Betrayal (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 14) Page 5

  Eva was no longer the most qualified financial executive, despite her stellar résumé. Nothing she could say now, or do, would change that perception. She was here in the Court for solely one reason, and one reason alone, the Emperor had intended to make her his whore.

  Chapter 7

  Anne Black rented a doublewide on a small lot outside the limits of a tiny suburban city with a name pronounceable only to locals. The little hamlet was surrounded on three sides by rolling hills, the fourth side looking to the west at the shining metropolis in the distance.

  On sunny days, of which there were a precious few, the sun gleamed off the metallic man-made mountains, causing an intense glare to fill Anne’s kitchen windows, and heating up the mobile abode to almost a boiling point.

  The doublewide was just the right size for Anne, even a little too big. It had a small kitchen with a dinette, a large room with a sofa and vid, a bath with a shower, and a bedroom with a queen-sized bed.

  The bed was fine for Anne. It was just soft enough, and she had plenty of space to stretch out. If her husband had shared it with her, it would have been far too small. Undoubtedly, his feet would have stuck out the other end.

  Gabe, too, Anne considered, visualizing her new friend. Gabe was about the same size, both in height and build. He had similar features too, the cheekbones, the nose and chin, although there was no way they could be related. Anne was certain of that.

  This thought was so inherently ridiculous, that Anne laughed a little to herself, as she sipped her morning coffee on the doublewide’s porch.

  The property overlooked a river. Actually, it was hardly more than creek, the water a steady trickle with tiny slivers of baby salmon occasionally darting between the rocks. A robin was singing in the trees framing the side of her home, and in the sky high above, an eagle was soaring in lazy circles.

  Anne felt like shooting the bird. But, she didn't. She hated eagles, although there was nothing personal against this one.

  It was spring then, and the air smelled sweet and fresh. A dogwood had just come into bloom, while daffodils and tulips opened their cheerful little faces in the small beds which bordered Anne’s tiny abode.

  Gabe, Anne thought again, taking a bite of her toasted bagel, and chewing it slowly. She chastised herself for wasting so much time and energy thinking about the man. He meant nothing to her, and certainly, she wasn’t looking for a companion. Not now, and probably, not ever again. No, as far as she was concerned, she, and everyone else would be better off if she spent the rest of her life alone.

  Yet, there was something about Gabe that was very appealing, something which kept drawing him back into her thoughts. He was friendly, very friendly, and he was nice. He had a broad open smile, and warm hazel eyes that always seemed to be twinkling, as if he was just delighted to be alive.

  Anne liked his hair, too. It was a nice medium brown, touched with tiny gold highlights that sparkled in the sun.

  It reminded Anne of her oldest son’s hair when he was just a baby. Gabe’s hair didn’t curl wildly either. He kept it short and neat, combed and clean. He was also clean shaven. There was no scratchy beard to rub against Anne's cheek when and if it ever came to the point where she might kiss him.

  “Stop it!” Anne rose from the porch rocker, and violently, tossed her coffee over the rail.

  It landed on some daffodils, coating the petals and making them droop. She threw the cup after it, knocking the head off the flower, the plastic cup bouncing twice in the dirt before coming to a rest.

  Anne stared at it, the dirty cup sitting in her garden, the damaged flower, the splatters of coffee.

  "It was bad coffee," she explained to no one, as no one else was there. "Too weak and too bitter. It tasted like shit."

  Then, she went into the house, and dumped the pot. Somehow, Anne couldn’t seem to brew coffee right, no matter what she did. A woman, who had once commanded a starship, was useless with a filter, grounds, and scoop.

  Gabe had offered to buy her one of those machines that would prepare the coffee for her. All she had to do was push a button, and it would be perfect.

  “No, it’s too expensive,” Anne had demurred, even though she had wanted it. Secretly, she had wanted a lot of things, which not so secretly, Gabe had wanted to buy.

  “I’ve got plenty of money, and no one to spend it on,” Gabe had replied. “It’ll be my gift. I can give you presents, can’t I?”

  He had been sitting at the tiny dinette in the nook of her doublewide, while she served him a dinner of take-out Chinese.

  “No,” Anne had insisted, rising to her feet, and quickly clearing the table, snatching the dish from beneath his upraised fork and open mouth.

  After that, the whole evening became quite awkward. The dessert, a frozen apple pie, was burnt, the coffee bitter, the prevalent stench of a date gone wrong, stinking up the tiny building.

  Feigning a headache, and forcing a yawn, Anne ushered Gabe to the door with a container of left-overs, and a promise to call at some undetermined point in the future.

  "Tomorrow?"

  "No."

  Later, alone and staring at a blank vid, Anne started to weep again for about the four millionth time. She cursed herself for her foolishness. She reminded herself how much better off she was here alone. Then, she loaded the gun she had brought with her from the Black Eye Galaxy, and went outside to execute a flock of crows.

  Now, only days later, Anne was outside in her garden again. The remains of all the tulip and daffodil heads lay in a macabre path behind her. Flower stems stood headless in a row, like pickets guarding the porch, mocking their former cheerfulness.

  Anne was on a murderous rampage. Fortunately, this time it was only against flowers. With a kitchen scissors in her hand, and the memory of Luka’s laughter echoing in her head, she eviscerated every spot of color, all the way to the boundaries of her tiny rented yard. She crushed the petals with her feet, cursing at them as she did so, clouds of pollen flying up in her face. Those poor, innocent ornamental bulbous plants were only doing as they had been genetically coded to do, when they were viciously cut down, beheaded, and condemned to death.

  Afterward, Anne carried their remains to the river. She dumped them into the currents, and watched them drift lazily downstream. Sitting on the bank, which was really just an extension of her yard, Anne began to sob again a little hysterically, although no one heard.

  Every night for what was now months on end, Anne had seen this strange dream. It started with her hanging on the edge of a cliff by her fingernails, tiny rocks and pebbles cascading down upon her face. Then, her husband came with a boy who she knew, although she wasn’t certain from where.

  “Help me,” she screamed every night, and every night, her husband responded the same.

  “I can’t.” He turned, and walked away.

  The boy stayed though, gazing down at Anne with his pale, gray eyes. He knelt on the cliff, in the pebbles, and offered her his hand.

  “Go away,” she yelled at him. “I don’t want help from you.”

  Then, she would lose her grip, and plummet into the abyss. That’s when she heard evil Luka’s voice. As she tumbled end over end into the dark void, his laughing swirled around her in clouds of steam.

  Despite the heat, her bones were chilled, and she’d wake up screaming, tears streaming down her face, but no one heard her. No one was there. Anne was always alone.

  The dead flower petals had caught in the river eddies, swirling in circles just like Anne spun around in her dreams. The bank began to crumble away beneath her feet, just like the tiny pebbles which cascaded into Anne’s face.

  “No!” she screamed to no one. “No, I can’t take this anymore.”

  “Take what?” a voice asked from behind her, followed by the slamming of speeder door, and footsteps crossing the yard.

  Anne turned around to discover Gabe staring forlornly at the beds of headless stems. He picked up the scissors, and studied them as if the pair of sh
eers had done this all by themselves.

  “Remind me not to ask you for a haircut,” he said, pulling a small bouquet of multi-colored daisies from beneath his jacket. “Go ahead. Give them a toss. Who needs pretty floral things to brighten our moods when we prefer to be depressed?”

  Anne wiped at her tear-streaked face.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Gabe shrugged. “I’m actually wondering the same thing myself. But,” he threw the bouquet into the river, “Since I am already here, let’s take advantage of this opportunity. There’s a free concert in the city park, and I’ve packed a picnic.”

  “No.” Anne shook her head. She flapped her hands for emphasis, striding across the lawn, and into her house.

  “Why not? You might like it.” Gabe followed her in, and with familiarity, tossed his jacket upon the sofa.

  “No.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll bring you right back home. I know you will though. Music soothes the soul of the savage beast, especially when you don’t have to pay for it. Go get yourself ready. I’m waiting for you. In the meantime, I’ll help myself to a drink from the fridge.”

  Gabe grabbed a diet soda, and sat down on Anne’s sofa, whereupon he found the remote, and clicked on the vid. Talking heads appeared to discuss the latest crises here and there. Gabe scoffed loudly, and immediately turned them back off.

  “I hate news like this,” he announced, knocking back the soda can. “Especially when it’s not at all truthful. People need to think. They need to listen, but process it objectively for themselves. That’s what’s wrong with the galaxy today, Anne. Don’t you agree?”

  Anne didn’t respond. She was in her tiny bathroom patting makeup beneath her eyes. She tried to conceal the ever-present puffiness, a result of her near-constant weeping.

  “Look at them,” Gabe continued, flicking the vid back on. “They’re joyfully celebrating the demise of the Empire. How cleverly they’ll rewrite history as if the Emperor was all to blame. I don’t know about you, Anne, but I thought the Empire was pretty darn successful. Now that the Emperor’s back in charge, even though he’s living on Rozari, I suspect it’ll turn around and be successful again.”

  Anne’s heart thudded to a stop.

  “He’s back on Rozari,” she gasped. “In Takira-hahr?”

  “Yes, Anne. I thought you knew. It’s all over the vid. The talking heads are saying…”

  “I don’t want to discuss politics, Gabe.”

  “Really? But, politics are in everything, Anne. The air you breathe, the food you eat, what you watch on the vid, everything is politically manipulated to make you think and feel in a certain way."

  "I really don't want to hear about this, Gabe," Anne said sharply, between spits of toothpaste as she brushed her teeth. “I’ve had more than enough politics for one lifetime. Maybe, two.”

  "You need to listen, Anne. You need to be a critical thinker. That's the difference between mice and men, sheep and people, goldfish and sharks. God gave you a brain, Anne. You need to use it all the time."

  "Gabe!" Anne had just about had enough. She stormed out of the bathroom, her fists firmly planted on her hips. "I don't want..."

  "Oh Anne." Gabe rose from the couch, his mouth breaking into a wide smile. His warm hazel eyes gazed at her, drinking in her image as if she were wine. "You look absolutely beautiful."

  Anne was stunned. He could have blasted her with a laser and it would have been less effective. She stood with her own mouth hanging open.

  "What?"

  Gabe reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips.

  "I'm so honored you're willing to go to this humble concert with me. You look positively angelic. Right now, I consider myself the luckiest man alive."

  Anne closed her mouth. She didn't draw back her hand, although she was tempted. She narrowed her eyes, and regarded him critically as an odd thought crossed her brain.

  "Who are you, Gabe? Have we met before?"

  "I told you. My name is Gabe Horner. We met at the Big Box store, and then, we had take-out Chinese right here in your kitchen."

  “What do you do for a living?” Anne demanded, as he took her arm, and led her to the door.

  "I work in communications. Data transfers, hardware, software, network connectivity. You know, that kind of stuff."

  Gabe escorted her across the lawn, and opened the door to his speeder, a late model Porsche, black, bucket seats in tan leather, the latest touch-screen digital display.

  "Communications, like the press?"

  "No," Gabe scoffed. "What? You think I'm a reporter? Not at all. I'm strictly on the delivery end."

  "What does that mean? Delivering emails or app chats or instant messaging or what?"

  "Messaging. Yes, that's it exactly, just not so instantaneous, and I don’t do pictures. Often, it takes a rather long time for my messages to get through, sometimes centuries, even eons."

  As Anne climbed into his speeder, she began to relax a little. Maybe, she was being too hard on Gabe. He was just an extraordinarily friendly, and nice human guy, who was obviously rich, and wanted to get to know her better. There was no deeper motive. He wasn't that complex.

  "Do you have a family?" she asked, as he climbed into the Porsche, and lifted off. They took a sharp upward turn to avoid the nearby hills, before leveling off in the transit lanes.

  "I have four brothers, although we don't talk about one of them." Gabe smiled, reaching for her hand, and giving it a squeeze. "Black sheep, and all that. There's one in every family, you know. I'm in the middle, so I am very well balanced. The oldest, on the other hand, well, he’s definitely a control freak. He thinks he's in charge of the entire universe, and it’s all his problem. The youngest is still a baby, positively a little cherub, adorably cute. The other middle one, is the only one who I can talk to. But, enough about me and my brethren. I want to know everything there is to know about you. Tell me why you left Rehnor, Anne. Tell me why you’re here.”

  "No." Anne pulled her hand away, and then realized how harsh she sounded. "I mean, I'm not very interesting. Let's talk about something else. What kind of music are we going to listen to?"

  Gabe laughed, a sound musical in itself. "I don't know. Folk or country. Something like that."

  It turned out to be folk. A trio of middle-aged hippies with guitars and bongo drums sat on a make-shift stage in the middle of the city park.

  Gabe enjoyed it. He tapped his fingers against his knee, hummed along in some parts, and smiled joyfully throughout the concert.

  "Isn't this great, Anne?" he insisted.

  Anne nodded and smiled. She chewed on a piece of fried chicken from Gabe's picnic basket. The truth was, she thought the music was dreadful. In fact, everyone there was getting on her nerves. She was tempted to take out her laser, and blast the musicians to smithereens.

  The other couples on blankets, the children running around, the old folks in their foldable chairs clapping and cheering prompted Anne to want to kill them too. Or, at least stun them flat. She could spray the whole field with laser bursts, silencing the entire park temporarily, or forever. Only Gabe's cheerful presence at her side deterred her from doing anything rash.

  "Having fun?" He reached for her hand, smiling at her with his brilliant white teeth.

  It was then that Anne noticed something she had obviously overlooked before. Gabe had nice teeth, big teeth. His teeth were shockingly white, and very straight, except for the incisors which were slightly crooked, slightly longer, and sharper than normal.

  Chapter 8

  Rent spoke to Eva for the first time while in the breakfast queue at the staff cafeteria. He was standing directly behind her, admiring her smooth, glossy chestnut hair, and wondering how anyone could have hair that always stayed so perfectly in place.

  Eva didn't know he was doing this, of course. Her mind was flitting back and forth between the lack of budget allocated for infrastructure reparations in Mishnah, to the sensation of His
Imperial Majesty's hands and mouth upon her skin.

  Actually, it wasn't an even split of Eva's cerebral processing time. More than ninety percent of her thoughts dwelled on the hand and mouth issue, while a mere ten percent or less contemplated the budget.

  That was until she collided with Rent. Eva, having passed up the basket of bagels, on second thought turned around, deciding to grab one. Unfortunately, Rent was reaching for a bagel at the exact same moment. Coincidentally, they both selected a poppy seed. Rent, being left-handed, and Eva, being right-handed, found their hands impacting somewhere in the middle. Both were left bagel-less, and flushing deeply with embarrassment.

  "Go ahead," Rent offered, waving his hand at the elusive bread roll.

  "Oh no, Sir!" Eva demurred, bobbing in a sort of curtsey. "It's all yours. Really. I'll take something else."

  "I insist," Rent insisted, dropping the bagel on Eva's tray. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you mean to toast that? Should I slice it for you?"

  "No, no. It's quite alright as is." Eva found herself looking deeply into Rent's eyes. He had nice eyes, lovely blue eyes, which were staring deeply back into hers with a searching gaze.

  Eva's eyes, Rent decided, were like two pools of milk chocolate. He loved milk chocolate. He could eat an endless supply of milk chocolate. He could eat Eva's eyes. No. Wait. That wasn't right.

  "May I help you with your tray?" he offered.

  Eva studied her tray, as if wondering how it came to be there. It was empty, except for the single bagel, while Rent's tray was loaded with nearly everything in the buffet.

  "I could combine the trays," Rent offered. "We could share. Would you like to sit together? I'm Rent, by the way, just in case you don't know."

  "I know." Eva nodded slightly, her red lips parted to show just a tiny sliver of white teeth.

  Rent flushed again, staring at those lips. They were thick and full, deliciously bright red, which may have been due the enhancement of her lipstick. In either case, Eva's lips reminded Rent of red licorice whips. He loved red licorice whips. He could eat an endless supply of red licorice whips. He could eat... No. That wasn’t right either.