“This is on loan from Consul Denu’s personal collection,” Kem says, putting the chain around my neck and attaching the clasp from the back. “Wear it tonight with Consul Denu’s compliments and his thanks.”
The chain slips with a cool pressure around my neck and the pendant dips down to rest provocatively in my cleavage, where it sparkles with an infernal light. I am so unused to this kind of thing that its placement actually makes me blush.
“Oh wow, this is gorgeous and looks expensive!” I say with worry.
“It is both,” Kem replies with a smile. “But Consul Denu wants to thank you on my behalf—again, for helping me.”
“I should be thanking both of you so much!”
“Your ears are pierced?”
“Yes.”
Kem nods. “Good. These are for pierced ears, though I have an alternate set of clip-ons, which are a part of the collection. Some Atlantean high-ranking families do not pierce or in any way mar their flesh, so there must always be alternatives.”
Kem puts the earrings on me, and they are surprisingly light and comfortable, with the deep red studs adding almost no weight, and the exquisite peacock fringes dangling almost down to my shoulders. . . . They brush feather-softly against my cheeks and throat like ghostly kisses. . . .
“One more thing,” Kem says. He opens the bag again, and takes out two long evening gloves that match my dress in deep red-black color.
“Oh, wow . . .” I say. “Where did you get this made? How?”
“3D printer,” he says with a little smile.
But then I notice they are not actually gloves—they’re a strange cross between fingerless gloves and just sleeves that go up just past the elbows. I pull the sleeves on and see there is a ring on each that attaches to the middle finger, connecting the sleeve fabric to the hand, forming an elegant “V.” I slide the rings on.
“Now we’re done,” Kem says, looking at me with satisfaction. “But wait—no, one more last thing. . . .”
He reaches into his bag one more time, and this time takes out a single large flower, fresh from the Hydroponics deck, its closely cropped stem enclosed in a small special hydrating tip. It’s a deep crimson carnation. “This is from me,” he says. “For your hair, to complete your themed costume.”
“My God, you are amazing!” I exclaim, while Kem carefully pins the gorgeous hothouse blossom to the side of my head.
“There,” he says. “It is specially coated so the freshness should last the entire evening.”
I stand up, slip on my high-heeled shoes. . . . Take a few steps and glimpse myself sideways in the small mirror.
A creature from another dimension—a dimension of shadows and black ruddy flames—passes by me in the mirror.
“Go on,” Kem says. “The Dance has started. I will see you there.”
It’s just after 7:00 PM when I move through the large people-packed corridor in the central hub near the CCO, toward the entrance to the Resonance Chamber.
Red light fills the hallway, and stains all of us with passionate crimson highlights.
Inside, the music comes like thunder, a heavy dance beat.
I walk carefully, unused to my high-heeled shoes, not to mention the entire rest of me, alien, exotic, dramatic. Right now I’m feeling like a combination of Cinderella and a military commando on a mission. After all, I am wearing all that war paint—oops, I mean, face paint.
I’m supposed to meet Xelio somewhere near the music tech sound station, not far from the inside entrance.
Surrounded by a crowd of other gorgeously overdressed teens, I take a deep breath and enter the Resonance Chamber.
Oh, wow. . . .
It’s as if I’ve entered the heart of a deep red jewel—a blood drop—or possibly the innards of a great red giant star. . . .
The grand spherical expanse is lit up in strange sinuous red light. It’s all furious pale crimson radiance up near the ceiling . . . and then it starts fading in a smooth gradation to a deep, almost-black crimson at the level of the currently flat, upraised floor. The floor itself looks like a bed of simmering coals, or maybe a lava flow that’s ready to break through a thin black crust. . . .
The walls of the chamber, I notice, are decorated at regular intervals with long slim objects that appear to be blazing columns of white light. I try to make out what they are, and suddenly I get it—they are swords—translucent swords, with blades made of an unknown glass-like material and filled on the inside with hard white radiance.
Absolutely stunning. . . .
Thousands of teens fill the center of the dance floor, moving to the hard beat. I see girls wearing every shade of red, and Cadets in white uniforms trimmed with gold. Soon I realize, as I look around, that my own dress is possibly the deepest darkest shade of red that I can see. . . . In this universe of red, I am darkness personified, a dramatic dark goddess silhouetted against hell flames. . . .
All around the perimeter, where the donut walkway runs around the width of the sphere, the usual stations are set up. I start scanning the room for familiar faces, while I gradually make my way through the crowd to the nearest station where they’re giving out couple locator pins.
An Atlantean girl hands me a pair of red pins, and I take them, clutch them in my slightly trembling fingers. I recall suddenly the last time I had to deal with these pins—except they were blue and Logan tore his off angrily and left me standing. . . .
Stop, just stop, do not think. . . .
Where is Xelio?
Just as I start to wonder, I see him, only a few steps away, near the sound tech station, talking to several Atlantean crew members. I think I see Anu among them.
My lord, but Xelio is hot. . . . He is wearing the white Fleet uniform, trimmed with gold around the collar and sleeves, and his long black hair is brushed back neatly and gathered behind him in a segmented tail, each segment held by a slim angry-red silk band. His uniform sits on him with sleek precision, emphasizing his beautiful wide shoulders and the elegant line of his back. My gaze trails lower—yes, I’m brazen tonight!—and he is tight and muscular in all the right places.
I see his half-turned profile, and the cocky grin as he laughs with his officers and crew. Damn, the guy is charming and a little scary, all at the same time.
I am almost afraid of approaching him. A pang of doubt plagues me suddenly. Seriously, what am I doing here? I think. I am Gwen the Awkward Dork. And he is sleek, confident, hotshot, stunning. . . .
In that moment, Xelio turns around and sees me.
And as he does, he grows absolutely still. The smile leaves his face. And he just stares.
There is a long scary moment, a deadly pause.
And then Pilot Xelio Vekahat walks toward me, and stops just an arm’s length away.
“Hi, Xelio,” I say in a slightly breathless voice.
His black eyes are infinitely focused on me.
“Gwen . . .” he says, after a smallest pause. “I—I had no idea. . . .”
A stab of nerves hits me. “What?” I say, and my voice is so quiet now, that I suspect he can barely hear me over the din of the crowds and the music.
“You are—” he pauses again, and in that one moment the expression of his face is so serious it is almost vulnerable, startled—as though he’s lost in me.
“Is something wrong?” I whisper.
But then he shakes his head, and his normal confident expression returns. “Nothing is wrong. . . . To the contrary—you are stunning, Gwen Lark. You made me forget my thoughts and took my breath away. I had no idea you could be like this.”
I gulp. “Is that a good thing?”
In answer he takes a step, closing the distance between us, and his arm wraps around mine, pressing it to his side almost possessively. Then his hand slips down, his warm large fingers sensuously clasping my own.
“Come,” he says, looking intently at me from up-close, devouring every inch of my face, then allowing his gaze to wander downward, along the skin o
f my neck, and lower, where a blood ruby reposes in the cleft between my breasts. “You are a goddess. And tonight, you are mine.”
And in that moment all my doubts, all my nagging fears recede.
Because, really, from the very first moment, I could see it in his eyes tonight, an appraisal of me, and I could see that he was genuinely overwhelmed. But I simply did not believe myself, as usual.
But—not any more.
A surge of confident power fills me and I smile up at him as we begin to walk through the crowd.
Just for a moment, Xel pauses. He opens his other hand and brings it up so that I might observe two glowing red pins sitting on his palm. Wordlessly he attaches one to the side of my dress, then changes his mind, and puts it on my unattached right sleeve, where it winks on my upper arm below my elbow. “Forgive me, I don’t want to mar the perfection that is you . . .” he whispers, as he sticks the other pin carelessly on the front of his own uniform.
“Thank you,” I whisper back. And then I open my hand and show him my own pair of pins. “What shall I do with these?”
“Obviously you may not part with them either, and no one else may have it.” He smiles, then takes one from me and pins it right next to the first pin on his uniform. And he takes the remaining one in my palm and pins it on my other sleeve, in perfect symmetry, so that now I have one on each arm.
“Two eyes, to watch you with,” he says, pointing to the two pins on his uniform. “Both mated to yours.”
I laugh. “Very silly, Xelio. But at least now we can be twice as certain we will not lose each other in this crazy crowd.”
As I am talking, I notice he is watching me relentlessly, consuming me with his eyes. He observes me from head to toe, and then begins again.
“All right, stop that!” I say with a smile, and slap his arm lightly.
“What?”
“Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?
“I don’t know. Like I’m some kind of weirdo. Like you haven’t seen me before.”
His expression deepens. “But I haven’t seen you before. You are beyond words.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Pilot Vekahat,” I say, because honestly, I’m getting a little uncomfortable here, unused to this kind of thing—this kind of attention.
Flashbacks of Logan. . . .
Xel blinks, surfacing into awareness, as though again he cannot help himself.
Am I really having this amazing effect on him, or is he simply being the super polite date?
But before I think too far in that direction, he takes my hand again, and squeezes it warmly. “Want to open the Dance with me? Let’s go, im nefira!”
Momentarily I am stumped by that Atlantean term. But then, as he pulls me forward into the thicket of the dance floor, I remember that it means “my beauty.”
We arrive in the center of the dance floor and stop. Xelio nods lightly to someone—I am guessing to someone in one of the distant tech stations on the walkway—and suddenly the music fades and a small gap opens around us as people step away . . . because a section of floor panels directly underneath us detaches from the rest of the floor. . . . Suddenly we are rising, just the two of us, until we hover about ten feet above everyone.
A spotlight falls upon us. Xelio and I are bathed in a radiant crimson beam of light.
Immediately the dance crowd screams.
Xel turns his head to look around and smiles his wicked confident smile. Still holding my hand he taps some kind of tiny button at his collar. And then he exclaims in a deep, ringing voice radiating masculine power that echoes godlike from all sides of the spherical chamber around us:
“Attention, Cadets, Civilians and Crew! Red welcomes you!”
The crowd screams again.
What a surreal moment. . . .
My pulse races wildly. Okay, I should be cowering with terror . . . to be in such a spotlight, with thousands of people looking at us—both at him and at me.
Instead I am exultant. He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back, brazenly.
And I think he realizes it—he senses that in that wild instant, he and I, we are a perfect power match.
“Today, in this fiery Season of Red, may you burn with the joy of celebration among true friends who stand at your side! Turn to the one next to you! Look in their eyes and find the fire!”
His soaring voice thunders, only to be answered by the thunder of the crowd.
“And now,” Xel says, with a mischievous look at me. “You all know what happens when the Music Mage says the magic warning?”
He nods at me, leans in so that his microphone button is inches away from my lips.
And I get it. . . . I exclaim in reply, “Gravity changing now!”
Even as I speak, I hear my voice transform, amplify, and echo from the walls around us. A wild, insane euphoria overtakes me.
Thousands of teens respond, this time to me, with another roar.
Xel winks at me and then speaks to them again.
“So, what’s the magic warning?”
“Gravity changing now!” the crowd screams in reply.
“Perfect! Now, Dance! Orahemai!”
Immediately the music explodes, and the crowd goes wild with dancing, while we smoothly descend back to the floor level.
“That was fun!” I exclaim, as he pulls me to him, and we get out of the thicket, on our way to the periphery.
“Let me take care of a few things quickly,” Xelio tells me with a meaningful look. “And then we dance!”
“Okay!” I grin at him, as we push through the dancing crowd.
We come up to the glassed-off sound tech station. I see Anu in there with three other boys, none of whom I recognize.
Anu looks up momentarily from the hovering sound console, sees Xelio and nods, and then his gaze falls on me as I wait outside.
I smile brightly at him, and watch as he does a double-take, and his jaw drops as he sees me. He mouths something to me but I cannot hear him from outside the cube, and I don’t bother going in.
Let Anu have his little moment of shock, I think with grim satisfaction.
Yeah, I look good tonight. Tomorrow it might be back to dowdy, plain, dorky Gwen, but tonight. . . .
While Xel consults with the guys in the booth, I look around the crowd. I am searching for a certain someone, and he is not here yet.
Command Pilot Kassiopei.
At least I don’t see him in this crowd.
However, somewhere on the dance floor I see Logan. He is in his impressive white Cadet uniform, dancing with a blonde with long gorgeous hair and a tight body encased in a slinky little red dress. I have no idea who she is, but knowing Logan, I’m sure he had his pick of the hottest girls around the ship.
My heart does a funny little jump, but I take a deep breath and turn away.
No, nothing is going to spoil this night for me. . . .
Let Logan dance with whomever he pleases.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Xelio finally gets away from the sound station and comes up to me with a slow sensual smile.
“Sorry,” he says. “Now that’s over, you and I can enjoy ourselves. How are you feeling so far?”
“Pretty good.” I smile at him.
“Damn, you’re stunning . . .” he says, as his black eyes take in my glowing expression and once again he seems startled by me. I can tell he really means it.
“Thank you,” I reply, once again not knowing how best to respond.
“No, thank you—for being so beautiful.” He pauses. “No, what’s that word you used?—real. You are so damn real that you take my breath away.”
“You know,” I say, “I’m going to be singing later tonight?”
“Oh, yeah?” He leans in to me. “You signed up for a vocalist spot? I’m impressed! And knowing your voice, I expect it will be incredible.”
I allow a tiny smile, as I think, Oh, wait till you hear me, Xel.
“Yup,” I say. “I am on
at 8:15 PM.”
“Gravity changing now. . . .” A velvet-smooth male voice comes like magic from the walls around us.
I briefly think of Vazara Hotat, but it’s definitely another person in the Music Mage role tonight. And whoever he is, he sounds very good.
The beat slows down, and suddenly the sensation of falling is here, as the low gravity takes hold.
As usual people scream, and everyone starts jumping to take advantage of the acrobatics.
I let out a small squeal of excitement and Xelio laughs with me as he takes me by the hands, and sweeps me onto the dance floor. With every motion we start floating up like dandelions, and oh, my dress! The ethereal bell skirt unfurls and swirls around me like the spiral arms of a galaxy. . . .
I throw back my head and exclaim in pure delight, and then feel Xelio’s hands close around my slender waist as he lifts me up, and spins me, and he is grinning in exultation.
Time ceases to exist as we spin and twirl to the beat. The dance is short however, and soon the Music Mage speaks again.
“Gravity changing now. . . .”
This time the music beat slows down completely, and a gentle sweet song takes over, vocal heavenly harmonies interspersed with flute and reeds and strings.
There is no gravity now, and the floor below—a bed of red coals and lava—starts to fall away, revealing the spherical bowl abyss of the Resonance Chamber underneath us.
And we remain in place, floating, as though suspended over the heart of a volcano.
The illusion is so powerful that there’s a volcano below us that people scream, and point, with crazy emotion.
“Whoa!” I exclaim, looking down past my floating skirt and my elegant shoes, while we begin to float away upward, propelled by our own bodily motion. “That’s simply amazing!”
Xel only looks at me, smiling, as he holds me by the waist. And then—because of the magical sense of the world slowing down in the suspended state of the zero gravity dance—the longer he looks in my eyes, the more his smile fades, and his expression again grows serious, startled, vulnerable. It’s as if he’s forgotten how to maintain the confident exterior, and now the real underlying person is coming through—a guy who is so deeply affected, that he can no longer pretend otherwise.
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