Someone opened the door and came in behind them, “Bit drab, wouldn’t you say?”
It was Shiro.
Holly blinked. “Shiro? How did you—”
“Come now, Ms. Drake. How else? I followed you.”
“Yes, but . . . why?”
“Odeon,” Shiro said, nodding at Odeon and taking off his bowler.
“Hello, Shiro.” If Holly wasn’t mistaken, Odeon’s expression seemed an awful lot like a scowl.
“You followed us. But was that absolutely necessary? You could have just come along.”
“I would have, but it wasn’t my desire to join you in the first place. I came because of Charly.”
“Charly had you follow me?”
“She doesn’t want the headquarters to move, Holly Drake. Everyone knows.” Odeon crossed his arms and stared hard at Shiro. Holly noticed, and wondered if they’d had an argument when she wasn’t around. She thought they had been getting along, but group dynamics could change, as annoying as that would be for the overall work.
“He is, of course, right. Charly asked me to lay low and see what you were up to.”
“And then what? Put on a white sheet and pretend to be a ghost so I’d think it was haunted and we didn’t move the headquarters?”
Shiro laughed as he sauntered across the large room and looked out the windows. “She hadn’t specifically requested a ghost-show, but I think I could pull one off. I usually opt for distractions involving the living,” he put his fingers together and held them to his lips like a plotting mad-scientist, “but a haunting. That could be fun. Of course the Japanese are experts about ghosts.“
“I’m sure they are. Whose ancestors weren’t?”
He made an affirmative sound, paused, and then pursed his lips. “Ms. Drake, it isn’t up to me. However, is moving the headquarters absolutely the best option at the moment?”
Holly frowned and joined him at the window. She glanced over her shoulder at Odeon. He’d moved to the kitchenette area and was leaning against it, his arms still crossed, his gaze on Holly and Shiro at the windows.
“I don’t see why Charly hasn’t spoken to me about it.”
“She claims that she has, and that you didn’t listen. Is that what happened?”
Holly knew everything she was saying to Shiro could be heard by Odeon, despite how their voices had dropped into a low register. “Maybe she did. So much has been happening, there are days I forget what’s gone on.”
Shiro laughed. “Well, do you think you’ll purchase this spot? Begin moving in immediately?”
Holly considered it. It was frustrating to sense that things with the crew were happening behind her back. Yet it was reasonable to expect that. She was the leader. And despite not loving that position, she’d brought the group together, secured their income, and was bringing in new jobs. What she didn’t want to do was unilaterally make decisions that impacted everyone.
“No. At least not yet. I think Charly and I need to have a conversation before I make a big decision like this. It is kind of immature, though. Having me followed. Why didn’t she just stop me and talk about it, even if it required talking to me about it more than once?”
“Charly is a complex mystery. A woman who has lovely and vast emotional swings. She’s loud and bold, yet capable of concealing her truest feelings. I don’t pretend to have a code that can decipher all her most complicated motives. Crikey, I don’t even think Charly knows what she thinks or wants most of the time. She could use a decoder of her own to figure herself out.”
“So you’re saying—go talk to Charly. Because she’s not going to opt for a confrontation with me.”
“That is precisely what I’m saying.”
Holly frowned and glanced at Odeon again. He tilted his head to one side as though asking her a a question.
“I guess we should head back to the club, then. This place won’t last. Someone else will get it. But I’m not going to throw money at it and start furnishing it and move the team here if there are warring factions in the crew.”
“Warring factions?” Shiro spun his cane and put on a confused expression.
“Seems like you’re on Charly’s team, Shiro. So yes, factions.”
“You mistake me, Ms. Drake. I understand Charly’s position, but I, in no way, believe that you should count me on a certain team. I’ll go where the crew goes. I’m not convinced one spot is better than another. Except my own condo.”
“Of course your own condo.”
“Well it’s lovely. Have you been there?”
“Never been invited.”
“Open invitation. I should have a party, shouldn’t I? Then you can see it without feeling obligated to pay me a visit.”
“Oh, I don’t feel obligated to pay you a visit now.”
Shiro laughed.
As they left, Odeon fell into step beside Holly. “You should do what you think is best, Holly Drake.”
“I am. I will. I didn’t know Charly was that set against moving the HQ. I thought she was getting sick of us filling up her office all the time. Guess I was wrong.”
7
Somehow Darius had convinced Odeon and Shiro to play a game of dice with him. They were seated around the low coffee table, using it as the board, novas were on the table, and they were taking turns rolling.
Holly sat at Charly’s desk, looking over a list on a v-screen of the things they had deduced about the Shadow Coalition. It was strange that Holly knew so little. That everyone knew so little about such a well-known organization.
The common knowledge was sparse—it was big, there were a lot of moving parts, and it had nerves that spread through all the 6-moon system. What she couldn’t figure out was what they wanted with the children. Her initial suspicion was that it was had been something so sinister and horrid that she could hardly bring herself to consider it.
Stealing children in any way was terrible. But there were some things worse than others. Things that seemed irrevocable in terms of a person’s redemption in the eyes of humanity.
Whatever it was, the organization wanted children. And they were willing to take them. Which meant that at the heart of it, there was money. Because it always came back to money.
Holly typed in the things she knew and paused to think. Shiro let out a sudden cry as he rolled something terrible, and lost half his stack of novas. Holly laughed. As though he needed the money. She would wager that the playboy had more money than all of their current fortunes combined.
What is the structure? Holly typed, looking down at her v-screen. She preferred paper and pencil, but Charly didn’t exactly have that laying around and Holly hadn’t brought any along, so she settled for the modern means of making notes. Then she typed, Who is at the top?
She wanted to bring it down, as much as Dave the Official did. She knew his name. It wasn’t Dave, but she didn’t want to think of him in terms of his actual name, because familiarity like that could cause it to slip out. And his cover would be blown, and therefore some level of his safety and Holly’s safety.
But at its heart the Shadow Coalition was just that, a shadow organization that worked by being obscure, hiding its methods, hiding its structure and the things that could be torn out in order to ruin it.
“Hang on, one minute. Getting a call,” Darius said, pulling his communicator out. He flipped the oblong object open. “Darius Jackson.”
For the first time, Holly wondered if that was Darius’ real name. Charly Stout wasn’t Charly’s real name. Odeon Starlight, not his real name. Shiro Oahu, not his real name. As far as she could tell, the only person with a real name was herself. Possibly Darius.
“Sure, no problem. Let me check.” His voice sounded slightly disturbed. He put his phone down. “So Drake. We done with the Skelty Key?”
Holly sat forward, lifting her eyebrows in suspicion. “Why? Who is that, Darius?”
“One guess.”
“Voss?” Damn that woman. Holly knew this day would come, but she
’d put off thinking about it, hoping that perhaps the woman would forget to come seeking the Skelty Key.
“Right. Aimee Voss. She wants it back. You want her strolling in here and grabbing it?”
“Hell no.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“She’s a hard one, Voss. She wants it right now. Today. And she knows where I am . . . somehow.”
“I’ll meet her. Now. We can give it back. I don’t want her here.” Holly’s gaze flicked to Shiro, then Odeon. Both crew members watched her thoughtfully. It was obvious she was just worried about their safety, wasn’t it? That to have Voss at the Bird’s Nest would compromise all their safety. “Set it up, Darius.“
“Where?”
“That bookstore. The Earl’s Crown Bookstore. The one on Koot street.”
“We have a bookstore here?” Darius put the communicator back up to his ear and set it up.
Shiro and Odeon were still watching her. Her cheeks went hot. “What?”
“Ms. Drake, I should be there with you. Voss knows me. We had . . . a connection.”
Holly cringed inwardly. Damn. The last person she wanted around Voss was Shiro, but she couldn’t come up with a good excuse on the spot to turn him down. “Fine.”
Odeon made a noise. “Holly Drake. I would like to accompany you as well.” Holly looked at her Druiviin friend, wondering if he was finally in. He wore his hair up in the traditional bun that she’d seen only one other time on him before—back at the resort on Itzcap where his parents lived and worked. He looked beautiful, but she wasn’t sure why he was wearing it that way, unless it was to take back what he’d give up, as a statement. She could see that—deciding that the power you thought taken from you was yours again, so you no longer needed to rebel against it.
“You’re welcome to come as well, Odeon Starlight. Are you ready for your retainer?” She sighed in relief that her good friend wanted to be there as well. Odeon shook his head in response to the retainer question. She was going to get him to accept it, finally. She would.
Shiro ogling Voss was going to be a nuisance. But what else could she do? Demanding Shiro not go along would look mighty suspicious. And the reason she didn’t want him to go was merely because he’d throw himself at her and then beg Holly to let him invite her onto the team. As it was, Holly suspected they’d walk away from the meeting with Voss in possession of not just the Skelty Key, but Shiro’s real name and a contact information.
There wasn’t much she would be able to do about that. But. If he became compromised purely for a romp in the sack with Voss, she’d replace his ass so fast he wouldn’t know what had hit him.
* * *
Soon Holly, Shiro, and Odeon walked through the city and found themselves at the Earl’s Crown. It was a marvel. A thing of Earth that one person had dreamed of and dared to bring across the impossible distances of the vast universe. Holly sometimes wondered how it had happened. What the conversation had sounded like between the pilots of the vessels and ships that crossed the distances and carried the things of Earth into the new world, and the person who wanted to bring the bookstore with them.
“Books?” The bookstore owner had perhaps explained, she imagined.
A Centau pilot or official: “Mmmm. No. Heavy. No fuel of mine will be wasted on these meaningless objects.”
“But . . . books? They’re historical. They’re invaluable.”
“What is a book?”
“They hold within them the collected wisdom and stories of our entire race. They condense time and place into one object. They reflect the mores and values of a culture in a way that nothing else can: through the lens and filter of words. Even the words matter, because words change over time. A word that means one thing can alter in as little as ten Earth years.”
“Then what is the sense in preserving them if they changes so drastically in such a short amount of time?” Centau could live as long as two hundred Earth years. A word changing in ten years would be a different experience for them.
“Please. It will become a temple to humans. And the other races will marvel at its uniqueness.”
At least, that’s the argument Holly thought had won, because there was absolutely no other reason to allow such a massive collection to cross those unfathomable distances.
The bookstore itself was like a temple, or what Holly imagined that word meant. A synagogue. A church. Very few temples and other religious-based buildings existed in the 6-moon region—religions had mostly dissipated the moment the Centau showed their faces on Earth. She’d heard, recently, of a religion that had started somewhere in the 6-moons, that supposedly worshiped the Centau as gods. The idea had caused her to spit out the beer she’d just taken a sip of. Imagine it! The Centau: gods.
Well. Maybe they were. The old concept of god was one that had always seemed so smug, just like the Centau.
The bookstore filled a small spire that was sandwiched between two standard, giant spires in the Lavender Jade district. Each floor was dedicated to its own thing, some of them not books. It wasn’t a library, but a store. So books could be bought, sold, traded. There were other curios as well, but everything seemed to concern history and information.
The three of them entered through the glass doors that were outfitted with stained glass that depicted scenes from famous stories. Holly had visited the bookstore enough that she knew the stories they were from. The left side stained glass image showed a woman dressed in old clothing, a dress, standing with her hand held softly in the hand of a man wearing a high collared shirt and both of them were smiling. There was a quote beneath it, “The distance is nothing when one has a motive.” The other depicted a giant fire, and the things in the fire were books. It was a curious depiction—why would the original owner of the bookstore want to memorialize a story about burning books?
He was a very old man, the original owner, and only appeared in the bookstore on rare occasions. He’d benefitted from some of the medical advancements that contact with the Druiviin and Centau had bestowed upon humans. Holly had met him a few times. His dark human eyes had unnerved her—they were brown, but dark enough to almost be the center of a black hole. They swallowed her as though he were sizing her up and determining which book he could stuff her into. Usually he was smoking, even amidst his prized books. For pain, he said.
Today he was there when Holly and her crew showed up. They walked into the center of the room. It was as vast as a cathedral. Shelves lined the entire place. The center of the spire was hollow and reached all the way to the top—around the edges the floors rose, filled with stacks and stacks of shelves that held innumerable books. The Constellations, as primitive as they were (like humans) also kept books. And so the bookstore carried Constellation literature.
Voss was already there when they arrived. She stood before the counter where a clerk worked, and the original owner of the bookstore sat, smoking, a purplish haze surrounding his face.
As Holly and her crew approached, Voss could be heard asking him which books were his favorite.
“I don’t have a favorite. I don’t read much.”
Voss started, her expression changing to shock. Holly herself had once conducted a similar conversation with the bookstore owner. “You don’t read? Then why do you . . . Do what you do?”
“I’m a caretaker. I love books. But there are too many to read. So I am their shepherd. I rebind them. I cover them with protective sleeves. I preserve the knowledge they hold.”
Holly leaned close to Shiro. “He told me that once too. It’s kind of . . .”
“Beautiful,” Shiro finished for her. They exchanged a surprised look. “This is one of my favorite places in the entire City of Jade Spires.”
Holly leaned away from him, her view of Shiro changing in an instant. “Mine too.”
“Ah, Jace,” Voss said as they reached the counter. “I wondered if you’d come. I’d hoped you would.”
“Ms. Voss,” Shiro said in greeting. “Please, allow me to introdu
ce my colleagues, Ms. Drake and Mr. Starlight.”
“We’ve met,” Voss said, giving Holly and Odeon a grimace more than a smile.
“Wonderful to see you again,” Holly said, knowing that her face must have said otherwise.
“I’m sure.” Voss moved away from the counter. “Shall we go over here, for privacy?” She led them to an area with shelves situated around a rug, low bamboo tables, and arm chairs. They each took a seat. “I come here to relax, to read, to fill out my latest fetish: books.”
“I love books as well,” Shiro said.
“Oh please, Shiro, stop,” Darius said in their earpieces. Holly grinned, thankful she didn’t have to interrupt Shiro’s butt-kissing, that Darius would do it instead.
“I really do.”
Voss looked taken aback. “I didn’t question it.” Then she realized. “Oh, someone in your ear?”
Shiro tried to look busy, suddenly interested in his fingernails.
“That Darius?” Voss asked.
Holly pulled the Skelty Key out of her bag. “Let’s get down to it.” She handed it over. “This is what you wanted?”
Voss took the Skelty Key from Holly. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Great,” Holly said, standing up. “Thanks for letting us use it. We’ve got other things to do, so we’ll just be going.”
Voss also rose. “One minute. I had something else. Can we please sit back down for a moment?”
Holly glared at the woman. Her face, hair, everything about her was impeccable. Dark, flowing locks with just the right amount of curl. Eyes that seared through Holly with their green intensity. A smile that lit the world on fire. And she was dressed in the traditional Druiviin attire like she could put on the culture of other races at will and meld into the background. She was impossible to like, but impossible to hate as well.
“Fine.” Holly lowered herself back to the chair. “What?”
“You’re a crew, right?” Voss said.
“Of course,” Shiro answered. “That is. We’re friends. And we sometimes work together.” His soft brown cheeks colored slightly. He was dangerous around Voss—he wanted to impress her so much that he’d tell her whatever she wanted to know. Holly wondered right then just how he’d avoided telling her his real name back on Itzcap when he was going by Jace.
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