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  Her sleeve was on fire, and her skin crackled and burned. The candles had fallen over. For a moment, she saw Hawk as she had in her dreams before she met him—with glowing eyes and massive wings, like an angel protecting her.

  “It’s not that bad,” she heard Avery say as the flames on her wrist were blotted with a damp cloth. “Has she ever had a seizure?”

  “No. Not really,” Hawk said. “Well, sometimes her lungs will close up. We have medicine for it on the ship.”

  “Then you should tell your Captain to bring some back with him,” Avery said. “If you know the formula, we can synthesize it here.”

  “Are we allowed to send a message? I’d like to do that now,” Hawk said, cradling Sky’s cheek. “Bébé?”

  “Shouldn’t have touched the vein,” Sky murmured. “That was… that was a trip.”

  “Yes, the zealots think so, too. A religious experience,” Avery said wryly. “Although I’ve never seen anyone stand so dumbly while their clothes caught fire.”

  Lula stifled a giggle, and Sky suspected the teen had experimented a little more than Avery had.

  As the buzzing faded from her skin, Sky became more aware of the sweat matting her hair to her face. “Anyone achieve ascension?”

  “The corpses seem to indicate they overdose and die. The belief is that in true ascension, you can take your physical body with you,” Avery said. “Sky… are you?”

  Sky sat up, worried by the pain rising in Avery’s expression. “I’m not trying to ascend. I didn’t know that would happen if I touched it, and it’s not something I’m planning to do again.”

  Avery nodded, and Sky hugged her. The pressure on her burnt wrist made her hiss, and the room didn’t seem to be healing that wound with any kind of urgency. Spirit would take care of it once it settled down.

  “Did something happen?” Sky whispered. “Did you lose someone?”

  Avery nodded and hugged Sky harder. Lula sat next to them and put a hand on her mom’s shoulder. Sky had been handling Confluence stones for decades, and she’d never felt something like this. Whatever ‘cell’ they injected into the veins—that was where the power was.

  The buzz Hawk got from healing sauna faded to a mild hangover. The Confluence veins had been energizing. Sky had turned into a glowing fireball of light to his spirit eyes, to the point where he could barely make out her human shape. That room was meant to push the boundaries between the physical world and the spirit one, and Hawk wondered how close the Cordovans had come to breaking the walls between the realms before that plague wiped out their originals.

  Where the tower had been warm and meditative, Fisher’s home was cold and empty. In Rocan, resources were so scarce that homes didn’t have a lot of furniture and decoration, but at least they had paint, and they used colors and art to fill the void. Fisher’s apartment had white walls, gray furniture, and a single window looking out into the courtyard.

  Tommy stood in the kitchen area, staring vacantly at a pot of water that wasn’t boiling. With his plain clothes, he almost disappeared into the scenery. He didn’t seem to hear them come in. Sky bustled over to him, donning a maternal smile that Hawk had been on the receiving end of, but rarely saw her extend to others.

  “Stove’s not on,” Sky whispered.

  Tommy’s body went rigid, fear flashing in his eyes.

  “Tommy? Are you okay?” Sky asked, her hand hovering over his back a moment before deciding it was better not to touch him. “Your mother told you we were staying tonight, right?”

  Tommy nodded, his limbs twitching as he glanced from Sky to the front door. A harsh light went out somewhere, and the room grew warmer. The change in ambiance had come from Hawk’s spirit eyes. Could Tommy have hybrid power, or had it come from something else?

  “Michael’s resting. He’s not feeling well,” Tommy said, his volume carefully measured, his falsetto projecting a perfect feminine tone. Tommy seemed to be coping with his life by masking his masculine physique and voice. Hawk was surprised he used male pronouns for himself and his younger sibling. But he must have had some personal life, because he resented being pulled from it to care for his brother overnight.

  “He should have come to the healing room in the tower,” Hawk commented, sitting at the small table that divided the kitchen and the living room. There was a couch and two chairs in the living room, and then a shallow hall with two doors at the end. Two bedrooms. Or maybe one bedroom and one bathroom. It was a cramped space for three.

  “I don’t like that place,” Tommy said, the fear returning to his eyes. He didn’t move or shake or cower, but he definitely looked scared. “And Michael isn’t good with new situations.”

  “Is this as far as you’ve gotten with dinner? This tiny pot?” Sky asked. “Why don’t you sit down with Hawk and let me cook.”

  “You can tell me what life is like for a single, cute guy in a dome full of women,” Hawk said, pulling out his flask and debating whether to drink when he didn’t have enough to share.

  “I’m not a single,” Tommy said, his feet still planted in front of the stove.

  “Really? I should have known you had a girlfriend,” Sky teased, filling a pitcher with water and finding ingredients for lemonade in a cabinet.

  “I mean there are two of us. Myself and Michael.”

  “Right,” Hawk said, feeling awkward. They’d had such a good conversation that afternoon about facial hair, arm hair, and chest hair. He was surprised how laconic Tommy seemed now. “What about friends? I get the feeling we interrupted your plans for the evening.”

  “I have Libby.” A small smile surfaced, and the ambiance in the room flickered toward the muted color again. “I was talking to her before you came. She’s… the only reason I’m still alive.”

  “If you and Libby had plans tonight, Hawk and I could keep an eye on your brother for a few hours,” Sky offered.

  “No. No!” Tommy whipped around, putting a hand up as if to block her. Then he took a breath. “New situation.”

  “You’re very good to take care of him,” Sky said, pulling out the chair opposite Hawk at the table. Tommy took the hint and obediently sat down.

  “Until he’s a cadaver.”

  “That’s an awful thing to say,” Sky said.

  “Why? It’s inevitable,” Tommy said, voice distant. “He’s not like me. He won’t ever be a person.”

  Hawk sat straighter. “Why isn’t your brother a person?”

  “He’s a test subject. Test subjects become cadavers. That’s what’s supposed to happen.” Tommy shrugged. “They should’ve killed me when my project finished, but they didn’t. Mom made a case for me, but I don’t think she can for Michael. He can’t hear. He can’t talk. He’s dumb as a brick. It wouldn’t be so bad being a person if I weren’t so… male.”

  Hawk’s anxiety flared, and as much as he wanted to turn tail and run, he didn’t want to sabotage things for Amanda, and he didn’t want to abandon this man.

  “Why don’t I make us something to eat, and you two talk about… um… shaving techniques,” Sky said, running her hand over Hawk’s hair.

  “Dr. Fisher had a lot of questions about being male,” Hawk began, hoping to get the ball rolling. “I already feel like I’m failing at the textbook knowledge of my own anatomy.”

  “Are there other men where you’re from?” Tommy asked, addressing the question to his hands. “Aside from Danny?”

  “Plenty,” Hawk said. “Too many.”

  “Do they all have… a deep voice?” Tommy asked. When he said the last words, he dropped the falsetto, revealing a surprisingly deep, bass tone. Hawk felt a jolt from his heart to his loins, and then he laughed, surprised that he’d reacted so strongly.

  “Wow. Do that again,” Hawk breathed.

  Tommy got flustered and shook his head.

  “Don’t be shy. You can use your natural voice with me. It’s really nice,” Hawk said, resting his chin on his hand. He tilted his head, batting his eyes, while interna
lly kicking himself for flirting when he had a prince on the ship.

  Tommy still didn’t speak.

  “Most men have deeper voices than women. But a voice as rich as yours is a rare gift,” Sky spoke up. She set a cutting board and a pile of leafy greens and cucumbers in front of Hawk so he could make a salad.

  “Really?” Tommy asked, switching back to the falsetto. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in his deep voice again. “Really?”

  Hawk snickered. “This is as low as I go,” Hawk said, trying to mimic Tommy’s tone. Tommy smiled and blushed. There was so much serious intelligence they needed on Cordova, but Hawk made jokes, and the two laughed at the deep sounds they could make while Sky cooked and Hawk chopped vegetables.

  When Sky served the pasta, Tommy shoveled the food into his mouth. Hawk ate slowly, twirling the food around his fork, flirting again without meaning to. He did his best to keep the conversation light.

  An hour later, Hawk and Tommy sat on the couch, still talking non-stop, this time comparing the amount of hair on their legs and feet. Hawk had very little, fine hair, and Tommy had thick, coarse hair that kept growing back ‘no matter how much he lasered it off.’ His poor skin looked so raw in places, and Hawk wanted to kiss it better, but he held back.

  Michael’s door tipped open, and he peeked out timidly.

  “Hey, are you hungry?” Sky asked him.

  Michael slammed the door closed.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” Tommy muttered, begrudgingly retrieving his brother from the bedroom.

  Hawk was shocked to see a grown man and not a helpless child. Michael looked nothing like a Fisher. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, a smattering of freckles, and if he stood straight, he’d probably be three or four inches taller than Tommy. He scanned the room, then he tapped Tommy’s shoulder and mouthed a word.

  “Mom’s not here,” Tommy answered. “This is Sky. And this is—”

  Michael mouthed something else. They seemed adept at reading each other’s lips.

  “I told you, Mom’s not here. She’s not coming back tonight,” Tommy said irritably. “Do you want to eat or not?”

  Tommy didn’t wait for an answer before he shoved Michael toward the table. Michael paled and reeled but didn’t make a sound.

  “No need to be rough, Tommy,” Sky chided, scooping pasta into a bowl. “How much does he normally eat? Should I make more salad?”

  “He’ll eat whatever you serve. He’s not picky,” Tommy said, not acknowledging the reprimand, but being more courteous in how he held the chair for his brother. He looked sad for a moment, then a little jealous when Sky put the plate in front of Michael.

  “Do you want more, too?” Hawk asked. “I could use a second helping.”

  Tommy stammered and blushed, but Hawk could tell he wanted more, so he helped Sky serve. Michael looked uncertainly between his large helping and the smaller one Tommy received.

  “I ate with them earlier. But we get to eat as much as we want tonight,” Tommy said to Michael. Something in his voice told Hawk they’d been hungry their entire lives. Michael looked more terrified than thrilled by the statement and, with every bite, he looked like he was going to be sick, but he was wolfing down the food as fast as his brother.

  “Make sure you save room for cake,” Sky said.

  “Cake?” Tommy asked.

  “Can’t you smell it?” Hawk smiled. “If there was sugar in your cupboard, I guarantee it’s gone now.”

  “Well, when Auntie Sky comes to visit, my boys get spoiled,” Sky sang. Hawk gave her look, wondering where that expression had come from. But Tommy stopped chewing, and his expression softened.

  “You’re Auntie Sky,” Tommy said, his eyes misting. “I remember. You made a cake for us. For…”

  “For no reason,” Sky finished, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tommy glanced at her hand, but he didn’t go rigid like before.

  “I was sick for two days,” Tommy recalled.

  “That’s because you snuck out of bed in the middle of the night and finished off the whole cake. And tried to blame it on your brother. You stop at one slice this time,” Sky laughed, leaning in and planting a kiss on his cheek.

  He cringed, tensed, and looked like he was about to cry, but he leaned into her. “Auntie Sky,” he whispered wistfully. He clamped his hand over hers, squeezing, and savoring her love. “I forgot you were real.”

  13

  Amanda’s skin tingled as the warm shower rinsed away the silky, Cordovan decontamination lotion, leaving a filmy feeling. Amanda had separated herself from the others in the name of modesty. Corin hummed to himself from somewhere else in the L-shaped decontamination chamber. Meanwhile, Danny had gone silent.

  “Please exit the chamber,” the guide voice called from overhead. A door opened, letting in cool air and releasing the humidity. Corin’s humming stopped, and Amanda took up the tune. She sat on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I need a towel!” she called.

  “Please exit the chamber,” the voice said again.

  “Towel!” she said a little louder.

  Danny wailed, then Sky came around the bend, holding a towel open. Amanda stayed on the floor, so Sky tossed the towel to her and turned her back.

  “Are you okay?” Sky asked.

  “Fine,” Amanda said, tucking the towel around her torso. It was smooth like plastic and stuck to her skin in a weird way. The water passed right through it and beaded out the other side. “I don’t like this towel.”

  “There are clothes in the next room. Come on.” Sky held her arm out, waiting for Amanda to duck under it. When they came around the corner, Danny was laying on the floor. His limbs trembled, but he looked limp and exhausted. A large, white towel covered him from shoulders to knees. Amanda’s bones ached, echoing Danny’s pain as they walked past.

  “He didn’t have to come through here again,” Amanda said, pressing against Sky’s side for support.

  “Technically, he didn’t get all the way through the first time,” Sky said, squeezing her across the shoulders and keeping her moving quickly. “Honestly, I was expecting to find you on the floor.”

  They emerged from the small chamber into a crowded room with a single bed that Corin was lying on. There was a towel over his hand and Hawk’s hand laid over the towel. Jack and Ian were there, as were three other people—two men and a woman. Sky brought Amanda next to Hawk, then she went back to retrieve Danny.

  “When do I get my clothes back?” Amanda asked.

  “When you leave,” Ian said.

  “There are clothes for you over here,” Hawk said, going to the foot of the bed and picking up some folded white garments. “Corin’s too tender to get a tunic over his head, so they’re bringing a gown.”

  He glanced at the others, then pulled the elbow of one of the young men. “Tommy, help me out.”

  They moved to the corner, putting Amanda behind them, then stood shoulder to shoulder, creating a wall between her and the others. She could have just gone back to her shower stall in the decon chamber to dress, but Amanda decided not to make a fuss. She put on the pants first, not dropping the towel until the shirt was over her chest. It was a long-sleeve, crew neck shirt, and the built-in shelf was no substitute for a bra. It wouldn’t have bothered her if the garments weren’t so revealing.

  “Thanks,” Amanda whispered, draping her towel over her shoulders to cover her chest. She touched Hawk’s shoulder, then the shoulder of the other man.

  “Amanda, this is my son, Tommy,” Dr. Fisher said eagerly. “I told you about him last night.”

  “I remember,” Amanda said. Tommy blushed. He looked like a carbon copy of his mother, but he wore a choker around his neck to hide his Adam’s apple. The other thing she noticed was his aura—the kind Jack Fisher did not have. “You’re not paper.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Tommy said, his voice timid and strange. Amanda felt the hint of a crush as she gazed into his deep, brown eyes. It
was strange and exciting to feel anything like that, and it made her ache for her lost youth.

  “And my other son, Michael,” Jack continued, pulling Amanda away from Tommy, pointing to the blond man hovering by the door. Their eyes met, and the room around them seemed to fade. Their minds went somewhere between this realm and the spirit one, and they each looked through scratches in the ethereal spheres that held their spirit forms. In the spirit realm, every human had a sphere, but their spheres were opaque. Most people couldn’t see through. Amanda could, because she was broken. She’d never known another human to have scars like hers.

  “What happened to you?” Amanda asked, pointing to the scars on his sphere, wondering if her own scars looked as ugly as his.

  “What happened to you?” he echoed. She couldn’t tell if he was repeating her because he didn’t understand, or if he was challenging her to answer first.

  “I died. A couple times,” Amanda said. “Did you die, too?”

  “Soon,” he said. “Soon I will be here forever. There will be no more pain.”

  For a moment, their spheres touched, and Amanda could see inside. She screamed, a jolt of pain crashing over her, like her individual vertebrae were being yanked out of place and smashed against each other. This pain had attacked her before—just before she’d stabbed Morrigan! It was him! He stabbed Morrigan!

  “Amanda? Amanda!” Hawk cried, grabbing her face. The physical world snapped back into place and Amanda backed into the corner, trying to escape the lingering connection.

  “You went into a trance. You were using Moonspeak,” Hawk said, his Virp translating to Terranan in hope that that would help her keep her grip on reality.

  “I saw something strange,” Amanda said. The black spots in her vision subsided, as did some of the pain, and Amanda could feel Hawk’s hand on her shoulder. Then she saw Michael leaning against his mother, peering at her with crystal blue eyes. “What is he?”

  “Cute guy in a dome full of women,” Hawk said. “I saw something strange last night, too. Something I’ve never seen before.”