Chapter 15: 14: VISION

Ten minutes to zero. Talitha placed her sedasig in her mouth, and the weight dragged the corner of her lip down. She took a furtive puff—one inhale, not of Purple, but a legal therapeutic formula. She closed her eyes as the aromatic extracts flowed into her.

Changed out of her party gown into riding gear, she waited in La Maria’s garage for a pilot to fetch her Kyanite. Aside from the sole agent logging entries at the booth, she stood in the transfer area alone. Most of the party guests, including the Khelots and the Pendergasts, had already left for the evening. Jackal, the biggest scandal of the night, had also slipped away sometime during the confusion.

“He created theater inside of a theater,” Ovadia laughed as she bid her guests goodbye. “I may not understand him, but he has millions of fans all over Ipir, including the solar tribes. Union remembers the strides he made for peace at our side, and I’m glad for attention from a celebrity bridging ideological divides. Tonight became history—and that duet was one of Priestess Kalum’s strongest performances ever.”

Jackal dominated the news of Ovadia’s event in the media aftermath, though Talitha found headlines in the society feeds about her dance with Adam. Ovadia made jokes about that matter, too.

“I wonder what color hair their children would have,” Ovadia gushed with a laugh. “Oh—that’s no business of mine unless they make it so. I’ll save my thoughts on the matter.” The arbiter placed her hands on Talitha’s shoulders. “That dance was a precious moment between two longtime friends, who I’ve had the pleasure to watch grow into the fine young adults they are today. Whatever they decide for their future is fine.”

The clip of Adam dipping Talitha low—Talitha sighed, rubbing her face. Once Spencer saw the feeds—

No. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t think about Spencer. He didn’t give a shit about her, and said so in plain Unispeak. Kalum, her partner and also a friend of Adam’s, would understand the stories were trash. They’d laugh about them later, if Talitha could stomach humor for laughing.

She lowered her navigation glasses over her eyes and inhaled a lungful of seda. Hypnotic tribal beats from Blood Fang’s stellar track, Taste For Blood, thumped in her ears.

WE’VE GOT THE TASTE—

The pilot signaled to Talitha, and she glanced at the swift motion. She paused the music and raised her head.

“You’re next,” the pilot said, swiping through the projection hovering before him. His stern gaze shifted aside as he received an unheard message from his helmet. “Got the ping. Your Kyanite’s up from the sub-level. I’ll get it from the transfer bay, just a moment.”

“Thanks.” Talitha raised her thumb in approval. “Appreciate it.”

The young man turned toward the open hatch of the garage’s runway entrance and peered at the lot’s exterior visible from inside. A soft whistle from a building breeze rustled through the runway. “It’s late, Miss Morai.” He nodded at her. “Looks like Harvest rains have started. Take note as you navigate the sky lanes—ether’s rising, and the mist’s circling.”

Talitha smiled at his concern. “Typical. Wouldn’t be Harvest if it wasn’t dreary for Eve. Bet the moons also like making dramatic appearances.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “Anyway, be careful on the roads if you decide to touch ground. Even with the climate barriers, they can turn slick from the rush of entering vessels.”

“I will.”

“Be right back.”

The pilot swiped the projection before disappearing, and Talitha leaned against the wall behind the booth. In his absence, the garage’s silence magnified subtle sounds. The noises carried over to where Talitha waited; she shivered when she felt a chill. Her mouth parted to command her COM to restart the music, but the tune started playing before she made a sound.

WE’VE GOT THE TASTE—

She glanced at her COM and frowned. “Huh?”

Bewilderment furrowed her features. Maybe she’d triggered the device without realizing it—somehow. She was still off from the Purple. Maybe she’d said something. Forgot she’d spoke. Horrible, if so. As she’d told Adam, she’d never touch the drug again if it meant and end to the strange, random sensations. She uttered a command, forcing herself to regain control.

“Stop music.”

The music continued like she hadn’t spoke. Her tone tightened further. She repeated the command.

“Stop. Music.”

The volume rose.

“Oh, come on.” She groaned and jabbed her finger against the band on her wrist. “Stupid COM. You pretend you don’t understand my commands and do the opposite. I don’t care if you’re artificial, this is personal. The minute I can upgrade you, I will. How does that strike you?”

No response from COM. Her frown deepened. She glanced at the light emanating from the runway's open hatch as the music blasted louder through her ear bud. Wincing, she hopped up from her seat, her yell echoing through the metallic passage.

“COM—stop!” She tapped every manual indicator point. “Stop. Mute. Please, shut up!”

The music stopped. She halted at the sudden silence. A slow laugh erupted from her chest.

“All right. Okay.” She studied the device, and the holographic flowers on the band shifted in the light. “Just like that. Fine. Nothing to say for yourself?”

COM’s ambiguous system voice responded. MUSIC HAS STOPPED. HOW MAY I ASSIST?

“Great. That’s what I wanted. Was that so hard?” She sighed, dropping her arm back to her side. “Better than candy, says Ivan. Fuck off, mate.” Her mood sunk further as she noticed what she was doing as she stood alone in the runway. “I’m talking to myself. Enough, already.”

Her COM spoke through her ear bud and informed her the network was down.

EMERGENCY ALERT: COM NETWORK OFFLINE

Emergency. COM network offline.

“What?”

She studied the device again, and before her eyes, the data on her display vanished without warning. COM never announced it was offline, because COM never went offline. The core of the planet generated the endless ether that allowed instant COM transmissions and every other modernity they enjoyed. Those levels rose to excess when the twin moons ascended, creating connection issues, but they had many safeguards in place for emergencies. COM never just turned off—or announced it was failing.

“COM, engage.” Talitha spoke the command and waited. Nothing happened. “COM—engage. COM—”

COM. COM. COM.

She scanned the runway for pilots, aware of her solitude again. The sunlit glow from outside dimmed as she studied the open hatch and spied stillness. Nothing moved or stirred, like time itself had stopped where she waited. Her only clue that she wasn’t frozen too was the steady thumping from her chest. Heat crackled from the bud in her ear. Her hand snapped up at the crack of pain to touch the piercing. She winced when the sharp, searing sensation stung her tragus.

“Ow!” Her fingers scrambled to unlatch the device. “ Fuck!”

She paused when a low static emanated from the receiver. A rasping breath prickled her senses. The sound resonated from somewhere near.

Someone was behind her.

Heavy exhales poured from Talitha. She didn’t dare move. She wouldn’t breathe or budge a millimeter. Whatever it was stood paces away. She could feel it, there.

She wouldn’t look.

The presence moved closer, and she clutched her face, forcing herself back to reality.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Purple.

Fucking Dot. Fucking Ivan.

The wheezing continued. Chills seared down her spine, and beside her, it choked out a garbled noise. Sounded wet, like a pig. A beast.

It groaned.

“Oh.”

Talitha squeaked as an icy chill flooded her. Didn’t mean to make that noise. Didn’t mean—

“No. Please. I don’t—know what this—”

She sank into a heady rush, drooping against her will. An ultra-low voice formed words through the still-prickling earbud. The message rumbled through Talitha.

Galu…ina…libbi…

Something touched her arm. Talitha bolted. A high shriek ripped from her chest.

“No!”

Hallucination.

Hallucination.

The presence moved, and another choked cry escaped Talitha.

“No!”

A shadow appeared before her, silhouetted by clouding light from the open hatch. The presence stood taller than a man, larger too, and twisted horns sprouted from its head.

“What?” Gasps tore from Talitha’s throat. Her gaze pored over the figure. Its form seemed to shift and waver like heat lines. “What is—what is that—?”

A sudden, rancid stench flooded her nostrils, and she gagged as the smell choked and occluded her. She stumbled as her body heaved, doubling over as the odor overpowered—and suffocated. Static noise persisted through the bud, laced with a faint, asynchronous animal panting. Around her existed everything dead and wrong.

Bile rose when she retched, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, forcing her legs to move.

“Help!” She shrieked, her boots thudding against the runway’s metal floor. “Help me—!”

She slammed into a solid mass mid-step.

Tightness enveloped her as an unseen force squeezed her arms and legs together, and she fell, smashing into the ground. Her eyes rolled backwards as she lay on her back, dazed. In the next microsecond, terror piled over like an avalanche, forcing her to remember with blind instinct that danger was near. From the corners of her eye, she saw the shadow. The horns. A mass both there and not. She felt it. Smelled it.

Hated it.

She flipped over onto her side, shoving her body into a crawl. Screamed, again—

“No!”

Through the haze of confusion and pain, another jolt pierced her skull. No one was there to hear her, because everyone had gone. Talitha was alone.

A voice spoke to her within the whirlwind—someone outside of herself—and through her splitting headache, she registered the voice of a man.

“What’s wrong?”

“Help!” She dragged herself to stand, the male’s voice communicating from somewhere near. “He’s here!”

“Who?”

“H-has—horns!”

“Horns?”

“He’s coming!” Talitha whipped around to look behind her, where the garage’s hatch at the end of the runway stretched open. “Help!”

A relaxed chuckle rustled from the man who was addressing her. The laugh also seemed to emanate through her COM.

“Settle yourself, little star. No one’s here but you and me.” His prodding tone was gentle. “Are you all right?”

That voice—she recognized him. Not personally, but through media clips and interviews. Even heard it earlier during the fundraiser. Panting, she squeezed her eyes shut as she identified the person speaking.

Jackal.

She forced herself to regain control before peering at the wildlander through blurred vision. Tribal markings snaked over him, the same types of glyphs imprinted onto Kalum, except he had thousands of them colored deep red on his skin. The symbols wrapped over him in intricate layers until his flesh was barely visible, turning him into a simmering visage. Tattoos also traced the sharp angles of his steeled face; his loosened hair, midnight and coarse, trailed over his loosened clothes.

He offered her a hand to assist. She accepted, her cheeks fuming as her fingers slipped into his grip. She scanned his gleaming tattoos as he hoisted her up before meeting his gaze.

“Mr. Jackal. It’s you.” Her voice shook as she steadied herself. “I thought you left already. You disappeared.”

“I thought I left too.” His black gaze assessed her with placidity. “But I found I’m still here.”

“Okay. Well, I’m sorry for running into you.” She touched her temple. “I hit my head hard when I fell. It really hurt.”

“Are you still in pain now?”

Talitha concentrated for a moment at his question, noticing that the aching had vanished. “No, not anymore.”

“Good.”

She rubbed her scalp as if the pain were still there, searching for more to say to Jackal’s waiting stare. Stumbling through relevant thoughts, she tried a compliment. “Ah, I’m a big fan of your music, sir. Taste For Blood’s stellar, both the song and the album. My best mate, Kalum—you know her, obviously—admires how you weave together chants from both sects of Isten Dar. She helped me see your music differently. Deeper, even if I don’t understand.”

“Wonderful.” Jackal’s calm gaze remained focused on Talitha. “Of course I know Priestess Kalum. Lovely and important young lady, with an incredible voice for her age. Must owe that ethereal resonance to her native bloodlines. She surpasses even her mother in tonal accuracy.”

“Yes.” Talitha nodded. “She’s amazing. I love listening to her.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you, out of everyone, would.” He gestured at Talitha. “Your compliment on my music, though. Tell me. Do you dance to it?”

“Aye. The beat’s stellar. Sounds nova on the floor.” Talitha shifted through a few looping steps of the tribal dance. “The sequence is fun. Lots of energy.”

“That’s why I created the music. To make you dance.” He demonstrated the steps to her with subtle, fluid grace. “That’s an ancient pattern, little star, meant for practiced elders. Mere movements made through the ethereal void hold power. There’s meaning in all that I do, for those who can listen.”

Talitha’s attention broke from his. “Those are customs of your culture, right? Your immortal ways.”

“Our culture,” he corrected. “You and I are of Vangrali heritage, even if we stand in Union territory. Never forget your roots.” Somewhere in the swirl of his fiery ink, Talitha saw him smile, and his teeth were gleaming and straight. “It’s good to see a girl from the island flourishing among humans.”

“I’m Vangrali by blood only.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I was born here in Union, raised with humans. I feel more human than not at this point. I’ve never been to Vangral, or the wildlands. Not even to Oasis.”

“Regardless, your bloodline remains. You’re considered pureblood by humans because your tests can't determine your exact percentage. Only a practiced bite could decipher you accurately. However, to me, you’re without blemish.”

“Aye.” Talitha shrugged. “That’s not a compliment here, though. It’s a complication. I’d be more valuable if I were human.”

“You’re valuable to me, and to our mighty tribe. Something to be celebrated and venerated. Desired with great passion.”

“If you think so. I respect that blood legacies are important to natives, especially around Vangrali history. That’s where the prophet was born. I remember studying in school that one of El-Akalut’s roots grows out of the island.” She scratched her arm as Jackal’s unbroken attention rattled her nerves. “I’m grateful for what I am, and Vangral looks beautiful in the clips. I’m sure it’s a nice place to, ah…visit.” Talitha cringed at her words. Vangral’s violent reputation meant it wasn’t a place for vacations. “Um, anyway—I’m rude.” She extended her hand to Jackal, summoning her public-friendly persona. “You left so fast after the duet that I couldn’t meet you. I looked for you but had no luck. It’s an honor to talk to you now. Let me introduce myself. I’m—”

“Talitha Lynn Morai, aged seventeen mortal years, turning eighteen in the fourth month of year 1000. According to your bio, your mother was a biter. Her rabidity activated right as you were extracted, and it’s a true miracle that you’re standing here today.” Jackal’s attention on her pulsated. “You're a student at Cloverland Academy, a graduating ward of Pender-Pal’s Refugee Outreach program, and a volunteer at Temple Altiria. You earn service credits from Unifaith, and Kalum serves as your tutor.”

“Wow. All of that’s right.” Talitha frowned at the influx of her personal information. “You know a lot about me. You remembered that from my bio?”

“I’m sure you know more about me.” Jackal’s muted humor rustled. “You must watch the feeds and follow the trends. The minutiae.”

“That’s true. I probably know as much about you from the media. So do many people. Before Blood Fang, you did some noble things.”

“I did. Still do.” Jackal guided Talitha’s fingers to his mouth and grazed his lips against them. She pulled back her hand in a snap, warding off discomfort. Rumors that he liked to bite for real returned.

“Sorry. Again.” She withdrew a pace. “Did I hurt you when I ran into you? That was embarrassing.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I was more concerned about you, shouting for help and crying.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Jackal.”

“Raia,” he corrected. “Raia M. Malmsey.”

“Raia M.?” She frowned as she thought over his name. “What’s the ‘M’ for?”

“That’s a secret.”

“All right.” She nodded, and peered at his markings once more. “Mr. Malmsey—Raia—again, it’s a pleasure. I’m going to your—”

She snapped her mouth shut before finishing her thought. The topic was perhaps too taboo. Jackal took her hand again to feel her wrist.

“Your heart’s racing.” His attention pored over her. “What did you see?”

“I saw…” She scrambled to find a response. Humiliation deterred her reply. “Vermin. A centimouse.” Her face screwed with disgust. “I hate those.”

“A centimouse,” Jackal repeated.

“Aye. Too many furry little legs. Gross.”

“You mentioned horns. Centimice don’t have horns.”

“Did I say horns?” She laughed, the sound shrill. “I meant a tail. It had a tail.”

“Hm.”

Talitha eased away. “Thanks for your help. I’m an idiot.”

“No need to apologize.” Jackal flashed his smile. It was straight and gleaming. Talitha pulled her jacket tight as another sudden breeze whistled through the runway.

“The pilot will be here soon with my bike.”

“Ah, then it’s time for us to part. Take care, Talitha, and pleasant dreams.” Jackal’s hands slipped from hers back into his pockets. “We’ll meet again soon.”

He walked in the opposite direction of the hatch opening toward the shadows of the garage’s lower levels, disappearing without looking for a pilot. Talitha watched him until she was left alone, and after a few moments wondered if the vision with its smells and sounds had even happened. Maybe Jackal himself was another hallucination from the Purple. She lay her cheeks in her hands.

The low sound of music pumped through the earbud at normal volume, and the hot pain from the earbud was gone. Her next spoken command hushed the music, and a quick glance at her COM revealed functioning displays. She checked the hour and sucked in a breath. Ten past zero—twenty minutes had passed during the hallucination.

She glanced at the booth and spotted the pilot back at his station. He pointed at her mauve-tinted Kyanite by the exit ramps. She breathed to ease herself, absorbing the real things around her.

The runway lights flashed to indicate another vessel was approaching, and the pilot waved at her to get off of the ramp. Talitha scooted onto the adjacent walkway, and a minute later, a sleek-bodied Blue Bird streaked toward the hatch exit.

“There you are.” The pilot walked toward her as the vessel streaked past them. “You vanished. Wondered where you went.”

“Vanished?” Talitha repeated what he’d said, narrowing her lids.

“Yeah. You were gone, then reappeared. Didn’t even hear the service doors engage to let you back on the path.” The pilot’s helmet bobbed in her direction. “Where’d you go?”

“Oh.” She glanced where Jackal had left, tightening her jacket against the chilling breeze. “Nowhere.”