“We need to get there.”
“And there is…?”
“The Blue District. The debutants are on parade.”
Why would Brodie drag her to that? It was the last thing she wanted to see or be reminded of. That part of her life had died with her parents. Still, Brodie seemed determined to revive the heritage that had long since moved past resuscitation. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.” He sped up, and Ava stumbled.
The debutants parade happened once a year on Nexis. Some of the wealthier residents of the Blue District had adopted it, bringing the distasteful practice to the beautiful world. The women were nothing more than stock strutted before eligible bachelors. Banners floated over their heads in the most expensive silks, announcing the position and ranks of their households. The grooms would stand on the curb, looking for the right woman to breed heirs for their estates, tossing credits at the procession’s feet.
The women, some as young as fifteen, had shed their aristocratic white dresses in favor of brilliant jewel tones and would be escorted down the street, some by force, until a reasonable price was offered. The more prestige the woman’s family carried, the more money and rank she’d bring to the household, so putting on a show was a must. Every second of their lives they were prepared for this moment. A woman who brought less than her expected worth, or failed to garner an offer, would bring shame to her family and risked exile or worse.
So the pretty maids held their heads up, marched with grace, and each tried to outdo the other. The dresses were outrageously extravagant, and the jewels worn by just one debutant could feed the poor district for at least a year. “Pretty birds,” Ava’s mother once called them, “blown off course by circumstance, struggling to stay alive in the eye of the storm.”
Once an acceptable offer was made, the woman’s guardian would pocket the credit, a digital contract would be sealed on the spot with the thumb impression of both male parties, and the woman would be handed over to her new husband.
“The whore’s parade,” Ava mumbled, remembering too well the stories her mother told her of it, and the poor Nexian women subjected to the humiliation of an event that amounted to slavery.
“We’re going to crash their party and relieve them of some of that wealth. And….”
“And what?”
Brodie pulled her back into an alcove that curved around and into an alley. He peeked around the stone building. “There she is,” he mumbled, sucking in a deep breath.
“Who…?” Ava’s poked her head from around his back and searched for the woman Brodie mentioned. Her heart fractured as she caught sight of her.
“Her name is Vesha.”
“Vesha,” Ava mumbled. Time dropped into slow motion. The sounds of the crowd faded and everything but the extraordinary woman blurred. Brodie dropped Ava’s hand. She turned toward him. Heat. Passion. Desire. Ava had never seen him look at anyone with such intensity, even the night of her birthday he hadn’t looked at her that way.
She bit her lip and turned back to the object of his lust. A woman in electric blue, covered with jewels like a fancy iced cake. She strolled on the arm of a silver-haired man, seemingly oblivious of the male crowd who leered with lust in their eyes. The Nexian Duchy’s banner flew over her head, held by soldier in the same ice blue and armed with chromed lasers and a gunmetal-blue sword. The image on the banner twisted her guts into knots.
Interlaced dragons.
Her mother’s house. Did that make the woman her cousin? She hadn’t known her grandfather had any other grandchildren—or was on New Xiera. Nothing about the woman in blue’s appearance would convince anyone they were related. She was starlight, while Ava was night. Light and dark, the contrast was so strong it was hard to believe it could be possible—and would be, if Ava didn’t remember her mother’s own platinum locks and stunning beauty. Worse, the woman was so striking; she seemed to have stolen Brodie’s soul.
Her Brodie.
Her best friend.
No.
Sure, Nexian males were allowed more than one wife, but she hadn’t expected Brodie to want someone else. She’d always been his world, his one and only. He’d bound her with a Nexian pact, an engagement that would turn into a marriage—one she might have to share with another. She couldn’t back out, even if he took another as a wife.
Ava’s hands curled into fists at her side as she struggled to breathe. How could this have happened? She came back to port frequently, and not once had Brodie mentioned her. Ava’s gaze swept the woman from her fancy boots, which stopped just above her knees where her over skirt split, exposing lean, long legs. Up, up, to the top of her head, where jewels were woven into her hair that Ava would like nothing better than to rip out of her scalp.
She wore Nexian high-fashion, crossed with a touch of the New Xieran sexual gloss. Boots of clear leather with glass heels encased her legs up to mid-thigh. She’d cinched her torso tight with an overcoat that both pushed up her already over-full breasts, and made her waist impossibly small.
The Duchess’s hair resembled spun moonlight and her skin the softest of pale silk. Lovely. Then she turned her head as though she felt Brodie’s gaze. Her lips curled into a hungry smile. No. Ava fought the sob that threatened to burst from her throat.
“I’m going to free her.”
Ava didn’t want her free. She didn’t want her near Brodie, and she sure as hell didn’t want to be witness to this parade anymore. She backed up a step, ready to run. Brodie grabbed her arm, stopping her retreat.
“You need to be here. Your people have been asking for you. They need to know you were here.”
“What are you planning? Surely not….”
“Yes.”
“Gods.” Ava swung her gaze around the street, packed with armed guards from all the Nexian houses on New Xiera, and some from off-world. To start trouble here would be suicide. New Xiera would not tolerate this, not on their world. She panicked, trying to think of any excuse to stop it. “She’s not from our world, Brodie. She won’t even notice you exist. We should leave. Her grandfather will never allow her to have a relationship with you. That woman isn’t worth it. She isn’t one of us.”
“He has no choice. She’s one of us. Vesha wants to be free, and I swore to her I would see her taken care of.” Brodie turned and pressed a laser into Ava’s hands, set to kill. “Aim for their heads.” He lifted his weapon and leveled his sights on the man next to the blonde beauty, Ava’s grandfather.
“Heads?” Ava spluttered. “Brodie…I can’t.” Bolts of fear tore through her. She’d never been a killer, never wanted to be. She certainly didn’t want to kill for this woman, who threatened to rip away all she loved.
“Then don’t. It’s your choice. You’re the reason for the revolution, Duchess. It’s about time you take your place in it, show them your family still supports the cause. Stand beside me.”
“No. This isn’t the way. They’ll only retaliate with more violence against our people. The New Xieran government may pull the protection they offer to the Nexians who’ve sought refuge here.” She wasn’t the reason for the Revolution, her mother was, and even then her mother hadn’t meant to start a conflict. She’d only wanted the freedom to be with the man she loved, and live her life outside the crushing control of the Nexian Aristocracy.
When the downtrodden witnessed her act, they thought it was on their behalf, and they seized the cause as their own, crying for freedom from oppression up and down the back allies of every Nexian city and settlement, gathering followers like a growing storm. And so the murder of one man brought about the deaths of millions.
Ava was born into a revolution, forged in the fever for freedom, yet she never wanted to see innocents die, get caught in the fighting, and butchered as they would be today. She’d watched as her parents sacrificed everything to continue the fight. They’d given their lives and left her an orphan.
Seconds after Brodie proclaimed his intentions to create a marriage pact
with Vesha, he fired on Ava’s grandfather, killing him where he stood. A mob of revolutionaries poured onto the street, and war erupted. Vesha spun in her pretty dress, drawing the sword from her flag bearer’s sheath. She raised it above her head and without pause, hacked the man’s head free, dropping it at her feet. With a quick glance down, she kicked it away. Vesha bolted across the street, cutting a path with her stolen parade sword toward Brodie, who was surrounded.
Ava’s jaw dropped open when Brodie smiled in Vesha’s direction. Brodie turned in a circle, a laser in each hand, shooting into the crowd, blowing holes in aristocrats and soldiers, but they kept coming. The attackers didn’t fire back, afraid to hit allies across from them. They came at him from every angle, closing the circle tighter and tighter. For every two Brodie took down, four filled the gap. Just when it looked as if it would be the end of him, Vesha joined him, putting the fight back into balance.
The laser shook in Ava’s hand. She should help him. But no matter how hard she tried to lift the weapon and point, she couldn’t. Not like this.
And Brodie…. He’d known what the Rebels had planned, yet he’d drawn her out, to the fight. She’d expected a surprise, not an initiation to violence, and not a battle. Not another woman. None of this.
Brodie had left her safe, tucked into an alcove. He’d given her a weapon and a choice to join, but he hadn’t given her a choice not to witness the bloodletting. Ava gagged and stumbled back, away from the street, tripping into a pile of rubbish. The weapon Brodie gave her seemed to burn her palm and shock locked up her ability to run. She threw the laser away with revulsion, wrapping her arms around her knees. She’d wanted to help her people, but not like this. This was what got her family killed.
She slammed her eyes shut, trying to block the massacre, but it didn’t work. Everywhere screams the sounds of laser fire and explosions. Smoke, ozone, and the scents of charred flesh and burnt hair filled the air. Ava rocked back and forth, hidden in the trash and ignored. Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know Brodie. She was alone.
Before the conflict ended, blood flowed down the streets like water after a storm. Vesha’s blue gown, now purple, wrapped her skin like a wet bandage. In the distance sirens wailed.
Almost catatonic, Ava barely noticed as a set of boots stopped next to her and toed the garbage aside to expose where she’d crouched during the ambush. Ava lifted her chin and stared into Brodie’s blood-splattered face.
“Why?” she whispered.
Brodie reached down.
She shook her head.
“Come.”
“I can’t.” She didn’t want to touch him. The metallic smell of freshly butchered meat clung to her nose and pain squeezed her heart. Muffled cries. The sounds of occasional fire as survivors were terminated by Rebel soldiers.
Horrific for so many reasons. Ava should have known her baptism into the revolution would be anything but peaceful. Brodie had been forged in violence and made no secret of it. What did she expect it would be like? She’d begged to be a part of the revolution, and he’d given her what she’d asked for. Who did she think he was? Gone was the tender man who’d danced with her to the beats of their hearts. Gone was compassion, the love. She’d given him everything, trusted him…. “I can’t do this, Brodie. I can’t be who you want me to be.”
“You have been her, since the day you drew your first breath. You can’t change it.”
“That’s not who I am.”
“You are who you’ve always been.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you back to the ship.” Brodie scooped her into his arms and carried her down the street. Vesha strode beside him, bloody, stinking of death. Ava squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look further at the remnants of the violence. Her stomach churned from contact with Brodie. She needed him to release her, to let her go, but her mind was numb and she lacked the strength to mutter one more word. Her hero was a blood-thirsty killer, and he’d tried to make her one.
Chapter Seven
The Nexian Empire divided that day, split in two by Brodie’s soldiers, men and women he’d raised from the streets and brought into the revolution the way he’d tried to induct Ava. He’d struck the heart of the aristocracy, severing a limb of their society, forever scarring the upper houses by eliminating several powerful members and their bloodlines. Not just on New Xiera, but other worlds, Nexian communities rose up, leaving only the hierarchy on Nexis intact.
Unbeknownst to Brodie, his victory would be short-lived. His ride to the top would come crashing down just as quickly and violently, destroying the only thing he seemed to care about, brought about by the woman he’d thought he’d freed.
The raid took place when Brodie was out on night ops. He came back to find his dwelling, the warehouse he’d purchased, gutted by fire. Every man, woman, and child that resided there was gone. Those who witnessed it said he’d dropped to his knees and for the firstand last time in his life, he’d wept. It was said he’d vowed to repay the Nexian Government back in multiples. Everyone, the men and women he’d grown up with on the streets, all were taken in, tried and executed on the same day, hours before he came home.
So fast Brodie could not save them.
Rumors on the street all said the same thing. He’d found his spy, hidden in his home, waiting for him to arrive. When Vesha turned on Brodie, he shot her dead. He didn’t blink, he didn’t hesitate. He looked her in the eyes and put a hole in her big enough to cut her in half.
Vesha had never been Ava’s cousin, but a plant, someone paid to seed herself deep into the Nexian Underground. She’d not thought twice of shedding Nexian blood, or slaughtering innocents blocking the path to her goal, regardless what side they were on. She’d been promised marriage to a Nexian Prince if she got inside the Rebel stronghold and took down their leaders. She carried out her orders with cold-blooded callousness—not unlike Ava’s own mother.
Brodie disappeared, some say to avoid capture, others because of a broken heart. Ava hadn’t seen him for ten years, nor had anyone else. After two years, she’d believed he’d been captured and killed. That day was also the reason she decided to become a smuggler instead of a soldier in the Nexian Revolution. She could help her people without killing innocents caught between warring sides. Brodie taught her couple of things that day. She didn’t have the genetics necessary to pull a trigger and take a life, nor could she stand seeing anyone murdered.
“Gods’ blasted gates, Brodie! I told you not to involve Ava in this.” Ava’s uncle’s voice boomed through the Avira, shaking the supports. “She’s an orphan and has lost enough to this cause.”
“Her family started this fight. It’s only right she help to see it through. The resistance has been asking where she is. She’s not a child. She’s nineteen. Old enough to pick up where her mother left off.”
“She’s already lost everything. Do you want her to give her life, too?”
“She’s a strong woman. She’ll survive.”
“Brodie?” she whispered. It couldn’t be. He’d died. Had the drug conjured her memories and brought them to life? Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break bone.
It had to be the air, couldn’t be real. Ava shook her head, trying to knock the illusion away. He didn’t disappear like a mirage on hot sand, but remained fixed, staring at her with the same intensity he studied everything and everyone. Her breath caught and she swallowed hard, trying to control the multitude of emotions that crashed into her.
The message she’d received from the Underground instructed her to come here, to meet Tagas, one of the Nexian Rebel leaders. She certainly hadn’t expected the man who sat at the table, his legs stretched out in front of him and a drink in his hand. “My gods,” she muttered.
“What?”
Ava blew out a breath, unable to speak further. She hadn’t seen him for ten years, thought he’d been killed. Even so, she’d recognize him anywhere, the power he held in his eyes, the stubborn line of his mouth,
and the way he reclined, yet appeared ready to spring at any second. Apprehension settled into her guts.
He’d grown broader in the shoulders, all muscle, without an inch of fat on his frame, a more mature version of the man she’d known, and definitely not dead. She raised her hand to her chest to steady her heart. Brodie gave her a slight nod, as if to say I’ve come back.
Yeah, she got that. She tugged the fabric off her mouth, wanting more air, and knowing she didn’t need the filter anymore. If Brodie was here, the drugs weren’t. For several moments, she absorbed his image, taking time for reality catch up to her whirling mind.
My gods, he’s alive. Even more handsome than his twenty-one year old self, Brodie commanded the room. None dared to look his way—other than her. His dreadlocks were gone, replaced with a clean military-styled cut. It gave his face sharper angles, exposing his hard bone structure. He stared at her, raised a brow and his gaze shifted to her right, his attention landing on Seth. Cold, hard, and like a snake about to strike.
Shit.
By now, word probably had gotten back to him about her standoff outside the wormhole with the Regulators, as well as the fight on the street. Brodie was the ultimate predator and always had eyes and ears everywhere. Her heart skipped and fear gripped her insides. “Back toward the door.” She’d seen that look before, moments before Brodie killed someone.
“Why?” Seth pulled his collar down and switched his laser from stun.
“Don’t do that in here. He’ll take it as a challenge,” Ava said the words as Brodie tossed his shot back and slammed the glass down on the hovering table next to him. Too late. He’d caught it. “You need to leave.”
“Not until I find out what you’re doing in New Xiera.”
“This is not the time to argue. Get out of here, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”
“I’m a big boy, Captain Frost. I can take care of myself, and I’m only leaving when you do.” He grabbed her arm, and Ava yanked away. Brodie rose to his feet, murder on his face. He moved across the bar, the crowd parted before him, giving him twice the space he needed. Within seconds, he was face-to-face with Seth.
Rebel Souls Page 7