Embrace the Night Eternal

by Joss Ware

  Automatically, Sage’s hands went up to her cheeks, smoothing over her hair and back down, feeling the blood crusted on her skin. Oh. Yikes. She hadn’t given her appearance a thought since returning with the flash drive.

  “Just a few cuts,” Sage said.

  “Elliott,” Jade said impatiently. “Aren’t you going to look at her? She’s been bleeding. A lot, it looks like.”

  “If she wants me to,” the doctor replied mildly, giving Jade a bemused smile.

  “Well, of course she does. And I’ll get Flo over here too. No, wait, we’ll go to her place—she’s got everything we could possibly need. She fixed up my face when I fell off the horse, and no one even noticed all those bruises.” Jade, as was her way, was firmly in charge. Taking control.

  “I don’t really—”

  “She’ll have you all fixed up for tonight. You are going to wear that rosy-tangerine dress, aren’t you?”

  Sage blinked. “Tonight?” Rosy-tangerine?

  Elliott had moved toward her and stood, waiting, still watching Jade with that combination of amusement and deep affection.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot about the Thanksgiving Festival!”

  “I forgot about the Thanksgiving Festival.” It looked more peach-colored to me.

  “See, this is what happens when I move out. You spend all your time down here in the computer lab and you forget everything else that’s going on.”

  “Gee, maybe you ought to move back in,” Sage teased.

  “No,” replied Elliott firmly. Jade glanced at him and the look that passed between them was enough to singe her fingertips. Then he turned back to Sage. “Now, why don’t you let me take a look? I don’t know what you cut yourself on, but I don’t want to see any infections starting up. It’s not like I can prescribe antibiotics.”

  She sat obediently and closed her eyes as Elliott examined the cuts on her face, then on her palms. Crap. She’d totally forgotten that today was Friday, the day of the annual festival.

  Like the Pilgrims of long ago, survivors of the Change had marked the end of their first year of endurance with a celebration. It had become an annual event in Envy, with music, feasting, and other festivities. People from other settlements often came and joined in the revelries as well.

  But Sage, cloistered in her subterranean lab, hadn’t noticed the recent influx of people into Envy, nor the excitement going on around her. If she hadn’t left so early this morning to investigate Remington Truth’s condo, she might have seen the preparations in full swing…but going out the back way and into the deserted area had taken her away from all of that.

  “Sage!”

  Theo’s urgent voice pierced her thoughts, and she looked up as he rushed down the spiral stairs. “Hi, Theo,” she said.

  “Another attack?” he said. His expression was stark.

  “Another attack?” asked Jade, looking sharply at Sage. “What?”

  Sage glared at Theo and shrugged as Elliott began to smooth his hands over her body in a sort of scanning process. She guessed that was part of his paranormal abilities. “I’m not hurt.”

  “Another attack?” Jade repeated.

  Sage explained about last night as Elliott paused, his hands settling over her sliced, throbbing thigh. She felt a little tingle of energy flush through her body, warm and comforting, almost like that shimmery feeling she’d had earlier when encompassed by Simon.

  “So that explains the guy we found in one of the halls, beaten to a pulp,” Elliott said as he stepped away. “Hmm.” He looked down at his hands and then glanced at Jade. “I patched him up a bit earlier. But I think I’ll go check on him again.”

  “You might even want to squeeze his hand,” Jade replied, her voice taut. “The scrub.”

  Elliott looked at Sage. “How do you feel now?”

  “Better,” she replied. Then realized, “Wow! I’m completely healed. No scars, no pain…how did you do that?”

  She reached for him and Elliott, smiling, stepped away before she could grab his hand for a shake. “No thanks necessary,” he said. “Except, maybe a dance tonight. I hear the band is really good. Especially the lead singer.” Considering the fact that his lover was the front woman, he was safe to say that. With a glance at Jade, he added, “I’m off to go check on my other…patient. See you at the festival.” And off he went.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Theo demanded. “I ran into Simon and he mentioned that I should come and find you.”

  “I’m fine,” Sage said. Nice of Simon to let you and Jade and Elliott know. And to send you all down to interrupt my work.

  She was suddenly doubly glad she hadn’t come back to retrieve Theo to accompany her to Remington Truth’s condo—by the way he was looking at her, he wouldn’t have allowed her to come with him.

  And that part really bunked her off. Allowed. As if he were her parent or boss or something. But she knew from his expression that she was right. He somehow felt as though he had control over her. Or was responsible for her.

  “Now that you’re all better, we’ve got to get you ready for tonight,” Jade said. Her brilliant green eyes glinted with determination.

  Sage looked at her friend—beautiful, confident, outgoing, and a bit neurotic. And a horrible control freak. There were times when she’d wanted to be more like her. Not the control freak part, but the strong, confident part. Not only that, but knowing exactly what Jade had been through at the hands of the Strangers, and seeing how strong and capable she was now that she went on secret missions for the Resistance, Sage admired her even more.

  And, if she was really honest, she also envied her, just a bit, the relationship she’d found with Elliott. That she’d found someone who understood her, accepted her for who she was…and who made her glow the way Elliott did.

  Some noise or movement pulled Sage from her contemplation, and she realized Theo was standing there, looking at her. Giving her a funny look, as if he was trying to tell her something without actually speaking. His eyes shifted to the left, toward Jade, and then to the right—oh. He wanted her to get rid of Jade.

  Her heart started thumping a little harder. No, I don’t think I’m wanting a lecture from you right now, Theo.

  Then she glanced at Jade, who looked ready to lecture her as well. Crap.

  If Simon were there, she’d cheerfully murder him for having her sanctuary invaded…while he was off doing who knew what.

  And then…no way. Yes, the sound of more footsteps—heavier ones, multiple pairs—followed the little chime that portended an arrival. Now who?

  “Heard you might have found something about Remington Truth,” said Quent before he even reached the bottom of the stairs. Behind him followed his friend Wyatt, a rude man with lots of messy dark hair, and a bald black guy called Fence—all of whom had been in the Sedona caves together with Elliott and Simon.

  “I might have,” she said, accepting the fact that with the whole crew of them in here, not only wasn’t she going to get much work done, but she was also going to escape her lectures.

  “Simon said you found a flash drive,” Quent continued.

  Gee, nice of Simon to spread the word…but neglect to come down here himself and see how I’m doing. Or how things are going.

  A fine-featured blond man with a British accent, Quent’d recently begun to look more strained and tense than when he and his friends had first come to Envy, nearly a month ago. That likely had to do with the fact that he’d recently learned that his own father—by all accounts, a hateful, arrogant man—was one of the Strangers and had helped to cause the Change. “Right, then. Shall I take a look?”

  Sage had already pulled it out of the computer. “Good idea. You should be able to tell us if it really belonged to him or not.”

  Quent took the slender black object hesitantly, and Sage watched his face as he closed elegant fingers around it. He wore a simple gold signet ring on the middle finger of his right hand, and held a pair of gloves in his other.

/>   Like Elliott, who seemed to have acquired extraordinary abilities while in the cave, Quent too had emerged with his own paranormal skill: that of psychometry. The power to “read” the history of inanimate objects.

  Sage couldn’t imagine that it would be a pleasant talent to have. If every time she touched something, she was also assaulted with the images and possibly sounds, feelings, and so on, of its history…she shivered. What would the walls of this hotel, or even the computer keyboards that she typed on every day, tell her? How awful would that be?

  No wonder he’d taken to wearing gloves.

  And from the expressions flitting across Quent’s handsome face, she could tell her concerns were justified. When he opened his eyes, at first they were cloudy and dull. His face had taken on a light sheen of perspiration, and she could see that his heart rate and breathing had both kicked up. Lines on either side of his mouth etched deeper and longer.

  “Quent.” Wyatt, showing the first bit of compassion Sage had noticed, rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He seemed truly concerned, and only when the other man seemed to pull out of some deep dreamlike state and looked up at him with clear blue eyes did he relax. At least, his stance relaxed. The same underlying anger and bad humor remained in Wyatt’s face.

  “It’s his.” Quent handed the jump drive back to Sage with icy fingers. His face appeared a little clammy, but he sat straight and determined. “Have you looked at it yet?”

  Sage knew that at least part of his interest was in finding out as much about Fielding as possible. Horrified and devastated by the knowledge that his father had been involved in the Change, Quent had vowed to find him and kill him. The only thing holding him back was not knowing where or how to find him, or even being certain that he could kill him.

  After all, the Strangers were immortal, made so by the special crystals they wore embedded in their flesh.

  “I haven’t had a chance, I’ve had so many interruptions.” Sage didn’t care that she sounded annoyed. They were interrupting her work and she knew she wasn’t going to get out of attending the festival tonight, so she only had a little time. “If everyone would clear out of here,” she added pointedly.

  No one moved. She sighed and stuck the drive back into the USB port. A few moments later, she had the list of files up on her screen.

  “They’re…” She stared at the list of gibberish and flapped her hand at it angrily.

  Theo was at her side in a minute, and, hand resting lightly on her shoulder, leaned forward to look. “Ah. They’re encrypted.” The relish in his voice tugged a smile from beneath her annoyance, and she looked up at him. “Of course I can get in,” he told her with a smile. “It’ll take some time, but no problem.” He was fairly slathering at the idea of sitting down and getting to it, apparently his need to lecture her gone in the excitement.

  Sage rose from her seat and he slid into place. She would have stood to watch, but Jade came forward and curled no-nonsense fingers around her arm. “Good. It’ll take him some time to do that, which means we can go do something with your hair and get you ready for the festival.”

  One glance at her friend told her there would be no escape, so she bowed to the inevitable and, with one last woeful glance, left the computer sanctuary.

  Hours later, back in the hotel room that had become his since their arrival in Envy, beneath the hot shower that pounded the shite out of his shoulders, Quent was almost able to forget where he really was. In hell.

  As the water rained down on him there in the fancy marble bathroom, he was back home, fifty years ago, in another fancy bath (a bit larger, of course, with windows overlooking the Atlantic and dual showerheads).

  And Bonia Telluscrede, whom Vogue had called the next Gisele Bundchen, was waiting for him in the master bedroom, dressed in that red silk thing she’d worn in Paris.

  Or…he spun his memories a different way. Perhaps Lissa Mackley, who’d just won an Oscar and had brought it into the Jacuzzi with them. She had the poutiest lips he’d ever had the pleasure to have around him, though she couldn’t carry on an unscripted conversation to save her life.

  And his Piper would be waiting, ready to fly them from Boston to Naples for the weekend…

  Maybe it was Marley Huvane, the socialite with whom he’d hooked up at more than one of his family’s elite gatherings. Even when he’d brought a date.

  Marley could actually put sentences together in an interesting way. And she understood what it was like to grow up with more than a silver spoon.

  They might have had a chance.

  But when the water from the single shower head turned cold much too soon than it would have back home, and Quent stepped back out into reality and a too-small Astroturf towel, the truth settled on him once again like the weight of the world on Atlas.

  Everyone was gone.

  Everything was gone.

  Thanks to his goddamned wanker father.

  A mass murderer. A global mass-murderer.

  He whipped another towel from the rack, the snap loud over the last remnants of dripping water. The mirror was too steamy to see anything but a muted shadow, and he wrapped the towel around his waist wondering, as he did, why bother?

  As he stepped out of the steaming bathroom, Quent automatically scanned the room.

  She wasn’t there.

  Of course she bloody well wasn’t there. But that didn’t stop him from looking every time he came in.

  Wet hair dripping rivulets down his shoulders, Quent toweled it dry furiously.

  Zoë Kapoor was a bad-tempered and demanding prat, and had nonexistent social skills. God knew where she came from and where she lived and what she did besides hunt gangas and snipe at people. She could shoot an arrow as well as Robin Hood, but that was about all she was good for.

  Well, that wasn’t precisely accurate, he had to admit. Certainly without her help a few weeks ago, they wouldn’t have been able to save the teenagers who’d been abducted. And the mayor of Envy, Vaughn Rogan, might have died from a lion attack.

  And Quent would still be wondering if his dick worked properly after fifty years of hibernation.

  But other than that intense, tear-your-clothes-off-and-slam-against-the-wall fuck that he still woke dreaming about, hard and hot and damp, there wasn’t any reason to think about Zoë.

  Although he did have that fantasy of her in thigh-high leather boots…and nothing else.

  In one of his weaker moments, he’d even gone so far as to wonder how he might find a pair…or have them made. Soft, supple leather that laced up the back…

  That was, before he realized he had no way to pay for them. And no skills to barter. A rude awakening for a bloke who’d always had it all.

  Now he had nothing. Nothing but the legacy of his murdering father.

  Quent flung the damp towel over a chair and stalked over to his bed. He’d expected her before now, to be honest. She’d made such a big deal about those bloody arrows, following him back to Envy to retrieve the ones he’d found after she shot a few gangas the first time they’d met.

  And yeah, she’d bloody well got them back after that destroy-the-sheets episode, sneaking off with them while he slept in the afterglow…but then Quent had acquired two more of her special arrows after she’d shot a lion and saved the mayor’s life. She’d know he had them.

  Yes. He’d expected her before now. If for no other reason than to retrieve—or steal back—her precious arrows.

  With a grunt of annoyance, he lifted the mattress and looked down at the box spring.

  “Bloody fucking hell,” he breathed, staring in disbelief. They were gone. The arrows he’d hidden there were gone.

  Quent dropped the mattress back in place and resisted the urge to throw something.

  It was bad enough that she’d somehow, sometime in the last five or six hours, sneaked in and taken them…but that she hadn’t stuck around for Round Two of let-me-thank-you-for-keeping-my-arrows-safe-by-balling-theshite-out-of-you was a real slap in
the face.

  Angered by his rush of emotion, Quent turned away from the empty, lonely bed and stalked to the window. The sun had lowered in the west, but his view faced east and he could see only the faint glow of its last vestiges rising from over the roof above. The sky ahead had darkened, and the glow of Envy lights burned below.

  Loosening his jaw, Quent realized he was being a bloody knob-end. There were other women, several of whom had made their interest very clear since he’d arrived in Envy. He and his companions were heroes for saving the teens, and as such had attracted more than their fair share of attention.

  Besides, he liked variety. It was the spice of life. And variety meant no complications. No expectations.

  And tonight the pints and wine would be flowing freely. Everyone would be in a celebratory mood. He’d have no trouble finding a soft, warm companion.

  He never had before.

  Simon ran.

  It was different from when he ran before—on the streets of L.A. or Hollywood, on a track, round and round and round, on a treadmill.

  This was wide-open infinity, overgrown and natural. Ghost towns. Wilderness.

  He realized he could keep going, leave the dark, awkward walls of Envy behind him forever. He could no longer be found by anyone or anything if he didn’t want to be found. A miracle.

  Too bad it hadn’t been this way when he worked for Mancusi. How many times had he wanted to sink into the shadows, dissolve into nothing? Become transparent.

  Escape.

  Freedom.

  He ran and ran, keeping his mind empty, pushing his body for hours. The sun rose to its zenith, then began to descend. He ran till he puked, and half choked on it when he remembered the irony of Sage doing the same. Then he puked some more.

  And ran hard again. For hours.

  In the end, he returned to Envy, shaky and weak, just as unnoticed as when he had left. And not just because it was pushing dusk.

  He still had to think about it, concentrate, to turn himself invisible. He couldn’t hold the transparency for very long—five minutes maybe. Although it was getting easier.