by Autumn Dawn
Before she could comprehend any details, it switched to a scene of combat. She saw Xera’s face, and oddly, that of her children as they huddled behind her. She saw herself there, wielding two short clubs. The detail zeroed in, and she saw that they were weighted fighting sticks, exactly like two she now owned. She was the one battling an oddly shifting foe.
The scenes began to shift faster, blurring together too swiftly to make any sense. She became nauseated. Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t keep them there. The sleep sucked her down and down, forcing her to fight her way out. There was a pressure in her head, like a balloon expanding too quickly inside her skull. Suddenly it popped.
Gasping, she sat up and stared around, unable to orient herself.
Slowly the details of the room came into focus. The sun was rising, slanting through the window with unusual intensity, turning the dust motes in the air to glittering diamonds. Gradually its brilliance faded, becoming an ordinary kind of sunlight, the kind that fell on her toes, gently warming them through the covers. Her heartbeat slowed. It had only been a dream.
Shuddering, she flipped back the covers. She wouldn’t linger in her bed, a prisoner of dreams.
Getting out of bed was always interesting. She never knew if the mangled bones of her feet would act up, whether her first steps of the day would be merely stiff or agony. Today was a good day. Despite its horrible side effects—for the weird dreams must have been a byproduct of the medicine—the pain was tolerable. It wasn’t enticement enough to make her seek out more, though. She had powerful pain meds that could do just as well.
Feeling almost mellow, she headed for the bathroom, bad dreams forgotten. She had a cop to visit, things to do. She flipped on the light and glanced in the mirror—and screamed. A green skinned hag with staring red eyes and exploded white hair leered at her from the glass.
The dreams were not over.
Vio Srie sat in his leather office chair and toyed with an excellent glass of wine. He was sated and content after a very successful evening. He’d bedded a pretty young dancer, handed out his share of experimental drugs and finished the night off by enjoying his wife. Life didn’t get better than this.
It was a shame to return to business. He glanced at a letter he’d been handed with a slight frown. His expenses were up, but the doctor who’d promised him money to “administer” his drugs to the unwary was attempting to be cheap. Vio didn’t like cheap. It was bad business, and he wanted his money. The extra income allowed him to keep his wife in rare style. He liked to spoil her, beautiful creature.
He sighed and penned a short, pointed note. The doctor would pay what he’d promised, or his unwitting subjects would begin to disappear. It wasn’t just about the money; it was about saving face.
Doctors annoyed him, and this one wasn’t important, other than as a source of income. Due to the dangerous nature of his drug, he’d been denied permission to attempt human trials, so he’d sent it out on the streets disguised as a recreational drug. Occasionally, he slipped it to targeted individuals, people who matched the genetic profile he’d found to be receptive to its effects. He had delusions of grandeur, that one. He thought that history would vindicate him as a man who’d given human evolution its next great boost. He was a fool.
Vio snorted as he sealed his message to the good doctor. It mentioned no names, no specifics, but was pointed enough that the doctor would understand the threat. Vio was confident that he would get his money.
CHAPTER 2
Brandy headed into the police station first thing the next morning. In spite of the stimulating, hot loqki in her mug, she was feeling worn and surly. It had not been a pleasant night. It had also been an instruction not to take medication from strangers at parties. Who knew what was really in that little packet? She was tempted to have sharp words with Vio Srie. But really, she hadn’t been raised in a nunnery. She knew better.
She was not going to attend any more of his parties, however. They had a contract now. She no longer needed to make nice. He could play his stinking games with someone who’d appreciate them.
She didn’t miss the irony that she was walking into a police building, but she had no evidence to accuse him with; just her word that something was fishy with the vintner. Without proof, there was nothing the cops could actually do. He wouldn’t be the first businessman to toy with illegal narcotics. Besides, she couldn’t be sure that the dreams weren’t just an unpleasant side effect of a perfectly legitimate painkiller. Too bad she’d consumed the evidence.
As part of a project to spruce up the public buildings, the new mayor had ordered the old sandstone building freshly scrubbed and sealed. Trees and flowers had been planted around the parking lot, and the cracked pavement fixed. The inside had been given a makeover, too. A fresh cream paint spruced up the walls and a decorator had come in and added artwork and plants to the foyer. It made an odd contrast to the handcuffed delinquents who sat on the benches, waiting to be processed.
There was a line of plaques and awards on the wall. She noticed Azor’s name on several of them and grimaced. Of course. Do-gooder. He was the tightest of the tight, and she ought to know—he visited Blue at The Spark whenever her brother in law was in town with her sister and kids. She saw far more of him than she liked, and the man was rarely out of uniform. Maybe they gave awards out for that, too.
Brandy asked to see Azor and was waved on back. He was seated at his desk in his usual black-green uniform, his eyes trained on his computer screen. Everything was tidy and neatly lined up, his pen and notepad set just so. He didn’t even look up when she took the seat at the unoccupied desk in front of him. “Good morning, Brandy. Mind getting me a cup of hot tea while I finish this?”
She studied him with displeasure. Mornings weren’t the highlight of her day, and this day had started with having to deal with him. Besides, she’d had a late night.
Although he must have had the same, he looked as collected as ever. His green hair was tied firmly back in his queue, and the mutilated ear, complete with crystal stud, was back in evidence. His face was marked by an old knife wound across his brow and just below his eye.
She absently wondered why some people got away with looking good scarred. Her injuries had never done a thing for her love life, and she had scars, too. She’d bet he had no trouble finding dates.
Azor must have thought she was ignoring him. He noted the angle of the nearly empty cup she braced on her leg. Those green eyes of his rose to take her measure. “You’re welcome to make one for yourself while you’re at it.”
She sighed. It was clear there was no dealing with him until he’d finished whatever he was doing. She could always dump the tea over his head if he took too long.
While she was preparing their drinks, Chief Puyta, her father’s old friend, came by. His green hair was mostly gray now, but it only added to the Kiuyian’s natural dignity. The father of four daughters, he looked at her now with an air of grave concern. “Brandy, it’s good to see you well. Azor told me he saw you in a dangerous part of town last night.”
“Did he also tell you he stole my car?” Brandy softened her comment by handing him a cup of tea. Since he was practically an uncle, she felt compelled to explain, “I was taking a shortcut. He was dodging bullets.”
The chief sipped his drink while he considered her statement. “His report said it was clubs and knives. No shots were fired.”
She rolled her eyes as she prepared her drink. He was so literal. Perhaps his daughters had taught him to beware of exaggeration. “He jumped in front of my car.”
“I looked it over myself this morning. You’ll be happy to know he left no blood. You need to change your coolant, though.”
She sighed. He had a talent for lecturing without touching a subject. “I hear you. I’ll ask him how he’s doing.”
The chief looked satisfied.
Brandy felt rather like a chastened child as she returned to Azor with the cups. He glanced at her face, noted her express
ion and looked over his shoulder. “Ah. The chief’s been at you.”
“He has a talent,” she said glumly as she carefully handed him his cup. “So, how bad’s the bruising?”
He took a sip before answering. “I’ll be fine.”
She looked at him uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”
He set the cup down. “There, that wasn’t so hard.” There was a suspicious twitch about his lips. “Why don’t we go get your transport before you combust from all that charity?”
“It’s not hard to understand why people want to kill you,” she said matter-of-factly as she rose. She followed his long stride toward the back of the station. It took some brisk walking to keep up with him, but she didn’t complain. As usual, the man made her uncomfortable. She wanted away from him as soon as possible.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw for herself that the transport was fine. She hadn’t had it that long, and she took good care of her stuff. The idea of someone else messing with it was unsettling.
He handed her the keys. “I refueled it for you.”
“If only all car thieves were so kind,” she said drolly. He reached around her, and she blinked as he opened the door for her, not used to such courtesy. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head. When she’d slipped inside, he leaned down. “The chief mentioned you need your coolant changed.”
She sighed. “I know. I’ll get to it.”
“I could do it for you. After all, I owe you.”
She looked at the steering wheel as she thought about it. The idea of him doing her a personal service made her tense. She didn’t want to have any kind of exchange with him, no matter how mundane. They weren't the kind of people who should interact more than was strictly necessary. “I was just…cranky last night. You don’t really owe me anything.”
“I want to.” It was part of the unwritten code of far-flung colonies that people paid their debts. She’d done him a favor, let him steal her transport. He’d do her one—fix the transport. That would end their mutual obligation. Very tidy.
She risked a glance at him. His expression gave nothing away. She hesitated, but really, what could it hurt? “Okay, but just because I hate doing it so much.”
His lips flirted with a smile. “You could take it to a shop.”
“I could.” She shrugged one shoulder. Her father had frowned on paying someone else to do something you could do just as easily. She looked on the chore as a form of discipline…one she put off as often as possible.
“Some night this week, then. I’ll call you.” He straightened up and closed the door.
She watched him walk back into the station, but didn’t immediately drive off. The idea of him stopping by on a weeknight to do something for her was unsettling. It smacked of friendship, intimacy.
She frowned and decided to avoid him as he worked. Sure, it would be inhospitable, but he really was paying her back. A little more relaxed, she pulled out of her parking space and headed home. She had things to see to.
When her conscience later pestered her about the vintner, she put it off. Maybe she’d mention it to Azor sometime. Later.
She’d barely walked through the door to the back hall when a two-legged missile assaulted her. She grunted as her five-year-old nephew, Kaden, crashed into her knees and flung his arms around her. He was closely followed by his twin, Baden, who looked mad as an accountant with a short till. It took considerable effort to hold Baden off as he windmilled his fists at his brother. Knowing Kaden, he deserved whatever came his way, but Brandy objected to having them fight in the middle of her.
She growled when one of them kicked her and yelped as Baden used his teeth. Cursing, she yanked him off her thigh and gave him a good shake. “What the blazes is wrong with you?” she demanded. She checked her leg, sure she could feel blood trickling from the bite. Leave it to her sister to produce a vampire.
“He stole my Meta-toy!” Baden screeched, not at all repentant. He was nearly hysterical. “He broke it!”
“Which is it? Did he steal it or break it?” she demanded, keeping a firm grip on their collars.
“Both!” Baden’s chest heaved as he tried to launch at his brother.
“That’s a lie!” Kaden protested furiously. He looked up at his aunt and tried a wide-eyed, innocent look. The picture of blue-eyed innocence was spoiled by the horns under his halo.
She looked down at him, inured to his ploy by countless hours of babysitting. These two had emerged from their mother’s womb spitting and snarling. “I can’t believe your father used to be a cop,” she muttered, and then brightened. “What a lovely idea! Come on.” Still gripping them tightly, she turned and headed for the door. “We’re going to go see Uncle Azor.” He wasn’t really related to them, but Azor had been their father’s friend long enough to earn the honorific. He could also be a forbidding figure when they were up to mischief, with a way of looking at them that instantly calmed them down. She might not like him, but he made a good threat.
“Why?” Kaden demanded, sounding as imperious as his father. “What’s he going to do to us?”
Brandy smiled wickedly. “He’s going to toss you in jail and feed the key to a lizard. I just saw him at work. He was putting murderers in a cell. I’ll tell him to use that one.”
“He won’t!” Baden said belligerently, but he sounded the tiniest bit unsure.
She nodded and tried to open the door without letting her prisoners go. It was tricky. “He’d love to. Your parents won’t mind. They’ll probably enjoy the quiet.” She got the door open, but lost her grip on Baden and had to lunge for him while keeping the door propped open with her foot. In the face of their common enemy, the boys attacked her, kicking and hitting with twin fury. She growled and tucked Kaden under one arm, then grabbed Baden’s wrist. The boys took a death grip on the doorframe. They struggled in the doorway, none of them willing to give up.
“Is this a private wrestling match, or can I sell tickets?” an amused male voice drawled.
The three in the door abruptly stopped struggling. Brandy turned, dropping Kaden to his feet as she went. The boy was heavy. “Blue,” she said, glowering at the boy’s father. Tall, with black hair and indigo eyes, he looked more like a retired mercenary than a cop. Certainly his children were hellions.
They wasted no time running to him and tattling on her. “She was going to put us in jail!” Baden shouted. Every word out of his mouth was always at volume.
“She was going to make Uncle Azor lock us up with murderers!” Kaden yelled, not to be outdone.
“That’s right. I’m pressing charges for assault and battery,” she said unrepentantly. “I have teeth marks on my leg.”
Blue coughed, but bent a stern look on his lads. “Both of you, go to your mother. I’ll be there in two minutes, after I talk to your aunt.”
The boys looked cowed. Their father was the only one who had that affect on them.
He waited until they’d rounded the corner before he fell into step with her. “Theoretically, you’re supposed to the be the adult. You kind of blended in just now,” he teased.
“Theoretically, your children are supposed to be human,” she returned sourly. “Oddly enough, they always remind me of carnivorous apes. Tell me you two have decided to stop reproducing.”
He looked a little too innocent…and proud.
She grit her teeth. “She’d pregnant again, isn’t she?” She didn’t know what was wrong with Gem. After the twins, she’d have had her reproductive works cauterized, but Gem had gone on to produce a daughter who was now three and a son who was a year and a half. She seemed determined to single handedly populate her husband’s private island with a teeming nest of rabid babies.
Polaris was a gas planet. All landmasses were made up of massive, orbiting chunks of rock. It was essentially a series of floating islands formed from asteroids that had been pulled into orbit, stabilized and colonized. Polaris had a breathable atmosphere, and its special properties kept the land
floating in a belt of temperate air.
While they had no sea, the colonists had mined ice from the moons and formed lakes in many of the asteroids craters. They’d filled the lakes with fish and sea life. The planet formed mist but no rain, so water was plentiful if carefully recycled. Hauling in more from the moon to form new reservoirs cost money.
Farmers had used the water to turn the barren surface of the asteroids into islands of lush growth, gradually adding small livestock as grass took root and flourished. Each asteroid had an electric bio-dome over it to keep the precious water vapor inside.
Blue’s farm produced medicinal plants, and business was booming. Between his income and The Spark’s, his family would never lack for money.
Apparently, he and his wife also had plenty of leisure to pursue the art of baby making. It was a mercy for the rest of them that they spent most of their time on the plantation. The inn’s inhabitants would have deserted like rats fleeing a fire if they’d had to cope with little imps swarming the building.
“We’ll probably stop after this set of twins is born,” he assured her calmly, as if he weren’t about to unleash more chaos on the world.
“More twins?” she asked, aghast. “Boys or girls?”
“Girls,” he said with a smile. “Gem wants their middle names to be Brandy and Xera.”
She shivered. Some day she could look forward to seeing her name on a wanted poster. At least they were merciful and didn’t make them first names. “I’m honored. Really.”
He smirked as they reached the family suite near the kitchens. He gestured for her to go first. “I can see that. Go on up—Gem’s waiting.”
Brandy braced herself for the sight of children taking over her living room. At least the room was kid-proof. Although Gem no longer lived there, the objects in the room had gradually gotten higher as the twins had first learned to crawl, then walk. Now the room had the stark look unique to those with small children. The exception was with the entertainment center currently tuned to a children’s program and the scattering of toys, coloring books and pillows. At least her bedroom door was shut, and thus, uncontaminated. Hopefully. With the twins, one never knew.