His fingers moved from her collarbone to her throat and continued until they were buried in her hair. He drew her close and she instinctively mirrored his movement, reaching up to twine her arms around his neck. She had to stand on her toes to do it, and felt the softness of her body unfold against his hard-muscled one. His dark hair, tousled over his forehead, was cut short at the back and trimmed close around his ears. She loved the way his skin went from rough to satiny, rough on his cheekbones and jaw, because he hadn’t shaved, satiny on the back of his neck and earlobes.
For the first time, she realised he had a scar behind his left ear, a small, smooth circle no larger than a shirt button. As scars went it was perfect, which was strange because scars were usually anything but perfect. Jagged, ridged, ugly, angry, that was the world of scars. This one seemed almost deliberate, a wound made with artistry in mind.
‘David, what’s this?’ Her fingertip rested lightly on the spot.
‘That’s something I need to tell you about, Zee.’
He paced back to the couch, drawing her with him. His grey eyes, usually flecked with shards of amber, were clouded.
‘What’s wrong?’ She touched his cheek and the force of his thoughts nearly burned her palm.
‘Everything. Everything I’ve done is wrong. I never meant to care so much for you, Zee. But that first night, in the emergency treatment room, I thought you were from Omura because we have so many redheads, and there’re hardly any here. And even after I realised you weren’t from Omura, you seemed like you were already part of me. There was something about your gestures, the way you moved and held yourself. It was like recognising someone I cared for and hadn’t seen for a long time.
‘Seeing you even once was wrong – and dangerous – and I knew I couldn’t let it happen again. I made a deal with myself, that I could still see you without letting you know. Sort of keep track. Then there was the first shock bomb and all I could think about was you and if you were safe. I wasn’t all that far from the blast. It was easy enough to find someone who needed to be checked out at a hospital. And easy enough to convince myself I was just being a good Samaritan. But it was about you, Zee. To make sure you were safe. It’s always been about you.’
She smiled softly. ‘I don’t have a problem with that.’
‘But Omura does. Remember when I told you that our extreme efficiency has made most people opt out of having children and that our population is declining? It’s a little more drastic than that. We no longer have enough people to sustain our civilisation. Not enough workers to get everything done. Not enough young people to support the elderly who can no longer work. About a generation ago, there started to be food riots, and shortages of basic goods. The price of everything had shot up. There’s a twenty-five-year waiting list for a house. A few decades years ago, forecasting models showed that our civilisation was grinding to a complete halt, and we would die out sometime within the next two hundred years. The Central Governing Authority passed the Emergency Repopulation Act. It’s perfectly democratic. Every citizen, no matter who, must marry and begin the reproductive process no later than their twenty-first birthday. I’ve had unusual freedom doing this work, but my twentieth birthday’s coming up. That’s when my name and bio goes public on the government’s Find-a-Mate service.’
‘What if you don’t? Find a mate?’
‘The government finds one for you. No one gets to be twenty-one without being married.’ David paused. ‘Even if it weren’t for that, Omura doesn’t allow anyone to stay on assignment longer than two years. The risk of “inappropriate attachments to the outlier species” is too great. Well, they were certainly right about that.’
The thought of David with someone else, sharing his life and having children with someone else, piling up joys and sorrows and experiences with someone else until the memory of Zee was crushed and forgotten was an agony she’d never imagined. This is impossible, she thought. No system could be so cruel. Except for logical, for-the-good-of-the-whole Omura.
‘Are you . . . do you have someone already? Is it Mia?’ Zee could not help driving a lit match into the open wound. Who wouldn’t love Mia? Tall, beautiful Mia. Lucky Mia, who would spend her whole life with David.
‘Mia? No way. She’s like a sister or something. She’s been the reason we’ve been able to see each other at all.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘That scar you felt? Behind my ear? I’m chipped, Zee. We all are. The chip continuously feeds my coordinates back to Omura. If I were to have gone all the places we went to together on my own, it would have aroused suspicion. But as long as Mia showed up in the vicinity, her chip would relay back the same coordinates and they’d assume we were together.’
Zee sniffed. ‘That was nice of her.’
David laughed lightly. ‘Payback. Believe me, I’ve done the same thing for her plenty of times.’
Another detail from the night before drifted back to Zee – an image of Mia shooting two red beams of light into David’s head, just where the chip was.
‘And that thing she used on you? You went rigid. I thought you were dead.’
‘Mia’s own invention,’ David said. ‘She calls it the stunner.’
‘What does it do?’
‘Chips aren’t the most stable form of technology. They’re vulnerable to bad data, scrambled firmware, even local viruses. They go offline all the time for no reason. Mia’s stunner takes a chip offline deliberately, without anyone on Omura knowing why. Once you’re offline, they can’t track you until they reconfigure the chip and rebuild the data, which takes about thirty-six hours. Then they own you again.’
‘David?’
‘Mmm?’ His voice was almost sleepy, as if his story had exhausted him.
‘If it isn’t Mia, is there someone on Omura? Someone you want to go back to?’
‘No.’
‘Then stay here.’ She put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. ‘Earth is a good place. When it’s time to go back, stay here.’
‘It isn’t allowed, Zee. No one escapes the Repopulation Act.’
‘Have Mia take you offline. We’ll run away.’
‘They’d rebuild the chip.’
‘Can’t you have the chip removed?’
‘Only if my brain comes with it. It, er, grows little filaments, like tentacles, throughout the cortex.’
‘That’s barbaric.’
‘It’s efficient. And that’s what Omura is all about. Efficiency.’
‘What if you just refused to go back? We could explain what’s going on. It’s a violation of your rights. We’d give you sanctuary here.’
He sighed a slow, heavy sigh. ‘It wouldn’t do any good, Zee. In fact, it would make things worse. If they ever find out about us they’ll force me home and erase you, as an example to everyone else. I’ve put you in enough danger already. I never meant to, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.’
‘Neither have I.’
‘Then I’m doubly sorry. And I’m going to try to repair the damage.’ He stood up and started gathering things scattered on the table. The accelerator, a video cube, the alien ID he was required never to be without. He carried a cereal bowl and plate to the sink, washed them and set them carefully on the counter.
‘What are you doing, David?’
‘What I should have done weeks ago. Getting out of your life before they find out about you.’
‘That’s not fair!’ she cried angrily.
‘I know it isn’t. The Central Governing Authority —’
‘I don’t mean the Central Governing Authority, I mean you! You’re not fair.’
‘Zee . . .’
‘You can’t make all the decisions for us. Not if you really care about me.’ She waited until her breathing slowed to normal, as surprised as he was by her outburst. ‘Please. You won’t be back online until tomorrow afternoon. Stay. Hold me. Just for tonight.’ She took his hand and met his gaze. ‘My decision. No matter what happ
ens. I want to be with you. Understood?’
He nodded slightly. ‘Do you always get your own way like this?’ he asked, unable to hide a faint, dawning smile.
‘I don’t really know,’ she said triumphantly. ‘I’ve never wanted my own way all that much. Just with you.’
‘Me too,’ he said, beginning a kiss that started at her temples and swept all the way down to her throat. ‘Just with you.’
No one had ever kissed her throat before. Who knew it would make her so delirious with pleasure that when he pulled away from her she almost fell over?
‘I nearly forgot about these,’ he said, pulling from his pocket the small gold box he’d given her the night before.
‘Oh! My orbiting pearl earrings! I thought the mugger took them and I’d never see them again.’ She opened the box and saw the little pearls orbiting each of the central pearls. ‘And look! Not a pearl lost!’
He put his arms around her, then tapped the wall until the light faded to the faintest blue glow. ‘That’s the thing about orbiting pearls,’ he murmured. ‘They always find each other. No matter what pulls them apart.’
Hours later, David stood at the end of the bed, fully dressed and looking down at Zee. As he watched her sleeping, he memorised all the things he loved about her. The way her dark red hair flowed across the pillow like a river running over its banks. The fact that her eyes weren’t blue or green, like most redheads, but the colour of cherry cola, and that the arch of her eyebrows made it seem that life itself was a continual surprise to her.
Beside her on the nightstand, next to her orbiting pearl earrings, lay the eagle medallion she’d given him. He’d known at once that it must have cost her dearly – empaths didn’t earn all that much, and she’d talked about a pair of sandals with moonstones that she’d wanted but ended up without. That she’d bought the medallion, then been too shy to give it to him, made him treasure it all the more. He hoped she’d know this when she saw that it was gone. As quietly as he could, he removed it from the nightstand and slipped the leather thong over his head.
Zee thought because he was older he knew about all the things she didn’t – he saw it in her eyes. But really, they were so much alike. He’d never been in love before either. Now, looking down at her, he wondered how he could ever love someone this much again. And he wondered what she would say if she knew the truth – the real truth – about him, and why he was visiting her world.
CHAPTER 11
WITHOUT WARNING
Zee knew David was gone the minute she woke up. She no longer felt his warmth at her back, or the weight of his arm across her hip. When she slid one foot backwards, it found only cool, empty sheets. Opening her eyes, she saw her orbiting pearl earrings on the nightstand, but the eagle talisman beside them was gone. Seeing the empty space was like hearing a door closing.
She searched the sitting room hoping to find even the smallest sign that he meant to return. She’d hoped that spending the night together would change things. It had for her. Nestled in the circle of his arms, waking and turning to find him always there, she’d never felt so close to anyone in her life, or so safe. It made her believe that together they could overcome any obstacle.
And it broke her heart to know he would never feel the same. The night hadn’t changed anything for him. He’d left because he’d decided it was too dangerous for them to be together. If he’d meant to come back, he wouldn’t have taken the eagle talisman.
Slowly, Zee sat down on the sofa and drew herself into a tight ball. She already ached to feel his arms around her again. How, she wondered, was she going to live the rest of her life without him?
A few days before her birthday, lines of an old song had come to her and been playing over and over in her head ever since.
I’m not a girl who loves forever
Just until the sun leaves the sky
Just until the sea runs dry . . .
She hadn’t heard it since she’d come to London and had no idea why she was thinking of it now, except the ‘just untils’ were how she felt about David. Whether he was there or not, she would love him forever. Knowing it was foolish and superstitious, she made the song her ringtone.
For the next few weeks, Zee felt as if she were sleep walking. Work was the only place she felt alive, and she volunteered for so many extra shifts her adviser became concerned. Rani was concerned too, but fell silent when Zee said she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Instead, Rani defused questions from others about her friend by saying Zee was still embarrassed about binge drinking the night of her birthday.
Then, one evening, Zee came home to find a note under her door, hand printed in block letters with no signature.
I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH
AND I CAN HELP.
MEET ME TOMORROW
AT THE SUNRISE CAFÉ.
SEVEN A.M.
The rush of elation was instant. The note could only be from David, or from Mia delivering David’s message. It certainly wasn’t from Rani, and they were the only ones who knew what had happened the night of her birthday. To eliminate any doubt, he’d chosen the café he took her to that first morning.
When she thought about it, she wasn’t even surprised. Part of her had known all along that he wouldn’t be able to give her up, any more than she could give him up. They were meant to be together. Nothing would ever change that. For the first time since he’d left, she felt like she had her life back.
The next morning, she arrived at the café early. She wanted to make sure she got the same booth they’d had before, and ignored several empty ones until it was free. Settling herself with ten minutes to spare, she let herself look forward to the day ahead. Her shift didn’t start until three that afternoon, an eternity away. She and David could stroll all over the city, hand in hand. They could buy a picnic lunch and find someplace romantic to eat it. They could go to a museum or a movie or —
‘Zee! I almost didn’t see you here!’
Zee looked up to find Piper staring down at her. The last person she wanted to bump into. She looked around quickly and was relieved to see that David hadn’t arrived yet.
‘Piper. I’m actually um, wai—’ Before she could finish her sentence, Piper sat down across from her.
‘Why did you pick a booth so far back? I couldn’t even see you at first.’
It was at that moment Zee realised where the note had come from.
‘You? You left the note under my door?’
‘I know all the signs of lovesickness,’ she said, ‘a certain kind of lovesickness in particular. Believe me, I’m an expert. So I thought if we could talk —’
Zee heard nothing past ‘lovesickness’. A red veil of disappointment and anger descended. Piper had taken the most private thing in her life and dragged it out in the open. Piper, who claimed to be sorry for setting her up with David in the first place, as a kind of joke, now proved she wasn’t sorry at all.
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this,’ Zee said, leaping to her feet and gathering her things. ‘Are you that bitter about your own life? Do you enjoy doing this? What have I ever done to you, anyway?’
‘No, wait, you’ve got it wrong, Zee. I only want to help. You don’t understand, please —’
Zee was on her way out the door. She didn’t feel like understanding, but stopped to look back over her shoulder at Piper.
‘The only way you can help is by leaving me alone!’ she cried, and rushed out of the café and back to the safety of her rooms at the residence hall. Only then, lying on her bed, could she face the real source of her anger and despair – that the note hadn’t been from David at all, and she’d been mistaken in thinking he couldn’t give her up.
Once again, Zee threw herself into her work. She especially looked forward to seeing Mrs Hart, even though each time she visited the Hampstead house, she confronted changes. Mrs Hart was definitely losing weight, and often leaned on Zee to take more than a few steps. Yet despite the weight loss and the weakness, Mrs Hart s
eemed more herself than ever, and still greeted Zee in her Neptune’s Tears. ‘They came at such a great price, you see,’ she commented one day, ‘it seems an insult to hide them away.’
Their sessions divided into two parts, which Mrs Hart referred to as homework and bunking off. During the homework part, Zee helped Mrs Hart with images that allowed her body to relax and tap into its reserves. What they both liked best, though, was bunking off. Zee loved sitting in Mrs Hart’s kitchen and talking about whatever came to mind. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, seemed like an extension of Mrs Hart herself. One day Mrs Hart served chocolate biscuits on plates shaped like autumn leaves and poured tea from a pot shaped like a gourd.
‘I wanted to use these one last time,’ she said. ‘I made them while I was pregnant with my first daughter, and they’ve always been my favourites.’
After Neptune’s Tears, Ellie Hart’s name became as famous – and as unlucky – as the diamonds her name would be forever linked to. No one would hire her as a designer, yet her house was full of beautiful things she had made for the pure joy of making them. Studying the delicate glaze on her maple-leaf dish, Zee said, ‘I’m sorry you never got your design career.’
Mrs Hart’s eyes flashed. ‘Are you?’ she asked tartly. ‘Don’t be. I’m not.’
Zee had never seen Mrs Hart show irritation before, and realised she’d said the wrong thing. ‘I didn’t mean —’
‘Never mind, dear. I’m just having a whinge because of the pain today.’ Mrs Hart was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I was a newlywed in America when I won the Neptune competition. My husband got a job promotion to come here to London. If everything had worked out, I was going to stay in the US without him. When you’re young, you take love for granted. You think that if it is meant to be, it will take care of itself. That isn’t so at all. Looking back, I’m sure that if things had gone according to plan with the diamonds, my marriage would have paid the price. It’s true that I never had the career I thought I’d won, but I had a long, happy marriage, and I had my daughters. That’s been one of the nicer surprises about life, that no matter what you lose, there are always good things to be had.’
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