The Reflective Dissent Read online

  “Bad odds, Bloodling.” Jeb Merrick states the obvious, his pale gray eyes set on their mutual enemy.

  Slade tilts his head, regarding the arrogant Reflective, his bruises already fading. “Brainless comment.”

  Slade holds his churning stomach, and Merrick grunts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  “Race you to the lake, and there, we can make our way to Beth.”

  The nightlopers grumble, and their eerie chirps, clicks, and whistles are a symphony of anticipation. They smell blood.

  His and the Reflective's.

  Slade wonders if Merrick will whisk himself away, leaving Slade to deal with the nightlopers. He sweeps the enemy again. Hyenas are part of the group, gnashing their teeth together, making music with their mouths.

  “Yes,” Slade answers in a flat hiss, his fangs punching from his gums.

  Nightlopers yip and snap, moving in, their teeth grinding, their predatory eyes piercing the male’s countenance for weaknesses. The Weres of the group, Lycan in ancestry, growl at the hyenas.

  The hyenas are fully formed and the most merciless of the nightloper menagerie. No half forms for that part of the scouting group.

  Slade notes the enchanted trees will offer no protection, as he and the Reflective have jumped beyond their purview.

  “On my mark.” Merrick's quiet tone threads through the air in a whisper.

  Slade tenses in readiness, anxious about the potential of being left by the Reflective he doesn't trust. Dead if he stays. Better that he places his trust than not at all.

  The hyenas work well as a pack, beginning to circle the lone prey.

  I will not be that prey.

  Slade inhales deeply, taking in the subtle arid air that heats his lungs, drying his sinuses. He subtly shifts his weight as he catches the scent of those who came shortly before him and Merrick.

  Gunnar and Maddie—Jacky.

  Beth.

  His eyes drift to the forest once more, where bodies of nightlopers fill the soil with their blood. It is enough gore for him to know that blood passage was gifted to them. To Beth.

  Merrick uses an ascending whistle to signal Slade.

  Slade spins, exploiting the sandy shores like a springing board, and leaps toward the lake.

  Excited yelps follow, then Merrick and Slade are hurtling themselves toward shore.

  *

  “Love that sucker is finally toast.” Jacky grins, admiring Chuck's nearly severed head with a glee typically reserved for an anticipated reward, not the loss of human life.

  Beth rounds on him, her fists clenched. No death is perfect. None is preferred. And the seventh directive comes to her with a swift consciousness:

  No death is without consequence.

  Beth wonders what theirs shall be.

  “Whoa!” Jacky stumbles backward, taking in her scowl. “Settle.” His wordless gaze scans her features. “Beth—didn't we hate this guy? Correct me if I'm wrong.” He whips his long bangs out of his face and spreads his dirty fingers over the borrowed Reflective uniform that is way too big for his now-adolescent frame. “He beat Maddie's mom, hurt her—was gonna hurt Mad. His death is worth.” Jacky's exaggerated exhale disturbs the bangs hanging in his eyes. He folds his arms.

  Weakness sweeps Beth, and she sways. Blood loss. Her eyes find Ryan, unconscious and bleached of color at the base of a gnarled trunk. Beth looks upward and finds the eyes of many enchanted trees at half-mast. They’re satiated by her blood—by Jacky's and Maddie's.

  Ryan's.

  She covers her face with her hands and feels Gunnar's presence before his hand grips her shoulder, offering her a gentle squeeze.

  “My daughter.”

  I have let a Bloodling feed on a Reflective.

  Not too dissimilar from watching a female raped by a male.

  Not unlike that at all.

  Beth feels the burn of scalding tears behind her lids as she opens her eyes, looking into the flat ebony gaze of her father.

  A light breeze winds through the heavy branches of the forest and lifts fine hairs to flutter around her face, chilling her heated skin.

  “Do not despair, Beth. Reflective Ryan is evil. He has captured your females and spearheaded the uprising on Papilio.” Gunnar’s hands cradle her face, and he forces her to hear the truth of his actions. That there is no punishment severe enough for someone willing to hurt others the way Reflective Lance Ryan has.

  Her tears hover without falling.

  Gunnar says, “I have shown mercy this day. I spared his miserable life.”

  “Yeah—we should kill him, Beth.” Jacky's ready for Ryan's death, as he was ready for Chuck's. Beth is struck by how good a Reflective the boy would make. Emotionally, he is quick to kill. Much quicker than she. Beth's compassion and adherence to The Cause has nearly meant her death dozens of times.

  “Do not speak, Jacky,” Beth says, and her father's hands fall from her cheeks.

  Maddie walks to them, her eyes skating briefly to Chuck's corpse and the still-prone figure of Ryan. “Is he...?” Maddie seems reluctant to fully form the question, cupping her elbows as she gives the Reflective furtive glances.

  As one, their eyes move to Ryan. His huge body is splayed awkwardly over the tangle of tree roots, and he appears to sleep, his skin like polished alabaster, his chest still of breaths.

  Beth concentrates, sensing that his life remains. Ryan's essence ebbs like a flickering flame, but she knows he will survive the bloodletting of her father—the trees’ deep drink of his blood.

  What would Jeb do?

  Merrick has claimed her as his soul mate. He is the leader in their Reflective coupling. Their partnership bound them first, and now his timepiece has bound them further.

  Jacky circles her, seeking her gaze.

  She gives it and feels her eyes widen in shock that he's back to thirteen cycles. All the sullen and full-fledged glory of a Three teen restored.

  Principle. Beth rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  “What?” the teen asks, his hand to his chest.

  Gunnar remains silent but has definitely noticed the change since One in the boy.

  However, her father's ebony eyes hold a mirth Beth doesn't share.

  Maddie says, “You look like a teenager again.”

  “Aww, shee-it.” Jacky blinks once, raising his hands. He quickly surveys the parts of his body he can see and curses. He kicks a bit of moss under his sneaker, and it upturns like a springy, bright green wound underneath his toe.

  The trees come to life, as though waking from a fitful slumber. Their bulbous eyes narrow at him, their deep green “eyelashes” fluttering against heavily furrowed knobs of wood that resemble cheekbones.

  “Jacky—” Maddie says in warning, her eyes skating to the trees’ clear discontent.

  “Disrupt not our home” comes the braying voice of the tree closest to them, its eyelashes sweeping down, blinking over glaring irises that glow with luminescent emerald fire, even the “whites” hold a pale green hue.

  Beth protectively covers her ears from the grating timbre.

  Gunnar's eyes tighten, and she knows that her sensitive Reflective hearing is made even more acute by her Bloodling heritage.

  “He apologizes,” Beth says, slowly lowering her hands.

  “What?” Jacky asks. “I disrupt a little moss and suddenly”—he whips around his arms, still scarred by the thorns—“I'm in the doghouse.” He conducts a slow revolution.

  It appears as if the tree could frown, it would. As Beth watches, the nose of the nearest tree hikes, as though sniffing its disdain at the tactless youngling.

  Beth glowers at Jacky. “He means no disrespect.”

  “Pfft.” Jacky sounds off, erasing her attempt at defusing the tension.

  Maddie grabs his arm. “Quit it.”

  Jacky folds his arms and huffs.

  “This posturing is unhelpful. Let us go.” Gunnar throws his hand out, indicating the obvious—a dead body and an unc
onscious Reflective don't bode well for them.

  Gunnar is right.

  Beth doesn't wish to engage Ryan again. Creating distance and reuniting with Jeb is better.

  “We'll need to travel through the forest belts. You can't deal with this sun,” Beth says.

  Gunnar smirks. “Apparently not. A most painful experience.” He shudders, absently rubbing his broad chest. Great patches of his skin slough off onto the undergrowth of the forest. As Gunnar's skin heals, the dead flesh flakes off.

  “That's unattractive as hell. You look like a damn snake,” Jacky says, flicking a piece of dead skin off the shoulder of his hoodie.

  Maddie moves to Gunnar's side, and Beth can feel his need for her. Though with her own timepiece ticking, Beth wishes she had the intuition she has for others for herself. She doesn't know what might happen between her and Merrick. Slade.

  She releases an exhale of pure frustration from between her lips. “We have been granted blood passage.”

  Gunnar nods. “For now,” he says with grave significance.

  Beth gives her father a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

  Gunnar clasps his hands behind his back. “The treesʼ patience is not limitless. And there will be areas where the enchantment fades and our sentinels are few and far between. Where they do not exist.”

  Then not always safe, Beth thinks. Safe for now. However, in the near future...

  “Let's go, Beth.”

  Beth glances at Ryan again. Still for now.

  “Maddie wants to check on her mom, Jasper.”

  She nods. It is only right that Maddie has that closure. Especially since they were unfairly torn from their home world. Beth's eyes run over Maddie, looking wholly Reflective. Looking other. She does not fit within Three norms.

  Principle, damn.

  “Maddie, though Jacky was affected by the time shift, your changes appear to be permanent.”

  Maddie swallows. “I still look—different.”

  Gunnar clears his throat, his chin lifting imperceptibly. “You look like a Reflective female in her prime.”

  His eyes glitter, and Beth stifles an urge to roll her eyes. Are all Bloodling males so caught up in mating and war? Is that all there is?

  Then Beth remembers that her role is nothing more than a glorified interdimensional police enforcer, with the proverbial dangling carrot of a soul mate as motivator.

  It's a healthy motivation.

  The Cause trembles at the back of her mind, integrity through training and want all that matters now, as Commander Rachett is nowhere to be found.

  Beth bites her lip. “We've moved back in time, Jacky. I don't know how far back.”

  Jacky's eyes suddenly brighten. “My parents?”

  Beth holds up a palm, glancing in Ryan's direction. “I simply don't know.”

  “Chuck knew you,” Maddie states.

  Gunnar's polished obsidian gaze lands on her as Maddie's own skitters nervously away.

  Beth ignores their exchange. “Which means it was after he tortured me and... after he murdered your parents,” Beth states in a hushed voice.

  Jacky's shoulders slump, and Beth instantly regrets her matter-of-fact recounting. “I apologize.”

  His direct, bright green gaze meets hers. “It's okay. I fucking couldn't be that lucky. Chase gone—my parents. Sucks balls.” He jams his hands in his denimsʼ front pockets, dropping his gaze.

  Beth's sigh is long.

  Her scrutiny of Ryan is short. Has his coloring brightened from the color of bleached bones to something less... dead looking?

  “I am not afraid of the Reflective.” Gunnar seems to understand her hesitancy. “I can end him.”

  So might Beth. She reaches out and captures his arm.

  He turns slightly and covers her flesh with his own. “Let me give you peace. I have fed from him. Though he is male, his blood was tasty.”

  Beth watches his black pupils grow wide, within irises just as black. She swallows.

  Tasty.

  “No. If I am the only one who stands by The Cause, then let it be me.”

  His upper lip lifts with clear distaste. “The Cause. That is the thing which ultimately ruined your mother.”

  Beth flinches.

  Gunnar frowns, gently taking her hands in his own. “I will not kill this vile male. But if he chooses to come after us, I will end him.” Their eyes meet. “Slowly.”

  “You will not have to,” Beth whispers, desperately trying not to think about her partner—and when and where Merrick might be.

  “I think it's a bigtime mistake for us to leave this chode alive,” Jacky says, kicking his head in Ryan's direction.

  Beth agrees, though killing a Reflective is grievous. And cowardly, given his state of consciousness. No matter how awful a male he is, and how unworthy Ryan is to share the same uniform as she, Beth must have integrity.

  Gunnar nods, seeming to sense her decision. His hand comes out, and Maddie fills it with her own.

  Jacky and Beth follow them. She gives one last look at Ryan, knowing she should kill him, but The Cause holds her fast.

  She cannot kill an undefended being in cold blood. Even though Ryan deserves it more desperately than any other.

  As they traverse the green belt of enchanted woods in Three, Beth gradually takes the lead. They move toward Maddie's former domicile on the east hill of the Kent Quadrant. Twigs, leaves, and gentle moss give underneath their footprints as thirst and hunger seep into every pore of their tired bodies.

  How will Maddie explain her changed appearance to her mother or anyone else they might encounter? An appearance which is too far outside what is considered normal to this world? From Beth's studies of Three, there are no humans with true bluish-purple eyes. And her new shade of inky black locks, though not considered attractive on Papilio, showcases even more the changed appearance between the contrast of her striking eyes and dark hair.

  Further, if Beth were a guessing woman, she cannot imagine an instance where her Bloodling father would let his kindred blood go. Having one kindred in a lifetime, finding that elusive mate, is rare.

  A second one presenting herself?

  Beth would speculate that the happenstance of that would be unprecedented.

  Gunnar's eyes travel Maddie possessively. No, Gunnar would not allow her to remain where he is not. Beth feels it in her marrow. If Maddie would raise Threesʼ eyebrows, Gunnar would cause a riot.

  Unless Maddie were to choose where she wanted to be. And therein lies the problem. Maddie is now Reflective but originally from Three.

  Gunnar is pure Bloodling.

  Madeline DeVere cannot be allowed back into Sector One. It is unsafe for females of any kind, unless they live in the vast safeholding of LaRue, which Slade presided over as the Bloodling Prince.

  Nor would she be able to remain in her home world easily.

  So where can Maddie belong?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Merrick

  Slade rolls over to his hands and knees, and Jeb rises, ignoring the Bloodling heaving his guts onto the lichen-filled forest floor.

  Instead, Jeb scans the dense woods, hitting on the magic without too much difficulty.

  And Beth's scent.

  Extracting his small and deadly ceramic blade from a hidden sheath within his dark navy uniform pants, he notes Slade's eyes widen on the weapon. He staggers to his feet, ready to defend himself against Jeb.

  Then promptly vomits again.

  Black, partially digested blood spews out, covering the pine needles and other forest debris in what appears like steaming ebony oil.

  Jeb would laugh if anything was remotely funny. However, it is not. His soul mate and partner is somewhere on Three—he smells her—and so is Ryan.

  His eyes narrow on Slade and his mess. He dragged along the Bloodling only for backup's sake.

  Jeb will locate Beth, then jump them all back to One. Procure Commander Rachett, then make certain Reflectives Calvin, and Kennet—
upon his return to Papilio—are coordinating things correctly on his home world.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose. Everything is so—as Jacky would say—fucked up.

  Slade slaps his palm on the trunk of a nearby tree and hauls himself upright.

  Jeb tenses. If the tree is enchanted, it will be insulted. Nothing stirs, and Jeb feels his muscles gradually unwind. His tumultuous thought processes begin again. Kennet is on One.

  Beth is here.

  Jeb feels the scowl overtake his face. She left in stealth. Against his express orders.

  Why?

  “This hopping you Reflectives do is miserable,” Slade grates, spitting phlegm onto the spreading pool at his feet.

  Jeb folds his arms, planting his feet wide, hating his own smell. “Only to those who do not hold a bit of jumping blood.” He hikes an eyebrow at the male.

  Slade frowns, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand and taking a moment to retighten the hair club at his nape. “Be that as it may, I loathe becoming sick, and the need for blood is more acute, hopper.”

  Jeb grunts. “Gather your wits, Bloodling, because we need to find Beth.”

  Slade inspects their environment while Jeb searches the pockets of his retrieved uniform for a locator. “As though I was unaware, Merrick.”

  Damn.

  Frustrated, he looks up, striding to the forest's edge, and searches the outlying area.

  Grave markers stand like forgotten tablets of stone on gently sloping hills of grass that are beginning to lose the velvet green of this sector's summer. Afternoon sunlight drains to the shadows of the upcoming night.

  Jeb's eyes move back then stutter over an angelic carved marble statue that marks an imposing mausoleum.

  The horn shines from the hands of the angel, the late day's sunrays casting useable reflections everywhere.

  He blinks. I know exactly where we are.

  Jeb senses something and whirls.

  Slade stands right behind him. He straightens, mute. It's quite a feat for the gray-skinned Bloodling to look ashen, but he manages it.

  Jeb frowns, a vague idea rising when Slade interrupts his thoughts.

  “What have you discovered, hopper?”

  Jeb feels his face tighten. “Address me as Merrick.”