Darkstone

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  She held out her hand, pleased when Naomi took it without compunction. Tugging, she stepped backward as she pulled Naomi toward the observatory before turning to walk beside her. They passed lawn monuments and models, entering the vast white building. Joram guided them past the ticket counter and information kiosk toward the stairs and the building café.

  “And this is all free?” Naomi slowed to study a passing display.

  “Yeah. There’s a planetarium and the occasional special show with entry fees, but the displays and other odds and ends are free to the public.”

  In a hushed tone, Naomi said, “I’ve never seen a planetarium show before.”

  Joram eyed Naomi. For her part, Naomi had become engrossed in a display of telescopes, unaware of Joram’s examination. Her obvious fascination with the scientific exhibits was in marked contrast to most of the women Joram had ever brought here. A typical Joram date consisted of dinner, drinks and dancing followed by a pleasurable evening in bed. Occasionally Joram took women on this tour, playing on the romanticism of a sunset hike overlooking the city to facilitate a night of passion. Her dates had always been keenly attuned to her prurient needs and not given to scholarly debate.

  But Naomi was a woman who had an intelligent streak, a woman in a university graduate program. Naomi was here because she was attracted to Joram, but it seemed that her pursuit of knowledge held almost as much appeal for her. Though the concept was alien to Joram, she had belatedly come to realize that if Naomi was any indication of the breed, smart was sexy and Joram had been missing out for years. Joram had enjoyed their dinner conversation last week, somehow unsurprised that Naomi’s mischievous appearance hid a keen wit and shrewd point of view. Joram had planned a late dinner after tonight’s guided hike, hoping to capitalize on the sunset romance and evoke more of those amazing kisses. She suspected Naomi needed intellectual stimulation more than the mere physical to open up, just as Joram needed musical stimulation to access the depths of her emotions. “Let’s do that then.”

  “Really?” Naomi blinked, her full attention back on Joram.

  Joram smiled at Naomi’s hopeful expression. “Yeah, let’s get tickets to tonight’s show.” She turned them around, doubling back to the ticket counter. “We can pick up something to eat on the way back to your apartment after.”

  Naomi looped her arm through Joram’s. “Are you sure?”

  Chuckling, Joram patted Naomi’s hand. “Nuh vex ya, empress. We won’t be trekking too far into the wilds.” They stopped at the counter, and Joram eyed the ticket information. She pointed. “There. The last showing of ‘The Universe’ is after eight thirty. We’ll be done with our hike by then.” She purchased the tickets and accepted a couple of pamphlets with information on other shows and a map of the exhibits.

  Naomi seized upon the pamphlets, eagerly opening the map to find their current location, her arm still hooked through Joram’s.

  Inordinately proud of herself, Joram retraced their steps toward the stairs and the cafeteria. “We’ve only got another half hour before the tour. Let’s get some water and maybe a snack.”

  * * *

  Naomi leaned back in her chair, staring up at the night sky above her. The narrator described the beginnings of the universe as the program zoomed toward a distant galaxy, the stars rushing toward her with such speed that she suffered an instance of vertigo. She clutched Joram’s hand, glad of the darkness concealing the heat of her cheeks. Another kind of warmth filled her as Joram tightened her hold, gracing Naomi’s knuckles with the briefest of kisses.

  The sunset beyond Los Angeles had been stunning. They’d spent an hour hiking a half-mile trail with two dozen other tourists, listening to their guide discuss the observatory and various celestial phenomena visible even in Southern California’s smog-filled atmosphere. The scent of pine had reminded Naomi of her home in the Carpathian Mountains, though the similarity had ended there. The Charlie Turner trail in the Berlin Forest was nothing like the forest near Inanna’s complex. Naomi’s homeland was a rich, moist one with thick groves of dark trees. Los Angeles was a desert and its forest dry and sparse, its trees fighting for minimal resources to survive. Yet even here there was the hint of wild beauty. She’d suffered a wave of homesickness at the smells, wishing she could return home and forget everything that had transpired since she’d come to the United States. Joram had chased the melancholy away, her gravelly voice reminding Naomi of moonlit conversations at Nathan’s monastery, of an enchanted intimate friendship that had supported her through her adolescent loneliness.

  Upon their return to the West Terrace, they’d had just enough time to reach the Samuel Oschin Planetarium. Now she rested after the hike, enamored of the artificial night sky above her, captivated by the woman holding her hand. In the darkness the atmosphere reminded her of her childhood, sitting in the dark, speaking to that disembodied voice. Joram’s physical presence beside her magnified the familiarity. Naomi felt whole. Joram completed her when Naomi hadn’t realized she’d been missing a part of herself.

  Which wasn’t to say she’d lost her common sense. She understood why Joram had brought her here. Naomi had tagged Joram as a player the moment they’d met. Joram was an attractive and confident woman who had more than enough sexual prospects in her future. With so many women seemingly available to her, she’d almost have to be. Her proverbial bedpost had to have quite the number of notches carved into it. Perhaps that view was unfair to Joram, but Naomi couldn’t discount her first impression as Joram had strutted and flirted with her audience from the stage.

  Joram had said she’d been here a few times before. Considering the majority of people on the guided tour had been couples, Naomi easily hazarded a guess that this was one of Joram’s go-to places for a romantic date. With the spectacular view of Los Angeles as the sun sank below the horizon, it wasn’t any wonder. Naomi bet that many of Joram’s previous dates went on to a candlelit dinner and dancing, perhaps ending the night in her bed. She’d been surprised, therefore, when Joram had set aside any salacious plans to attend a planetarium show with a European backwoods rube like Naomi. That action had endeared her more fully into Naomi’s heart, if that was possible.

  Though allowing Joram to lead the courting dance between them held some appeal, Naomi was nevertheless reluctant to move too fast. Fear stayed her libido, fear that this moment with Joram would be a simple dalliance rather than the deep, abiding relationship Naomi craved to experience with her. Fear also of the task set upon her as a teenager and its repercussions in her life. The memory of Inanna’s phone call sobered her.

  The show finished far too soon, forcing Naomi back to the present and reality. Melancholic, she stood and left the planetarium with Joram, wishing they could stay there in the dark together forever. Instead of escorting her out the main entrance, Joram took her to one of the observation terraces. Safety lights glowed yellow, illuminating a handful of other visitors quietly taking in the view. The sky above was studded with stars, only the brightest showing through the light pollution. Naomi gasped as she saw Los Angeles laid out before her, a sparkling jewel in a sea of light. Despite the sunset tour she hadn’t been prepared for the arrival of full darkness across the landscape. “This is beautiful.”

  Joram leaned her hip against the barrier. “Just like you.”

  Pleased with the compliment, Naomi slipped into Joram’s arms, turning to lean her back against her. They stood for a time watching the city lights glisten and gleam like a living thing, seeming to ebb and flow like the ocean waves. She felt safe and loved in this embrace, ridiculous really since she barely knew Joram. Everything she perceived was filtered through an event only she had experienced which made this heartfelt trust and respect suspect. “Have you ever had an imaginary friend?”

  “Not really. Not that I can recall anyway. Did you?”

  Disappointed, Naomi shrugged. “Yes.” She shouldn’t have said anything. This confirmation of her one-sided experience threatened her already shaky emotions
, adding another weight of sadness upon her shoulders. It would have been better to pretend there was the possibility they were connected in some spiritual way than to learn she was alone even in this.

  After a long pause, Joram squeezed her close. “What was your imaginary friend like?”

  Naomi sighed, forcing a smile. She’d started the conversation. She needed to carry it through. “A lot like you, actually.” She rubbed Joram’s arm, craning her neck to peer at her.

  “Devastatingly bashy?” Joram wiggled her eyebrows.

  She laughed, glad that Joram either hadn’t noted or had chosen to ignore Naomi’s slight pensiveness. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Hot. Devastatingly hot.” Joram kissed Naomi’s temple. “Like you.”

  Naomi leaned her head back, pillowing it against Joram’s cheek. “I don’t know. I imagine so. She was invisible to me.”

  “I wish I’d had an imaginary friend like you as a child.”

  The wistful timbre tugged at Naomi’s heart. She straightened and turned, caressing Joram’s face, watching the sadness fade into pleasure. “Thank you for bringing me here. I had a wonderful time.” She gave Joram a soft kiss.

  “Let me know if you’d like to attend any of the other shows. I’d be glad to bring you back.”

  Naomi weighed Joram’s words with a smile. While she suspected Joram’s choice of venue for this date was seductive, she didn’t detect any prevarication. She had a sneaky suspicion that Joram had enjoyed this evening just as much as she had. “I think that would be fun.”

  “Let’s go find something to eat, and I’ll get you home.”

  She let Joram escort her down from the observation deck, savoring the tender happiness and love in her heart. Maybe Joram would never return the sentiment, but that didn’t mean Naomi couldn’t enjoy her experiences while she had them. Within the year she’d commit a detestable act, one that would forever change her. For now she would follow Rebecca’s suggestion and live her life while she still had one.

  EXPOSURE

  “In my nightmares

  I’m exactly who you always wanted me to be.

  Exhausted by the lies—

  There’s no turning back now.”

  Joram Darkstone, Monster, Invocation

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joram burst into the dressing room, buzzing with energy and sweating buckets. The rest of Invocation trailed after her, equally overheated and exuberant. Ivan called out to the clamoring mass of crew and groupies in the corridor, “Ten minutes, people! Back off!” He pointed to two security guards as he closed the double doors. “You two keep ’em out.”

  Mopping her face with a towel, Joram accepted a beer from Chloe. “That was fucking maad! I swear they were going to attack the stage tonight!”

  Bayani poured a cup of ice water over his head. “Did you see that redhead front row left? Took her damn shirt off and waved her tits at me.” He laughed as Jubal threw a towel over his head, using it to dry his hair.

  “Chicks never did that at the Indigo.” Jarod had acquired a bottle of Jack Daniels and took a slug off it.

  “No they did not,” Bayani agreed with a lecherous grin.

  “I don’t know. The vibe seemed a little weird to me.”

  Joram glanced at Rand, noting her uncharacteristically subdued manner. Normally after a show she was as hyped as the rest of them, maybe more so. She was a competitive drummer and that aggressiveness always made her seem larger than life. Though she thrummed with energy, she wore an expression of concern. “What do you mean? I thought it went great. The audience was eating out of our hands.”

  Rand shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” She turned to the mirror and plucked at her hair, spiking it at the crown.

  Jubal snorted. “You be sometimish, dat’s all. You need a drink and a ooman.” He punctuated his statement with a long swallow of beer.

  Rounding on him, Rand said, “I ain’t moody, bitch! I’m just saying things felt different tonight, that’s all.”

  Joram held out her hands, one still brandishing a beer bottle. “Balance, you two! Yuh nuh get vexed. We just had a one of our best nights ever. Doan fret.”

  Rand rolled her eyes, shamefaced. In apology for his part in their squabble, Jubal offered her a beer, which she accepted. They gave each other a quick embrace, sealing the deal. Not for the first time was Joram pleased that these people were her bandmates. Despite the occasional spats brought on by spending too much time in one another’s company, they always pulled together. She couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

  They spent the next few minutes collecting themselves. Once everyone was hydrated and presentable, Chloe opened the doors to the fans waiting outside, each carefully picked by Ivan from the audience.

  Despite being aware that Naomi had a major test the following morning, Joram couldn’t help searching the crowd for signs of her presence. When she didn’t materialize, Joram set aside her resignation to spend the next couple of hours signing autographs or flirting with her fans.

  Without Naomi’s distraction, her thoughts focused on Rand’s comments about the evening’s gig. Having come down a bit from the onstage intoxication, Joram thought she had a better understanding of what Rand had meant. There had been something a little off about the gig, though not in an unsupportive way—at least the energy hadn’t seemed wholly negative to Joram. There’d been an unfamiliar edge of wildness to the audience tonight, yes. The faces she’d seen beyond the stage lights had been less euphoric, more drawn in blistering fierceness than the delighted joy to which she was accustomed. That didn’t invalidate the soaring sensation of the audience riding the high of the music with the band. Rather, the harsh atmosphere had given the collective experience a different spiritual texture.

  Spiritual texture. Joram huffed a laugh as the conversation around her swirled off onto another topic. That was something Naomi would say. Chloe approached with a fresh beer, looping her arm through Joram’s with a smile. Joram wondered what Naomi was doing right now. Probably buried in her books and notes.

  “I love your band!”

  Joram smiled at the newcomer, a large man with untamed long hair and a similar beard. “Thanks.” She recognized this fellow. He’d been down in front during the set, attempting to start a mosh pit. It had taken three security guards to subdue him and remove him from the area. How the hell did he get back inside?

  “I think your best song is ‘Rupture,’” he enthused, a wild gleam in his eye. He dressed like the stereotypical biker with dirty jeans, heavy boots and an aging leather jacket. A tribal tattoo covered half his face, disappearing into his brown beard. He looked like an extra on the set of a post-apocalyptic movie. Exuberant and out of tune, he sang the song’s chorus. “There’s never enough of me for you, you take and take and take, fuck you!” He crowed the last words, arms wide, his enthusiastic rendition creating a bubble of space in the noisy overcrowded room as people edged away.

  Joram eased Chloe behind her, still grinning at the gate-crasher. Adrenaline pulsed through her, warming her as she considered her options. She sensed more than saw Chloe melt into the mob of people, presumably to alert security of a potential problem.

  Her new friend continued raving, his wide smile fixed, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “You guys are fucking awesome! I can’t believe I’ve never heard of you before. I came to see the opening act, but they are abso-fucking-lutely lame compared to you guys! And I fucking loved that band before I heard yours!”

  The crowd pulled farther away from her visitor’s manic behavior, clearing more space around them. “Thank you. It’s always good to make a new fan.” This near, Joram knew he was high on something and it wasn’t their music. He didn’t smell of alcohol so his intoxication had to be chemically related. She doubted Ivan would have let this guy through; he did a meticulous job of screening backstage passes. A closer examination revealed the newcomer didn’t have a pass hanging around his neck or clipped to his jacket
.

  She saw Jubal emerge at the man’s left shoulder and Jarod materialize at her side. Glancing at the man’s empty hands, she scanned for visible weapons without seeing any. That didn’t mean he didn’t have one on him somewhere—if he could bypass security to get back here after being evicted from the venue, he certainly hadn’t passed the metal detectors at the public entrances. “Have you had a beer yet?” She stepped closer, gesturing toward the door. “You look thirsty. We’ve got a cooler set up over here.”

  The man licked his lips. “Yeah. I could go for a beer. Yeah!” He turned, catching sight of Jubal. “Dude! What’s your name? You’re so badass on that bass!” Swift as lightning he reached out and grabbed for Jubal’s hand.

  Jarod knocked his arm away, and Joram stepped sideways into their visitor to push him off balance. “Whoa! Sorry about that!” She grabbed his thick upper arms as if trying to regain her balance. “I think I might have had too much to drink myself.”

  He grabbed her elbows, fingers digging into the hollows of the joint. For a brief moment they stood face-to-face, his feral eyes glaring into hers. Time stopped. Joram’s world faded, her attention pinpointed by his intense expression, the sweat beading on his forehead. She thought she saw something behind his pupils, a fleeting fluid image that she couldn’t quite see. The sight fascinated her. She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer, attempting to see what was there. His snarl of fury faded as did his infuriated expression as they stared at one another.

  Sound and movement came back with a violent jerk. Jubal and Jarod were pulling her away from the biker while two well-muscled security guards took his arms. For a second, she fought her friends, annoyed with their interruption, needing to understand what she’d just seen.

  Chloe blocked her view, a familiar sight that mentally slapped Joram back to the present. “Stop it! Let it go, Joram!”