House of Artifice

by Lyn Forester

  He nudges me with his elbow. “I bet Lightning Bug wins this race.”

  My head whips around. “Not a chance.”

  “Want to bet?”

  NO TIME

  “Go, Lightning Bug!” Felix jumps up from the couch as the yellow lightstream zooms into the lead. He points at the holo-screen. “That’s my man. I love you, Lightning Bug!”

  “Sit down!” We yell from the couch behind him. Every time the yellow disc bike makes a lap, he leaps up and blocks our view.

  When Felix doesn’t immediately move, Declan reaches up and grabs him by the belt. The dark haired man crashes back into the couch cushions, feet knocking against the low wooden table that holds our snack remnants. Their clear plastic containers, filled with the leftover stems of strawberries and purple carrots, jump with the impact.

  Beside Felix, I sit forward as Purple Strike’s lightstream flickers across the screen, slowly closing the distance between herself and Storm Again’s green energy wheels.

  Purple Strike has always been my favorite. She worked her way up through the circuit, one level at a time. She’s my hero. Through my shirt, I touch the energy coil I wear on a chain around my neck, all that remains of my disc-bike after Father destroyed it. Sometimes, I think I feel a buzz of residual energy.

  “Give it up, Sparks.” Declan kicks his feet up onto the table, relaxed with his arms spread over the back of the couch. “Your girl’s not even going to place this race.”

  I flip him off without taking my eyes from the screen. The gap between the purple and green lightstreams continues to close, but Purple Strike only has half a track to pass the bike in front of her and place third. If she doesn’t place, she’ll be bumped down to Level 8’s circuit and have to fight her way back up. It will take her another two years to win enough races to qualify for the Level 11 races again.

  “Shut it, Dec.” On my right, Connor hunches forward, his thigh warm against mine. “The last curve’s tight. Storm Again has lost speed there every lap.”

  I bump my knee against his in thanks. Connor’s favorite, Blitzer, currently holds last place, a sad streak of pink light still on his fourth lap.

  As the two racers come in fast on the last curve, Purple Strike pulls alongside Storm Again’s green energy wheels. The other racer edges in closer, and I reach out to grip Connor’s hand, the feel of his fingers threading through mine a comfort.

  “She’s going in too fast,” Declan mutters, his feet hitting the floor as he, too, leans forward.

  Storm Again pushes closer in an effort to force Purple Strike to back off, but she stays beside him as they go into the turn.

  “Shoddy-mod! He’s going to cross their energy wheels,” I realize as the two lightstreams begin to blur together.

  “That’s stupid,” Felix scoffs. “He’ll lose speed, too.”

  “But he’s faster at reaching full power.” Connor squeezes my fingers in sympathy. “If he knocks her back now, he’ll keep third place.”

  Knowing he’s right, my stomach tightens. As they reach the turn’s pinnacle, I wait for the inevitable. Instead, Purple Strike’s right energy wheel blinks out. My breath catches at the impossible. No one cuts their energy stream while in motion. The disc-bike loses balance without at least two wheels. Her remaining lightstream straightens into a perfect, vertical line as she hugs the wall and sweeps ahead.

  Felix grabs my other hand. “Did she just take that turn sideways?”

  I shake my head, unable to believe it myself.

  As soon as Purple Strike hits the straightaway again, her right wheel surges back to life, brightening as it spins back up to full power, and she straightens her bike. My heart pounds with excitement as the gap between the two racers lengthens, and it becomes clear she’ll take third place.

  “Brightstream,” Felix whispers in amazement. “I can’t wait to try that move out.”

  I take my attention off the screen long enough to glare at him. “Don’t you dare.”

  He blinks at me, green eyes wide beneath the fringe of his messy black hair. “You don’t think I can?”

  Declan shakes his head. “You’ll pancake.”

  Felix peers past me at his twin. “There’s no love in this room, bro.”

  Connor’s glasses flash when he glances at his brother. “Shut it. The race is still going.”

  “So mean.”

  I squeeze Felix’s fingers. “Your racer’s about to win.”

  His gaze snaps back to the screen as Lightning Bug’s yellow lightstream crosses the finish line. Felix surges to his feet, dragging me up by the hand. My fingers slip from Connor’s.

  “That’s my man! Do you see that, Sprinkles?” He waves at the screen with his free arm. “That’s how a race is won.”

  A second later, Declan’s favorite, Razor, zips across the line, followed by Purple Strike, and then Storm Again, with Blitzer in last place. Cheeks flushed, I grin. While my girl didn’t win, she’ll get another chance to compete in the Winter-Cycle Races. I turn to Felix, my arms shaky with the need to share the victory.

  His hand drops mine, arm looping around my waist as his excited gaze locks on mine. His other hand threads through my red curls to cup the back of my head, and his face drops toward mine.

  My hand shoots up between us to block him. “Now, wait just a minute.”

  Hot lips press against my palm, his heated gaze peeking between my fingers. “Don’t you want to celebrate with a kiss?”

  I should be used to his sneak attacks by now, but he still catches me off guard. While I agreed to try dating all of them, public displays of affection still make me uncomfortable. Private ones, too. Affection scares me.

  Felix coaxes me closer. “Just a small kiss?”

  Heat floods my face. My gaze drops to Declan, but the other man has his head turned as he leans past us to rehash the race with his best friend, Connor. The other two pay us no attention as they geek out over the technicalities.

  I want to make this relationship thing work. I want that feeling of excitement for myself. Hesitant, my hand drops to Felix’s chest. “Just one.”

  “Got it.”

  He swoops forward, and I stiffen my arm in panic. “Let me do it.”

  A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’d be honored.”

  My heart hammers, a quiet buzz flooding my ears as I reach up to curl my hands over his shoulders, rise on tiptoes, and press my mouth against his. The softness of his lips takes me by surprise, the warm texture so different from any other place on a body. The delicate skin hotter.

  I brush my mouth against his, surprised by how my sensitive lips tingle, like a circuit looping energy from his body into mine. His eyes, locked with mine, widen in surprise. The breath I held escapes on a soft sigh as I drop back on my heels.

  Felix’s tongue darts out to sweep across his lower lip. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

  I remember the fast invasion of Declan’s tongue, and my heart sinks. “I’ll do better next time.”

  “No!” He grabs my shoulders to yank me close, tucking my head under his chin. His lips press through the curls at my temple. “That was amazing. Perfect. It’s like I can feel this buzz between us.”

  I frown against his chest because I feel it too, stronger now.

  “Hey, why’s my bracelet doing this?”

  We separate and turn to Declan, who scowls at the blinking light on his dat-band. Or, rather, the silver wristband beside it. More slender than our everyday dat-bands, the ones the school gave each of us normally spark with blue light along the surface. Now, those lights blink red.

  I peer down at mine and realize the buzz I felt wasn’t entirely from our kiss. It came from my wrist. Energy vibrates up my arm in a continuous stream to flood my body. A quick check confirms Felix’s does the same.

  “It’s the emergency alert.” Connor surges to his feet. “We need to go back to the dorms.”

  “Huh?” Felix glances up from poking at his to stare at his twin. �
��What are you talking about?”

  Connor pushes his glasses up, green eyes exasperated. “Didn’t any of you read the manual?”

  “No,” Felix and I say together.

  Declan, unwilling to admit he slacked off, climbs to his feet. “We better hurry.”

  When we leave the theater, we find the rest of the Entertainment Hall already empty, cue sticks abandoned on 8-Ball tables, and music still streaming from a sleek, black robot butler set on a table between two half-filled jars of water.

  When we reach the outside stairs, we catch up to others who run toward the dorms, including second-year students still in their uniforms, their red slacks bright even in the soft glow of the stars. The dual suns set an hour ago, and I hug my elbows with a shiver at the cooler nighttime temp. Why the Weather Wardens decide to drop the temperature at night never made sense to me.

  Declan’s warm palm rubs my back, spreading his body heat through me as we walk at a fast clip. Connor runs ahead a few paces to catch up to the second-years, his quiet voice unintelligible.

  A moment later, he stops to wait for us to catch up. “They don’t know what’s going on either.”

  The buzz in my body intensifies into painful tingles that race up my arm. “I think we should hurry.”

  “Yeah.” Felix grabs my wrist as he lurches into a run, Declan’s hand on my back propelling me faster. Ahead, the second-year students break into a sprint, urged on with the same intensity.

  When we reach the two-story, golden-brown brick building, we take the stairs up to Lonette Hall two at a time. Connor catches the dark wooden doors before they swing shut and holds them open. The minute we step inside the dorms, the buzz ceases.

  Its absence leaves my body numb, and I stumble for a moment. Declan’s arm loops around my waist. “Whoa, there.”

  “I’m good.” I lean against his side, suddenly warmed by the memory of our first official meeting.

  Then, I was wobbly on unfamiliar heels Father’s stylist insisted I wear, and Declan caught me before I broke my neck on the administration building’s stairs.

  I smile up into his golden-brown eyes. Later, we bonded over a similar goal, escape when we turn twenty, the legal age of maturity.

  “Bro, they’re having a moment,” Felix whispers loudly.

  “They don’t have time for a moment.” Connor nods toward the large holo-screen at the front of the dorm where the rest of the students already wait.

  Comprised of children from the world’s upper echelon, our starting year is especially small with only twelve new students this year, eleven from Leton. Even so, the large front room stands shoulder-to-shoulder, thick with all of the classmen gathered at once.

  “Caitlyn, what is going on?” Myrrine demands as she circles the crowd to join us. Her bodyguard, Bastian, glides behind her, graceful despite his large size as his crystalline eyes sweep the hall for danger. Blue swirls over his cheeks, a sure sign of unhappiness.

  My roommate loops one pearlescent arm through mine, her skin cool to the touch. Another sign of unhappiness. Despite my limited knowledge when it comes to the halion race that we humans share the planet with, rooming with a pureblood of the Riellio clan has taught me a lot in our limited time together.

  Felix nudges Declan aside to drape an arm around my shoulder. “We don’t know anything.”

  “I am not surprised.” Myrrine’s cool tone could frost glass, and I glance up at her to find her pale blue eyes narrowed on Felix over the top of my head. She remains overly cautious of the twins, Felix in particular. With a toss of her pink braid, her attention returns to me. “Caitlyn, did you have fun watching the race? Did your Purple Strike win?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Her plump lips thin. “I am most sorry for your loss.”

  “My racer took first place,” Felix boasts.

  “I did not ask.”

  Across my shoulders, his arm tenses. “Didn’t you want to know who won?”

  “No.”

  Felix huffs. “Your roommate’s rude, Sprinkles.”

  She sniffs. “I am precise.”

  “Precisely rude.”

  “Stop it, both of you.” I pull away from them, afraid to be caught in the middle of their fight. Myrrine, as a halion, can flatten Felix without much effort if she wants to.

  Her chin tips down, pink, feathery eyebrows pinched together as she looks at me. “Are you certain you wish this one to be part of your Mulnupti?”

  “What’s a Malpity?” Felix stumbles over the foreign word as he twists to stare at his brother. “Is she calling me a bad word?”

  Connor shrugs. “I don’t speak Halion.”

  Felix turns back around. “Sprinkles, what’s that mean? Do I want to be part of your Malpity?”

  “Mulnupti,” I correct, cheeks hot with embarrassment. No way do I want to get into a discussion of halion group marriage practices where others can hear. “I’ll explain it later. Maybe.”

  Myrrine frowns, yellow and pink swirling into her cheeks. “You have not discussed this with your men?”

  “Hush,” Declan breaks in as he points toward the holo-screen. He motions me back to his side, his arm a reassuring pressure against mine.

  Dean Kauffman’s face appears on the screen, steel gray hair pulled back from her face in a severe bun, her cheekbones pointed blades within her thin face. Icy eyes sweep the room as if she can see the inhabitants.

  “Thank you all for gathering.” Her sharp tone cuts through the students’ quiet whispers. “Tonight, there was a coup within Black Corporation. The fifty-seventh Mr. Black is no longer in power.”

  Shocked conversation sweeps through the room. Black Corporation governs the black market of Leton’s city structure. A change in leadership can become brutal as gangs loyal to the previous president are wiped out to make way for the new. The exportation of food between levels grinds to a halt, and the price on luxury goods skyrockets while new contracts are negotiated.

  An unorganized takeover causes riots in the lower levels, when rice and nutritional paste deliveries get held up at the Rim. Stockpiles, kept on every level for this eventuality, will come under attack the moment the announcement goes through.

  Dean Kauffman waits a solid minute before she begins to speak once more. “While this transition takes place, the high council has demanded that students return to their family residences. Shuttles will arrive within the hour. Take only what is needed. If the negotiations between the new Mr. Black and the Halls of Justice extend beyond a reasonable period, the rest of your items will be shipped home at your family’s discretion.”

  The screen turns black.

  A quiet voice breaks the stunned silence. “What does that mean?”

  Suddenly cold, I pull away from Declan’s warmth. “It means we’re going back to our families.”

  RESIST ASSIMILATION

  “Caitlyn, are you sure you will not take anything with you?” Myrrine perches on the edge of her bed, pale blue eyes focused on me with concern.

  Bastian faces the closed door, a large duffle bag over one broad shoulder. From the hallway, shouts sound as our fellow students rush past in a frenzy to grab their things before their shuttles arrive to take them off level.

  “Yeah, I only need my school stuff. Anything else will be replaced.” I wince as I zip up the heeled, golden boots, my toes already pinched by their narrow tips. Already, I miss my school-issued shoes. “How long is the flight to the Riellio colony?”

  “Three hours.” She brushes the pink puff of her braid against her cheek, her brows furrowed. “Unless there are Storm Makers. It is not safe to travel at night.”

  The giant, gelatinous beasts that reside in the clouds live off electricity. Airships are a favored food source when they can catch them. Their smaller, less harmful counterparts, sky skippers, squeeze through the city’s mesh curtains and wreak havoc with the power grids.

  From the doorway, Bastian rumbles, “We will be safe as long as we can see the stars.”


  “Can’t you wait until morning?” Slipping the strap of my school satchel over my head, I stand and wobble a moment while my ankles remember how to balance in the heeled boots.

  “My family wishes my immediate departure from the city while the government is unstable.” She rises and crosses the short space between our beds in one long stride to slip pearlescent arms around my shoulders. “I will miss you, Caitlyn.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” I return the embrace, holding on longer than I should. Over the last few weeks, Myrrine and I bonded over late night talks in the darkness of our small room.

  Myrrine’s nose presses into the curls next to my ear as she inhales deeply, and her arms tighten a fraction. “I would take you with me if it was permitted. I do not think I will sleep well without you near.”

  “What?” I laugh into her shoulder and drop my arms to my sides. “You make it sound like I’m your favorite stuffed animal.”

  Her nose moves to the top of my head, ruffling the curls there. “Am I not allowed to find comfort in your presence?”

  I smile and pat her waist in reassurance. “You bring me comfort, too.”

  As if committing my scent to memory, she sniffs me a moment longer before she releases me. I’m still unsure how exactly the whole scent thing works for halions—it has something to do with compatibility—but I’ve gotten used to Myrrine’s occasional sniffing. When I glance up at her, pink and yellow swirls in her cheeks, her eyes bright.

  I walk toward the door before she can grab me again. “Are you excited to see your friends and family when you get back to the colony?”

  Her voice comes out subdued as she follows behind. “There are many people I will reunite with.”

  “That’s not the same.”

  “No.”

  Bastian holds up his hand as he opens the door and peers suspiciously into the hall, ever vigilant in his search for danger.

  Myrrine clears her throat. “Are you excited to see your friends and family?”