Celestial objects expand around me, and I walk through the spectral stars, the Ring’s core of Abyssthe making it easier to stay Centered. A whirl of light unexpectedly explodes in front of me, like two star systems colliding, and as the brightness dims, I make out a ghostly image forming in the fading light.
Stars are connecting in the shape of a girl’s face, like it’s a new constellation in the Zodiac galaxy. My face.
Except my features are shifting. I seem to be transforming into someone else—my cheekbones are jutting out more, and my chin is lengthening. My blond curls lighten and elongate, becoming straighter, wispier—
The image vanishes so quickly, it might never have appeared at all. Except my pulse is still echoing in my ears. Was that me . . . as a Riser?
It couldn’t be—I’m completely Cancrian—I was even Guardian—
I gasp as another horrible theory flits into my mind. The one that won’t stay away no matter how hard I refuse to see it.
Maybe it isn’t just me . . . maybe every Cancrian is changing House.
Maybe Cancer is gone.
I search the pinpricks of lights for the face, but there’s nothing left. I’ve never seen an omen this clear in the Ephemeris before. I just wish I knew if it was a real warning or a manifestation of my worries. Sage Ferez’s foretelling of a future of Risers definitely shook me—but was this omen a message from the stars or a cry of the soul?
Suddenly the lights surrounding me start shaking in their orbits, and half the Zodiac—Houses one through six—sinks lower, while the other half—seven through twelve—rises higher.
The galaxy is imbalanced, orbiting a tilted ellipse. Our Zodiac’s stars are out of alignment. I feel the energy that binds the Houses together trembling against my skin. Our bonds are being tested.
There’s another burst of light, farther out than the first. Once the brightness dims, an image projects past Pisces, where the Thirteenth House used to be. Only instead of a girl’s face, a man’s shape is forming.
A monstrous hulking man made of ice.
My heart drums louder against my ribs—after weeks of searching, I’ve finally done it. I’ve found Ophiuchus.
Almost immediately, his form begins to fracture and fade, just as a frosty chill comes over me, and I feel the Psynergy connecting me to the Thirteenth Guardian.
My mouth freezes in a silent scream. Ophiuchus is in agonizing pain, and even though I’ve gotten better at focusing in this realm, I still can’t push off the unwanted Psynergy, as Moira did when her Ephemeris screeched with his presence. Whoever is hurting Ophiuchus is even more powerful than he is, and yet Ophiuchus seems to be resisting his master’s commands. As they fight, the Zodiac teeters on edge, the constellations’ shaking growing more violent, like the slightest flick could blow our whole universe apart.
As the image of Ochus fully vanishes, so does the phantom pain. When it’s gone, I feel no aftermath of its effects—but the memory is intact.
A brand-new Snow Globe for my collection.
4
I WAKE UP IN THE morning when my Wave goes off. I open it, noticing it’s the third time the same person has called. When I hit Accept, Nishi’s holographic form blasts into the room.
Her holo-ghost hovers over my bed, and the first thing I notice is the new fringe of black bangs falling in a sharp line across her forehead.
She smiles and chirps, “Rise for mighty Helios!” Something our parents used to say when they’d wake us up early.
“M-morning,” I say mid-yawn, sitting up and pulling my curls into a sloppy bun over my head. “Love the new ’do.”
“Thanks!” she says after a brief delay. “I’m so happy I finally caught you. Deke’s here, too.”
“Hey, Deke! Sorry I missed your calls yesterday. It wound up being a really . . . unusual day.”
I wait the obligatory few minutes for my message to be received, and then Deke’s hologram pops into existence, floating next to Nishi’s. Since Sagittarius is the House next door, the ghosting effect isn’t too bad—their holograms are only slightly out of sync, and our responses lag only a little.
But they’re probably using Nishi’s Tracker or Deke’s Wave rather than a more powerful transmitter, because their forms are pretty pixelated, and the bottom halves of their bodies are faint.
“Rho Rho!” Deke grins at me and sings, “Rho Rho Rho your Strider, gently along the sea!” I used to hate it when he and his friend Xander would break into that ditty back at the Academy, but now it makes me laugh out loud. “How are my changelings?” They’re his favorite fish for sushi.
“The changelings are adapting better than anyone else. I miss you guys . . . are you still staying with Nishi’s family?”
“Our update can wait,” says Nishi, trading nervous looks with Deke. “First, tell us about yesterday. What was unusual about it?”
I shrug to downplay my earlier comment even as the truth spills out of me. “I saw Hysan. He came to drop off equipment for our scientists.”
A few minutes later, Nishi gasps and clasps her hands to her mouth, while Deke flashes me a roguish smile and says, “And did you help him with his equipment, Rho Rho?” Their holograms freeze just as Nishi turns to glower at him.
Nishi and Deke are the only people who know the truth about Hysan and me. Inter-House dating isn’t forbidden, but it’s frowned upon—enough so that some Houses don’t even extend full legal protections to mixed-House couples.
“How was the hookup?” asks Deke when their holograms reactivate. “And no skimping on the details.”
Nishi elbows Deke so hard in the ribs that his hologram flickers and vanishes. “I’m sorry, Rho. I can kick him off if you want.”
When Deke’s holo-ghost returns, his expression is exaggeratedly remorseful. “No, come on, I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, embarrassed to hear the disappointment in my tone. “I don’t know what I was expecting. . . . I mean, I was the one who pushed him away. Besides, we were barely alone—Stanton was watching us like a horned hawk.”
“Rho, Hysan’s feelings aren’t the ones in question. Yours are.” Nishi’s manner is gentle, but her words sting more than Deke’s.
“My feelings for him aren’t the problem, Nish. The problem is that being with him hurts. It feels like a betrayal to Mathias.” I’ve told them this before, and each time I can feel their disapproval, as if my emotions are falling short of their expectations.
“Rho . . . it’s okay to let go,” says Deke. “Mathias wouldn’t want to be responsible for you not living your life.”
“Even if I wanted to move on”—and as I consider the possibility, a weight seems to lift from my chest—“there are still other issues. The Taboo doesn’t exactly extend to us, since I’m no longer Guardian and no one knows the truth about him, but the news would still rile people up. Hysan has a role at the Plenum to protect. What if Charon spins a new tale about how we collaborated to kill Mathias, and then Hysan ends up facing charges like I did?”
“If that’s what it takes,” says Deke gruffly. “If he loves you, he’ll love you no matter the consequences.”
“Deke, darling,” says Nishi, “do you hear the gentle tone I’m using right now? Even though I want to jab you in the ribs again? If you want to stay on this call, this is how you need to speak—”
I have to wait a few minutes to hear the rest of Nishi’s rebuke, and when the holograms catch up with their transmission, Deke says, “I’m sorry if that was harsh, Rho. What I meant was, you got it right the first time when you raised the alarm about the Thirteenth House. The only way to change the norm is to break it. Acceptance won’t come without a fight.”
“I don’t know that I have another fight in me, Deke.” I wish I didn’t sound so defeated. “I just want to stay out of the newsfeeds and keep helping Cancer.”
Whe
n their next transmission comes in, Nishi is alone. “Deke’s fixing the refresher. It just started spitting soap.”
She seems nervous, and I’m reminded of the look she shared with Deke earlier. Then I think of the fact that she’s been trying to call me since yesterday, including three times this morning before I answered. I’ve spent this whole conversation talking about my love life when something far more important is obviously on Nishi’s mind.
“What’s going on, Nish?”
She takes a shaky breath and begins. “I don’t know how much you’ve seen in the news, but the unrest on Sagittarius has intensified. The labor disputes have become violent, and there’s still no sign of a truce between our government and the migrant workers from Scorpio.”
A knot forms in my stomach. While I wait for the next installment, I replay Hysan’s and Ferez’s warnings and the visions I saw in the Ephemeris. Hysan’s right. It’s all connected.
“—which is only made worse by the Marad,” continues Nishi when the transmission resumes. “Teenage soldiers seem to be the ones doing the footwork, but no one knows who’s running things, or who’s a member, or how it got started—or, above all, what they want.”
An invisible army, a surge in Risers, the Thirteenth Guardian . . . the Zodiac’s boogeymen are coming to life.
The way the Marad operates reminds me of Ophiuchus and everything that happened last month. The axiom Trust Only What You Can Touch has always kept the people of the Zodiac safe, but now the things we can’t touch are touching us. The Marad feels as ephemeral as anything in the Psy, yet it’s killing our people, and we can’t strike back at it. Just like Ophiuchus and his Dark Matter.
“There’s more you should know,” I say, right as Deke’s hologram returns. I launch into everything that happened yesterday, from Hysan’s updates, to our meeting with Ferez, to what I saw in the Ephemeris—though I skip the omen of my face shifting features. It takes a long time to relay everything, and once I’m done, Nishi looks resolved and Deke’s dumbstruck.
“Rho,” says Nishi tentatively, “I think Ferez is right about you. Deke and I—we want you to come to Sagittarius. We need your help.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask through my shock. “How can I help?”
“Deke and I have sort of done something. We’ve just been so inspired by everything you did last month, and, well, we wanted to be part of it. It’s like Deke said: To change the norm, you have to break it.”
I wait through a handful of excruciating minutes for the rest of her story, and then she says, “We’ve started an underground resistance group to bring together others who want to unite the Zodiac and fight the Marad. To continue what you started—”
“Nish, I can’t—I’m sorry,” I sputter, my mind seizing with terror at the thought of Nishi and Deke making themselves targets for Ophiuchus on purpose. “You guys shouldn’t—I mean, just be careful, please. I know you feel strongly that you’re doing the right thing, but it’s dangerous. You’re using the Psy shields Hysan gave you on Gemini, right?”
“Rho, relax, we’re being smart. Look, I don’t want to pressure you, but I have to tell you how I feel,” says Nishi, her amber gaze heavy. “You’re hurting right now, and you have every right to be—you’re being vilified by the people responsible for the armada, and you feel guilty for what happened with Mathias. But those are two separate things. Don’t let the guilt you feel over Mathias confuse your feelings about what the Plenum did. They’re the true cowards, not you. You risked your life spreading the word about Ophiuchus, and you did it again going out on that Wasp. That kind of courage creates ripples—and being Cancrian, you know ripples become waves.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, lowering my face from their holograms. “I think I’d only make things worse for you if I came, especially if you’re trying to stay off the radar. Besides, one of the few things the Houses agree on is their distaste for anyone who defies the stars—and if I do this, people will think I’m doing just that. They’ll be convinced the lies Charon spread were true. That I was just some fame-hungry Acolyte looking to create controversy and gain followers, and they’d think I’m now doing it all over again.”
“Rho, who cares what they think?” spits Deke, his turquoise eyes flashing. “Forget them. What you did changed things. There are people who believe in you and who will rally to your side.”
“Right now I just want to help Cancer however I can. Stanton and I are doing good here. That’s all I want to focus on.”
“I understand,” says Nishi, cutting Deke off before he can argue. “You know how we feel. If you change your mind, we’d love to have you.”
“What she said.” Deke’s shoulders slump forward, and his sandy curls fall over his eyes. “Stay safe, Rho.” He takes Nishi’s hand, and their holograms vanish.
In the sudden silence, I hear Stanton’s voice from the living room and leave to investigate. I don’t need to be alone with my thoughts after that conversation.
Stanton is standing next to the kitchen counter, drinking from a clay teacup. His wet suit is only halfway on. “I’ll meet you on the surface,” he tells Aryll as soon as I emerge. Aryll doesn’t speak, but he nods at me from the doorway before ducking out.
“I’m sorry I was crabby yesterday,” my brother tells me when we’re alone. He sets his cup on the counter to finish zipping up his suit. “You were right—Hysan’s been good to our House, and I shouldn’t be so hard on him.” Next he crouches down to seal his bag shut, and all I can see of him are the close-cropped blond curls along the back of his head. He’s avoiding my gaze. “I just don’t like the way he looks at you. Like he’s . . . hungry or something.”
Face flaming, I spin around and start rubbing out a nonexistent smudge on the wallscreen behind me. “I-I don’t know what you mean—”
“Like he can’t wait to get you alone.”
“That’s just . . .” I start straightening the couch cushions next so I won’t have to look at him. “You don’t have to be so protective of me.”
“Don’t you think I know that by now?”
I stop shuffling pillows and stare at him, startled by the sadness in his tone. Stanton’s face is expressionless, and his curls look unusually limp on his head. “Stan . . . what is it?”
He shakes his head and slings his bag over his shoulder. “There’s no time now. I have to head up.”
“No,” I say, marching over so that I’m blocking his way to the door. “Talk to me already.”
He turns to the wall next to him. “I can’t.”
“But you can talk to Aryll?” I cross my arms and glower at him. “Stan, I’m your sister, and you treat him like he’s the one who’s family.”
“That’s not it, Rho.” Stanton sets his bag back down and stares at it on the floor. “I love you—it’s just . . . he needs me right now.”
“I need you, too.”
He finally faces me, and I’m silenced by the shininess in his eyes. My brother’s never cried in front of me, not even when Mom left.
“When you were little,” he says, his voice almost adopting its old softness, “you used to get these awful nightmares. I would hear you screaming and run into your room, and we’d make up stories together until you fell back asleep.”
“I know.” I remember every nightmare and every story.
“I never said this aloud, at the time or after, because I’m worried it makes me an awful person, but, deep down, I kind of liked it when you had nightmares.” His pale eyes don’t meet mine. “Because I could come in and rescue you from them.”
“Stan, you’re the furthest thing from awful—”
“Mom leaving was the first nightmare I couldn’t spring you from,” he goes on, without letting me interrupt. “Even though I was devastated, I felt sorrier for you. A Cancrian girl losing her mom so young . . . it was practically unheard of. I was afraid you’d miss
out on something important. I wanted to rescue you again.”
He leans against the wall, like he’s deflating as he speaks, and I stay silent and still so I won’t disrupt the magic of the moment. “I resolved to be everything you needed—I taught you how to cook, how to dance, how to sailboard . . . even explained how baby Cancrians are made.” We flash quick smiles.
“But last month, you faced real horrors,” he says, the ends of his mouth falling, “and I wasn’t there, Rho. I couldn’t rescue you.” His voice goes scratchy, and he clears his throat, the words a broken whisper. “Just like when we were little, and I couldn’t save you from her.”
“Stan, stop.” The statement startles me because I didn’t authorize it. Even the tone of my voice is strange and unfamiliar. There’s a knot in my stomach that wasn’t there an instant ago, and suddenly I realize why we’ve both been avoiding this conversation.
He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “You were a kid, Rho, and she was training you like an Ariean soldier. I should have stood up to her for you. But Dad didn’t say anything, and there I was, convinced Mom was holier than Helios, and . . . I don’t know. I just let it happen.”
I just let it happen. My brother, who rescued me from imaginary monsters in the dark, couldn’t save me from the one that preyed on me in the light.
I still remember the braid of emotions I felt every day from age four to seven, the interplay of dread and readiness I’d wake up to every morning, not knowing if I would See enough to impress her. A single disappointment, one wrong answer, and her mood would crumple for the rest of the day. That could mean up to three extra hours of training.
The truth is, it’s not Stanton’s fault, or even Dad’s—it’s mine. For following her orders. Maybe they would have said something if I’d ever given them an opening, but I wanted too much to prove myself to Mom. To show her she was right to invest so much time in me. To make her love me as much as she loved my brother.
Wandering Star: A Zodiac Novel Page 4