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One day he’ll wear them again, but hopefully never learn to wear them properly.
Bring my son back to me, and I’ll leave Luna, I pray. But who hears a prayer to no one? Not Victra. She believes only in the power of herself. I hope it is enough. It must be enough.
Out the gabled window, water laps against the stone stairs that lead down to the lake. Beyond the shadowed trees, the estate’s Lionguard detail patrol, here only to protect Deanna, Darrow’s mother. She hates Luna, but lingers here as if knowing Darrow will need her when he comes back. I turn over an enigmatic device I find under Pax’s pillow. Something he built from the parts of six others. He had a meeting scheduled with Quicksilver to try to market it for his consumer products division. Was it for this? I activate its trigger and it emits a soft hum. I angle the concave projector toward myself and dip into a stream of opera. I tilt it away
and the stream disappears. Elegant.
“He built that for you.” I look up and see Deanna at the door. “He thought you could have your guards use it on you in all those meetings of yours.”
“Always thinking of others.” I set the device down on the bedside table. “It’s a fly in amber,” I say. “The rooms that remain. When your husband died, what did you do with his possessions?”
She leans against the doorframe. It tires her to stand too much these days. Barely over fifty, she’s had a hard life. “Used what we could. Bartered the rest for rations. Darrow liked to eat.” She searches my face. “I’ve spent enough time in the past, love. The dead need no tears. They don’t rest easier for our vengeance, or our guilt.” She shrugs. “They’d want us to live. And life’s about the now and the future, eh? Dale gave me three wee ones to remember him by. I’m lucky at that. And they gave me more wee ones to love. And they’re all still breathin’, far as I know, so don’t start wallowin’ now. We got our family to save, hear?”
“I think you might be the only person alive who still scolds me,” I say.
“That’s because I’m the only one you still need to impress,” she says with a grin. “Now off your ass, lass, the man’s just landin’ and he’s gonna be mad as a piter at me.”
* * *
—
Laughter comes from outside the house. The front door opens with a creak. An engine powers down. Shuffling footsteps come my way. Dancer limps with Deanna around the kitchen corner. His smile dies as soon as he sees me.
“Well, ain’t this the dirtiest of traps,” Dancer says. “Since when did you stoop to politics, Deanna?” He turns to leave, but Deanna blocks him.
“Don’t be a bloodydamn idiot. Either of you. You’ve been like two bickering hands. It’s embarrassing. Now sit. Sit,” she snaps. Grumbling, Dancer takes a seat across from me. Deanna shuffles to the stove and ladles out three bowls of beef stew. “I slaved over this for hours. By the time you’re done eating, you will have come to an agreement. Or I’ll be back here to paddle the shit out of your ears. Hear? Now I’ve got pants to patch. Can’t have Pax coming back to holes in his knees as well as his family.”
When Dancer found out from the media that Pax had gone with Victra on vacation to Mars, he was not pleased at missing a chance to say farewell to my son. He was as much a grandfather to the boy as Kavax was. A cruel ruse, but necessary to dispel his curiosity at Pax’s sudden disappearance. We linger in awkward silence. I’ve always felt very much a slaver in the old Red’s eyes. Guilty for my height, my health, and suddenly feeling foolish for the expense of my clothes.
Dressed in a scuffed brown jacket, leather boots, and drab gray pants, the resilient man makes no airs. In fact, he more resembles a Martian agriculturalist than the terrorist captain who became a senator who became a Tribune. He sits down to shovel stew in his mouth to get it over with. I join him. He pauses. “That third bowl isn’t for Deanna, is it?” He looks around warily, focusing on the open window and the dark gardens outside. Pachelbel twitter in the trees.
“You’re like a desiccated turd, old man.” Dancer wheels about as Sevro parts from the shadows near the pantry. “Must be hard holding back a fleet all by your lonesome.”
“Sevro. You are one stupid bastard.”
“Says the pot to the kettle.” Sevro sits on the counter, one leg dangling off.
Dancer glances to the hallway that leads to the front atrium. “I brought a cohort of Wardens. If they saw you here, at the scene of the crime…”
“Nah.” Sevro draws Tickler from his boot and starts cutting his nails. “Those blue capes hate getting dirty almost as much as the Pixies wearing them.”
“They’re burning down the city chasing after you.”
“Instead of chasing the Syndicate,” Sevro replies. “Well done, them.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Wulfgar founded them. Just as you did the Howlers. This time they’ll go for the kill.”
“Then don’t invite them in,” I say, annoyed. “Sevro will behave.”
“Virginia, now is not the time for the Sovereign to be sharing stew with fugitives. No matter who they are. Or how untouchable she thinks she is.”
“A fugitive leads our best army,” I remind him.
“Lass, don’t false-equivocate. Mercury ain’t Luna. This is supposed to be the heart of law and order. At current tally, that human right there is wanted for sixty-eight counts of homicide and a hundred more capital offenses, half of which are against the state.” Sevro just stares at him. “I will not reduce my office to meeting with secret cabals. That is beneath us now. We are not the Sons of Ares. We are legitimate. I will act that way, even if you do not….”
He heads for the door, wanting so hard to be legitimate.
“Pax and Electra didn’t go with Victra to Mars. They were kidnapped by the Syndicate,” I say. He freezes. “That’s why Sevro has been on Luna. That’s why he’s in this room, amongst other reasons.” Dancer blinks, processing, then exhales and slumps back into his seat in pain. I glance at Sevro. He watches Dancer without even a hint of affection.
