The people walking in were chatty and excited. They didn’t pay any attention to those already seated in the arena, staying little cliques. None of them had a bead on me or John and Marin. They weren’t just unaware. They were willfully ignoring us. I didn’t like it.
As the room filled, I realized something about the people filing into the seats. Down to the last person:
They were all Human.
John, Marin, and I were the only Metas in the room, and no one realized we were there. No one wanted to realize we were there.
What the hell was this? Was this a Humans only meeting? Those were discouraged by the Complex. The whole point of the experiment was to get Humans and Metas working and living together, and if there were “only” meetings, it would never work. There were, of course, secret ‘only’ meetings, but nothing on this scale in a public space.
No, this had to be something else. What had we stumbled upon?
A few minutes later nearly all the seats were full, the light flashed, and a palpable excitement filled the room. There were sounds of rustling and shuffling, and then the lights went out.
The darkness lingered in the room, just a little longer than most people were comfortable with and then a spotlight cut through it, blinding everyone. The feather on the curtain, seemed to come to life under the deep red, glimmering light.
“Glory!”
It was a disembodied voice that called out to the audience, and the audience echoed back. “Glory!”
“Praise unto the stars that have brought us to this place!”
“Glory!’
“Praise unto the creator who saw our need while we sought the stars!”
“Glory!”
“Praise unto those who steered us to this world!”
“Glory!”
“And may those who oppose us in our search for the creator be struck down and cleared of our path.”
“Glory! Amen!”
Oh, this was rich. The implication of the words was heavy—the ritual of a mass answer, the gathering of like minds. This place was ripe for the picking of a charlatan.
The Charlatan appeared in the light.
I had to cover my mouth with my hands from screaming. I bit my lip and looked again.
The charlatan was Trilland Samarad.
Min’s husband. Brami’s father.
“Greetings to all of you! I am pleased that you of the Complex could join me this evening. I know it has been difficult for you all, being locked away from our words and guidance. But I am here to reassure you. And what reassurance it is! Glory!”
“Glory!”
He led the group in a prayer that had to be the most convoluted and nonsensical thing I had ever heard. It was jumbled words, catchphrases and disingenuous sentiment. There was some kind of song, and then, the infamous plate got passed around.
But how did you fill an offering plate with no physical money? All money in the Complex was traced through an implant in your hand and all transactions were recorded. When the basket reached me, and I peered in, I understood. They used jewelry. Gems. Gold. Silver. Contraband money. Coins. Heirlooms. Things that could be pawned or sold off-world by pirates.
Everyone around me was watching and I reached into my pocket. I conjured a necklace there, and enchanted it. I made sure to hold it up for everyone to see as it sparkled in the light, and I dropped it in. The enchantment would have it disappear in a few minutes and reappear in Marin’s pocket so he could place it in, and then repeat for John. Once John had put it in, it would disappear completely into the ether it was composed of.
There was nothing good or comfortable about any of this. Trilland was a schemer, but what was he doing here? He hadn’t come in on the ships; I knew that now. Marindor had checked all the registers and rosters. Trill snuck in after, and probably had forged papers so he could move around. Which meant that his daughter —also had faked papers.
My angel's daughter was part of some damn scheme.
But then, where was Min? Min wasn't the type of Meta to walk away from her child. That wasn't the woman I knew.
She couldn't be part of this…
...could she?
Had I judged her wrong all these years? Did she fall for Trill because she was more his type? Scheming and scamming? Had I been so blinded by what I saw that I never got below the surface and learned she was a cheat and a liar?
My heart was pounding in my chest. Gods and stars, what was going on? What was this gathering all about? Was Min here? I didn't know if I could face her if she was part of this scam.
But everything changed in the next heartbeat.
Trill had whipped the crowd into a frenzy, whooping and hollering and chanting and calling out “Glory!” I was expecting people to start speaking in tongues. He pulled back the curtain.
Brami stood there, small, terrified, her little wings trembling. She had tears on her cheeks that glistened in the bright spotlight, and her white robe was disheveled. Trilland grabbed her hand and pulled her forward beyond the curtain.
“Behold—the angel child who has been granted to me!”
The room dropped from frenzy to chaos.
A horrible realization ripped through me; he'd stolen his own child from her mother. He yanked her wings away from her back, and held them at their widest expanse, turning her to show her to everyone in the room.
“Glory! Glory to our creator. Glory to he who has blessed me with this angel from on high!”
I dug through my memory as hard and as fast as I could. This was an outlier religion, one not of the mainstream. They practiced worship of angels.
And djinn.
Shit.
The Litteris Antiquorum sect. Their name meant something in an ancient Human tongue, but they took their beliefs from a branch of religion called Abrahamic—using only the texts, no dogma, no other beliefs. And in those texts, angels and djinn were creatures of wisdom, light, and power.
Shit.
This little girl was in danger. Serious danger. I was tempted to run out there and grab her and make a run for it. But that would put her and me in deeper danger, so I wasn’t going to take the chance. I had to be patient and get her out logically and carefully.
I didn’t know what had happened to Min. I needed to find out, but this wasn’t as important as getting Brami away from her father.
“You’re sure?” Marin asked, running a hand down his face.
“Of course I’m sure. How many angels do you know?” I wasn’t in the mood for this. “Brami is Min’s daughter, and Trill is the father. Trill is a scam artist.”
The deep rumble of the liche Captain rolled through the room. “We can’t go running into this, Alvinad. We need time. We have to make sure that what you think is going on can be proven. We can’t just take a child away from her father, no matter how much of charlatan he might be.”
“I realize that.” I scrubbed my eyes. “Look, whatever is going on here, I want in. I want to help.”
“You’re a civvy,” the captain said. “You can’t—”
Marin interrupted. “I was a civvy too, sir. Smith was too, even more recently than I was. We collaborate all the time.”
“I’m a djinn, sir. I’m about as powerful as they come. There’s not much I can’t do, and I want to apply that to finding Brami and making sure she’s safe.”
The captain considered me. His face was a mask, and there was no way to tell what he was thinking. Well, Marin might be able to, but that was something I left to him. “Who is your lampmaster? Do you have one?”
“We all have one,” I said.
John nodded. “I’m his lampmaster. I have placed no restrictions on him or his powers save to do no harm.”
The captain jerked his head a little and looked at John. “You let him walk around unrestricted?”
“With all due respect, P’iliktus is nearly three centuries old. He either is or isn’t a good person at this point. He would find a way to use his powers no matter what I said as his master. Lu
cky for us he’s a good guy and wants to help people. One of whom is this beautiful little girl.”
Go, John. Exactly. That’s exactly what this was. I had been friends with this vampire since he taught my class on the ship about the history of Vaimm. He knew me. And he knew what Min meant to me. Helping her daughter was what I needed to do.
The captain nodded. “Fine. You’ll join Smith under cover. I don’t know much about this group—”
“Litteris Antiquorum.” I supplied the name “I’m reading up on them. But I don’t know if they are a real branch of the religion.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, what went on in that room tonight was a spectacle. It was not a reverent ceremony which is what I was led to believe they preferred. Calm, quiet, reflective.”
Marin nodded. “That was a show. Not a ceremony.”
The captain stroked his beard. I stared at him. He was having second thoughts about me joining this, but this was the near-literal personification of what I should be doing with my degree. Using it to save people.
“You’re going to have go in. You have to find out more about the group. We have to break this up if they are holding the child a hostage. Even if the cult leader is her father. Marindor, you’re going to be the obvious and public face of the Climintra. Don’t be subtle as to who you are in there. John and Pili, you’ll be the ones blending in.” He looked at his watch. “We have an off-schedule arrival today, and I need to go meet his ship so we don’t get him killed.”
“There’s a ship coming in today?”
“It’s a Climintra ship, and this is a major exception to the ‘no ships’ rule. He was granted permission by the Monk. So he comes in, no questions asked.”
“Who is it?” John asked. I thought that we wouldn’t be made privy to that information, but I was certainly all for ‘it never hurt to ask.’
The captain looked between us. “Zar Kodone.”
All three of us stopped, and traded looks. “Are you serious?” Marin finally asked.
“Very. Gentlemen, I’ll talk to you all later, and we can find out when this next cult meeting is.” The captain turned on his heel and headed out of the room.
“Zar Kodone.” I whispered the name.
“Zar Kodone.” Both John and Marin whispered it.
“Why the hell is the most brilliant detective ever coming here? I mean, if he’s that smart, why couldn’t he find a way to stay off this dry, marble-shaped hell?” I looked up at the dome miles above us. “Once you’re here, there’s no way off.”
“Legally,” Marin added.
“I know that. My question still stands.”
The captain looked between us. “You don’t need to know. Get your gear, and get out of here.” He spun smartly and marched out the room.
“There is a reason they are bringing Zar Kodone here,” John stated.
“You don’t bring the greatest detective to this closed system without a reason,” I agreed. “But that’s not our concern. Let’s find out what Trill is up to, and take Brami away from him.”
Marin held up a hand. “If he’s guilty.”
Of that, I had no doubt.
4
Agape
There were thousands of nights on the ship, the unending voyage from Vaimm, when his mother's voice was the only thing that kept his tears away. He only just remembered our world. He had been only three when the ships blasted away from what would soon be ruin.
The trees, the grass, the water, the sky… they all called to him even if he didn't understand why. How did he long for something he'd barely known?
But mother's stories gave him comfort in the constant dull evening light of the ships. She would tuck him in, long after other mothers had stopped, and P'iliktus never complained. He was sure she felt it was somehow her fault her son was so small.
It wasn't, of course. He'd gotten his father's genetics. Mother was a beautiful, if common, psychic. Father had been the djinn, and djinn were small and short of stature for the simple reason of their confinement upon their 18th birthday. It was easier to find a lamp for a small Meta than a large.
But father was gone, killed in the death and destruction that had pushed all of the species of Vaimm to flee the world, the system. All of us fled, in a great generational ship that had taken a generation too long to build. So many lost loved ones, and whole species teetered on the brink of complete extinction. The ship, that took us in a direction our best and brightest scientists only guessed would find us a new home, was our best and only hope for survival.
Pili had only his mother. And mother spun stories of all the Meta that traveled with them: Giants, djinn, vampires and valkyries, shifter and specter alike.
His favorite stories, though, were always of the angels.
Nothing fascinated him more than the species of Meta who lives just out of phase with the universe. Our wings were a delight to him. Our power amazing. And when I walked into his first year class, he was instantly smitten.
I didn’t see him. Not that I couldn’t see him, but he was a small, unremarkable boy with dark hair and dark eyes, tan skin and a diminutive personality. I always knew he was there, but I never saw him.
His mother died in an accident that killed too many people on the ship. A crack from a rogue asteroid struck the ship and cracked the hull. The area had been locked down, but it was too late for those inside. His mother. My father.
The angels might live out of phase with the rest of the universe, but we were still subject to the rules of life and death. And death came that day.
But I still didn’t see the little boy. I didn’t know he would do anything in all the galaxies for me.
Life went on. We flew through the stars to a destiny none of us could see.
Chapter Five
Trilland burst out laughing and slammed his beer glass on the counter. “That’s awesome. You do that all the time when you sneeze?”
“Fuck you man,” I said, meaning it far more than he could possibly have realized. “Yes. I sneeze magical blue glitter.” I wiped my nose and threw the tissue in the trash, washing my hands.
“Is your snot blue and glittery?”
“No! What the shit?”
The past four weeks had been absolute hell for me. John and I were doing everything we could to cozy up to this sick son of a bitch and it was eating me alive. He had proved to be difficult to crack for about, oh…a nanosecond. It only took about three days of free drinks at the bar for him to show his true colors.
He was just a cheat, a snake oil salesman, to use the human phrase. Which was a great phrase.
Once he gave up the ruse, he would come in with and without Brami seemed sad but well cared for. There was nothing there to justify us taking her away from him.
The cult, meanwhile, was starting to really garner attention in Human circles. The meetings were gaining more and more attendees, and every night there was a show he would parade that poor, tired, clearly anxious little girl into the light. The tremble in her wings had started to disappear and was replaced with a slumped defeat. Her feathers weren’t quite as fine and soft anymore, and her father didn’t care.
And now Trill sat at my bar, making fun of my unfortunate side effects when I sneezed. Goddamned sparkling magic.
Leaning on the bar he stared at me. “So, you’re a genie, right?”
“Djinn, yes.” I wiped the counter again.
“What the hell is the difference?”
“One is the wrong word, one isn’t.”
He laughed drunkenly. “Nice. Good answer.”
“You’re the leader of the Litteris Antiquorum, what do you think the difference is?”
“You’re not blue or green and you don’t have a fancy head dress.” He took a swig of beer. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I care either. I mean djinn, genie. You all grant wishes.”
“A genie is a very Human construct that grants three wishes to whoever rubs the lamp. They are usually funny little green or blue smoke
people. Djinn,” I held my arm out and poked myself, “are very much not smoke, not blue or green, and have—” Whoa. I didn’t want to tell him about the limitless powers. “Uh, have a master.”
“You have a master? How does that work?”
Did I really want to tell this guy how I worked? I shook my head. “Look, Trill, this is some personal stuff we’re getting into. I don’t feel really comfortable telling you about how my abilities work.”
“But you don’t mind finding out about the way I’m running my church.”
Shit and damn. I didn’t want to do this. “Yes, then, okay. I have a lampmaster. —A lampmaster holds the lamp and controls every aspect of a djinn’s life. Whether we are confined or free, whether we can use our magic or not. They do get three wishes, or wants, and once that’s up they must pass on the lamp. When we find a mate or a spouse, we give them the lamp and the rules change.”
“An actual lamp?”
“Once upon a time, before we learned about electricity and how to fly from star to star, yes. They were oil lamps of all sorts.”
“You live it in?”
“Well, we’ve moved on from oil lamps, but we never lost the phrasing. We are confined to something analogous to it. It’s not really living when your whole essence is jammed into a 100 cubic inch space.”
“And anyone can make wishes?”
“No. You must be the lampmaster. The current master must turn the lamp over to you. You can’t just grab it and go. And there’s rules for wishes.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Haven’t you even read your own ancient literature? A story called ‘The Monkey’s Paw’?”
“The what?”
I rolled my eyes. I had been making my way through ancient Human literature and that story, The Monkey’s Paw, had really caught my attention. It made sense that it would because it was about an ill-thought-out wish. But then I remembered whom it was I was talking to and shook my head. “Never mind. It’s just about someone who makes a really bad wish.”
One Thousand Wishes, One Thousand Stars (The Complex Book 0) Page 3