Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End

by Lesley Young

  The sense of familiarity has not left me the whole time this is happening, and, glancing up, before me is ME!, staring at us, in the other dimension, from yesterday. There I am, a tiny slip of a girl surrounded by strange monsters, both of me’s wondering, How can this be? Then I sense the Aeon sees me. No time to digest that. Onegin! I slide my arm down and manage to knock the Aeon’s gun ever so slightly—

  I watch with the relief as the Aeon’s fire misses Onegin and vaporizes the floor just inches away from him, still frozen, kneeling on the floor.

  Okay. Now is a good time to RUN! I notice the second rift is gone. But the one behind me is still there, I think. I still feel a sense of familiarity of this moment.

  The Aeon’s way quicker than me. Before I release myself, it grabs me and swings me around until we are face-to-face, my back to the frozen Or’ic and Kell’an and the others.

  I glance at Onegin desperately one last time. Frozen. On his knees.

  A whole ship of warriors and what good are they now?!

  A tear rolls down his cheek. Can he still see me?

  Unable not to, I shift my focus and meet the Aeon’s eyes, bright with malicious intent. His skin continues to change, from a plastic-like material into organic flesh.

  I’m shaking so bad, I think I might pee myself. Or vomit.

  “Please!” The Aeon examines me. He raises his free arm above me with intent.

  I close my eyes and scream inside. He’s going to hit me or kill me, for sure.

  But nothing. I don’t want to open my eyes, but keeping them closed, not knowing, is almost worse. Why no pain? Am I already dead?

  Okay, just take a peek. Oh no! There’s nothing human at all about those eyes. Utterly flat. Artificial. What does he want?

  He leans closer, then back.

  “What are you?” he asks with a rattle that is reminiscent of some kind of animal on Earth that I can’t place. He must be speaking Thell’eon, which is being translated to English.

  I glance around desperate for an escape. I kick empty air, squirming in his grip, pushing against him.

  “What are you, sifter?”

  He rattles my entire body so hard I bite my tongue. My hair pops out of its ribbon as my neck’s whipped back and forth violently. Black and white dots cloud my vision.

  He wants an answer. He called you a sifter.

  He doesn’t know about humans.

  “Ire,” I squeak.

  He examines me, all the way down my body.

  “A female,” he says, this time with a mild twinge of expression.

  I don’t respond.

  “What are you?”

  This time he shakes me so hard I think he might kill me.

  Instead, he throws me on the ground and leaps as though to dive right into me. The move’s so strange that I can’t make sense of it before darkness overtakes me.

  Ah, the smell of ESE. A kind of fresh pine, flowery antiseptic, and, wait for it, the aromatic scent of espresso brewing. I jolt out of downcore, clammy. I’ve had a bad dream, but I’m not sure about what. Relieved it’s over, a familiar coppery-haired arm reaches up and tugs me back down beside him. “Did it happen again?” asks King.

  I drink in his morning face. His navy-blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones. His round mouth.

  “I think so,” I answer, laying down on my side, nestling into his broad chest, letting happiness blanket me.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, caressing my arm, and then my cheek.

  “You feel exquisite.” He says this as though he’s surprised.

  My cheeks warm, as they do every time he compliments me, thinking I’ve never heard him use the word ‘exquisite’ before. I have the distinct sense of missing him throughout the night, terribly, and of being grateful for his presence. Leaning forward, I lightly brush his lips with mine.

  “I love you more than words can ever say.”

  He smiles like he can’t help it. He closes his eyes as though he’s listening for something. “I can feel it,” he says, leaning forward kissing my mouth greedily.

  I enjoy the kisses, which turn frantic suddenly. This unsettles me though I’m not sure why.

  Wait. I’m surprised he would risk staying the night.

  “King,” I say, pushing him away gently. “You better leave before ESE Eyes spot you in the women’s quarters.”

  He slams back, angry.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, surprised and concerned that I’ve upset him.

  “Nothing.” He clears his throat. “Nothing. I . . .” He hesitates, which is so unlike him. “I just get frustrated by ESE at times.”

  I sit up alongside him.

  “What do you mean?” He’s never complained before. “Is it the negotiations with the Thell’eons?”

  “Yes,” he says, glancing away.

  I wait for him to explain. I’m thrown. This is so out of character. He has never shared any of his fears or Command information before.

  “Are the Thell’eons refusing to work together to fight the Aeons?”

  “CASSIEL!” A man’s voice booms loudly in my head, causing me to jump right out of the downcore.

  I back up into Jordanna’s downcore, which is empty. Why is it empty?

  “What’s wrong?” demands King, startled by my movement. He gets up wearing only his shorts, and I’m embarrassed to see so much of his impressive lean, sculpted, hard body.

  Then it hits me, a horrible sense of dread. I’ve never seen King this naked before.

  Have I lost my memory? Confusion washes over me.

  KILL IT! the man’s voice screams in my head, jolting me on the spot.

  “Wha. . .? Did you hear that?” I ask.

  “Hear what?” asks King, looking around and then back at me, with concern and something else written on his face. Calculation.

  “I . . . nothing,” I say. “Nothing, really,” I add, trying to smile. “It must just be the . . . bad dream. After shock.”

  He smiles again, but his eyes, they seem empty. Am I imagining this? He glances down at my bare legs and at my chest, on display in my tank top. He sucks in his breath, and embraces both my arms in his, tugging me into him, bringing his lips down on my own. He lingers, and I’m surprised to feel nothing.

  Something’s horribly wrong.

  “To answer your question,” he continues after spinning away from me, looking more like himself and very concerned again. “No, we can’t negotiate with them. The Thell’eon are an arrogant, foolish species.”

  I’ve never seen him so upset before. So worried. I want to help.

  “But surely we can convince the Thell’eons of our strengths.”

  He doesn’t answer but waits for me to continue. Normally I can read him better than this. I go on, hoping to alleviate his problem.

  “Humans are so much smarter, more creative. With Thell’eon might and human innovation, we can conquer the Aeons. Surely the Thell’eon can see this? I mean, we’ve got Hathaway’s shield!”

  King stares at me with the coldest eyes I have ever seen. Why’s he looking at me that way? Wait, I have seen eyes colder than that . . .

  I turn away in order to hide my shock. I know that voice that screamed in my head. A name, Or’ic, pops in my mind. Or’ic. Or’ic. Or’ic. Dark Eyes!

  No! He would have to be at ESE to be in my head, and that is impossible!

  Kill it! His words echo in my head.

  Oh. No. No. No. No. I lose the ability to breathe. This thing here, that just touched me, is not King.

  Like darkness turned to light, I’m back on the floor on Or’ic’s warship. The Aeon above me is pressing down on my lower half. A burning sensation courses through me as it heaves up and away. Somehow, it’s melded right into me.
r />   As it retracts its form, I’m shaken with the sense of true violation. All at once I know I’ve been tricked. This alien invaded me, tapped into my inner most reality, my fantasy, and projected a future life into my mind. It was so real, beyond what I’d had with Or’ic in symbiosis that I would have gladly stayed there, if only it could have played the part.

  Sour vomit rolls up into my mouth, choking me.

  Or’ic’s words, Kill it! ring in my head. Somehow Or’ic must have reached into my mind using symbiosis, maybe to plant the warning, even though they all still appear to be frozen! Come on! Snap out of it!

  The Aeon’s occupied removing itself. I roll my head to the side, scared I’ll choke on the searing barf in my mouth, while searching desperately, stretching my hands out, groping for some kind of weapon. I can’t move my legs.

  There! A shard, from a dish. I grasp it and instinctually swing it up.

  Kill it, Cassiel!

  The pointed shard slices through the side of the Aeon’s throat flesh with surprisingly little resistance. Like cutting a piece of meat.

  I yank it out before the Aeon even realizes what has happened.

  “Cass-i-e-l.” The Aeon works out my name, dragging it slowly somehow from my mind, oblivious to the stab wound I have just inflicted. A mild state of shock shifts over his face. Recognition?

  Thick, dark-brown fluid, maybe blood, oozes out of its neck. At first the flow is slow and I fear I missed the main artery. Of course it must have one, right?

  Barf sputters out of my mouth. I have never felt so sick in my life.

  Suddenly, the Aeon grabs my neck with one hand and its own with the other, maybe to staunch the sudden outpour of thick brown fluid spurting out of its neck onto my face and neck. I close my mouth. The acrid fumes of its blood threaten to overwhelm me. Will it die? Please die!

  Desperate, I squirm and notice movement in Onegin. He’s moving his arms, slowly! The Aeon’s grip weakens, too! Have I weakened it enough? The pain in my chest from lack of oxygen’s worse than in my throat from his tight grip and darkness begins to overtake me.

  Then air enters my deprived lungs with a sharp pain followed by primal relief. The Aeon has released me! But why? It takes a long look at me. The rattling reverberating through the open wound on his neck’s cut short when a figure jumps over me, pushing the weakened Aeon off. I sit up, heaving for breath, coughing and sputtering.

  I watch helplessly as Or’ic and the Aeon roll around fighting. The freezing effect must have worn off. The Aeon hits him hard, then pops up, heading for the rift I came through. Why is it still open?

  Oh no! Or’ic, recovering quickly, chases it. While the other Thell’eons are still fighting off the freezing—why’s Or’ic free first?—the Aeon manages to scramble through the rift. Alive! Or’ic slams against the dimensional tear, unable to pass through.

  No! No! No!

  I think I scream this.

  It knows! About humans! I’ve told it everything, I scream in my head.

  The urge to hurl once again overtakes me, and I vomit into a pool of dark, thick blood beside me on the floor. The acrid, sticky Aeon fluid’s all over me . . . my hair and my neck . . . I can’t swallow or breathe. I swipe at it, shaking violently all over, but that makes it worse.

  Get it off! Get it off! Get it off! I rub my hands and my dress, convulsing because I can’t catch my breath.

  “Shhh!”

  Big hands try to still mine.

  “It is gone. It is over.”

  I hear these words but they don’t compute. I struggle, frantic to get rid of the blood. I’m lifted out of the brown puddle, but that’s not enough. I squeeze my eyes in desperation.

  “Shhhh,” I hear over and over. Warm fluid slowly soaks through my dress. “No!” I scream, thinking I’m being immersed in Aeon blood. But when I open my eyes, I realize I’m in a Thell’eon pool.

  I push away and sink underwater, desperate to wash it all away and to swim away from the reddish hue it leaves in the pool. I emerge, rubbing at my hair and my neck and at the fabric on the dress.

  It won’t come out!

  I try to take off the dress, and soon someone helps me. I’m relieved to be free of sticky awful weight. I sink into the water naked, scrubbing myself harshly all over. It makes little difference.

  I smell the fumes. It’s all over me!

  “It is gone!” I hear from somewhere behind me. “Cassiel, you would listen! It is all gone.” Someone else is near, maybe to help wash my hair. I turn, hoping for soap. Someone pulls me to him, bends down, and places his forehead on mine.

  There’s an awful sense of pressure in my head. I fight for a minute before an incredible need to sleep blankets me. Just before I black out, the surge calms me enough to realize I’ve completely lost it.

  Chapter 19

  I inhale sharply, those last moments vividly replaying before my eyes. I sit up. I’m naked. I pull the sheet up to cover my chest. My hair’s wet. Puddles of water trail from the pool area to the downcore. A flash of Shadon carrying me naked (super!) from the pools into Or’ic’s room with Kirs following.

  I’m in Or’ic’s downcore. Kirs are here, too. Standing, crouching against walls.

  I don’t care. Whatever. As long as there are no rifts. No Aeons. Ever again.

  I can’t believe how tired I am. I grimace when I swallow. It’s like I’ve eaten broken glass. In my dazed stupor, one gentle face comes to mind. Then, the bloody stump.

  “Zeke,” I whisper.

  An uncontrollable sob comes out.

  A warm hand settles on my shoulder. I twist around. Or’ic. He’s naked but for a pair of loose dry pants, leaning forward on the edge of his downcore, staring at me. The sadness shadowing his dark eyes stops me. Zeke was his aide long before being mine.

  I sniffle and tug the sheet snug around my rear, aware that my bare back and bum had been in his full view. A Cinarian’s drying off Or’ic’s weapons. He must have taken me into the pool.

  A figure emerges from the dark with something in his hand. I expect a tissue, but Pers’eus passes me a glass of what smells like whiskey. Oh well. That’ll do. I notice that the other Kirs are here, too, except for Onegin. After a moment, I take the delicate cup and swallow the alcohol. The burn down my throat is welcome. I wipe my nose on my bare arm.

  “Zeke and the others will be honored in a Pyre,” says Or’ic, quietly. I assume Pyre is some kind of Rite of Passage. “You would join us. Tomorrow.”

  “How many others are there?” I ask, still in state of disbelief.

  Lives lost. So quickly. My fault?

  “Four.”

  Only four? It seemed like so many more.

  “Onegin?” I ask suddenly, shocked by how frightened I am to hear the answer.

  “He’s recovering. I ordered him to accept treatment.”

  I breathe out.

  “You saved his life,” says Or’ic. I turn at his soft tone. “He is indebted to you.”

  “I bet he’s really pleased about that.”

  A smile curves his mouth. We’re sharing a moment. Surely he must see the error of his ways now.

  “Let me go?”

  His smile and his hand vanish. There’s that real side of him, the predator. I don’t understand!

  “You have to free me now,” I shout. “People have died!” I shake my head to stop the tears. What I don’t say, but all I can think about, is how I have to get away to warn ESE about Aeons. They know about humans. ESE can put together a SOSA team to rescue Daz.

  I plead with him silently, pointlessly. His face is set hard.

  “I would think after what you have just experienced,” he pronounces indignantly, “that you would be honored to fight with us.”

  Of course.

 
I slipped right into that other dimension like it was another room. He crashed into it.

  “I don’t just see across dimensional rifts, do I? I travel across them. I’m ‘the sift’, right?” I choke out.

  Silence.

  What a coward I am. All this time, I wasn’t a pawn. I was the prize. Too scared to face the truth.

  “Yes. You are a sift,” he says without apology. “And you belong here with us. In time, you will come to understand your place in the Order. The Truth Path is your destiny.”

  “Destiny? True Path?” My stomach twists in painful knots.

  “With a sifter, our Horde is complete,” he continues, mistaking my incredulity for a question. “Together, we would play a great role protecting the galaxy. You must see how important this is to everyone’s future. To your own people’s future—”

  “So you were never going to help me get Daz! You lied to me!” I cut him off, focusing on the only thing that matters to me.

  “No. I told you what we would do, and we would do so, still. We would find the other sift and trade him for your brother. It is the same outcome, only different means. It would be our gift to you as the sifter in our Horde.” I’m tense with fear and desperate anger, at myself, for being so stupid.

  “But you never said I would have to stay here!”

  “You never asked.”

  I’m speechless. Shock doesn’t begin to cover it.

  His words, what he has just admitted to me, sink in. He wants me to trade A PERSON for Daz.

  The last thing Daz would want me to do.

  Despair seizes me. I grab at the sheet, holding it tight to my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t let them do this.