Fractured Suns

by Theresa Kay

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Shattered Stars

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2015 Theresa Kay

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by Nicole Spence at Cover Shot Creations

  Edited by David Gatewood

  Formatting by CookieLynn Publishing Services

  To those who waited. This book has been a long time coming and I'm grateful for your patience. Thank goodness you didn't have to wait for thirty-six years... or maybe you already did and then I found a way to get the book to an earlier time stream.

  TIERCEL SKIMS THE AIR just above the ground, a yellow-tipped arrow covered in brown and white feathers. He flies so low that the tips of the meadow grass brush against the underside of his wings. A subtle change in angle slows his flight and he drops onto the squirrel, pinning it with his talons. After a brief squeal, the squirrel is silent. The hawk mantles over the creature, fanning his wings and hiding it from sight.

  I walk up to him from the side, making gentle noises, and pull a small chunk of meat from the pouch at my waist. He grips the squirrel with his talons and cocks his head to the side, studying me. I give two sharp whistles and he jumps onto my outstretched forearm then picks the meat from between the fingers of my heavy leather glove. Once he’s finished the reward, I raise my arm and give another whistle. He lofts up into the trees and watches from a branch as I pick the squirrel up by its tail and tie it to the belt at my waist.

  I sigh and drop my shoulders. One squirrel isn’t going to feed five people, especially as skinny as the thing is, but I’ve been out here half the morning and it’s all I’ve managed to get. This doesn’t bode well for our food situation.

  Peter did fine out here when it was just him; he had plenty of food stored to last him through the winter. Then I showed up with my injured brother, alien grandfather, and Flint, my brother’s boyfriend. Plus, I added another mouth to feed when I found Tiercel injured in the woods and brought him back to the cabin with me. At least the hawk can feed himself if it comes to that.

  It’s barely November, and we’ve already managed to go through a good bit of Peter’s canned and dried food as well as his stack of firewood. The cold arrived early and it looks like it’s going to be a very long, very cold winter. There’s no question we’ll run out of food, and there aren’t many options for trading here.

  And Peter is too damn nice to ask us to leave. Not that we’d make it very far.

  Jace’s broken leg is healing, thanks again to Peter, who has some basic medical training from when he used to travel to remote locations to preach. But even with Peter’s care, my brother is still not in any shape to make the trek to Bridgelake, the largest human settlement left, not with the weather the way it is. The settlement is a couple hundred miles away through woods and over mountains. Not a journey someone still recovering from a fractured tibia can make through snow and bitter cold.

  Then there’s Jastren, my grandfather. He’s one of the E’rikon, the alien race that arrived on Earth about ten years ago and took over one of our decimated cities. He’s got bright red hair, much brighter than mine or Jace’s, and yellow eyes with a starburst of red in the center. Neither feature can be easily hidden, and the odds are any humans we come across would kill first without bothering to ask questions.

  There’s always been tension between the two species, and it’s only gotten worse. Vitrad Linaud, who’s a petty, vengeful sadist on his good days, is now in control of the E’rikon city. He manufactured an attack that he somehow managed to attribute to humans, and the aliens were more than happy to accept him as their new leader. Especially since the old one was dead and there was no one else to step up.

  Here at Peter’s cabin, we aren’t too far from the E’rikon city, and lately there have been more and more of the aliens’ silver ships passing overhead, off to who knows where. Maybe they’re prepping for the looming interspecies war or something.

  Jace and I are only half E’rikon and have none of their more distinguishable physical features, so we can pass for human easily. In fact, we’ve been doing it all our lives. I spent over two weeks with… one of the E’rikon… and he had no idea what I was. Hell, even I didn’t know until about a month ago when I sat right at Peter’s kitchen table while Flint explained what he knew and a hopeful smile spread across Lir’s face.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. That simple memory, just the thought of his name, tugs at the broken thread of our bond and brings the burn of tears. I trusted him. I loved him. He used me. He betrayed me.

  And he left this gaping hole when he broke the bond with nothing but a simple two-word apology: I’m sorry. No explanation. No attempt at justification for his actions. No goodbye.

  To top it off, whatever Lir did when he broke the bond has left me unable to link to anyone but my brother. Jastren has spent the past few weeks teaching Jace how to use the mental abilities that come with our alien heritage. But me… He’s simply been staring at me in frustration, because no matter what I do, I cannot follow the thread of the mental connection and link to him. I still occasionally pick up some emotions from him—mostly disappointment—but that’s it. At least I’ve still got my connection to Jace. That’s all I really need anyway, right?

  A screech from Tiercel pulls me from my thoughts and I wipe at my eyes with one hand. Despite the ache in my heart, in my head I know it shouldn’t still be affecting me like this. After all the secrets, all the lies, and that final betrayal, I should be over him, but I’m obviously not. I hate my stupid heart for that.

  I whistle, and Tiercel swoops down from the tree and perches on my upraised arm.

  “Hey buddy, you think we’ll catch anything else today?”

  He tilts his head to the side and stares at me.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I lift my arm and he takes off again. “We’ll just head back then.”

  Tiercel flies from tree to tree as I make my way through the woods. For a wild hawk, he was surprisingly easy to train, at least for me. He typically won’t let anyone else touch him, including Jace, who actually has experience with birds since our dad used to keep a couple. It’s a bit strange.

  Most birds would take months to train and still wouldn’t be as tame as Tiercel is with me. When I found him, he hopped onto my arm without question, and it took very little effort for me to teach him to hunt small animals. I never have to put a hood on him, and he’ll come to me even if I don’t have a snack to
offer. He’s free to come and go, but he always responds to my whistle. I wouldn’t even have set up a mews for him if the weather wasn’t so bad. I don’t want him to get stuck in a storm, so I converted one of Peter’s small sheds into a nice cozy spot for him to roost.

  My foot catches on a tree root and I half stumble out of the forest and into the clearing surrounding the cabin. I point toward the shed and Tiercel streaks over and into it. Not even a whistle, and he knows exactly what I want him to do. Strange as it may be, it’s awfully handy.

  I tromp up the wooden steps and swing open the back door, calling out that I’ve got dinner. When I walk in, everyone except Jastren is sitting around the kitchen table. At my appearance they go silent and three sets of eyes focus on me.

  I narrow my eyes. “What?”

  Jace is the first to recover. “Hey, sis, we were discussing food and stuff. You know, how we’re going to get through the winter and all.” The chill of his nervousness flows to me.

  “Why wasn’t I included in this conversation?”

  Flint sighs. “There’s only one option, Jax, and every time—”

  I cut him off. “We are not trading with Lenny and his gang.”

  “And that’s why you weren’t included in the conversation,” my brother mutters under his breath.

  I whirl on Jace. “So you agree with him now? You think we should go make nice with the guys who were going to sell me to the Breeder camp? If it wasn’t for—” I press my lips together and shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. “You know what? Why don’t I just head over to the Breeder camp now? Save us some time. Because that’s where I’ll end up if Lenny or Stu or any of those guys get a clue that I’m here. And that’s if they don’t kill you on sight. You might be a guy, but you’re still my twin and I can’t imagine that Stu won’t notice some resemblance to the girl who”—I swallow noisily—“who killed his brother. Is that what you want?”

  “Peter will go with me,” Jace says. “They know him. It’ll be okay.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “If they’re so friendly with Peter, why can’t he go by himself?” I wince at the selfishness in my words. How awful am I? I don’t want to send the old man into danger, but I can’t lose Jace—not again. Every instinct in me screams that sending Jace to go trade with Lenny will only be delivering my brother to his death. Lenny would consider it the perfect payback for what I did.

  Flint huffs and grits his teeth. “We’ve already been over this. Jace needs to go, because if there’s trouble, he can manipulate their emotions—”

  “We don’t know if it works like that on humans,” I say. “It’s completely untested.”

  “Don’t you pay attention to anything? I’m a human,” says Flint. “And it works on me.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” says Jace. “I’ve been cooped up in this cabin practicing for weeks. I know what I’m doing, and I can handle this. It’s the only choice we’ve got. Obviously, you and Jastren can’t go, and Flint has to stay behind to protect you—”

  This again? “I don’t need his protection!” I yell.

  Flint slams his fist on the table and stands up. “Dammit, Jax! Do you think I want to stay behind? You want to protect Jace and he wants to protect you.” He throws his arms up. “And I’m always the one caught in the middle. I’m sick of it!” He storms down the hallway and a door slams.

  Jace closes his eyes and lets out a long breath before slowly rising and limping down the hall after Flint, the makeshift stabilizing boot on his lower leg thumping with each step. Thankfully, he inherited some of the E’rikon’s accelerated healing, otherwise he’d still be on crutches. The door opens and closes, more softly this time, and I can hear the quiet hum of their voices.

  I hate fighting with my brother—Flint, too. But it seems like the three of us are constantly at each other’s throats. Flint’s right. We always put him in the middle and he doesn’t deserve that. But what am I supposed to do? I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers and collapse into the chair next to Peter.

  “What do you think about all this?” I ask. The second the question leaves my mouth, I flinch. I should know better by now than to ask Peter such an open-ended question.

  “This whole thing is beyond me,” Peter replies. “I know you had a bad experience with Lenny, and I don’t believe he’s a good guy, but I don’t know that he’s entirely bad. And Stu? He’s barely older than you. They’re all just trying to stay alive. That’s all everyone’s doing these days. But it’s not enough for one to simply survive. There needs to be hope… and love.” He shakes his head. “No one quite understands how very important love is nowadays. Love for both yourself and others. Without love… we’d all be savages. That goes for romantic love, too. Those boys, even with so much working against them, managed to find each other, and this whole survival business is tearing them both apart, but—”

  “So you’re saying all their problems are my fault?”

  “No, no, no, not at all, my dear. It’s just that everyone’s under so much stress and my cabin’s not that large. Though, back when I first built it, there was plenty of space for little old me. Did I ever tell you about how I built it?” He coughs. “But that’s not my point here. You and Jace arguing doesn’t help anything. And Flint, he’s like another brother to you, yes? Both of you—all three of you—are so wrapped up in protecting the others that not one of you has bothered to believe in each other, to trust in the love you have for each other. Isn’t that partly how this situation began? Jace trying to protect you, trying to do what he thought was best? That’s exactly what you’re trying to do for him now. Things are uncertain in this world—no one knows that better than you—but if you don’t have at least some faith, then you have nothing. So trust that Jace will protect himself and come back to you unharmed. You can’t possibly believe it’s his desire to die or be taken. And he should have a little faith in your ability to protect yourself and let that poor suffering boy go with us like he so obviously wants to. After all, you are capable of taking care of yourself, yes?”

  I nod slowly.

  “Then you should trust that Jace can do the same. I see no problem with the two young men and I going on a short trading trip, one that we will return from unharmed and with enough supplies to carry us through the winter.”

  A sigh brushes past my lips. As roundabout as his point is, he does have one, and it’s a good one. “When will you guys leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning, early,” says Peter with a soft smile. “I’ll do my best to look out for both of them.”

  And if I don’t want to alienate Jace and Flint any further, that will just have to do.

  The next morning, the truck idles in the driveway while Peter loads up handmade blankets, medical supplies, and some other odds and ends to trade. I simply lean against the cabin with my arms crossed. I’m not arguing, but I don’t have to pretend I like this idea. If Flint and Jace are surprised at my newfound “support” for their plan, they don’t say anything.

  Surprisingly, it’s Jastren who has a problem with the plan. “This is not the best use of our resources,” he says. “They will be outnumbered, and if Jace is unable to manipulate the other men, Flint’s brawn will not move the odds into their favor.”

  “What would you suggest, Grandfather?” Jace asks in a deferential tone.

  I don’t manage to conceal my snort, and Jace glares at me. What does he expect? My brother, always the clown, has never been one to capitulate to anyone, but he treats Jastren like some sort of all-knowing king in whose presence we should be bowing. Sometimes I think I should be doing the same, but… then I come to my senses. I don’t know why, but something about it doesn’t feel right.

  I used to think that Jace’s deference came from some weird sense of gratitude for… I don’t know, Jastren’s being related to us? I thought it would go away, that Jace would eventually laugh and joke with Jastren like he used to do with Dad. But nope. The more time the two
have spent together training, the more Jace’s regard for the alien has increased. Now he takes almost everything Jastren says as gospel—except when it has to do with Flint.

  Early on, Jastren made it clear—through a subtle ooze of disapproval—that he didn’t think Jace’s relationship with Flint was appropriate. At least Jastren hasn’t come right out and said anything; I suppose he doesn’t want to tarnish Jace’s near hero worship of him. However, I can tell from the look in his eye and the occasional flash of emotion I get from him that Jastren is not a fan of Flint.

  “I believe I should accompany you instead of Flint,” Jastren says. “You can drop me off within linking distance, and if you run into problems, you can simply link to me and I will come to assist.”

  Flint shakes his head. “And what good would that do? You’d still be outnumbered.”

  “We are quicker than humans, and our reflexes are more evolved. I can subdue any hostiles more swiftly and efficiently than you can.”

  I roll my eyes. That’s another thing. I get lumped in with the humans, but Jastren treats my brother like he’s full-blooded E’rikon. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I identify more with my human half than my alien one. The alien part of me has caused me nothing but pain. Letting others into my head. Driving me into darkness. Creating a killer. And drawing me to Lir.

  Jace turns to Flint. “What do you think?”

  Flint’s eyes dart from Jastren to me and then back to Jace. “It sounds logical, but…” He reaches out and grabs Jace’s arm. “I still don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to. It just has to get done,” says Jace, shaking Flint’s hand off. He faces Jastren. “We will go with your plan then, Grandfather.”

  An icy resolve travels from Jastren and frosts along my nerves. I look at him and narrow my eyes. What was that about?

  Flint clenches his jaw and stares down at his feet as Jace climbs in the truck and slides across to sit next to Peter, who’s in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t even say goodbye, but neither does Jace. I hate seeing them like this.