“How you two doing today? My name is Natasha.” The server spoke with a Russian accent.
“Wonderful," said Sarah.
“I’m doing wonderful as well," said a man with a French accent from behind. It was Sarah's friend.
“Pierre, glad to see you could make it," said Sarah. He took a seat between the two sisters.
Chloe leaned in for a closer view. Sarah was right—he was attractive. He had slicked-back hair and a badass five-o’clock shadow, which gave him the allure of a person with interesting secrets and stories to tell. The three placed orders for drinks and food. As the server, Natasha, walked away, she turned back to gaze at Pierre with interest in her eyes. Step off, hipster.
“So how’s things been?” Sarah asked.
“Magnificent," said Pierre. “Needed a break from the children’s hospital work.”
“Oh, which one do you work out of?” asked Chloe.
“Montreal,” he replied.
Great, he’s not even from this country, Chloe thought.
“But, hey, good thing it’s not that far away,” Sarah interjected.
Pierre turned to Sarah and asked, "You excited about tomorrow?”
She smiled. “LA is going to be a blast. I can’t wait.”
“Hold on, you never said you’re heading to LA,” said Chloe.
“Pretty sure we talked about this,” Sarah said, adding, "You may or may not have been drunk at the time.”
“Sarah and my sister Amanda are heading out there to see some friends,” Pierre explained to Chloe. He gave a seductive grin. “So you’re not going with her, eh?”
“Apparently not,” Chloe muttered.
“Chloe will be free all day tomorrow," said Sarah.
“Well—” Chloe started to object.
“And Mom and Dad are heading out. She’ll have nothing to do.”
Stop speaking for me, Sis; I can handle this!
“Well, I know of a great restaurant I’ve been meaning to check out,” said Pierre, a charming look on his face radiating toward Chloe. “We could get dinner. Interested?”
Chloe remained silent. Sure, he was good-looking, but asking someone out so quickly? Is that how it’s done these days? Sarah’s foot discreetly tapped Chloe’s shin. Chloe looked toward Sarah with a surprised look on her face and then nodded. Guess I should take the offer.
Natasha returned, balancing a tray of drinks on one hand and a tray of food in the other. It was an accident waiting to happen, as far as Chloe could tell. And an accident did happen as Pierre’s drink wobbled off the tray and onto his lap.
“Oh, sorry!” Natasha panicked.
“It’s OK,” Pierre said, attacking his beer-soaked legs with a towel.
Natasha headed off quickly to grab another towel.
“Ah, hell, that fucking sucks," said Sarah, examining the extent of the spill.
“It will be fine. Mistakes happen," said Pierre.
Natasha returned to help clean up the mess she’d made. “Sorry again—third day on the job.” She then handed Pierre a note and a card. “Take this coupon for free service next time you’re in.”
The coupon put a smile on his face. The note, however, filled his smile with excitement. Chloe couldn’t quite make out what was written on the note, other than a few numbers and a quick hand-drawn picture of a heart. Did she give him her phone number? This bitch is brave.
………
The long haul was nearing its end as Jazz exited the express train that transported him and Kroshka from Pearson International to downtown Toronto—one of many changes to the city since he’d last been here.
The air in the city was only slightly cooler than what he was experiencing in Vegas. Even in summer, Canadian cities can be warm. The sun was getting ready to set, which meant the temperatures were going to drop even more in a few hours. Perhaps this would answer Kroshka’s never-ending questions about the weather here. That reminded him—what happened to her?
On the long ride up, he learned she had made no plans to stay anywhere. His instincts told him to let her deal with it—after all, who does that? His upbringing, however, told him to offer to share his hotel room with her. His upbringing won that debate.
He stopped and looked back at the station he had just walked away from to see where she went. A moment later her ghostly looking hair emerged from the crowd. He reluctantly waved his hand to get her attention. She waved back in a flirty manner, smiling as she walked over.
Jazz continued down the sidewalk to his destination, while she latched her arm with his. She then spoke. “So where are you taking me?”
“Lucky for you, the Royal York.” He pointed to the tall building off to the side. “And it ain’t cheap.”
She adjusted her sunglasses and looked at the massive building. “Its design is fascinating, different from other buildings here.” She tilted her head upwards to the giant pin shaped tower in the distance. “And what of that tower there?”
“That’s the CN tower, and, no, we are not visiting it anytime soon.”
Kroshka kept her eyes glued to the tower along with much of the Toronto skyline as they approached the entrance to the hotel. Passersby shot a series of strange looks at them as they walked past. Everyone noticed a tall black man with little emotion in his face and a young, petite, pale-white girl holding on to him. She smiled and waved at anyone who glanced at them. They checked in at the front desk with the receptionist, who predictably raised an eyebrow at the pair.
Jazz did his best to conceal all visual signs that this whole situation made him uncomfortable. People probably suspected she was a call girl he had hired—and he was no stranger to doing just that.
They entered the room, a one-bed suite with a view of the city out the window. Kroshka scampered in with her arms and mouth wide open. Her sense of intrigue and happiness were astounding to Jazz. Her overjoyed face once again locked onto the skyline, this time from a higher perspective.
Jazzed noticed the floral wallpaper and framed pictures of flowers on the walls…and the fact that there was only one bed. There were no initial plans to share this room when it was booked. He’d have to come up with a plan to deal with that issue later. Right now, sitting down was the number-one thing to do.
Kroshka asked, "You used to reside in this city, correct?”
“Yeah, something like that,” said Jazz.
She turned toward him, looking at him through her sunglasses. “And then you left. Why?”
“I had my reasons.”
“Another of your secrets?” she asked, and he nodded. She stared at the decorated curtains for the windows and added, “I have secrets as well.”
As she stroked the fabric of the curtains, Jazz said to her, “I was deployed to Afghanistan.”
“Was it something you wanted to do?” she asked, but he didn’t say anything. She stepped over to the bed and leaned backward, allowing herself to fall upon it. “Leaving your home to fight others?”
“I wanted to go to college.”
“But it didn’t happen.” Her fingers stroked the blankets in the same manner as with the curtains. After a few minutes, she got up and walked toward the washroom. She turned to Jazz and asked, "Do you wish to bathe?”
He thought for a moment. It had only been awhile since he’d showered, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea. “I could use one soon.”
“As could I.” Smiling at him she said, “Let’s bathe together.” Her unexpected proposal hit him hard, especially in his pants. “You can learn my secrets as well.”
Beads of sweat rolled down his emotionless face. The awkwardness of this situation didn’t sit right. Free-spirited girls were unexplored territory, and he needed out. “Uh, another time perhaps.” He didn’t want to all-out reject her or put her down. “You can shower now. I should get some food.”
Crisis averted for now, he got the hell out the front door in a rush.
Jazz found himself at the bar of a nearby pub and grill, a perfect place to get takeout fo
od for two and a drink to set his mind straight—Canadian lager, not that strange water Americans call “beer.” The establishment was dimly lit and decently packed for its evening service. He wondered if the bar he’d be working at would be this busy—it would be good money if so. That reminded him—time to get that project rolling. His finger slid across the touch screen of his phone a few times before he typed with this thumbs.
Jazz, 9:23p.m.: Yo, I’m here in the t.dot, when do you want to meet up?
Damn, it’s already after nine? Been here too long trying to avoid her. It was about time he went back with the food he’d promised. He put in an order for two takeout meals—a rare steak and chicken wings. The steak was for her, about the only thing he’d ever seen her eat. How she maintained that slim figure while only eating meat was a mystery. She never touched the side dishes, just the steak. Well, at least she’s bold enough to eat it rare, unlike most people—
His thoughts were interrupted by the text ringtone of his phone.
Paul, 9:25p.m.: Busy tonight, how about tmr for lunch?
Jazz, 9:25p.m.: OK, where do you want to eat?
Paul, 9:26p.m.: Food court at eaton centre, I got some stuff to take care of at the mall if that’s cool with you
Jazz, 9:26p.m.: Cool, see you then
He glanced over at one of the many TV screens mounted on the walls of the bar area. One played the news, the headline reading: “SOI launches attack on Syrian oil field.”Another terrorist group in the Middle East making headlines. Nice to know all that fighting in Afghanistan was worth it, he thought.
………
The sound of the shower came to an abrupt end as Kroshka shut it off. As relaxing as it sounded, Jazz was hesitant about the idea of the two of them showering together. Perhaps she should have proposed the two have a bath together instead—maybe he would have been comfortable with that, who knows his kind were confusing.
Drenched, Kroshka stepped out of the shower and dried herself with a towel from the rack nearby. The mirror was clear, free of water vapor, as the water she’d washed in was cold. The image that reflected back was a pale slim body, natural platinum-blond hair, and red eyes. The towel caressed the top of her head briefly, and she took note in the reflection that her claws had been out.
As she retracted them, she stared at her fingers and wondered if there was another way to pass them off as human hands without having them covered up all the time. The area where humans have fingernails was, on a Hashmedai, just a slot where claws extend and retract.
She opened up her purse and pulled out a pair of red-tinted glasses. Most people who looked at her with those on just assumed her eyes were red due to the glasses. Should I wear these or not when Jazz gets back? She paused to debate her plan for the night, wondering if Jazz was ready to learn her secrets.
………
Lettielia let out a sigh of frustration. She had been stuck in Rina's home for days now. Soon she’d have to leave, as the power to her suit and its cloaking field was coming to an end, the batteries needing to be recharged. Oh, and then there was the never-ending heat of this world. The cold water from bathing helped, but she could only do that whenever the woman left.
The only thing Lettielia found amusing were all the human males who came up to this place, seemingly only to copulate with her and exchange green slices of paper with her—probably a form of currency from what Lettielia gathered. The act of humans copulating wasn’t too different from Hashmedai—in fact human and Hashmedai intimacy was possible. This was not surprising, considering Hashmedai races from the Radiance Union were compatible—well, not so much for the Vorcambreum or Javnis, but for the rest? Doable.
Lettielia lay in the human female’s bed. With her being invisible, only the imprint of her body could be seen on the bed. In the other room was the female, sitting on that soft chair and watching the video playback of something on the large monitor. Is this what humans do for entertainment? Lettielia thought to herself.
The commutation device belonging to the human made that annoying whistling noise. Lettielia knew by this point that it meant a written message had been sent to the device. Given how primitive human technology was, it was simple for Lettielia to attach a tiny object on the side of it to send a copy of all incoming and outgoing information to her. Typically when a message came in, a human male knocked on the door sometime afterward.
Lettielia conjured a holographic display above her, continuing to lie on the bed. The contents of the newly received message from the human’s device were displayed before her. Lettielia expected a string of words written in the human language, which she couldn’t read. Instead something different was displayed, something she’d been searching for this whole time.
It was an image of Kroshka eating and wearing red-tinted eyewear, no doubt trying to blend into human society. Lettielia jumped out of the bed instantly, shutting down the holographic display and entering the nearby washroom.
A communication link was established with her team in orbit as she whispered, “Whigli, I’m in a discreet location. Get me out of here.”
“Had enough?” he transmitted back.
“I have a lead on one of our targets. We need to deploy quickly before we lose her again.”
Chapter 3
Fifteen years ago…
The Hashmedai home world had many names. To the Hashmedai it was “Paryso,” and to the Hashmedai who traveled to the stars, it was simply “home world.” To the Radiance Union it was basically “hell,” as the union went out of its way to demonize the entire Hashmedai race after the two groups had a falling out thousands of years ago.
Paryo was a cold world, orbiting a cool, dim star. The surface, as a result, didn’t receive a lot of light. Liquid water mainly existed at its equator. Beyond that, the frozen land gave the world its ghastly white glow in the darkness of space. It was believed the Hashmedai first evolved on the massive continent at its equator and then spread out across the world. Some of their early ancient ruins still existed there, untouched by the scars of old wars when the Hashmedai fought among their kind due to overpopulation and lack of resources for all.
Massive cities stretched across the planet’s surface, with skyscrapers that reached out to space. A fleet of warships sat in orbit in the event of a surprise attack from the Radiance Union. This system was the closest to the union and, therefore, the most heavily protected.
A small transport ship finished materializing from the space bridge, a massive space station outside the orbit of the Hashmedai home world. It was a ring like structure with a rectangular section on top of it. The transport proceeded to fly toward Paryso’s frostbitten surface in the northern hemisphere. It was entering a section of the world still in its night cycle as it flew past a series of densely packed clouds. Snowfall blanketed the transport as it slipped under the cloud coverage and made its descent toward a mountain range.
A building that appeared to be built into the side of it came into view as the transport continued its approach. The structure was metallic and had windows all along its sides, though snow covered some of them. At the bottom was a launch pad, the final destination for the transport ship as it hovered over the pad and slowly descended, blasting snow away in all directions.
A door on the side of the ship flipped open, and out stepped eight Hashmedai in a sluggish manner. Noylarlie was one of the reluctant eight. She was young, only months into adulthood by Hashmedai standards. Her soft black hair was long and a mess, and her eyes now glowed red, as did those of the rest of the group, due to the darkness of night. She wore servant attire—a red skirt and top—with small gold bracelets around her arms.
The entrance to the facility opened as the door to the transport ship shut—no turning back now, not that anyone had a choice. Out came an older man with glowing yellow eyes. He stood in the shadows next to the door, a menacing grin aimed toward Noylarlie and the seven behind her.
“I don’t know what kind of lives you were living before, and I don’t care. F
rom this day forth, you will be a psionic for the Hashmedai Empire.” He pointed to the door he’d just come from. “This will be your new home, and the people here are your new family. Please join us.”
Slowly the eight entered one by one like cattle being prepped for slaughter, Noylarlie at the end of the line. As she was about to enter, the man grabbed her shoulder and held onto it firmly. She forcibly removed his unwanted grip with her hand, bearing her fangs at him.
He laughed and said, “Just like your mother…good, good.” She continued to walk in, rage forming in every section of her face. “Your sister wasn’t.”
The facility’s dimly lit interior became populated by eight sets of glowing eyes scanning the surrounding area. Noylarlie in particular took notice of how massive the main hallway was. It featured a small ice-cold waterfall that poured from the top—some fifteen stories up—to the bottom. Directly below it was a statue of Yemis Hellfire, a legendary psionic who killed over twenty thousand Radiance Union troops by using his power to move a meteor from space and send it crashing down on an Aryile world. The water from the falls poured out into a small river, which ran just underneath the main hall’s floor. Noylarlie looked up to see a series of bridges and balconies connecting the floors above.
Farther past the waterfalls was a reception desk, which the eight were instructed to visit. Slave collars were strapped across their necks, allowing the administrators to track their movement and suppress psionic powers, send out an electric shock if they step out of line, or explode if they step too far way from the facility. Packages containing uniforms were then handed to them, and they were led into a hallway that bored directly into the mountain face.
The hallway had a series of doors every few meters, some with windows on their fronts. Noylarlie took a quick glance at each one she passed. Some rooms were empty; others had groups of people sitting in a classroom with instructors. Others rooms had people using their psionic powers to lift objects off tables.
Celestial Ascension (Splintered Galaxy Book 1) Page 4