Shattered Stars

by Theresa Kay

  “Hey,” I croak, squinting first at the view out the window and then at Peter. “Sorry about that. I…” Guilt squeezes my throat. The side of Peter’s face is bright red, and there’s a scratch near his temple. I hit him. I close my eyes again and drop my chin to my chest. “Sorry.”

  His hand slowly—tentatively—pats my shoulder. “No harm done, my boy. You were startled. It wasn’t purposeful.”

  “But what if—”

  “Stop that. There is no what if, only what is. You were scared. You lashed out. Nothing worse than that.” He grips my shoulder and shakes it gently. “There are things in this world that you can control and things that you can’t. That was one of the things you can’t, so there’s no use beating yourself up over it.”

  The hand stays in place, and I can feel him staring at me, so I finally look up from under my hair to meet his eyes.

  He shakes my shoulder again. “Like I’ve told your sister before, you have to accept the things you cannot change and be forgiving with yourself.”

  I clear my throat and look back down at my lap. “Okay,” I say weakly. “I’ll try.”

  “Good.” He stares out the front windshield. “Now, we’re nearly there. The base is just around the next couple turns. I’ve pulled us off to the side and out of view for now, but we need to figure out what the best way to go about this will be. What do you think of walking up to the gate and asking for entry?”

  A sardonic chuckle escapes my mouth. “They’ll recognize me. Probably.”

  “Recognize you?”

  “I was there before. I—I killed two of their people and stole from them. A couple people saw me and probably know who I am by this point.”

  “That is a conundrum, isn’t it?” Peter perks up, his shoulders straightening. “Both Stuart and your sister are here, yes? I’m sure one of them could get me in, and then I could come back for you after I… prepare the base for your arrival. Yes, yes. That seems like it would be the best idea. We don’t want them taking your presence the wrong way, and with two, no, three people to vouch for you, the people in charge should have no problem with you.”

  I rub a hand over the back of my head. Sure, Peter’s plan sounds halfway decent, but I don’t think it has much grounding in reality. “Uh, I don’t know if Stu would exactly vouch for me. He didn’t seem very pleased to see me before, and…” I drag my hand over my face. I don’t know if Jax would either, I add silently.

  “It’ll be fine, my boy. You’ll see.” He nods to himself, opens his door, and hops to the ground. “I shouldn’t be long—no more than an hour or so I expect. Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? You look like you still need it.” He closes the door and disappears through the trees.

  I sit back in my seat and bang my head against the headrest. Get some more sleep? Yeah, that’s not going to happen. If I’m going to attack people every time I wake up, I’m better off never sleeping again. Still, my head feels better after the nap, so I close my eyes and let my mind drift.

  Thump.

  I jolt. What the…? There’s a bird perched on the hood of the truck. A hawk. A damn familiar-looking one. As I lean forward to get a closer look, it tilts its head to the side and screeches at me.

  I’ll be damned. It’s Jax’s hawk. But what is it doing way out here?

  It shifts from foot to foot and screeches again as if it’s trying to tell me something. I take a look out the windows at the woods around me. Looks safe enough; Peter has hidden the truck well. I open my door and slowly walk to the front of the truck.

  “Whatcha doing out here, buddy?”

  Another shifting of his feet and another head tilt.

  “Did you follow Jax here or something?”

  The bird squawks at Jax’s name.

  Huh. My eyes dart around the area again. What am I supposed to do with it? It’s my sister’s pet, and never really wanted much to do with me, but I don’t like the idea of leaving it out here to fend for itself. Maybe I can find a place for it to perch or whatever.

  “Why aren’t you with my sister right now? Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to take care of you?” I reach my hand out to it.

  It lets out another screech, a softer one this time, then flaps up into the air and takes off over the tree line.

  Well, so much for that idea. I follow its flight with my eyes until it disappears. A sense of yearning coils in my stomach. What I wouldn’t give to take to the air and drift away from all this…

  Crack.

  What was that? I spin around, tilting my head toward the sound. There are no more cracking noises, but there’s something out there—voices. There are people headed this way, and one of them must have stepped on a branch or something. Of all the issues I saw with Peter’s plan, getting caught two minutes after he left me alone in the truck was not one I anticipated.

  I drop into a crouch and send a wave of awareness outward. Five… no, six of them. Some type of patrol. They’re looking… they’re looking for… I give my head a brisk shake. Doesn’t much matter what they’re looking for so much as what they’ll find if I don’t hide. I could probably take them out, but not without hurting them, and that’s not going to earn me any favors around here.

  Maybe I could convince them to change direction, that there’s nothing of interest over here? I close my eyes, ready to put the plan into action, but that man’s face—William’s face—flashes through my mind, and my hands start to shake. What if I do it wrong? What if…

  Panic wrapped with guilt floods through me, washing everything away but the protections put in place by instincts—instincts that have been twisted by Grandfather. Not simply twisted, either… He kept it in check, this feral animal that lives under my skin. I’ve never dealt with it alone, and I don’t know how to control it.

  A switch flips, and my desire to flee morphs into sudden eagerness for a fight. I bare my teeth in the direction of the voices.

  No. I have to lock it away. I can’t…

  Pain sears through my head, and a trickle of warmth drips from my nose. Nonononono. It hurts…

  A gasping noise makes its way up my throat, and my fingers pull at my hair. Make it stop. Make it stop. Keep it in. Keep it in. My jaw muscles are screaming, my teeth clenched so hard with the effort to hold in the rabid darkness that I fear they might crack. The air’s gone. The light’s gone.

  And they’re getting closer.

  I can hear them. I can feel them, the weakness and vulnerability of their minds calling to the monster inside me, the one pushing needles into my brain. I choke back a scream. If they hear me, they’ll come. If they come… It might be fun.

  No!

  I push up onto my hands and knees, my head bowed between my elbows and my fingers clutching at the dirt. There’s no time to do more than crawl twenty feet and hide inside a thick clump of bushes snarled with blackberry vines. Tiny thorns rip at my skin as I work my way in, but it’s for the best. The pain keeps me here, and out of my head where a battle of wills rages on—me against the darkness.

  I can’t stop my rapid breaths, so I bury my face in my arms hoping to muffle the sound. My heart is in my throat, trying to escape my chest and choking me at the same time. I force my eyes to stay open, too scared to face the darkness behind my eyelids, too worried it could be enough to pull me under. The world blurs, and tears stream down my cheeks.

  Huddled into a ball like this, my muscles are cramping up. But I can’t move. I have to stay here. I have to stay still.

  A man walks into view and stops suddenly at the sight of the truck. Four more men appear right after him. From this angle, all I can see are their feet. Boots. Military style. Soldiers from the base.

  The first man walks around to the passenger door, his gun trained on the window and his back now to me. The others fan out to surround the vehicle, all of them tense and silent and pointing their guns toward the truck. At some signal I can’t see, the first man darts forward, grabs the door handle, and yanks it open. A soldier on the other si
de does the same. They all visibly relax when they find the truck is empty.

  Thank God that damn bird showed up. It had impeccable timing. Wait—why was that? Had it known somehow? It sounds impossible, but so does mind reading.

  I shake thoughts of the hawk away. I need to concentrate on the men. Is it too much to hope they’ll just take the truck and leave?

  Yes. Yes it is. Because the one closest to me is leaning closer, into the cab, and withdrawing the stack of maps. He hasn’t alerted the others yet, and he’s close enough that I could—

  Another man walks around the truck. And a third.

  “What do you make of it, Simmons?” one of them asks.

  Simmons shrugs. “Don’t know, Whetzel. It’s one of ours, but last I checked, the logs didn’t show any vehicles being out. And it sure as hell shouldn’t be out here.”

  “Yeah.” Whetzel surveys the area.

  The third guy rests a hand on the hood. “Still warm. Whoever was driving it hasn’t been gone too long.”

  Whetzel looks down at the ground, then leans into Simmons and mutters something into his ear. Simmons nods, and they walk to the other side of the truck. All three of them are clearly avoiding looking behind them.

  My eyes narrow. Something’s made them suspicious—something more than the truck and the maps. What?

  I study the ground by the truck. There’s a dark smear where the guy was standing, and a couple other spots in the dirt. They lead in a trail away from the truck.

  Oh no. I swipe at my nose and stare down in horror at the fresh blood on my fingers.

  They know I’m here.

  And they’re quicker and craftier than I thought. The barrel of a gun brushes across my cheek.

  “Come on out of there,” says the sixth man, the one I forgot about, the one who never entered the clearing.

  WHEN WE EXIT THE SHIP back at the base, guns are everywhere, and we’re surrounded by men in camo instructing us to stay where we are.

  Vitrad bristles at the command, and Kai and Miri close ranks around him and Trel. Rym’s off to one side as if he’s declined their protection. Gavin’s yelling at someone, with Harrison by his side, and Lir’s holding tight to my hand. The tension in the air is so tight it feels like a bubble that’s about to pop—like one wrong move will make everything explode.

  Three people approach: General Carter, President Taylor, and my dad. Carter hollers at the soldiers to “put the goddamn guns down”—though he doesn’t look particularly happy about it—and some of the tension washes away, but not all of it. Unease floats in the air, tainting my every breath.

  The first soldier lowers his gun, followed by another and another. The E’rikon relax, and Lir’s grip on my sweaty palm loosens.

  The general leans toward President Taylor and says something into his ear. The president shakes his head and waves him away.

  Taylor lowers his chin and steps toward us with his hands out. “On behalf of the human race, I would like to welcome you here. May… stars and sun shine upon you.” His voice falters a bit at the end, but he makes up for it with an open, friendly smile.

  Vitrad responds for the E’rikon. “I thank you and accept your welcome on behalf of myself, my family, and my people. May the stars and the suns shine upon you.”

  It’s as if everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief. I guess there’s something to be said for ceremony and diplomacy. That little routine probably saved us all a big headache.

  I eye my dad. Exactly how much does he know about the E’rikon? As if he can feel my gaze, he glances up and then quickly looks away. I can’t read the expression on his face, but it’s suspiciously similar to… guilt? I narrow my eyes.

  Vitrad steps forward, and the Vi’askari move silently out of his way as he approaches President Taylor. The golden-haired E’rikon oozes that “politician” vibe. It shows in his arrogant head tilt, his confident steps, and his glaringly fake smile.

  Taylor matches him, right down to the smile. Huh. I hadn’t gotten that vibe from him before, but maybe I just hadn’t noticed. Or he hadn’t bothered to put on the politician mask for the two “kids” in his office the other day. The president looks relieved to have someone older in charge, someone he probably assumes to be more experienced in the dance of negotiation and leadership. He extends a hand. “You are Vitrad Linaud, correct? And you speak for the E’rikon?”

  “I am. And I do.” Vitrad puts his hand out, and the only sign of his discomfort at this very human custom is the slight tensing of his jaw as Taylor grasps the hand and gives it a firm shake.

  Carter’s still scowling, but he acknowledges Vitrad with a jerk of his chin.

  Vitrad inclines his head, that soft, slimy smile still plastered on his face. “My greetings to you as well, General Carter. It is my understanding that I have you to thank for taking such good care of my emissary while he was on your base. I look forward to an alliance with such an intelligent and pragmatic human.”

  Carter jolts, apparently thrown by the venomous undercurrent to Vitrad’s words—or perhaps by the fact that Vitrad knows his name. How…?

  My eyes go to Rym, whose attention is solely on his father. I look back to Vitrad. He’s a smooth bastard, I’ll give him that—holding a mental conversation with his son while appearing non-threatening, making it clear he wasn’t happy with Lir’s treatment, and sliding in a reference to an alliance like it’s a foregone conclusion.

  The president coughs. “Why don’t we go up to my office?”

  Vitrad gives him a grim smile. “Yes, there is much to discuss. However, I would request that lodging and sustenance be found for the others in my party before we begin any negotiations.” He sweeps an arm to encompass the rest of our party. “We left too quickly to properly prepare for an extended stay. There have been some recent developments in the city we felt it important you know about as soon as possible.”

  The muscles in the corner of Vitrad’s jaw twitch, and that affable mask drops for a split second. He hates this, asking for a favor from humans, depending on them, needing them.

  “Of course, of course,” Taylor says. He waves an arm toward the soldiers. “How many rooms will you need?”

  Vitrad’s eyes run over our group, pausing first on Rym and then on me. “At least four. One for the Vi’askari. One for myself. One for my children. And one for my nephew and his bondmate.”

  “General, have your men find some empty rooms and some food for our guests.”

  “But—” starts Carter.

  “Just do it. Dr. Mitchell can accompany me for the time being. Come to my office when you’re done.”

  Vitrad jolts at my dad’s name, and he studies the brown-haired man beside the president with a strange look. “Dr. Mitchell?”

  Dad clears his throat. “Yes.”

  After continuing to study him for a moment, Vitrad simply says, “Interesting.”

  The general barks out a few orders, and the soldiers disperse. Gavin and Harrison stay behind to speak with their superior.

  Beside me, Lir holds his body stiffly, a subtle irritation dripping off him as he watches his uncle walk away with President Taylor. And underneath everything else he’s feeling, there’s a sense of loss, of failure, of not being good enough. I squeeze his hand until he pulls his eyes away from his uncle.

  What’s wrong?

  He lets out a slow breath and looks at the ground. It’s silly. I thought… I thought I would still be a part of the alliance discussion. But my uncle took that over, as he did everything else. If my father were here…

  He’d be proud of you. I nudge him with my shoulder. So, you aren’t stuck in a stuffy office while the politicians maneuver around each other. You were a key part in getting them together. I’m sure Vitrad won’t be able to work out anything without your help in some form or another. He doesn’t know humans. You do.

  My words aren’t working. He tenses his jaw. It was supposed to be my role. It is the kind of thing my parents raised me to do. His green-go
ld eyes come up to meet mine, lost and searching. Who am I if not Stellan Vestra’s son? What place do I have in the world? I do not have a kitu anymore. Can I even call myself E’rikon?

  My heart is bleeding for him. I don’t respond, simply pull him into my arms and hug him tightly. I knew he’d been feeling unbalanced and out of place, but I didn’t know it had gotten quite this bad. I’m all for him wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he’s only nineteen years old—barely older than me. He shouldn’t feel like the rest of the world is his responsibility. Not like this. And yes, he’s needed in this conflict with Jastren, and I know he’ll play an important part, but no one expects him to save the world single-handedly. He’s not alone in this—and I hate that he feels like he is.

  I release him and place a hand on his cheek. You are Steliro Vestra. Your place is here, with your family, with your friends, with me. Tapping him on the nose with one finger, I smile. And of course you’re E’rikon. I don’t know of any humans with green hair and scales. Do you?

  His next breath escapes as a soft chuckle, and he pulls me close again. No. I do not. He pauses. Thank you. For what you said. You’re right. Everything has been so… He shakes his head. Sometimes I lose sight of what’s right in front of me.

  “Sickening, isn’t it?” asks Rym from my right.

  “Quite,” says Trel. Her voice is dry, but there’s a quiet pain in the word.

  “Do you mind?” says Lir, his chin resting on top my head. “I am in the middle of a minor identity crisis.”

  Rym barks out a laugh. “Good one, cuz.”

  “I learned from the best.” Lir’s mood has lightened a bit, and there’s a relieved playfulness to him as he banters with his cousin. “Now, there is no need for us to hang around here. Why don’t we give your sister a tour and find our new quarters—ones we do not have to share?”

  A snicker from Rym. “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Lir releases me and walks toward the gate with Rym, their heads tilted toward each other as they banter back and forth.

  As I follow, Trel moves to walk next to me. “Are they always like this?” she asks.