Black Moon Rising

by Frankie Rose

  Whoa…

  The place is empty. Jass sits on the edge of a bed, still dressed in his Construct uniform, but he’s no longer in pain. His eyes aren’t clouded by death anymore. He seems, as far as I can tell by looking at him, perfectly normal. His face is clean, and his clothing looks brand new. He grips hold of the edge of the bed, giving me a tight smile.

  “Parts of the ship survived,” he says. “The med bays were packed for weeks. It took them a long time to fix me, but in the end…” He holds out his hands, palms up, showing me that he’s unharmed. “I felt you arrive on Pirius,” he continues. “I didn’t know exactly where you were in the galaxy, but I knew you were safe. I felt it through the bond. I was relieved.”

  I pace slowly around the bed, fixing him under my gaze. “Why are you telling me this? Why would you tell me any of it?”

  The muscles in his jaw jump and flex. His expression turns blank. “I don’t know. It serves no purpose. I just…” He shrugs, apparently lost for words. “That day, when I found you in division eight. When you’d tried to kill yourself,” he says slowly. “After the doctors saw you and patched you up, they put you out. While you were unconscious, you tugged on the tether, and I came to you again. You talked. You spoke to me for hours, and I listened. I got to know so much about you. I’m…I’m not capable of talking like that, Reza. But I can show you things…”

  He gets to his feet and paces toward me, as if he has all the time in the world. “I envy you sometimes, you know.”

  “Envy me? Why?”

  “Because you don’t remember the first time we kissed. Every time it happens here, it’s the first time for you. Every time I touch you, or you touch me, it’s the very first time, and I can see it in your eyes. The fear, the wonder, the hope, and the despair, all bleeding into one another.” His voice is low, deep and fierce. “It makes me wish I could go back and relive it all in the same way.”

  What? What the hell is he talking about? “We’ve never kissed. I would never do that. I would never kiss a…”

  “A monster like me?” He angles his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “I promise you it’s true. Sometimes you remember what’s happened in other dreams when you come here. Sometimes you don’t. You never remember any of it when you’re out there, awake. I can show you, though. I can show you all of it. You want to see our real first kiss?”

  A handheld med scanner sits on the bench beside the bed. I consider using it to scan my own head, to see if I’m sick. There’s no other reason why I would ever step forward and say yes to him. Because that’s precisely what I do. “Show me, then. Prove it to me. At least then I’ll know if you’re telling the truth, even if it is only until I wake up.”

  Jass’ eyes burn with the fire of a thousand suns. The luminous sparks of gold that rim his dark irises remind me of two perfect solar eclipses; it’s as if the light behind the darkness that has consumed him is constantly trying to escape, to win him over somehow. He holds out his hand, offering it to me. I look down at it, quailing a little. “You don’t need me to hold your hand. You brought us here without having to touch me.”

  “I know,” he says, smirking recklessly. “I just want to hold it. Stop looking at me like I’m about to shoot you. If I wanted to kill you, I would have destroyed that escape pod on the Invictus.”

  I don’t know what possesses me—it could be that I feel like I need to prove something to him, or it could be that I simply want to touch him, too—but I find myself putting my hand into his. A flood of adrenalin washes through me, warning me of danger, telling me I should do whatever I can to escape this predator. It’s also telling me to hold onto him tight. To never let him go. I feel like I’m getting whiplash, just standing next to him.

  Jass threads his fingers through mine, holding onto me tightly. “You’re sure you want to see?” he asks.

  “You didn’t think I’d say yes, did you? You thought I’d refuse, and now you’re wondering how you’re going to make up something so convincing that I belie—”

  The world tips sideways. One second, we’re standing in the med center, surrounded by stark, cold lighting and walls filled with medical equipment. The next, I’m tumbling over, my body rolling, and my hand is ripped free from Jass’. I’m falling, spinning, cartwheeling end over end, and it hurts. I keep hitting the ground, plummeting down a slope, and every time I spin my vision flashes green, then yellow, then blue. Green, then yellow, then blue. Green, then yellow, then blue. A sharp pain lances me in the ribcage. I cry out, panic beginning to set in, but then there are hands on me, stopping me, pulling me back. I’m sitting up, covered in dust and blood, and Jass is whispering urgently in my ear.

  “It’s okay, Reza. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His fingers dig into my skin as he clutches me. He’s holding me from behind, my back resting up against his chest, and his legs are splayed either side of mine. We’re sitting on a steep, rocky slope that leads down to a broad expanse of beach. The day is fresh and beautiful. In the sky, a single sun burns, hanging directly over our heads, signalling that it’s midday. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so much water; it takes me a moment to process the view in front of me.

  “Where are we?” I gasp, pressing the heel of my hand into my side. Hopefully it’ll stop hurting soon, and I’ll be able to take a proper breath. Jass takes my hand and removes it, replacing it with his own. He rubs in small, tight circles, clearly not paying attention to what he’s doing. The Jass Beylar I knew of back on the Invictus would never show such care to another living being.

  “Home,” he says. “I remember this beach from my childhood. I brought you here about a year after you fled.” Pointing up the beach, Jass gestures to two figures walking toward us. It is us. And it looks like we’re fighting. As the other Jass and Reza get closer, I can see the tears in my eyes. The birthmark on my shoulder is perfectly visible. I can hear the angry lilt and lift of my voice as I yell at Jass. His face is hard. Harder than I’ve ever seen it before. A second ago, just before Jass brought us here, literally turning the world upside down, I was about to accuse him of fabricating this moment, but I can see now that it’s real. No matter how good he is, how talented and skilled at stitching together new realms of reality, he could never create something so perfect and detailed as this.

  “What are we arguing about?” I ask.

  “The same thing we always argue about,” he replies. His lips are close to my ear. Suddenly, I realize how close we are. Jass seems to realize at the same time. I expect him to pull away first, but he doesn’t. I’m the one to try and scoot forward, out of his reach. His arms lock around me, preventing me from getting away, though. He pulls me back, so the hard packed muscle of his chest presses against my spine and my shoulder blades. “You were trying to convince me to leave the Construct. To see the error of my ways. As you can see, my response wasn’t the one you were hoping for.”

  Further up the beach, the other me stops in her tracks. She’s furious. Beyond furious. She’s hurting. Lashing out, she tries to strike the other Jass, but he grabs hold of her by the wrist, drawing her to him. She falters, her heels digging into the sand for a moment, but then she seems to just…stop fighting. She falls forward into the other Jass’ arms, and he crushes her to him. He seems to hesitate for a second. A very brief, short second. Then he’s bringing his mouth down onto hers, cupping her face in his hands, and she’s sinking into him, kissing him back. It’s not a gentle, peaceful, loving kiss. It’s a pain-filled, tortured, desperate kiss that looks like it’s taking them both unawares. Like neither of them ever expected it would happen in a million years. The other me claws and grabs at Jass’ clothing, while he lifts her from her feet. She wraps her legs around his waist, and then he’s ripping at her shirt, tearing it from her body.

  “Holy fuck…”

  “Yeah. I forgot to mention. We had a number of firsts that day,” Jass whispers quietly into the back of my neck. I can feel his lips there, pressing lightly against my skin, and I can’t
hold back the tremor of pleasure that rattles my nerve endings. He’s barely touching me, barely kissing me, but it feels as if my mind is splintering, falling apart.

  We watch in silence as our counterparts strip each other naked on the beach. The only thing I can hear besides the roar of the waves crashing onto the beach is my own labored breathing. The Jass sitting behind me slides his hand up the inside of my shirt. I’m paralysed, too confused to know what the fuck to do; he doesn’t lift his hand up to my breasts or down, between my legs. He leaves it there, resting against my bare stomach, while he draws slow, intricate patterns into my skin with his fingertips.

  Down on the beach, the other Jass sits back, panting, his bare chest rising and falling like crazy. He runs his hands back through his hair, shaking his head, as if trying to gather his wits about him. The other me, a Reza I can’t even begin to comprehend—an unashamed, naked Reza, laying on her back in the sand, with her legs wrapped around Jass’ waist again—leans up and takes Jass’ hand, placing it on her breast. I wanted him. In that moment, it’s plain to see that I wanted him, just as I want him now. Gods, how did this get so damned confusing?

  The Jass sitting behind me groans softly under his breath. He’s getting turned on by what’s happening, and I can’t even be mad at him. The truth is, I’m struggling to keep my cool, too. The way we’re looking at each other, stroking each other, touching each other, kissing each other…it’s more than I can take.

  “We should go,” I whisper. The energy inside me is flaring, reaching out, trying to connect with the energy inside Jass. The tether wants to strengthen, and what better way for that to happen than to mirror what are other selves are doing? Jass is hard. I can feel his cock pressing up against the small of my back, and it takes everything I have not to twist around in his arms and ask him to touch me. I’m burning up. I’m soaking wet. I want him so badly, I can’t even think straight.

  Jass groans again, louder this time. He bites down gently, his teeth pressing into the skin at the back of my neck, and I almost break. I can’t…I can’t stop myself… I….

  The light disappears. The beach disappears. The other Jass and Reza disappear. All of it, suddenly gone. What the fuck? My Jass is still behind me, breathing hard, his hand still drawing circles onto my stomach. His erection’s still digging into my back, demanding attention. Everything is darkness, though. Everything is quiet. Everything is…void. The endlessness of this place should be frightening to me, but somehow it isn’t. It’s comforting and familiar. I know I’ve been here with him before, in this nothingness, and I know I’ve been safe, even if I can’t remember it.

  “We should have stayed,” Jass rumbles, his voice vibrating beneath his ribcage. It vibrates through me, too, right through my back. “We put on quite a show, I think.”

  I flush bright red, and I know Jass can tell. He doesn’t need the light to see my crimson cheeks. My embarrassment and need is so powerful that he must be able to feel it through our connection, as loud and obvious as an alarm bell blaring out into the silence.

  “I need to wake up,” I say. “I can’t stay with you forever.”

  Jass kisses my neck again, and my resolve takes another hit. We’ve already had sex in our dreams. We’ve already touched and kissed each other’s bodies. I’ve already succumbed to the darkest, most shameful need I could ever possibly have. What would be the harm—

  “Don’t worry. I’ll let you wake up,” Jass pants. “Even though my dick’s going to hate me almost as much as you do.”

  “I don’t hate you.” The words rush out of my mouth before I can stop them. Jass laughs softly down his nose, as though he doesn’t believe me. Not for one split second. It is true, though. I know it, here, in this place. I might be sad because of him. I might be afraid of him occasionally. I might be disappointed in the things he says and does, but I don’t hate him. I never have.

  Hating him would be easier. Instead, there’s a kernel of something very dangerous hiding away inside me.

  I frown, the faintest of memories teasing me, tickling the very back of my mind. “You said we were arguing because I wanted you to leave The Construct. That’s what the Pirians want me to do now. Convince you to help us.”

  “I’m not surprised. They must be optimists, like you. They probably think that if they have you say the right words in the right order, those words will somehow change me on a fundamental level.”

  “It’s not going to work, is it?”

  Brushing my hair back over my shoulder, Jass gathers it in his hands and winds it in a knot around his hand. I can’t see his face, but I can feel his mood, turbulent and brooding. “No. It won’t. I’m afraid it’s going to take a little more than that.”

  TEN

  JASS

  FARREN

  Now

  When I wake, it’s dark, and I’m turned around. I didn’t die? The neurotoxins in that dart didn’t paralyze me? I am not restrained. I’m lying on my back, my hands stacked one on top of the other, my ankles stacked in the same way, too, and my head is resting on a soft pillow. My body is warm, relaxed and comfortable, but my face feels fucking freezing. I sit up, brushing my hands over my body, frowning when I realize I’m underneath the covers in a bed that is not my own. My ribs protest violently at my movement, but I do my best to ignore it, researching my surroundings. I’ll allow myself the luxury of pain later. I’ll allow myself the luxury, and then I’ll obliterate the discomfort with some Light. Easy. I get up, clutching the rough bandage that’s been tied haphazardly around my chest. The soles of my feet are cold against the stone floor, and a chilled breeze winds its fingers around my bare ankles.

  My shirt is gone. So are my boots. My pants have been neatly folded and placed on a rickety chair beside the bed. Pulling them on is difficult to say the least. Every time I twist or pivot, a spasm rips through me, tight and painful, stealing my breath. I became intimately acquainted with pain under Stryker’s watchful eye. He made sure I knew every facet and dimension of it when they first brought me onto the Invictus, long before the ship was destroyed by the people of Darax. I eventually learned how to embrace agony and make it my friend. It took time, but I did it. If the threat of pain doesn’t scare you beyond all reckoning, then no one can hold it over you, after all. That doesn’t mean that the stabbing sensation in my side and my chest is any fun, though. Once my pants are buttoned, I take a moment to assess my surroundings further. I’m in a cell-like room with a low ceiling and no window. The walls are constructed of mismatched stone. Sand has crept through the cracks, shoring up in miniature mountains in each of the four corners. The bed and the chair are the only pieces of furniture in here. No rug to protect my feet from the icy cold floor. No bookcases, or side tables, and no overhead light fitting. A small light glows dimly from the wall opposite the bed, casting out a muted yellow glow—barely enough light to see by. A low, gentle humming sound reaches my ears; there must be a solar generator somewhere close by. Interesting.

  With no shirt, socks or boots, and no other means of staving off the bitter cold, I take the thin blanket from the cot and I wrap it around my shoulders. Now, to figure out the lock on the door. It’ll take me less than a second to have it open, and then I’ll be out of here and on my way to find the girl. And if I have to leave a trail of dead bodies in my wake in order to get out of here, wherever here is, then so be it.

  I place my hand on the door latch and I cast out the borders of my mind, focusing on the mechanism that’s holding me prisoner. It’ll be easy to crack the lock. So goddamn easy. Only…there is no lock. No mechanism inside of the handle at all. The round, rusted piece of iron doesn’t even turn properly. It’s merely there as a means of pushing and pulling the thin piece of wood open and closed again. I haven’t been locked in here? The past twenty-four hours have been strange indeed, but this? Being trusted to roam freely beyond the confines of this room, amongst my enemy? That’s just madness.

  I yank the door open, finding myself in a long, narrow corridor
, marked every five or six feet by another dim lamp attached to the rough chiseled walls. I search with my mind, scanning the corridor both to the left and the right, hunting for potential threats. A vast, seemingly endless network of tunnels lies beyond where I stand. And people. So many people, each one different and unusual. There are many diverse voices here. I’m not used to the uproar of so many minds speaking all at once. The furor of a million thoughts and desires all echoing inside my head is almost too much to bear. I slam down my guard, protecting myself, reeling a little as I lean against the wall to catch my breath. The Nexus was teeming with energy, day and night, a constant hive of activity. There was no real life there, though. Construct soldiers are all of one mind. One goal. One purpose. They’re brainwashed from a young age to eradicate such tiresome traits as free will and individual thought. I’m not used to so many distinctive voices calling out into the void, shouting and clamoring all at once, as if completely ignorant of the din they’re creating. It’s disorienting to say the least. With my guard in place, my head spins a little less crazily, but I can still sense the vibration of all that energy trembling through the air, biting at me, making the hairs on the back of my arms stand on end. Seven hells, this how does anyone ever sleep down here? I’m sure I only managed to because I was sedated.

  I start making a list in my head. I have to get out of here, and in order to that I need to find clothes. A mode of transportation. A means of finding Reza. I only opened my mind to this strange, new place for a few seconds, but it was long enough to know she’s not here. She’s in a place like this, very similar, but many miles away. Far, but within reach if I focus all of my efforts in her direction. North. North. North. I know which way I have to go. The word pulses inside me, pounding like the rhythm of a demented drum. If I head north, I’ll find her. As I draw closer, I’ll know exactly where to go and how to get to her. It feels as if the universe itself is drawing us together, like super charged magnets, destroying everything in their path, unable to resist the pull that forces them together. She feels the same way I do. When she lies in bed at night, that same insistent attraction rips her from her dreams. That’s why she calls out to me, and why I built those dreamscapes for her in the first place.