Tess glanced at him, her head tilted to one side. “‘The ocean my secrets keep, its waves whispering echoes from the deep.’”
“‘Mysteries abound; mysteries profound,’” Shade continued for her, his heart speeding up.
“‘Until currents carry them to their final sleep, and then the abyss may them reap.’” They finished together, her smiling, and him feeling like he’d been hit by a wrecking ball.
Was he going to have to hand over to the Dark Watch the only person he’d actually liked in a decade?
“You’ve read Tynhill?” Tess asked, beaming.
“Hasn’t everyone?” Shade sounded hoarse.
“No.” She laughed. “And most people can’t recite her poems, either.”
“Yeah, well, those are good ones,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
A small, dark animal waddle-ran across the sand and plunged into the water near Tess’s ankles.
She yelped and jumped behind Shade, clinging to his shoulders. “What was that?”
Shade peered at the water. Whatever it was, it was gone. “I don’t know. A flerver?”
“What the hell is a flerver?” Tess cried.
“You’re scared of a flerver?” Shade couldn’t help it; he started laughing.
“I don’t know what a flerver is, you idiot!”
“Small. Brown.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Webbed feet. Semiaquatic.”
“Do they bite?” she asked, not letting go of him.
“Yes. Very hard.”
“What?” She practically jumped on his back, knocking into him.
Shade slid to the side, wrapped an arm around her waist, and propelled her toward dry sand. His feet were freezing. “Just kidding. They’re harmless.”
Tess whirled on him, scowling. “Why do you do that?”
Because teasing her was the most fun he’d had in years.
He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger just a little longer than he knew he should. “I know you’re brave. Why are you scared of a little animal?”
She shivered. “We’re all scared of something, right? It’s only human.”
He nodded, the levity draining from him again. It had been like that all evening—highs and lows until he felt like a yo-yo. “Yeah, you’re right.”
As they collected their shoes and socks and got ready to walk back to his cruiser, Shade realized he was starting to feel pretty damn terrified himself.
For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do.
Chapter 13
I left the Squirrel Tree at dusk after an uneventful day with no sign of Shade. My anxiety level amped up the second I hit the streets with a large hover crate full of contraband books. I wasn’t sure what made me more nervous as I headed toward Susan’s bookstore—the fact that the books were all unsanctioned by the galactic authorities, or the fact that they were all stolen.
Only the latter would get me into immediate trouble, but the former wasn’t great, either. It could leave me open to questioning and eventual holding—all of which could lead to an arrest.
Using a small wireless remote, I guided the crate through the darkening streets of the docking district before heading into more open and welcoming Windrow. I cultivated a certain walk as I went, throwing the vibe I needed off me like radio waves. It straddled a line somewhere between I’m perfectly normal, there’s nothing to see here and Don’t fuck with me, or you’ll be sorry.
I’d learned the nuances of both in prison. No one wanted to be the weirdo, all alone, that people ganged up on. And everyone wanted respect. I’d started thinking of effectively blending the two attitudes into one as a difficult but achievable art form. Mastery of the walk had given me something to aspire to on Hourglass Mile—with the added benefit of usually keeping me safe.
I heard the three long electronic beeps that signaled a public announcement and stopped along with everyone else, keeping a hand on my crate as I let it touch down. The whole city seemed to hold its breath, waiting. My stomach clenched when the Overseer’s live image appeared on the huge visual display unit attached to the front of the building across from me. He was in his office, a room I knew well for having been summoned to it more than once for long, sometimes violent lectures.
As usual, he wore plain, dark clothes. In fact, he was a plain, dark-haired, dark-eyed man. And every time he popped up on a building-sized screen to project his propaganda across the galaxy, his bland uniformity anchored itself a little deeper into the collective psyche as the galactic ideal.
Tonight, I was as guilty of conforming to his stark, unembellished image as everyone else. My tight black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, clingy dark top, and drab little vest made me look just like any other woman my age. I remembered playing with some of the dresses my mother had kept from her youth—clothing with integrated lights and materials that changed colors when you moved. They’d made me dream about laughter and parties until my despot father had found them and thrown them in the garbage. Neither Mom nor I had been allowed out of the house for a month, and from one day to the next, everything in our closets had been replaced by clothing of the Overseer’s choice.
“Citizens of the eighteen Sectors,” the Overseer began. “You live in a time of peace and prosperity. Of great discovery and progress. Despite that, there are still misguided people who would take from you your life of ease and security, who would destroy the orderly society we’ve worked tirelessly to build and shatter it into warring, lacking factions that can’t see past their own selfish wants and needs.”
Well. There would be no easing into it today, it seemed. Something must have royally pissed him off.
Losing a lab full of enhancers perhaps?
“You must root them out. Dig out and destroy this rotten fruit whenever you can. Wherever you can. Every single one of you is responsible for protecting the life the galactic government has built for you.”
He paused to let that sink in, and it felt as though whatever passion and warmth was in the air got sucked right out of it as people froze, wondering if someone might point a finger at them next. It didn’t take more than a half-assed accusation to get carted off by the Dark Watch.
“Your personal choices reflect on who you are—and on what you can become.”
On that, at least, we agreed.
“Excess of any kind is to be avoided. Immoderation shunned.”
Funny how that didn’t apply to wealth, when some had so much and others not enough. Or to violence. I sure hoped the Overseer didn’t actually believe he set an example of restraint when it came to ruthlessness and brutality.
He pointed a finger right at us—at everyone across the entire galaxy. “Know. Your. Enemy.”
Oh, I did. It was him. The man who’d streamlined learning to eliminate the arts and chosen to censor books and other information, imprison protestors, kill dissenters, condemn lifestyle choices outside of his highly limited box, and blow up democracy to replace it with himself.
He went on for exactly five minutes, no more, no less, his main purpose seeming to be to remind people to control themselves—and others—to his satisfaction and to not hesitate to inform against their friends, neighbors, and whoever else. The subtext being or else.
I listened, just like the citizens of Albion 5 around me, wondering how many people were buying into this, and how many people wanted to throw rocks at his gigantic face as badly as I did.
The screen finally went dark, but nobody moved at first, an odd push and pull in the air between the undercurrent of fear and the displays of allegiance as some people started clapping, forcing everyone to do the same or risk being singled out.
Some brave soul eventually took a step, and the city groaned back into motion after the Overseer’s latest speech. I dropped my eyes to my remote, got my crate moving, and started walking again, keeping pace with the other pedestrians and not letting on how shaken I was from seeing my father’s face and hearing his voice.
Everyone kept their heads down after that, and no one looked at me sideways. My hover crate could have contained a week’s worth of groceries for all anyone knew. I was just a person like anyone else.