by Gwynn White
Except Babik’s plan had gone horribly wrong. Ember hadn’t meant to reach out to the intruders’ inner light as she’d struggled against them. She definitely hadn’t tried to lash out at them. She’d simply pulled and the light had followed. Babik’s friends had fallen to the floor immediately, never to move again.
The details were fuzzy. Two bodies on the floor. Babik’s terrified face staring at her as if she were a monster. Her screams. Babik running, then coming back to try one final time . . . or so she’d thought.
If Ember had only listened with her ears, she would have heard her mother’s soft voice and realized it wasn’t Babik returning. But she hadn’t. Now in full-blown fight-or-flight mode, her body was too full of adrenaline to register identities. All she knew was that she had to stop the light from coming any closer.
And she had.
She could still see it nearly three years later—her mother’s body on the floor, leg askew beneath the divider cloth. Her mother’s expression of shock frozen forever in her mind. Her father’s cry when he awoke and saw Ember hunched over his wife’s twisted form.
How he’d looked at her . . . and then refused to meet her gaze for weeks afterward.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It’s my fault.”
She fell asleep reliving the memory over and over again in utter and complete silence.
Hours later, a soft click penetrated her dreams.
Ember’s eyes slid open and scanned her cell. She was alone. She listened for a moment, then allowed herself to drift away again.
Hands closed around her throat.
17
She tried to cry out, but only a tiny squeak escaped. She grabbed her attacker’s hairy arm and tried rolling away, but he only tightened his grip. She kicked and thrashed and pulled on his arms, but the man simply grunted and held her tight.
Tiny white lights danced in front of Ember’s vision. The beginning of the end. She gathered her strength and bucked her hips upward, twisting toward the wall.
It pulled the man off his feet, and he fell onto the bed on top of her. His hands loosened and he caught himself on one extended elbow. That precious quarter of a second was all she needed. She brought up her knee up and clocked the man’s head. He gasped and released her throat.
Babik. He’s come for me again.
She thrashed, the blanket tangling around her legs, and finally found the oxygen to scream. Just as her shriek escaped, a powerful blow struck her cheek. The lights danced in her vision again, this time lined with tiny red stars.
The hands found her neck again and squeezed.
Her heart slammed into her rib cage, threatening to fight its way free. She felt her lungs strain for air, her brain slipping into a darkness far greater than that of her cell. He wasn’t here to claim her.
He was trying to kill her.
Ember flailed and thrashed with one last attempt at freedom, but her arms were too weak to make an impact. Her attacker seemed to sense it and tightened his grip even more. She had seconds left—if that.
She’d promised never to do it again. But now she was about to die.
Reaching out with her mind, she sensed a faint glow within her attacker and plunged her hand inside, ignoring the memories that pulsed around her.
Then she took hold of the light and yanked with everything she was worth.
The man’s hands went limp, and he collapsed on top of her, his head dropping against her shoulder, his weight crushing her.
With a mighty heave, Ember shoved him off. He slid down and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The room spun around her and small starlike lights popped through her vision when she sat up. So quiet. If not for the excruciating pain in her throat and the dark mound on the floor, she could almost believe she’d had an intense, terrible nightmare.
The trembling began at her feet and worked its way upward. Then her entire being was shivering, and she fell to her knees beside the bed, gasping for precious air through her damaged windpipe. She could still feel his hands on her throat. When some tiny shreds of her courage returned, she reached down to poke his shoulder.
Still as stone.
She reached out and felt for his light, trying to form a connection again, but there was nothing. Nothing. She had done it again.
Voices whispered softly in the hallway, and several figures appeared in the dim hallway light. Ember scrambled to the other corner of her cell, as far away from the body as she could get. As they approached, the cell light clicked on overhead and flooded her senses with painful brightness.
The door clicked open—the same sound she’d heard when the attacker came in—and two
guards entered, their stunners aimed at Ember as Commander Kane stepped through with a grim smile. The guards examined the body on the floor with round eyes.
“I must say,” Kane began. “I didn’t think you’d surprise me. Well done.”
Still breathing hard, Ember’s mind registered his words in a haze of confusion. She breathed hard, glaring at the commander and at the body on the floor. The assassin’s eyes were still wide open. He didn’t look very intimidating at the moment—clean-shaven, younger than she’d expected. Early thirties, perhaps.
A guard knelt beside the body and felt for a pulse, then he turned to Kane. “Dead, sir.”
Kane sent the body a pitying look. “Well, Frank. I suppose your bragging has come to an abrupt end.”
“You sent him,” Ember managed.
“You’ve officially passed the third phase, gypsy girl. You’ll now move on to combat training on the Lennai’i.”
His words finally slammed into her consciousness. “That was phase three? An assassin?”
“All the flickers had the same test.” He watched her unblinkingly. “We initiated the next phase early, but I didn’t anticipate that your test results would be so interesting. I’m still trying to make sense of it. You didn’t even touch the man.”
All the flickers had been attacked tonight. Mar. Stefan. Were they all right?
Kane had watched the whole thing on the security feed. If she hadn’t fought back, Kane would have witnessed her death on screen.
“There’s only one explanation, you know,” Kane said thoughtfully, and Ember realized he was talking to himself. Kane turned to the guards. “All of you, out. Leave the body.”
They hesitated a brief second before obeying, obviously concerned about leaving the commander locked in a cell with a killer. But they must have known better than to argue because they finally retreated, locking the door behind them and disappearing down the hallway.
The cell was quiet now. Ember couldn’t take her eyes off the body at her feet. The guards could have at least taken it with them. The man looked much less threatening now. He wore a black jumpsuit, and his hair was neatly combed. Had he felt it necessary to style his hair before murdering her? Had it occurred to him that it might be the last time he did?
Kane ignored the assassin’s still form and began to pace the room. “It was obvious from that first day that you were a flicker. It never occurred to me that you could be something else as well. Something I haven’t seen in almost a quarter century. A flare.”
She finally lifted her gaze. “A flare?”
“There’s only been one other, and he’s long since retired. I should have seen it. Of course the machine wouldn’t work on you. It wasn’t made to handle the intensity of your gift.”
She shook her head slowly, not understanding.
“A flare has the power to not only read the inner light but actually grab hold of it, manipulate it. Even extinguish it, if they wish.”
Extinguish. A terrible word for such an awful thing, and yet he’d described it perfectly. That was exactly what she’d done—ripped the soul out of another human being.
She had ended someone’s life with a single thought.
Stars. I don’t want this. Why did you give it to me?
He stopped pacing and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Fla
res don’t come out of nowhere, which means you must have an intriguing ancestry. I’ll have to send a squad to investigate that gypsy village of yours. Flickers are useful, but they don’t win battles. Flares, however, can win entire wars alone.”
His words sank in, and suddenly Ember felt sick. She straightened, still trembling from shock. “I will never do that again. Not for you, not for anyone. I’m no weapon to be used as you see fit.”
“Not yet, but I will make you into something powerful. They’ll kneel at your feet before I’m done. The emperor will hear of this when he wakes.”
“No. I won’t do it.” Horror crept up her spine, paralyzing her. “You will send me home and leave my people alone. We’re peaceful, and I—I’m the only one with this gift. I’d rather die than be a weapon in your hands.”
“That’s exactly what the other flare said at first. He eventually saw the wisdom in my plan, and so will you. And your village will be tested for their own protection. Your kind are like pests. If you find one, there are usually more hidden somewhere.”
Anger had taken hold of her thoughts now, and she felt herself reaching out to his inner light. She felt it pulsing just out of reach. He was angry too. She felt along the edges of his shield, wishing desperately that she could—
She pulled away, shuddering. There would be no more death. This horrible man deserved it, but she wouldn’t become what he wanted. Not even if it meant ending him.
He nodded, seeming to see her battle. Then he headed for the door. One swipe of his wristband and the door clicked open. “Oh, and I’d be careful about revealing your gift to anyone else. Your secret is a dangerous one. Your guards are specially trained to deal with flickers, and they’ll know if you try to read them. You’ll be stunned before you know what—”
Ember lunged for the open door, cutting him off.
She had intended to shove him aside with her shoulder, but he whirled out of the way, recovering quickly. As she began to ease through the door’s narrow opening toward freedom, he reached out and grabbed her head, then slammed it against the doorframe.
Pain exploded in her skull. Her legs buckled and she nearly hit the floor, but fought to remain on her feet. The doorway blurred in her vision. She reached out for it, desperate to escape.
Kane was a dark mass now. He drew closer, looming over her. “A gypsy girl attacking a High Commander with thirty-one years of combat experience. Too bad I turned the security feed off. It would have been great entertainment for later.”
The dark blur shoved her backward. Ember wasn’t prepared for it. She stumbled and collapsed on the ground. Her vision was finally beginning to sharpen as Kane pulled the door closed behind him and the lock clicked.
“Consider yourself fortunate,” he said. “Anyone else would be serving a slave sentence for trying to smuggle something off a military station. But I’m submitting a pardon for you and taking you on as an assistant instead. The other flickers will be incredibly jealous.” He turned and called out over his shoulder. “I hope you’ll find our combat training ship, Lennai’i, more suitable to your taste.”
Ember stood, listening to his footsteps fade. Then she released an angry yell. She kicked the sink protruding from the wall over and over until a small dent appeared, then fell onto her bed and screamed into the mattress. She was tired of being manipulated, forced against her will, examined like a scientific specimen.
In her struggle to get home, she’d just made everything a hundred times worse.
They would descend on her village next. They’d test everyone. That meant they would plunge needles into the people she loved, prodding and invading. Perhaps even stealing them away for tests on a ship. Would there be anything left of her village when they were through?
And Dai. Would they find him and take him to a hospital? They would test his blood with the others and find a DNA match. It wouldn’t be long before they found an Empire connection.
She thought back to the article, feeling her stomach sink. It had featured a man named Mario Nicholas. Her father’s name was Nicholae. He’d wandered into their village in his late twenties and told everyone he was studying Roma culture. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with her mother and decided to stay—or so he’d told her. Was there more to it? Had the village simply served as a convenient hiding place from the Empire?
Her heart ached as she thought back to their last conversation. She could see it now. He’d been trying to tell her the truth about her gift without scaring her. He’d tried to convince her to marry, to join the protection of a man’s house. To be hidden away from the claws of the Empire as a boria. Was it a father’s concern or something more?
All his warnings about avoiding officers and hiding her gift. His prediction about his impending death. It all suddenly clicked, and her entire perspective shifted.
You don’t know that, she had protested.
I do, my Ember.
Maybe it was true. Perhaps he’d read his own future in his daughter’s inner light.
And now she was to take his place at Kane’s side.
Ember was now indispensable. She’d be under the highest security, watched every moment day and night. And if she somehow managed to make it home, Kane knew exactly where to find her.
Her escape would have to be quick and unexpected. It wasn’t about Ember and Dai anymore—it was the entire village. It was her way of life that was at risk now. The moment an opportunity presented itself, Ember would be gone. She’d go home, fetch her father, warn her people, and escape to the farthest reaches of the realm—so far the Empire would never find them again.
18
Three days later, Ember sat at the desk of her new quarters and glared at the desk screen in front of her.
ACCESS DENIED
She closed the error screen and tapped the word news again. The error message returned.
“You could at least tell me what’s going on,” she muttered to the screen.
They’d transported her to Lennai’i under extremely high security, belting her arms to her chest and even blindfolding her. The gesture was amusing. She could learn anything she wanted just by reading her guards if she wanted to.
A full day of travel, then two days locked in her quarters. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since her arrival. Occasionally she heard a guard cough or sneeze outside her door, but they ignored her questions. Meal trays appeared through a hatch four times a day. When she thanked whoever brought them, nobody replied.
“Come on,” Ember grumbled at the desk-screen error message. Even if there was no news of Earth, she had to know what was going on with the other flickers. Were Mar and Stefan safe?
She felt physically ill when she thought of the assassin in her cell. She’d barely survived, and she had a special ability they didn’t.
Her quarters were irritatingly luxurious, a stark contrast to her cell and consisting of three rooms—a sitting room, an office, and a bedroom. It all felt like such a waste. Lennai’i wasn’t its own planet like the station but rather a massive triangular ship with an opening in the center. Whereas the station’s walls and floor had been a bright white, this ship was all silver and black, sleek and modern. Ember hated every inch of it.
Her solitude gave her plenty of time to think, but that was the last thing she wanted to do right now.
Ember sighed and gave up on the desk screen, eyeing the food tray that had arrived minutes before. She always left the fork and the meat untouched, but the rest was decent enough, much better than the station’s vegetable glob. She lifted the bowl of yellow sauce to her mouth and took a sip. It tasted like apples. She finished it off and glared at the tiny grayish-brown square in the corner. If that was dessert, it didn’t look very appetizing.
When she heard movement at the hatch, she gave her tray one last look, then shoved it through. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” a female voice said, taking the tray.
Ember recognized her immediately as one of the guards who had escorted her
here—Amai, a woman ten years older than Ember but who looked to have lived four lifetimes. She had never been rough with Ember, just distant and quiet. These were the first words the woman had spoken in her presence.
Ember was so surprised to receive an answer she stumbled over her next words. “When does Commander Kane get here?”
“He just arrived this morning,” Amai said, still holding the hatch open. “He’s coming to see you any minute. His security team just informed me.”
Ember’s surprise at the woman’s detailed answer was overcome by dread mixed with a tinge of relief. Kane was already here. That meant whatever he’d done to her village was finished. Did he have Dai? Was everyone else safe?
The hatch was still open. “You’re one of the more powerful flickers, aren’t you?” Amai asked in a low voice. “You must be for the commander to be so interested in you.”
So Kane hadn’t told them what she really was. Of course he’d want to keep his new weapon a secret.
“He thinks I’m something I’m not,” Ember finally said.
“I see.” The woman paused. “Now that the commander has arrived, they’re going to reassign us. I know this is a little unorthodox, but I was wondering if you could do a reading for me before he gets here.”
Ember had resisted using her gift since that night in her cell. Curse was a better word. The stars obviously hated her. The last thing she wanted was to pretend like she was a good person.
It was just that killing that man had been so easy.
“I’d rather not,” Ember said. “I’m not exactly safe to be around right now.”
“I, uh—my daughter is missing,” the guard rushed on. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”
Ember closed her eyes, guilt flooding her. “That’s not how it works. I can’t read her future. Only yours.”
“If you’ll try, maybe I can help you.”
Ember sat back against the door. “Help me? As in get me out of here?”
“Maybe. No promises.”