Heretics (Stars Edge: Nel Bently Book 4)

by V. S. Holmes

  She tugged Lin’s hand to draw her attention. “How can they play music? With audio?”

  Lin pointed down to the DJ. “It’s mostly live, I think. Maybe they have dampeners?”

  Between the handful of dancers on the floor below and the campy style, Nel’s anxiety melted away. Memories of blood and static drowned in the belly-boom bass and throb of neon.

  At the bartender’s head jerk, Nel leaned on the sticky steel and ordered their first round, plus an order of dolmades and shish taouk.

  Lin glanced around with a delicate frown. “Should we sit?”

  Nel chuckled and pointed to a secluded round couch that didn’t seem to be occupied. “Once I have some food in me and a few drinks, though, you can bet your ass I’m dancing.”

  Lin laughed with a head shake. “I’m not sure I’ll be up for that. Dancing was never my thing.”

  “Bullshit,” Nel insisted, navigating to their seat, drinks held aloft for safekeeping. Her gaze lingered on the lean muscle, the thoughtless grace as Lin settled into the padded Naugahyde seat. A second later Nel plopped down beside her and tapped her Stella against Lin’s Arak Ice Chill.

  “Thanks.”

  Lin took another deep sip. “For what?”

  “This. Coming with me.”

  “You think I don’t enjoy being here with you? Music and heat and cold drinks?” She nudged Nel’s elbow teasingly. “I’m not that alien.”

  Nel snorted. “I don’t know, someone wanting to spend more than a few days with me is a bit weird.”

  “Did you ever give someone the chance to, though?”

  “Fuck off,” Nel snapped jokingly. “Look, food.”

  An older person in latex with a full beard arrived, settling a tray of their food onto the table. They palmed the tip with a nod and disappeared.

  The food was a cacophonous delight. Nel groaned at the subtle richness of dolmades and the tang of the kabobs. “Seriously, for the melting pot of Odyssey, you lot could stand to import some spices.”

  Lin snorted. “You just haven’t spent enough time to taste the full array.”

  “True,” Nel agreed, catching her eye. “You taste like nothing else I’ve ever had.” She was rewarded by the peach flush high on Lin’s cheeks.

  The taller woman polished off another dolma and took a long, slow sip of her drink. “I miss the easy amp and damp of using ports, but your way is certainly more immersive.”

  “Amp and damp?” Nel questioned.

  “Amp up, or dampen your energy. Or mood, too.”

  Nel snorted. “So, like uppers and downers down here. Any of you guys get addicted?”

  Lin shrugged. “Sure, some people have difficulties, but it’s like any mental illness, we just treat it, you know?”

  Nel hummed, leaning back into the worn-in seat with a sigh. Beer and food softened her body. Thudding music awakened an answering thrum in her veins. As far as she had traveled, as long as she had been gone, this was her place. A dark bar, queer folk draped on every surface, liquor and food flowing. Before her eyes threatened to betray her, she levered herself up. Their plates were empty, and with another draw from her Stella, so were their drinks.

  “C’mon, spacegirl,” Nel whispered. “Someone as graceful as you must have taken like, space ballet as a kid.”

  Lin snorted. “If by space ballet you mean tai chi and kali, then sure.”

  Perhaps it was the neon glow, perhaps four near-death experiences in half as many years broke her understanding of attraction, but every new inch of Lin’s mind and body only lashed Nel’s heart tighter.

  “This isn’t music I know.”

  “It’s been two years since I was here, you think I know any of the pop songs either? Besides,” she rocked her hips again, dipping her shoulders in time to the wailing sitar, “dance is all about rhythm.”

  She grabbed Lin’s hand, towing the taller woman closer, then stepping back. Exhilaration pulsed through her, warm with alcohol, chilled with condensation dripping down her empty glass. This was Earth—hot night air, cold drinks, thundering music and a warm woman in her arms.

  “You alright?” Lin asked. “You look…”

  “Happy.” Nel pressed her back against Lin’s chest and lost herself to the neon cacophony.

  Four songs later and Nel staggered to the bar, flashing the bartender a smile. “Mind another?”

  He made a show of grudgingly splashing another round into a fresh glass, but by the time he slid it over to her, he was smiling again. “Nice to see people having that much fun. None of us seem to have the energy anymore, you know?”

  “Well, I’m glad I could spread a little fun.” She trailed off, uncertain how to finish. “Been rough where I was too. Guess I’m just grateful to pretend for a night.”

  His eyes lingered on her for a second, then flicked to Lin. “She’s from up there, isn’t she?”

  Nel froze, but the answer must have been written on her face, because he snorted.

  “See them a mile away. You seem to still know what dirt feels like.”

  “I know what you mean.” Something cold clawed up her spine. “About the dirt.”

  He hummed, friendliness seemingly having worn thin. “Just hope you lot don’t stay long. Extra mouths and drama do not help.”

  “Nah, we’re moving on,” a voice chirped. The woman who boarded the train the day before slid a handful of bills across the bar. “Trouble you for a Butler’s?”

  The bartender wordlessly stepped away.

  Nel’s gaze narrowed on the scarf and tank, fairly certain they were the same ones from before. “What’d you say your name was again?”

  The woman laughed, turning to face Nel better. “Didn’t.”

  “Journalist?”

  The woman’s brows shot up. Her lilt was British but with an added burr. “Impressive. How’d you know?”

  “Boots and scarf peg you as in-the-field. Doubt we’d pick up a paleontologist and we’re already rotten with archaeologists. Lastly, that.” She jerked a thumb at the Jericho on the woman’s hip. “Archies are notorious for bringing trowels to gunfights.”

  “Conflict journalist.” She offered a callused palm. “Andy Gull. Conflict journalist.”

  “Nel, archaeologist.” Nel shook the hand firmly. “Bit concerning your work brought you here.”

  “Not a fan of conflict?”

  Nel chuckled. “More like I’ve had enough to last a lifetime. Most of it my fault, arguably.”

  “That’s why I learned to focus on other people’s and take off before mine hit the fan.” Andy joined her laugh. “Love to hear some of your stories. Wanted to grow up to be you when I was a kid.”

  “Right back atcha.”

  Andy scanned Nel, gaze lingering on her shoulders and the muscle of her forearms. “What kid wants to grow up to be shot at trying to tell the truth?”

  “One who was already under fire for her own.” Nel shrugged. “Just realized I preferred my people dead.”

  “Most of mine end up that way too, you know.” Andy looked away. “Guess I went for the gun and danger and you went for the history.”

  “And the fashion,” Nel deadpanned.

  “Here alone?”

  “No, my, ah—” She faltered on the words. Another time, another bar, Nel would have said yes. She would have crawled into a stranger’s bed, flushed from the threat of gunfire in a foreign country. She had with Lin, after all. “Lin’s in the bathroom.”

  “Holy shit, you’re the famed Nalawangsa’s wife? That must be wild.”

  “Not wife,” Nel scrambled to explain. “Just, um…”

  “I got it,” Andy assured wryly. “So, how’d you get wrapped up in this? Don’t look like an IDH egghead.”

  “I’m not. IDH hijacked the site that was supposed to make my career. No, not a bit bitter about it.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Who’s bitter?” Lin asked, sidling up to the bar. Her gentle halo of
frizz from the heat and lack of climate control brought a smile to Nel’s face.

  “Just talking shop. This is Andy,” Nel introduced. “She’s a—”

  “Reporter. I know,” Lin answered, though her tone was anything but friendly. “Brought some interesting information to us the other day. Shouldn’t you be moving on by now?”

  “Soon. I’m actually here on work. Probably head out once I get some deets off you lot for my client.” Tension crackled in the beer-scented air.

  Lin snorted, knocking back the shot Nel pressed into her hand. “I’m sure there’s a hundred bottom feeders looking to score on our tech. Killed a few of them on our way here.”

  “Anyway!” The warning at the back of Nel’s skull exploded into red alert. “Good to meet you. Gonna get some more dancing in while we can.”

  Lin shot a glare over her shoulder as Nel towed her away from the bar and back to the undulating press of the dance floor. “I hate them.”

  Nel’s brows arched. “Yeah, I got that. I thought she was just helping out.”

  “If by helping out you mean trading our secrets to hell-knows-who and giving us nothing but judgement and rumors in return, sure.” She snagged the drink from Nel’s hand and drained half of it.

  Nel took it back with a frown. “You good?”

  Lin glanced at her, but whatever she saw caught her attention and she stilled. “Yeah. I’m sorry. This is supposed to be fun. I’m trying. It’s just hard to unwind, especially when I have the person claiming my brother is behind all this flirting with my girlfriend.”

  “I said I was with you. It was professional sparring, nothing more.” Nel half expected sparks to arc between their skin as she cupped Lin’s jaw with one hand. Lin’s head tipped, eyes a haze of desire and danger that Nel couldn’t resist. She could have whispered for Nel to walk into space itself and she would obey, unquestioning, just for the thrill of being wanted.

  “Where’d you learn to dance?” Lin asked after a beat. “Everyone down here that good?”

  Nel snorted, not minding the subject change. Nothing was better at ruining a perfectly good evening than IDH bullshit. “Fuck, that was just white girl with a bit of spice. Dated a choreographer in grad school for a minute. Wasn’t a day that went by that woman wasn’t grooving. No way she’d let me be seen on the floor with her if I couldn’t at least keep up.”

  “So, is everything cool that you know because of a girl?” Lin didn’t seem convinced, but it didn’t matter.

  Nel reached up, trailing ice water from their drink down the hollow behind Lin’s ear. Nel backed onto the dance floor, swaying, dropping her hips, one shoe twisting with the beat. “I crossed the stars for you. I think that takes the cake.”

  A firm hand tapped Nel on the shoulder and Lin’s smile fell with a clatter.

  The bartender stood on the edge of the dance floor with a tired expression. “Sorry, ma’am. You and your friends need to leave.”

  Nel sought out Andy in the crowd. She was on the upper level, gestures sharp, engrossed in some hissed conversation. The muffled bubble of booze popped. “Sure.”

  “You’re kicking us out?” Lin snapped. “She’s not even with us—”

  “Lin,” Nel insisted. Her grip on the woman’s hand tightened. She handed the bartender a bill without looking and pulled Lin from the dance floor, ignoring her commentary. It was only when they were outside, in the stillness of the desert night, that she turned back. “Enough.”

  Surprise stalled Lin’s protests.

  Nel jabbed a finger at the sign by the door. “Things have changed.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lin insisted. “We’ve helped them so much.”

  “There’s a lot happening right now, and none of it seems to make sense,” Nel explained. “And regardless of the truth in Andy’s reports, or whatever, it’s not their business. I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve been told to take my bullshit outside, and I can empathize with that guy not wanting his bar dragged into our space-drama. No matter their intentions, Lin, you can’t argue that IDH complicates things. Just look at my life since I added you. When we stood on Samsara you saw with your own eyes that the rules, as you call it, of your world weren’t what you thought. Why is it so hard to believe there might be more you didn’t see? That it might take being on the outside,” she pressed her shaking hand to her chest, “to see at all?”

  Andy strode from the bar, interrupting Lin’s confusion. She shot them a cocky wave before disappearing deeper into the city.

  Lin barely acknowledged the journalist’s passing. Her brittle expression fixed on Nel, composure cracking under the pressure of her missing brother, her unstable career, her noncommittal lover. “Nel, my family has a lot of privilege. With that comes a lot of knowledge. I grew up knowing things about our corner of the universe some people never learn.”

  “Is that fair?” Nel asked.

  “Things work better that way. I believed what I saw on Samsara. I knew enough about the tension, the arguments, to trust my eyes. But thinking that disdain for human life, that disappointment, runs so deep that IDH is infected? That we’re next, that Earth is next? And somehow not even one of the most powerful families knows? That’s conspiracy.”

  Nel shrugged. “From where I’m standing, Lin, all that already happened for me. And I can’t see how your intergalactic government is above it.”

  Lin reached out, hands brushing Nel’s for a moment before coming up to cup her face. “We don’t have to agree. You don’t have to trust them. Just trust me. And I’ll do the same, alright?”

  “Okay,” Nel promised, though the pit in her stomach told her nothing had really changed, despite all the pretty words. “It doesn’t come easy to me.”

  “Trust or love?”

  Nel glared at her. “Either. But right now, we’re focused on trust.”

  Silence yawned between them for a moment, then another. “Did you ever feel it? For anyone? Anything? That you loved them.”

  “Yes. Once. But I only said it to Mikey and my parents.”

  Lin tilted her head. “But you dated a lot?”

  “A lot a lot. I got the nickname Shane in college.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s from a campy lesbian show. Never mind. Regardless, I got around. Even hooked up with a few men—never Mikey, before you ask, that’s foul. What about you?”

  Lin looked away. “Two. After what happened between Dar and Paul, I just couldn’t bear the thought. I didn’t think anything was worth that pain. It’s not like anyone even did anything wrong there, it was just time and distance and fuck, Nel, up there sometimes it seems like all we have is time,” she looked up, “time and distance.”

  Nel sat back, wondering who else had been caught in the tractor beam of Lin’s energy. The right thing to do would be to take her hand. So she did. “Honest, Lin, down here, with the dust and desperation, we never have enough of either.” She bit her lip, drawing clarity and blood. “Maybe the two of us will balance it out, eh?”

  “Do you regret it? Coming with me?”

  Fear threatened to flood their tremulous connection. Nel frowned down at their hands. Hers, battered, scarred, freckled. Lin’s elegant, tawny with potential and hidden strength. I owe her more than a shrug, more than a lie. “How can I look at everything I’ve learned about the world and say I’d rather be ignorant? How can I look at the people down here, screaming in the streets, and wish I were them? It’s fucked up, and I know that. I thought I handled things. Thought I was strong. Thought I was better. The best, sometimes. More than I really should have.”

  “But?” Lin’s words were whispered wind swept away in the storm in Nel’s chest.

  “Turns out I was just fast. And maybe there’s a reason why every time I run, you’re right there next to me. But now it’s all caught up to me. And there’s nowhere left to go.”

  Lin tucked a stray mud-blonde hank of hair away from Nel�
��s sunburned face. “Maybe just stop running for a bit? You always tell me to take a breather.”

  “I don’t think I can pick up all the stuff I’ve scattered. Almost forty years of flotsam feelings, bruised love, destroyed kindness,” Nel answered, unable to meet Lin’s eyes, unable to look anywhere but at the disaster left in their wake. She started back toward the dark, quiet shadow of their base.

  “Then don’t.” Lin jogged up, walking backward, perhaps hoping Nel might meet her eyes. “Something you learn really young, in space, is to bring only what you need. When I was little it felt Spartan, I think. But the older I get the more I realize it was just understanding what was important. And what wasn’t. You bring only what you need. Only what you must to get where you’re going. Too heavy? Jettison it. Too complicated? Redesign it.”

  Nel shoved her scarred hands into her cargo shorts’ pockets. A fire burned in her chest, and the light cast strange shadows. “What if you can’t? What if it’s always heavy and complicated?”

  Lin’s arm slipped through Nel’s. “Then you say damn the cost, damn the time, damn the entire universe. It’s coming with me.” The whispered promise clung to the air.

  Nel squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears. Thank you. But saying it aloud would be an admission that she was heavy, complicated, and frankly something Nel herself would send out the airlock if given half a chance.

  “What I’d do to just keep a piece of you.” Lin dragged them to a halt. The soft chill of night eddied around them and Nel smelled the intimacy on her hair. “Not all of you. Not forever, even, if you couldn’t. But just a piece for me alone.”

  Instincts screamed for her to bolt, but Nel knew better than to pull away. The weight of Lin’s gaze, the warmth of her skin, dampened the sparks of terror on the edge of Nel’s mind. You can have my everything, Lin. As long as you don’t ask for it. She opened her mouth to answer, but Lin’s lips covered hers and she abruptly forgot how words even fit together.