
“Danny, let go! Danny, you’re hurting me!” Amanda begged, struggling to shove him off. He forced her to her knees, using his body weight to hold her down. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought for her life.
“Danny, let go. I’ve got her,” Alex said, diving into the melee, pulling Amanda from Danny’s grip, rolling away and keeping her protected.
Danny backed away, holding up his trembling hands. Jennifer caught him from behind and he turned and embraced her, shaking in horror. Jennifer held him and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer in his ear. Danny bowed his head and they left the room.
“Are you all right?” Alex asked, pulling Amanda into his lap and checking her over. She had fresh scratches and a serious patch of rug burn, and for the firs
t time in days, she let him hold her.
“Why is there no medicine yet?” she sobbed. “I need medicine.”
“We’re trying,” Alex reassured. “It’s in you; it just takes time to work. You’ll feel a little better each day. So will he.”
“Do I have to keep living here while you wait for him to get better?” Amanda sniffled. “I can’t go on like this, Alex. We can’t.”
“She’s right, Alex,” Jennifer said, coming back to check on them. “It’s time to stop experimenting and ask for help. We don’t know what we’re doing.”
14
The first thing Tray Matthews felt were cold fingers pressed against his palm. Awareness spread from there, and he knew someone was holding his hand. Nothing moved for a long while, and he focused contentedly on the hand holding his, glad that wherever he was, he wasn’t alone. The last thing he remembered was being in Boone, tromping through the woods after Oriana went off a cliff. But he wasn’t in the woods anymore, or even on Oriana. He knew the beds in the ship’s infirmary and they weren’t this comfortable.
Taking a deep breath, Tray felt a sharp pain in his torso. He tried to cry out, but his mouth was dry, and the sound choked. The cold fingers squeezed his hand reassuringly, then a second set touched his cheek and his forehead. Irritated at the intrusion, Tray jerked away from the touch. He opened his eyes, but the room was too bright and he closed them again. Panicking, his grip tightened around the hand in his. His lungs stung, and the pain in his torso escalated, but through it, he felt the soft, soothing tickle of fingernails brushing feather-light against his chest.
“You’re safe, Tray. You’re home,” said a soft, sweet voice.
Tray was too scared to believe it. The two hands closed around his, rubbing warmth back into his skin despite their coolness. Opening his eyes more slowly, he waited for the white light to dim. His vision was blurry, but he guessed it was Saskia holding his hand.
“Returning the favor?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over her fingers. When she’d fallen sick in the wilderness, he’d held her hand. It was the first time he’d really touched her.
“This doesn’t mean I’m trying to start something. It just means you almost died,” she said, leaning her face next to his. Her long hair cascaded forward, tickling his skin, and she swept it back with one hand, so that it wouldn’t get in the way when she kissed him.
Her lips touching his felt like relief, and he put a hand behind her head, holding her in the kiss. He kept his mouth closed, as did she. He needed water, and didn’t imagine his kiss would be palatable, but he’d go as long as she let him, even if this was nothing more than a dream. The pain in his torso flared, and Tray broke away.
“Ow, ow,” Tray groaned. “Oh, great. Now I have regret.”
“Regret for what just happened or for what didn’t happen before?” Saskia gazed at him, her lips curving into a smile, her finger tracing his jaw line.
“We don’t have to extend anything beyond this moment,” Tray said, echoing the invitation she’d made in Boone, reaching for her again, ignoring the shooting pain in his arm. “Don’t stop.”
“Tray, you have a hole in your gut,” she said, pushing his arm back to the bed and giving his cheek a playful pat. “Our moment can wait.”
Tray rubbed his smooth-shaved cheek against her hand, relieved by the promise. “Why is there a hole in my gut?”
“Gun went off. Turns out, bullets bounce,” she said. He glanced with trepidation across the large triage space. Lines of beds were filled with unconscious patients, attended by worried companions.
“Is Danny here?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Saskia shook her head and clasped his hand again. Tray’s chest tightened, the feeling of abandonment that had compelled him to leave Oriana surging.
A doctor walked in and pulled a curtain closed around Tray’s bed, shielding them from the rest of the room. She wore a smart pencil dress underneath her white coat, and her thick, black hair was pulled into a low ponytail. Tray started hearing his father’s voice in his head, yelling at him to be a man and stop crying, and mentally, he shut down.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Matthews,” the doctor said cordially, checking the projected monitors over Tray’s head and making notes on her Virclutch.
“Hello,” Tray said, his voice hoarse.
The doctor did a double take. She cradled Tray’s chin, coaxing his lips apart, and Tray shuddered. “Are you in pain or is your throat dry?”
“Dry,” Tray croaked, grateful for the excuse. He could still taste Saskia on his tongue, and worried it was obvious. “I thought my brother would be here.”
“We had hope when the ship landed,” the doctor said tenderly. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Tray’s body went cold and his eyes widened. The hole in his gut throbbed anew. Danny hadn’t abandoned him; his brother was dead! Saskia had saved him, but not Danny.
“How? How! Saskia,” he sobbed, crying in pain, both physical and emotional. Saskia leaned by his ear, whispering fervently that it wasn’t true, begging him to calm down, promising that she’d explain later. His fingers tangled into her hair, and he clung to her, trying to make sense of her words, but he was in too much pain.
The doctor injected something into his shoulder, and Tray reeled in fear, begging Saskia to protect him. The world filled with monsters, but then everything phantasmagorical swirled into a whirlpool of light, and Tray lay numbly on the bed, holding Saskia’s hand.
“Mr. Matthews—Tray,” the doctor said gently. “You’ll get through this, I promise. My name is Morrigan Zenzele. My brother tells me that our families are long-time friends.”
Tray squinted, recognizing the name, but not believing that their families were friends. “Jerron?”
“That’s my father. Was. He died last months ago, and now it’s me and Demissie,” the doctor said. “As soon as it’s safe to move you, we’re taking you home so you can recover.”
“Mikayla?” Tray said. Before the crash, his ex-wife had agreed to move home with their son. “Is she home?”
“Mikayla Wright?” Zenzele asked. “She can’t get into Clover right now. She’s not a threat to us.”
The tranquilizing medication dulled the sobs Tray felt welling inside. “My boy. Hero.”
“We have him. He’s alive,” the doctor said.
“What do you mean, you have him?” Saskia asked, her expression going dark. Tray noted her intensity, but the longer the medicine circulated, the fuzzier the world became.
“He’s at the house,” Zenzele said. “We can’t get him here, but now that Tray is awake, we can move you to the estate. As soon as you’re home—”
“I’m home,” Tray murmured in disbelief. His stomach growled, the hunger countering the tranquility-inducing medicine. “May I have some carrots?”
Hawk sat sideways on the bed in Oriana’s infirmary, meditating on the memory of his father and lifting a supplication to the gods for his mother. Sky had given him a candle yesterday, and when he lit it, it made his room smell like the forest. Oriana changed scent daily, the air getting cleaner and fresher, the last lingering scents of blood and body odor finally dissipating. Even the dirty clothes smelled cleaner.
Clothing was prevalent in Quin, but Hawk didn’t like the stiff, uncomfortable button-down shirts Sikorsky gifted him with. He much preferred sneaking into Danny’s quarters and stealing those soft, worn t-shirts that the captain had a million of. This morning, when he’d tried, Chase was in there, using the captain’s shower. Hawk felt violated by the intrusion. He added gin to his juice to take the edge off, but as the days went on, he used less juice and more gin.
“We all get scars, especially when we’re starting out,” Chase rambled, trying to distract Hawk from the bleeding gash on his hand with pointless stories. “See this? Got this one when Danny and I were building the Bobsled.”
Hawk cringed. Chase dropped Danny’s name a lot.
“The manufacturer sent us the wrong metal for
the landing gear. Rod buckled, went right through my hand,” Chase continued, running his finger over the scar on his palm. “Danny was amazing. He kept so calm. He kept me calm, cauterized the wound, and he kept talking to me. Until the medics got there, then he started praying. Under his breath, you know.”
“I know,” Hawk acknowledged, his heart beating faster. “He prayed for me when I was sick. He held my hand and he prayed. To the mon-thuz. Zive. One god.”
Hawk knew he didn’t say the word right, but Chase smiled and nodded like he understood. Chase was a lot like Danny—proficient in engineering with a teacher’s spirit. They even quirked their lips the same way when they were thinking.
“I held his hand when he was sick. I prayed for him, too,” Hawk said.
“Is that how he died? A sickness,” Chase asked. “Please, Hawk. He was my friend. Why won’t you tell me what happened to him?”
“Sky doesn’t trust you?” Hawk said. It would have been easy to like Chase if Danny were here, but in the present circumstances, Chase wanted to know what happened and Hawk wasn’t allowed to talk.
“How could she not trust me? She’s practically handed the ship to my care!” Chase said.
“If she trusted you, you would know about Danny,” Hawk said, feeling his throat close up.
“Hawk?” Sky said, peeking into the infirmary.
“I didn’t say anything!” Hawk blurted out, shrinking away from Chase.
“Why won’t you let him tell me what happened to Danny?” Chase demanded. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“We left a whole city in flames, Chase. The plume of smoke was visible from Quin; that’s how Zenzele knew we were coming. A lot of things went wrong,” Sky said cryptically. Sitting next to Hawk on the bed, she reached around him to examine the bandage on his hand. The pinky had been braced against his ring finger, and the bandage anchored at the wrist, making the injury look far more expansive than it was.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“The brace is just a precaution,” Chase said. “He’ll be fine.”
The Gray Market: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 5) Page 12