Sun

by J. C. Andrijeski

  Then Revik had ‘Dori around the throat, and the Adhipan leader couldn’t even answer.

  Thinking about that once I sat astride Revik, I’d caressed his hair away from his face.

  It hit me, then.

  This wasn’t really about Balidor at all.

  “No.” Revik looked up at me sharply, his clear eyes cold. “No, Alyson. You bring up Jem right now, and we’re going to have a three hour screaming match inside this plane. Trust me when I tell you, this is not the time. I will lose my fucking shit if we go there right now––”

  “We won’t,” I cut in, already holding up my hands in a peace gesture. “We won’t, Revik. It didn’t even cross my mind to talk about that now. I’m sorry you heard that.”

  Wrapping my hands back around his neck, I massaged the muscles there and opened my light, warming the center of his chest.

  His hard look morphed into a full scowl, but he didn’t answer.

  Leaning his head back against the airplane seat, he closed his eyes, exhaling with an effort, trying to fall into the motion of my hands.

  For my part, I did my best to keep my mind blank.

  Still rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, I laid the other one on his chest, feeding him some of my light. As I did, I felt the shield Balidor had set up for the flight, in lieu of a full-blown construct. He’d included a light reservoir there, most likely for Revik to use post-crash. It drew on light from the rest of our team, not dissimilar to what combat units did to help replenish an injured team member’s light.

  While I appreciated that he’d done it, I stayed away from it for now, only using my own light to replenish Revik’s. I figured I’d draw on the reservoir when I got low, or when Revik leveled out a bit, whichever came first.

  Under me, Revik grunted.

  His fingers curled around my thighs, tugging me closer, deeper into his lap.

  When I glanced down, he was studying my face. My palm still rested on his chest, bleeding light into his. I could feel it was having an effect on him already.

  “I thought we were going to make out,” he said, gruff. His eyes flickered up to mine, and his voice deepened more. “Are we going to make out? Or have you decided you don’t want to kiss your batshit crazy husband?”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  I felt my laugh ripple through the Barrier space of the plane, and relax a tension that lingered there. It didn’t vanish altogether; I could feel remnants of Cass and Balidor’s reactions still, but I felt most of the rest of the seers breathe a sigh of relief.

  I also felt more than one of them thinking I was probably using sex to calm Revik down.

  Revik grunted again.

  He didn’t push me away, though. Instead, his fingers tightened on my thighs.

  Looking down at him, I wrapped both of my arms back around his neck, curling my fingers into his hair. Leaning down when he looked up, I kissed him on the mouth, pulling on him gently with my light through my lips and tongue as I did.

  I felt him relax, all at once.

  Well, not relax––not exactly.

  His body relaxed, but his light opened along with his mouth. His fingers slid from my thighs to my ass, and yanked me tighter against him. My lips had barely touched his when a pulse of pain left him, strong enough to feel like a punch to the gut.

  Gripping his hair, I leaned into his chest, deepening our kiss.

  After a few more seconds, he let out a low groan.

  Wrapping an arm around my back, he gripped my shoulder in his hand, leaning up to kiss me harder, pulling on me so that I lay flush against him. His light opened enough to catch my breath. He started using his light through his mouth and tongue to pull on me. He slowed as he did it, coiling his light into mine and pulling achingly, sensually, using all of his concentration until I gasped, fighting to breathe.

  I lost track of how long we kissed after that.

  His restraint never went away entirely.

  Neither did mine, but I found myself more focused on his, on the way he surfed that edge without going all the way in either direction.

  His pain kept getting worse, though. So did mine.

  I’d forgotten how he kissed.

  Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, I hadn’t let myself think about it in a long time. I don’t think I’d let myself go there since before he left for Hong Kong, and for China.

  His fingers wrapped into my hair as I thought it, and he kissed me harder, holding me tighter against him. When he used those same fingers to pull me away, to separate us briefly, I fought to catch my breath, looking at his eyes from where I leaned on his chest.

  “All right,” he said, his jaw tightening briefly. “Tell me one thing.”

  I felt my breath catch in my throat, but I didn’t let myself hesitate.

  “Okay,” I said. “What?”

  “I know you liked fucking him,” he said, gruff, his voice low. “I felt that, in China.” Sliding his fingers deeper into my hair, he clenched his hand harder. “I know you love him, Allie.”

  When I swallowed, about to answer, he shook his head, warning me with his eyes not to argue, not to go there, or to say anything at all.

  “…I’m not asking about that,” he said, that warning prominent in his voice. “I wanted to know about this.” Pausing, he jerked his chin towards my face. “When you kissed him. The way it is with us… the way it’s always been. Was it like that with him?”

  Realizing what he was asking me, I frowned.

  Then, thinking about his question, I slid into the higher parts of my light, making myself remember. I wanted to be accurate. It felt deathly important to be accurate about this.

  I was still scanning memories as I slowly shook my head.

  Relief hit me in an unexpected wave.

  “No,” I said.

  I heard the absolute certainty in my voice.

  I felt Revik hear it, too.

  He didn’t ask me if I was sure. After a pause, he only nodded.

  “Okay,” he said.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. I couldn’t help it.

  “Okay?” I said, smiling.

  Revik glanced over, long enough to see my smile but not long enough to hold my gaze. Instead he gave me a faint, sideways smile in return before looking away.

  For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

  I combed my fingers through his long black hair, massaging his neck, seeing his eyes close for longer than a blink when I dug my fingers hard enough into the muscle. I found myself watching him, my light cautious as I tried to assess his. I could feel him thinking about what he’d asked me, without having any sense of where his mind was going precisely.

  Then his clear eyes met mine, a touch harder.

  “Good,” he said, gruff.

  His arm tightened around my back, yanking me closer.

  “Good,” he repeated, still studying my eyes. “That’s good, wife.”

  His long jaw tilted up as his light pulled on mine, asking for another kiss.

  Leaning into his chest, I was happy to oblige him.

  43

  PARIAHS

  “I AM TOLD you are healed now, sister. Energetically. Spiritually.”

  Chandre jumped, turning.

  When she saw who it was, she frowned. She frowned at his face, even before his question could have evoked an even more negative reaction in her mind or light.

  If her frown bothered him, he didn’t let it show.

  The male seer nodded towards her, the gesture polite, but his eyes contained a harder scrutiny as he subtly scanned her light.

  “They say you were subject to some form of magic. Magic our cousins wield… not seer technical skill. Is that true?”

  His light green eyes with their odd, violet rings flickered over her face a second time, just enough off-focus and intense, she could almost see him scanning her––although his Adhipan training meant she could not feel it.

  “I will not hurt your precious Bridge,” she grumble
d, her voice cold.

  If her words embarrassed him, it did not show on his face.

  He acted almost as if he had not heard them.

  He definitely pretended he hadn’t understood their full meaning.

  “I am merely curious as to the mechanism there,” he said, still polite. “I tried to ask the local shamans about this, but they could not, or would not, give me answers that made sense. All I saw was colorful lights behind their eyes. Pictures that do not form a coherent narrative.”

  He paused, as if waiting for her to explain in some way.

  When she didn’t, he prodded her again.

  “They call you ‘tiger’ now,” he added. “…or that is how it sounds, and looks inside their minds. That is what I see behind their eyes when they look at you now. A large, striped, orange and black cat, snarling and covered in light, stalking through jungles covered in vines and green, leafy trees. The old one, their mystic, tells me that ‘you are the tiger,’ and also that ‘the tiger ate the snake.’ I felt some Dreng connection in that…”

  At her sharp look, he held up a hand in a peace gesture.

  “…In the snake aspect,” he clarified. “The part they believe is now gone. I got the impression your link to the Dreng had been severed, but I am unclear as to how. Most of our greatest sages would struggle to purify your light enough to sever such a thing. Particularly if you had it since childhood.”

  Pausing, he waited for her to clarify.

  She did not speak.

  After a few more beats passed, he exhaled in some impatience.

  “Is that true, sister?” he said. “Are you free of their influence now?”

  She looked him over as warily as he looked at her.

  She knew, of course, who he was.

  Everyone on their team knew the face of this particular seer now.

  Like the rest of them, Chandre had only a vague awareness of his existence prior to the Sword leaving for China. She’d known him as one of Kali’s infiltrators before that––one of many “Children of the Bridge.” She’d known the label without really knowing what it meant, or its significance to their mission under the Bridge.

  Chandre had heard additional rumors about this particular seer, as well––including that he had played some role in placing the Bridge with her human family.

  “That is true,” he said, his voice still formally polite.

  She nodded, once, her gaze and light still wary.

  “I know,” she said only. “Allie told me.”

  That had been before, of course.

  Prior to the Sword leaving for China, when Allie still told her things, the Bridge mentioned over drinks that Dalejem had been the one to leave her under an overpass as a child, on orders from Allie’s biological parents.

  Back then, no one cared much about Dalejem the seer, not as his own entity.

  He, like all of the Children of the Bridge, had been subsumed under the mystery of Allie’s prescient mother, Kali, and the abandonment of the Bridge among the humans. That the Bridge herself seemed to blame and shun her biological mother specifically for that abandonment––even more fiercely than she did her biological father, Uye––only fed those gossip fires.

  Now, however, like everyone else, Chandre knew of this male seer in his own right. Of course, that knowledge was hardly positive. Most of the seers in this camp hated him as much as they hated Chandre herself.

  He’d tried to break up the Bridge and Sword’s marriage.

  He’d tried to take the Bridge out of the Sword’s bed.

  Worse––he’d succeeded for a time.

  Dalejem frowned, looking her over less politely that time.

  She felt the pulse of real anger that left his light before he looked away, folding his bare, muscular arms and gazing out over the same red-rock valley she’d been surveying. The sun was rising over the distant plateaus now, staining the red desert with a swath of gold.

  “Perhaps we should flip a coin,” he said.

  Stripped of its previous politeness, his voice came out hard. He didn’t look over as he folded his arms tighter.

  “We could place a more elaborate bet, if you prefer,” he said. “As to which of us is most likely to be banished or killed first, by one of our own group.”

  He turned, staring at her, his eyes reflecting the rising sun. Those green eyes, which had reminded her fleetingly of Allie’s, suddenly looked nothing like those of the Bridge.

  “Do you think my fucking the Bridge is more likely to bring death than actual murder?” he said. “Even murder of over a dozen of our own people?”

  At her involuntary wince, he grunted, staring back over the valley, planting his feet slightly apart at the edge of the cliff.

  “If that is so, it doesn’t speak well of our race,” he said coldly.

  Exhaling in some impatience, she adjusted the strap of her rifle over her shoulder.

  “Why did you come up here?” she said, annoyed. “Did you think our mutual ostracism would make us natural allies? Or are you simply bored of being on the bottom rung, and looking for a candidate you might punch from above?”

  There was a silence.

  Then he clicked in annoyance of his own.

  Giving her a narrow glance, he grimaced. “In truth, I didn’t know you were up here. I was looking for solitude. A view of the rising sun. That is all.”

  “But why are you here at all?” she said, folding her own arms and shaking her head to get her braids out of her face. Motioning vaguely towards the valley with a hand, she pursed her lips. “Why did you not simply leave? Join one of the colonies in Asia… or one of our own teams sent to survey Shadow cities in Europe or South America?”

  She glanced at him. Her voice grew openly angry.

  “The Sword and Bridge will be here soon. Do you really flatter yourself that you would be welcomed with open arms by either of them?” She gave him a disparaging look. “Or are you tired of this mortal coil, brother Dalejem? Perhaps you are hoping brother Sword will hasten your journey off of it?”

  “Are you hoping the same?” he shot back.

  “Hardly. But I cannot run. I have committed crimes. It is a different matter… one for which I am obligated to allow my intermediaries to pass judgment.”

  He stared at her, his light showing a flicker of surprise, despite the density of his shields. For the first time, she saw the male seer behind that scowl.

  The surprise was gone an instant later, though, and once more, the scowl fell.

  He grunted.

  “Ah,” he said. “You’re one of those.”

  She stiffened. “One of what?”

  “One of those seers who enjoys nailing themselves to crosses for the sake of blood and the gods.” It was his turn to give her a disparaging look. “No wonder you and Dehgoies were such good friends. You seem a bit old to be indulging in such childish posturings, however, sister. When I knew brother Revik, he was a good deal younger. Not even a hundred years old.”

  Her jaw hardened. She wavered between telling him she wasn’t that old and telling him to go fuck himself. In the end, she looked back at the sun.

  She forced a shrug, refolding her arms tighter.

  “I hear he is wooing his wife in earnest,” she said, her voice flat, stripped of emotion. “If that is so, he will not welcome competition. You really should consider finding shelter with others of our kind, brother. I understand the temptation to want to stay and fight, but you did not pick a usual conquest. It is a fight you cannot win.”

  The silence between them deepened.

  After a pause, his light grew more subdued.

  “I am sorry.” He exhaled, without taking his eyes off the sun or the distant pink clouds. “I am wondering why I am here myself. Despite what you might think, I have no wish to die. I also seem to be fucking incapable of simply walking away.”

  He gave her a look, and briefly, his light was nearly open.

  “That being said, I do not plan to fight, as you say,” he a
dded. “It is not only to guard my own life. I know the Bridge’s heart in this. She never wavered on that point. She was honest throughout our relationship as to her loyalty to her mate. I heard her on it, even when I didn’t want to. Even when my feelings towards both of them remained conflicted.”

  Shrugging with one hand, he added, “Anyway, her deafening silence towards me since her mate was back in the picture is message enough.”

  Hearing the real emotion in his voice, she turned, surprised by him a second time.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she said.

  He gave her a look, grunting.

  “Why not?” he said after a beat. “We are both pariahs, as you say. Who else am I to talk to? The cacti?”

  “I do not care,” she said. “But do not talk to me. This is not information I need.”

  “So walk away,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll tell the wind my troubles.”

  When she only stood there, biting her lip, he exhaled.

  His arms still folded, he made a concessionary gesture with one hand, still gazing at the sun, which was now most of the way above the horizon.

  “…Anyway,” he continued. “Like I said, there is talk of you having a spiritual experience with those humans in their sweat cave. A purification, it is said. Perhaps you have some words of wisdom for a brother who has not been so blessed?”

  “No,” she said, blunt. “I do not.”

  There was a silence.

  He gave her a look, grunting a laugh as if in spite of himself.

  “Fair enough,” he murmured, folding his arms tighter as he gazed at the sun.

  Chandre, for reasons she could not explain, still did not leave.

  She remained there with him, watching the sun rise higher in the sky.

  Neither of them spoke. Neither of them even looked at the other.

  Even so, something about that silence inside a brother seer’s light caused her to relax in a way she hadn’t since she’d woken from that fugue state outside of Langley, Virginia.

  44

  AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

  THE PLANE’S ENGINES were already mostly powered down before Revik and I got up. Even the two pilots walked out of the cockpit ahead of us, glancing back in surprise when they heard us at the back of the cabin. I saw their seer’s eyes catch and reflect sunlight, just before they left through the open hatch.