reflection 01 - the reflective

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  He padded in his underwear to the kitchen and wiped the crumbs off the quartz slab. After capping the peanut butter, he twisted the sack with the bread inside and neatly tucked the whole business inside his cupboard.

  He turned around, and the lathered peanut butter mocked his normally sterile surfaces.

  Their current living arrangement was so not going to work.

  The boy had atrocious manners and a tongue that never stopped with insults, both inferred and actual. On top of it all, he was not even Reflective. All of it plucked at Jeb's innate sense of dignity.

  He jammed an empty coffee cup into the pulse dispenser and selected cappuccino. If he didn't have something special that morning, he would never make it through the day. He would spoil it for everyone who came into contact with him with his foul mood.

  As the smell of the brew filled the kitchen, Jeb heard the soft sound of the sunflower showerhead, like rain falling, from his cleansing room.

  He frowned.

  Hope that brat doesn't dirty up the whole place.

  Too late.

  Jeb leaned against the doorjamb of one of the only modern domicile complexes in Barringer.

  It was completely square and built with modern materials that mimicked the old. Papiliones were proud of their fourteen- to sixteenth-century architecture.

  Jeb thought the looks were okay, and he understood the need to preserve their history, but he had refused to deal with drafts, noise, and lack of function. The first thing he'd done upon moving into his dwelling was take it down to the studs and make every wire, gadget, and inclination of the pulse variety.

  He sipped his delicious morning solace and surveyed his guest’s accommodations, which looked as if a cyclone had torn through it.

  The coverlet from the bed was strewn haphazardly, bunched tightly into a corner of the bed.

  Socks so dirty they could walk to the clothes holder stood at disgusting attention, mid-heave in the center of his tiled floor.

  Whatever drink the boy had consumed the night before had left a wet ring on the thick glass-topped integral bar that ran the length of the headboard.

  When Jeb had said yes to housing the boy until their return jump, he had not considered it very carefully.

  He wondered how Jasper was faring with Madeline.

  “There's no towel!” Jacky wailed from the cleansing room.

  It’s going to be a long visit.

  *

  Jeb fell into step beside Jasper.

  She looked as tired as he felt.

  “How'd your night go?” she asked, but something about the tilt of her mouth let Jeb know that she had an inkling of just how shitty it had been.

  “I'm thinking you got the good end of the stick.”

  Jasper grinned.

  “Maybe,” she confirmed.

  Jeb glared at her, not seeing the humor. “Oh, come on, Merrick. When's the jump?”

  One long week away.

  Waiting at least a week was mandatory between jumps. He almost felt as if he could have gone two weeks before going back to Three. It'd left an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth—and an unexpected houseguest.

  Jasper stopped.

  “Principle, you look depressed.”

  He was, but Jeb would soon have the cure.

  “I—Principle… that boy.”

  Jasper's lips quirked. “He's a handful.”

  “That's the understatement of the world.”

  “Pull up your big-boy boxers, Merrick.”

  He stopped, pegging his hands on his hips. “I see someone is still enjoying the Hades out of Three lingo.”

  Jasper laughed. “Yeah, but you walked right into it.”

  “Walked right into what? And why are you using Three language?”

  Ryan looked between them both. Jeb narrowed his gaze on the flippant Reflective. Without realizing it, he’d stationed himself protectively in front of Jasper. When he noticed, he moved aside.

  Ryan flicked his eyes to the movement and smirked.

  “I don't answer to you, Ryan.”

  “Yeah, I got that. What about her?” He moved his jaw in Jasper’s direction. “Seems she leads your around by your dick, if you ask me.”

  “Yet—he didn't, Ryan,” Jasper said.

  Jeb knew a preparatory stance when he saw one. Jasper was keyed to fight, and Ryan certainly seemed as if he could bring it again.

  What is this extreme animosity between them?

  “Settle down, Ryan.” Jeb turned to Jasper.

  “Jasper.”

  She glared at Ryan then turned passive features to Jeb.

  “Let's not involve Rachett. Ignore his stupid ass.”

  “I'm far from stupid, Captain Merrick.”

  His official title sounded like slur coming from Ryan's mouth. He hated addressing him officially.

  He obviously hated Merrick.

  That was fine. Merrick crossed his arms, smiling wide. “Listen well, Inductee Ryan.”

  They stared at each other.

  “I don't know what this pissing contest is between you and fellow Inductee Jasper, but I want it to cease and desist.” His eyes went from Jasper to Ryan, who stood with an uneasy space between them.

  “You spent a month of fun at Sector One.”

  Ryan's face became granite at the mention of One.

  “You say you're smart? Then act like the IQ you have rather than your boot size.”

  Ryan's expression soured.

  “You're not my lead. I don't have to show you anything but pat civility. You lead with Jasper.” Ryan took an irritated swipe against where his inhibitor timepiece disc lay beneath his skin.

  Jeb stepped into his personal space. As tall and muscular as Jeb was, Ryan was his equal in size.

  Ryan didn't put his finger on Jeb's chest, but it hovered there.

  “Stay out of my fucking way, Captain Merrick.”

  Using the heel of his palms, Jeb slapped Ryan's chest, knocking him backward. “You get off my dick, and stay away from my partner, or we're going to have words.”

  Ryan leaned toward Jeb, a vein throbbing in the fair skin over his temple.

  “And it won't be the talking kind.”

  Ryan had all the contained violence of a Reflective on high combative alert.

  Then he trained that vision on Jasper. “Stay out of my fucking way, mongrel.”

  “Thanks for the love.” Jasper fluttered her fingers at him.

  Ryan cursed and spun on his heel, diving off down the ancient main street. His back straight, his uniform without a wrinkle, he looked back as he got farther away.

  Jasper release a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief.

  “Don't incite him.”

  “He brings out the best in me.”

  Jeb stared at her.

  “I don't think so—no.”

  *

  Jeb walked beside Jasper, a companionable silence stretched between them. Ryan had gone, and they made their way without hopping, just enjoying the casual exercise.

  Autumn had rolled in seemingly overnight, and the deciduous trees’ leaves bragged their flaming colors of orange, scarlet, and burnt yellow along the sidewalks of the Barringer district.

  “Just tell me, Jasper.”

  Her silent answer was long enough that Jeb slowed, but she spoke, and he kept walking, his eyes on the old buildings. The Cause Headquarters towered in the distance.

  “We were young ,and I was sparing with the other candidates.”

  “How many cycles?”

  “I'm a year younger than a lot of the males.”

  “For Principle's sake—why? Why would Rachett put you forward early.”

  “I tested in.”

  Jeb did stop then. “At five cycles?”

  She nodded. He whistled. “Damn—that's young.”

  “Yeah,” she answered, blowing a strand of hair out of her face that had loosened from her usual braids.

  “So,” she continued, looking at him sideways, and J
eb noticed her eyes were nearly black. Her irises hid her pupil like an ebony watercolor. Most people of Papilio were fair-complexioned, with light eyes. Beth’s combination of dark hair and eyes was unusual. Jeb decided that Jasper's looks had grown on him. The more he was around her, the more interesting she became.

  “I was twelve cycles, and he, thirteen.”

  Jasper had switched to Latin, seemingly without realizing. She liked the Three dialect so much that she often spoke it on Papilio, even when she wasn’t practicing for jumps to Sector Three.

  He suspected she had digressed into Latin under stress. The memory alone had visibly shaken her.

  “He took me aside—kissed me.”

  Jeb felt his face tighten. Obviously, no Reflective pairing would ever be tolerated. They would have been very aware, even then.

  “And?”

  She slowed then stopped walking. “I reacted badly. I slapped him. He tried to convince me we could be something. Something secret.”

  “Ah.” Merrick gave her a sideways glance. “He thought to have a little black-sheep booty?”

  Jasper faced him. He'd just stepped in a pile of shit. His words had been ill-chosen.

  But she surprised him. “Yes. As crude as your understanding is—that was exactly it. I am—”she waved her palm around—“an enigma.”

  Jeb palmed his chin. “He wanted a go at the forbidden. And you told him no.”

  Her dark eyes grew impossibly darker.

  “Yes,” she agreed quietly.

  They began to walk silently toward TCH.

  Jasper said nothing for a time, then, “I had rejected him, and I'd let it pass. But he'd not forgotten.” Her eyes met his then slid away. “He was chosen to spar with me, and I didn't understand…”

  She held her breath and Jeb answered for her, “His potential for cruelty.”

  She exhaled in a rush.

  “I was hospitalized for three days.”

  Jasper turned to him and lifted the bottom of her uniform shirt. The tail of her button-down navy-blue blouse came untucked, and she rolled up the hem to reveal a vaguely heart-shaped scar.

  Jeb could feel his heartbeat pulse at his forehead.

  They stood like that in the middle of Main Street with her shirt raised to expose skin like alabaster, unmarred except for the puckered scar tissue, now a faint pink.

  “What is that?” Jeb asked quietly.

  Jeb turned away when he saw water fill her eyes but heard her answer nonetheless.

  “His heel.”

  Her words etched their way across his soul, never to be forgotten.

  The knowledge undid him.

  *

  Jeb

  Jacky and Madeline watched the sparring with wide eyes as Jeb dove for Jasper's legs. She flung him on his back, and the wind sailed out of his lungs as if he were a beached whale.

  Damn, she’s good at defense. But her offense needed practice.

  He fought without breathing, which was never an easy task, then jerked her against his body easily and rolled over on top of her.

  The soft mat cushioned her against true injury.

  Protect. He fought his caution so that he could spar with her like a partner ought.

  She took advantage of his hesitation and nailed Jeb in the stomach with the hardest part of her body, as she'd been trained to do, driving her elbow deep into his gut.

  Jeb doubled over as she stood, confident in his loss.

  Despite his shortness of breath and bruised ribs, his hand snaked out, latching her ankle and jerking it from underneath her.

  “Jasper!” Madeline shrieked.

  “Shut up, Maddie. I wanna watch.”

  “No! He'll hurt her.”

  “No, he won't—don't be such a girl about it.” Jacky’s undertone of uncertainty gave Merrick pause.

  Jasper landed on her back, slapping her palms on the mat to soften the fall. She kicked him with her free leg, and Jeb captured that ankle, twisting it. She countered, rolling in the direction of the twist and sitting up and forward as she did, then punched his shoulder to dislodge him.

  Pain exploded from the strike, all knuckles and speed, aimed for that vulnerable part where the shoulder dips into the arm.

  He simply scooped her up and tossed her.

  Jasper shrieked, landing hard on the mat, no arms fast enough to catch her fall.

  Jeb strode to her, and she struggled to stand, gasping.

  “Get up,” Jeb said.

  She did. But she was canted oddly.

  Jeb didn't hesitate, hitting her shoulder to take her down again.

  She collapsed.

  Even when Jasper began to crawl, Jeb dragged her back mercilessly, her sparring uniform dragging up to breast level, and he lifted his foot.

  He saw the mark from Ryan and landed his boot beside it.

  Jasper shrieked, her cracked ribs making a noise like twigs snapping. Blood dribbled out of her parted lips.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Jeb growled.

  “You'll kill her!” Maddie wailed.

  “Stop—you’re no better than that dickhead Ryan!” Jacky said.

  Ryan.

  Jasper lay beneath him like a beaten, broken doll. Black hair had untangled from her braids. Her dark eyes were lipid pools of obsidian fire. The blood from her injuries pooled like red gems of condemnation.

  “You're just like the rest,” she accused from a full mouth lined with blood from his fists.

  No I'm not.

  “I'd never harm you, Beth,” Jeb promised.

  He reached out to touch her face, wiping away the blood he put there and she jerked away from him.

  The scene bled away to vague mist.

  *

  Jeb sat straight up in bed, the linen clutched to his chest. His heart still hammered like the hooves of a galloping horse. He hit the pulse clock with his thumbprint, and numerals flared on his ceiling.

  3:48 a.m.

  He fell back against the bed, convulsively swallowing. He wiped his sweaty palms on his coverlet. What is happening to me?

  “What's going on?” Jacky asked from the open doorway.

  Jeb sat up again. “Nothing.”

  His voice sounded like stone, not a tremble or vibration to prove that he'd just had the worst nightmare of his life.

  “’Cause you were yelling for who?” Jacky asked, though he knew. “Beth.” Jacky's eyes were like an adult's.

  Must have been a trick of the light.

  “You said something like you'd never hurt her or something.”

  “I wouldn't,” Jeb responded.

  “Then why did you dream about it?” His accusatory gaze tracked Jeb's reactions like a hawk.

  Jeb didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure why he'd dream that. Was it because of her confession about the ax Ryan had to grind?

  What Jeb understood was that he needed to get his ass into medical and get a full pulse diagnostic. He knew his timepiece was degrading, which was normal for Reflectives so close to the end of their term of service. But what if something more serious was going on?

  Why had he let Jasper's sad story affect him? Why was he having sadistic dreams about killing her?

  Pent-up sexual tension manifesting as violence.

  He needed to get laid—and fast. That would distract him from the strange turn his life was taking.

  “I don't know,” he answered.

  “Better figure it out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this middle-of-the-night scream session? It's killinʼ my beauty sleep.”

  Jacky walked back to his bedroom.

  Jeb fell back, lacing his fingers behind his head.

  It was a long time before sleep took him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Beth walked into TCH, and all talking ceased.

  Madeline started when she saw Beth, a loose knot of the gossiping tribe of female Reflectives falling away from her.

  As Beth strode in, they turned the
ir noses up in the air and walked away from Madeline.

  Beth reserved a special cold stare just for panty-dropping Daphne. What an alley cat.

  Maddie asked, “You and Jeb leave tomorrow?”

  Jeb now, eh?

  Beth chastised herself. In the week that Madeline had been her houseguest, she'd been nothing short of perfect. She gave Beth space when needed, she was sweet, and she kept things far neater than Beth would have.

  In a word, she was the perfect Reflective female: docile, accommodating, a phenomenal jumper, and beautiful. Only her dark hair marred her shell of perfection. Yet, her unusual eye color and hour-glass figure eased the males’ pain.

  However, an interesting phenomena had reared its ugly head. Madeline could certainly jump around Three and from Three without surface reflection. But not in Papilio.

  In Papilio, Madeline was reduced to using mirrored surfaces to jump.

  Beth couldn't say she was too broken up about it.

  It wasn't typical for her to be such a horse's ass in her internal ramblings.

  She blamed Merrick: he had set her on edge.

  He'd come to sparring warm up as tense as she'd ever seen him and had refused to spar with her—his own partner.

  A deliberate snub.

  Then he'd made a beeline for that slut Daphne.

  Beth understood the male Reflectives’ needs; they never bothered to hide it, as though it were their unspoken right. However, as Beth watched Daphne slink around in the bowels of TCH, she couldn't help but be offended for him.

  Merrick could do better.

  And what about that soulmate? His timepiece was disintegrating every moment, and then he would be the lucky one—wide open to find the One, not that it had stopped Merrick from sampling the local wares of the female Reflectives before.

  He'd been neglectful of the boy, and he'd grown surly. Understandably bored and guarded closely, Jacky had thought it wise to stir up the hornet's nest—until Beth had asked if he had parents.

  As it turned out, they had dissolved their union after his older brother's untimely death the year before.

  Sector Three called it “divorce.”

  After the divorce, Jacky had been shuttled between two parents, who by Jacky's account, had lost sight of the one thing remaining person who was still vitally important.

  Him.

  Jacky hadn't told her these things. Beth had easily read between the lines.