Chapter Eight: Half Heaven, Half Heartache
Kizna Towryk lay in her bed, a smile crossing her face.
She was dreaming of a clear April day, in a garden fragrant with wisteria and crepe myrtle. Saki walked ahead of her, as matron of honor, in a silk lilac gown. Zero stood to her right, in a royal blue tuxedo, with a pale grey shirt and a silver bolo tie. Clay stood next to him, in a matching tux, with a cream-colored rose pinned to his lapel. The two fussed and fidgeted, waiting for the signal.
And today was Kizna's day to shine. Her hair flowed in waves, with bangs curled. She wore a white silk gown, square-necked, with ¾ length sleeves and an Empire waist. She carried a bouquet of tiger lilies, yellow roses, and snapdragons. She looked at the guests, at her bridesmaid, and took a deep breath, before walking down the aisle to her groom.
Father Corin Reage smiled, watching the wedding party rise and gaze at the bride. He opened his service book to the appropriate ceremony.
When Kizna reached the front, she glanced at Zero. The guests sat, and the ceremony began.
"We are gathered here to celebrate the union of this man, Rei Enna, and this woman, Kizna Towryk, in holy matrimony. The sacrament of marriage is a holy one, not to be entered into lightly, nor treated carelessly. You stand here before the goddesses and this assembly as testimony that you are entering this union of your own will, with love, and in joy." He motioned to the bride and groom to approach. Kizna handed her bouquet to Saki, then took Zero's hand.
"If there is anyone here who can give reason why this couple should not wed, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace." Silence descended on the gathering; Kizna shivered, then looked at Zero, who smiled at her. Father Corin continued. "Rei Enna, do you take Kizna Towryk to be your lawfully wedded wife---"
"No," a cold voice interrupted. Kizna turned, and saw Hiead Gner, all in black, storming toward the bride and groom. Silvery hair whipped across his face; ruby eyes flashed in anger, sorrow, and desire. "This wedding cannot take place. I have cause against this union."
Zero's gaze wandered toward the man, who stopped when he reached the couple. Father Corin stammered, "Sir, sir, you cannot be serious."
Clay's eyes widened, in horror. Hiead said, "The matter of old debts remains to be settled, Fortran. But I can deal with you another day. Today," he added, eyes now on Zero, "I have come for you."
"You're dead," Kizna hissed. "Dead as bedamned. Leave us be."
Hiead regarded her with a soft, pitying look. "I am no more dead than you, Kizna. And I have traveled many roads to find him. If he refuses me, then I will leave, and bid you both peace, forever. But that is neither your decision, nor mine." He turned to face Zero, whose eyes welled with tears. Surprise and joy played across his face. "Rei, we made a promise to each other, years ago. If it is a promise that you can no longer keep, then say so, and I will free you from it. If you will have me, if you still love me, then take my hand. Whatever you will, so I will."
Zero smiled, letting go of Kizna's hand. "Forgive me. I have never stopped loving him. And I cannot bear losing him again."
Hiead drew the dark-haired man into his arms, and kissed him. Kizna collapsed onto the green, shocked and torn. "Zero! No! You can't go with him, you can't," she sobbed.
"Wherever he is," Zero replied, "I want to be. Please understand." He leaned against Hiead, who scooped him up and walked away.
Kizna wept, devastated, as the wedding party murmured among themselves.
She woke, gasping for air, in a cold sweat. Just a nightmare. That's all. Hiead died years ago. And Zero is mine, now. Nothing can break our bond, nothing. Let's get back to sleep. Kizna closed her eyes, and fell into a dreamless slumber.
In the guest room, Hiead tossed and turned. He caught snatches of images in his dreams: Clay Cliff Fortran, at a computer, deleting two files, one his official GIS dossier. A girl with mousy hair and a suffering face--- Ikhny, more than likely---worked on an Ingrid, rewiring the communications panel. She looked around, and then inspected a pod, which she installed. Before she left, she slipped a letter into the pod, setting a cloaking device within the Ingrid.
The klaxon sounded: VICTIM approaching fast, with the mothership in tow. This battle would determine who controlled Zion and the remaining colonies. The last battle, or so it was hoped. The Omega---Project Omega---would soon begin.
He woke, with a sense of unease. Omega: where have I heard the term? What was it about? She knew something of it. What did she know? He lay back, studying the patterns on the drapes.
Zero lay in his bed, awakened from an old dream: the last time he had spoken with Hiead. The two had argued earlier in the day, bitter accusations flying between them. The two began fighting, each kick and blow punctuating ugly thoughts. They fought until they were exhausted, bloodied, and in tears. When the alarm went off, the two dressed in silence, heading to their Ingrids. Zero turned to his lover, sadness in his eyes. "Be careful," he said.
"I always am," Hiead replied. "You should know that by now." The two climbed into their Ingrids, waiting for take off.
I never apologized. We went off without a single "I'm sorry." How could I have been so effing pigheaded? What made me think I had the right to act like such a jackass?
He got out of bed and padded over to the corner, which he had made into a shrine. He knelt, looking at the pictures on the table. This isn't doing you a damned bit of good. Get back to bed. Zero trudged back, turning on the radio. He grabbed a pillow, holding it and rocking himself back to sleep.
As for Habibi, he dreamed he was a tiger, hunting the moon and the Seven Stars.
Sunlight washed over 2217 Malmsey Street, casting pale shapes on the windowsills and the front step. A newspaper rested there, as the block began to stir.
Kizna Towryk felt a pressure on her chest and upper arms. Zero decided to wrestle me again, huh? She opened her eyes, meeting Habibi's mismatched stare. "Hey! Do you always have to wake me this way?" She glanced at her clock, which read 7:45. Better go down and see if Zero needs a hand with breakfast. She threw a pink robe over her pajamas, stepped into slippers, and started downstairs.
"Hey, morning glory, what's on the menu today?" Kizna sang, walking into the kitchen. "You ready for a little---oh, bloody hell," she said, when she caught the glimmer of silver-white hair.
"Good morning to you, too, Kizna," Hiead said, as he poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to her.
"You're dead. I saw your vessel destroyed. You can't be here." I'm going to shut my eyes, and he'll be gone when I open them. No. He's here. He's real.
Hiead tightened the sash on the robe over his nightshirt. "Well, I am alive. I'm here. And the details between are still a little sketchy. Would you like to sit down?"
"I think I'd better," Kizna answered, as she sat at the table. "Could you please pass the cream and sugar?" He nodded. "Thanks." She added three lumps of sugar and cream to the coffee, stirring it with a spoon, which Hiead gave her. "So, tell me, what brings you to Red River City?" And why now, why not before?
Hiead poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting next to Kizna. "Well, I work as a bounty hunter, and for some time I've gone by the name of Darden Angel. I came to Red River City in search of a smuggler---one who didn't exist---and found the center for the Quark trade."
Kizna stiffened. "I've lost six of my students to Quark. Did Zero tell you?"
"No, and I am sorry you lost so many students. Though I think yesterday's events would have made telling that story impossible." But he needed you then.
"Yes, the soccer player. The schools are closed for the remainder of the week, and all sports events have been postponed." How did you find him?
"I was watching soccer practice, and saw the whole incident. We came here for dinner, and went with Gareas and Rio to the Kuerten house, for the wake. After that, we had midnight breakfast, and came back here."
"And where is Zero now?"
"He went off to the Arco iris Bakery, in search of brioche, milhojas, and alfajores. I think he was also keen on getting fresh baguettes for today's lunch. He said he'd be back before you woke up, but, well, things do happen, and---"
"And here I am," Zero said, arms loaded with breads and sweets. "I see you two have been chatting away." He set the purchases on the counter, and gave Kizna a kiss. "So, what was the palare, kids?"
"Zero," Kizna asked, "is there something you forgot to tell me?" Like when the dead start showing up in the kitchen?
"Sorry," he replied, his face flushed. "Everything happened so quickly." And I'm still not sure what to make of things. I just know that someone's going to get hurt, not now maybe, but in the long run. And I'll be the one dishing it out.
"Kizna was telling me some of her students died Quark-related deaths. Is this true?" Hiead cut in. Answer the question, Zero, and give me something to think about. Something that doesn't involve sweeping you upstairs and locking the door to the guest room.
"All true. You think it might be related to Ryker's death?"
"Not directly, but this definitely gives me some grist. Seven deaths in Red River, which are or may be Quark-related, Mickey's death---"
"Hold it, I thought he died from complications with his treatment."
"Enna, Resilient Q was created at Q Labs, and I think it may be a variant on Quark. Same goes for Brilhante. You saw how your soccer player went into convulsions, how he was foaming at the mouth? The same thing happened when Mickey died."
"So why the different names?" Kizna wanted to know.
"What's the difference between morphine and codeine?"
"One is stronger than the other. But both are opiates, no?"
"Precisely. And I suspect that Brilhante, Resilient Q, and Quark are all derived from the same base. And there's more."
"More than that?" Zero chimed. He removed a brioche from a bag, tearing off a piece. "Is there something stronger?"
"Yes. There's an ultra-pure form of Quark, called Sombra. Massive highs, very addictive, and lethal."
Zero chewed the brioche, as he pulled two pastry boxes out and set them in the refrigerator. Habibi walked into the kitchen, weaving around his legs.
"Little love, how are you? Miss me?" He bent down, and nuzzled the cat.
Hiead and Kizna looked at each other, grins on their faces. "Has he always been such a kid?" Hiead asked. I know the answer, but I wonder what you make of this.
"He spoils that cat rotten. Fresh fish on Saturdays, the occasional bits of goose liver, and enough catnip to send lions into euphoria. Imagine him as a father." He'd be as much a kid as any he would raise. And with a daughter, oh my: she'd have him at the beck and call!
The image of Zero, taking a young boy fishing, crossed Hiead's mind. "I think he'd be a good father." Nope, on second thought, he'd be a dad, or a daddy if he had daughters. I'd be "father" to the kids. If I ever did have kids. Why am I thinking this way? I need some breakfast.
"Who wants brioche French toast?" Zero asked, walking toward the pantry.
"I'm game," Kizna replied. "Need a hand with anything?"
"Get about six eggs and give them a good beating."
"Okay." She pulled a large red bowl from the cabinet, and set it on the counter. She counted off six eggs, brought them to the bowl, and started cracking them. "Could you hand me the flat whisk?" Kizna asked, when Zero prepared Habibi's breakfast. He reached into a utensil drawer, and pulled the whisk out, handing it to Kizna.
"Anything I can do here?" Hiead wanted to know.
"Start slicing up the brioche," Zero answered. "Once you're done, hand it over to Kizna."
"I'll do it." He found the bag with the brioche, and pulled a knife from the cutting block. Within ten minutes, Hiead handed a board with thick slices to Kizna, who began soaking them in the beaten egg mixture. "You want me to put together a fresh pot of coffee or something?"
"If you like. I've got the beans in the freezer, and I'll get you the grinder." Deep breaths, Enna. Get some oxygen into your lungs. Your fiancée is here, she's fixing breakfast with you. And she's actually going to stay for it, instead of dashing to one of her endless meetings. You aren't with him. That was another life. A totally other life. The coffee grinder slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor. Kizna and Hiead rushed over to him.
"Zero," Kizna said. "What happened?" Is there something on your mind? Something I need to know? Come on; tell me. Talk to me, please.
"You look a little ragged," Hiead added, taking Zero's arm. "Tell us what to do, and we'll wrap up here." Rei, what's troubling you? Say something.
Zero looked at the two, giving them a shaky smile. "I guess I was a little preoccupied there. Sorry." You think you can fool them? Preoccupied nothing. You're with the most amazing girl, and here you are thinking of Hiead. And let's not kid around; you haven't gotten a wedding band for yourself. You look at his picture; and it's his picture that's always had fresh flowers and candles by it. How many times have you heard a song, or looked at a map, and thought of him? And when did you last kiss Kizna without recalling how Hiead's lips tasted? You are a gutless wonder, Zero.
He sat at the kitchen table. Hiead picked up the grinder. Kizna placed a skillet on the stove, and began heating it.
"You know, I think tea would suit this better. Kizna," Hiead asked, "what do you think? A little Irish Breakfast sound right?"
"Sounds fine," she answered. "Help me set the table?"
"Certainly." Hiead gathered plates, cups, and utensils together. He set three places, making sure not to startle Zero, who was staring at an unseen point. He's too wound up to be merely preoccupied. I know there's something he's trying to hide.
Habibi scampered to the table, jumping into Zero's lap. He started, and then relaxed as the cat rumbled, settling in to rest. "Ya habibi. Little love, are you worried? Please don't. I'll be fine."
Hiead and Kizna finished their tasks. She brought the French toast to the table; he took the cups and prepared the tea. Once he was done, he returned, and the three sat to eat. Zero sat with his back to the kitchen window, with Kizna to his right, and Hiead to his left.
They ate, in silence, each on a different thought train. Hiead cleared the table, and started washing the dishes. Kizna dried and put everything away.
Zero nudged Habibi off his lap, stretching, as he got up. "Thank you," he yawned, "and sorry for not giving a hand. I guess I'm still a little knackered, so I'll go up and grab a nap."
Kizna walked with him, to the door of his bedroom. "Call me if you need anything," she said, kissing him on the cheek. What are you thinking? And why won't you tell me?
He kissed her on the lips, whispering, "I will. So stop worrying." You're thinking of him, even now. Do you really take this woman for a fool? Do you think she won't work out the scene?
"I'll be in my room. If Rio or Garu call, should I wake you?" You may be kissing me, but you're not here, are you? Are you?
"Yes, please." How do I do this? "There's something I need to tell you." No, I'll sleep on it now. Maybe then I'll have cleared my head.
Kizna gave him a smile, walking to her bedroom; once she shut the door, she flung herself onto the bed and wept, trying not to make a sound.
Hiead went upstairs, passing the door to Zero's room. He paused a moment, then knocked.
"Go away, I'm trying to rest."
"I thought you might need to talk." I need to know---what is eating you up, Rei?
Silence.
"Well, when you want to talk, knock on the door to my room, all right?" Don't shut me out this way!
"I will, Hiead. Thank you."
Hiead walked past Kizna's door. Better not knock.
"Hiead, is that you?" His eyes widened.
"Yes."
"Come inside," she said.
"Are you sure you want me to?" Mother Kannon, give me mercy. I don't know what to say.
He heard the sound of feet, before the door opened. Kizna looked at him, bewildered. Hiead asked again: "Are you sure that you want me to enter your room? I could, for all you know, be a stranger, posing as Hiead Gner, to confuse your fiancé and throw your world into utter chaos. I might be hoping to strike Zero, now that he's at his most vulnerable. I could threaten him with pain. I could threaten him with love."
She studied his face, measuring his ruby eyes with her cornflower-colored ones. The ghost of a similar conversation, when she was still a Repairer Candidate, and Hiead was 87, flashed across her mind.
"What is your game, Hiead?" Kizna screamed. "You stop fighting Zero on a twice-hourly basis. Then he starts babbling about how you two are bonding, telepathic links, and the like. Now I come in, and I find you compiling songs onto a disc, and talking to yourself about how priceless the look on his face will be. Tell me, what sort of mind fuck have you inflicted?"
Hiead stared at her, his eyes calm. "Is that what you think this is? A head game? Maybe you're right, Towryk. Maybe all I want is to lead him on, to make him believe that I have a beating heart, a living soul. Yes, what a pretty sight: to drive him mad with the airy-fairy notion that he actually can read me, and that I can read him. A sweet poisoning, made sweeter with the knowledge that I made him believe I could love him---the naïf, the misguided little fool, who gives his heart to me. It's not unlike charming a calf into thinking the abattoir is a green and pleasant field, so that when the bolt thrower pierces the skull, it smiles."
Kizna edged away, terrified. "But head games are for the feeble. There's nothing feeble about Zero. And while I still may possess the stomach for pain, were I to hurt him, now, I would bleed. I still want to fight him, make no mistake. And I still want to best him, to pilot the White Goddess, and I probably will until we both ascend. But to break him would break me. He's become a central part, you see, of my landscape. And he trusts me. Why he does, I may never really fathom. But he does, and that unnerves me to no end."
Hiead shook his head, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" he teased, though his voice was more sad than playful. "I saw what you saw there. You had every right to doubt me; he was your partner, and I was his rival."
"But the battle, the vessel---I don't understand. Why didn't you come for him sooner?"
"I spent the last seven years living as another person, with a stolen identity. I lived as a bounty hunter, with nothing to show but a bungalow in the Outlands, a few bits of furniture, a letter from the young woman who was my Repairer, and this ring." Hiead lifted his left hand, letting the light hit the third finger. And I had dreams, and flashbacks, some pleasant, others frightening, all that time. Now I learn I'm someone else. Someone who redefines the term 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know.' And I still don't understand it all. But I think I understand enough to say that I---"
Kizna put a finger to his lips. "I know. Just as I knew, later that day, when you gave him the disc. Does this mean I'm about to call this engagement off? Hardly. That will be another day." She paused, giving him a sad, wry grin. "Well, if you're coming in, come in already. We've got a lot to discuss, you and I."
"Thank you, Kizna." And yes, we do have much to talk about. Hiead followed her into the room.
Author's Notes
Hello all, and thank you for reading this story. Well, the fateful encounter has happened. And like the preceding chapter, this one has been a bit difficult to write. Not a complaint---I'd worry more if this came too easily! D-chan: thank you for the review on the last chapter. I did promise lime, and I do intend to deliver, and soon. I think, in this story, there is something to be said for deferred gratification. UE: tovarishch, thank you again, so, so much! You really do give me a lot to ponder. Oh, and by the by, I popped over to your blog. Very (to use a Clay-ism) interesting place. I'd like to pop in again. 88: thank you, as always, for your words of encouragement. I shall press on. I promise.
Glossary:
Arco iris (ar-ko-ee-rees): Spanish for rainbow.
Naïf: the masculine version of naïve; Hiead uses the term to refer to Zero and his alleged ignorance of the real world.
Borstal: I believe this actually refers to the juvenile detention centers in the UK, Australia and New Zealand. In post-VICTIM Zion, a Borstal is an off-planet psychiatric colony.
Abattoir (ah-ba-twah'): French word, meaning slaughterhouse.
Food terms:
Brioche: a sweet, buttery yeast roll, which can be eaten with jam and a strong Café au Lait. The dough can also be baked as bread.
Milhojas (meel-o-has): a pastry found in South American bakeries, which can have a mousse, sponge cake, or puff pastry base. It's usually cut and sold by the piece---perfect for a dessert sampler. Literally the term means "a thousand leaves," so I'm guessing this was adapted from French pastry making.
Alfajor (al-fah-hor): a type of cookie sandwich, made with dulce de leche. The cookie itself is similar to shortbread, though less sweet. They're found throughout South America, and can range from simple to fancy.
This chapter's title is the title of a song, which Gene Pitney recorded in the early 60s, written by George Goehring, Wally Gold, and Aaron H. Schroeder.
Coming up: A little of the conversation between Hiead and Kizna. The tinderbox that is Ryker Kuerten's funeral. Clay and Hiead meet. And the dinner party kicks into high gear after that! Stay tuned.
Again, thank you all for reading, and I really do appreciate your reviews.
Antoinette (poetisa)
Kizna Towryk lay in her bed, a smile crossing her face.
She was dreaming of a clear April day, in a garden fragrant with wisteria and crepe myrtle. Saki walked ahead of her, as matron of honor, in a silk lilac gown. Zero stood to her right, in a royal blue tuxedo, with a pale grey shirt and a silver bolo tie. Clay stood next to him, in a matching tux, with a cream-colored rose pinned to his lapel. The two fussed and fidgeted, waiting for the signal.
And today was Kizna's day to shine. Her hair flowed in waves, with bangs curled. She wore a white silk gown, square-necked, with ¾ length sleeves and an Empire waist. She carried a bouquet of tiger lilies, yellow roses, and snapdragons. She looked at the guests, at her bridesmaid, and took a deep breath, before walking down the aisle to her groom.
Father Corin Reage smiled, watching the wedding party rise and gaze at the bride. He opened his service book to the appropriate ceremony.
When Kizna reached the front, she glanced at Zero. The guests sat, and the ceremony began.
"We are gathered here to celebrate the union of this man, Rei Enna, and this woman, Kizna Towryk, in holy matrimony. The sacrament of marriage is a holy one, not to be entered into lightly, nor treated carelessly. You stand here before the goddesses and this assembly as testimony that you are entering this union of your own will, with love, and in joy." He motioned to the bride and groom to approach. Kizna handed her bouquet to Saki, then took Zero's hand.
"If there is anyone here who can give reason why this couple should not wed, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace." Silence descended on the gathering; Kizna shivered, then looked at Zero, who smiled at her. Father Corin continued. "Rei Enna, do you take Kizna Towryk to be your lawfully wedded wife---"
"No," a cold voice interrupted. Kizna turned, and saw Hiead Gner, all in black, storming toward the bride and groom. Silvery hair whipped across his face; ruby eyes flashed in anger, sorrow, and desire. "This wedding cannot take place. I have cause against this union."
Zero's gaze wandered toward the man, who stopped when he reached the couple. Father Corin stammered, "Sir, sir, you cannot be serious."
Clay's eyes widened, in horror. Hiead said, "The matter of old debts remains to be settled, Fortran. But I can deal with you another day. Today," he added, eyes now on Zero, "I have come for you."
"You're dead," Kizna hissed. "Dead as bedamned. Leave us be."
Hiead regarded her with a soft, pitying look. "I am no more dead than you, Kizna. And I have traveled many roads to find him. If he refuses me, then I will leave, and bid you both peace, forever. But that is neither your decision, nor mine." He turned to face Zero, whose eyes welled with tears. Surprise and joy played across his face. "Rei, we made a promise to each other, years ago. If it is a promise that you can no longer keep, then say so, and I will free you from it. If you will have me, if you still love me, then take my hand. Whatever you will, so I will."
Zero smiled, letting go of Kizna's hand. "Forgive me. I have never stopped loving him. And I cannot bear losing him again."
Hiead drew the dark-haired man into his arms, and kissed him. Kizna collapsed onto the green, shocked and torn. "Zero! No! You can't go with him, you can't," she sobbed.
"Wherever he is," Zero replied, "I want to be. Please understand." He leaned against Hiead, who scooped him up and walked away.
Kizna wept, devastated, as the wedding party murmured among themselves.
She woke, gasping for air, in a cold sweat. Just a nightmare. That's all. Hiead died years ago. And Zero is mine, now. Nothing can break our bond, nothing. Let's get back to sleep. Kizna closed her eyes, and fell into a dreamless slumber.
In the guest room, Hiead tossed and turned. He caught snatches of images in his dreams: Clay Cliff Fortran, at a computer, deleting two files, one his official GIS dossier. A girl with mousy hair and a suffering face--- Ikhny, more than likely---worked on an Ingrid, rewiring the communications panel. She looked around, and then inspected a pod, which she installed. Before she left, she slipped a letter into the pod, setting a cloaking device within the Ingrid.
The klaxon sounded: VICTIM approaching fast, with the mothership in tow. This battle would determine who controlled Zion and the remaining colonies. The last battle, or so it was hoped. The Omega---Project Omega---would soon begin.
He woke, with a sense of unease. Omega: where have I heard the term? What was it about? She knew something of it. What did she know? He lay back, studying the patterns on the drapes.
Zero lay in his bed, awakened from an old dream: the last time he had spoken with Hiead. The two had argued earlier in the day, bitter accusations flying between them. The two began fighting, each kick and blow punctuating ugly thoughts. They fought until they were exhausted, bloodied, and in tears. When the alarm went off, the two dressed in silence, heading to their Ingrids. Zero turned to his lover, sadness in his eyes. "Be careful," he said.
"I always am," Hiead replied. "You should know that by now." The two climbed into their Ingrids, waiting for take off.
I never apologized. We went off without a single "I'm sorry." How could I have been so effing pigheaded? What made me think I had the right to act like such a jackass?
He got out of bed and padded over to the corner, which he had made into a shrine. He knelt, looking at the pictures on the table. This isn't doing you a damned bit of good. Get back to bed. Zero trudged back, turning on the radio. He grabbed a pillow, holding it and rocking himself back to sleep.
As for Habibi, he dreamed he was a tiger, hunting the moon and the Seven Stars.
Sunlight washed over 2217 Malmsey Street, casting pale shapes on the windowsills and the front step. A newspaper rested there, as the block began to stir.
Kizna Towryk felt a pressure on her chest and upper arms. Zero decided to wrestle me again, huh? She opened her eyes, meeting Habibi's mismatched stare. "Hey! Do you always have to wake me this way?" She glanced at her clock, which read 7:45. Better go down and see if Zero needs a hand with breakfast. She threw a pink robe over her pajamas, stepped into slippers, and started downstairs.
"Hey, morning glory, what's on the menu today?" Kizna sang, walking into the kitchen. "You ready for a little---oh, bloody hell," she said, when she caught the glimmer of silver-white hair.
"Good morning to you, too, Kizna," Hiead said, as he poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to her.
"You're dead. I saw your vessel destroyed. You can't be here." I'm going to shut my eyes, and he'll be gone when I open them. No. He's here. He's real.
Hiead tightened the sash on the robe over his nightshirt. "Well, I am alive. I'm here. And the details between are still a little sketchy. Would you like to sit down?"
"I think I'd better," Kizna answered, as she sat at the table. "Could you please pass the cream and sugar?" He nodded. "Thanks." She added three lumps of sugar and cream to the coffee, stirring it with a spoon, which Hiead gave her. "So, tell me, what brings you to Red River City?" And why now, why not before?
Hiead poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting next to Kizna. "Well, I work as a bounty hunter, and for some time I've gone by the name of Darden Angel. I came to Red River City in search of a smuggler---one who didn't exist---and found the center for the Quark trade."
Kizna stiffened. "I've lost six of my students to Quark. Did Zero tell you?"
"No, and I am sorry you lost so many students. Though I think yesterday's events would have made telling that story impossible." But he needed you then.
"Yes, the soccer player. The schools are closed for the remainder of the week, and all sports events have been postponed." How did you find him?
"I was watching soccer practice, and saw the whole incident. We came here for dinner, and went with Gareas and Rio to the Kuerten house, for the wake. After that, we had midnight breakfast, and came back here."
"And where is Zero now?"
"He went off to the Arco iris Bakery, in search of brioche, milhojas, and alfajores. I think he was also keen on getting fresh baguettes for today's lunch. He said he'd be back before you woke up, but, well, things do happen, and---"
"And here I am," Zero said, arms loaded with breads and sweets. "I see you two have been chatting away." He set the purchases on the counter, and gave Kizna a kiss. "So, what was the palare, kids?"
"Zero," Kizna asked, "is there something you forgot to tell me?" Like when the dead start showing up in the kitchen?
"Sorry," he replied, his face flushed. "Everything happened so quickly." And I'm still not sure what to make of things. I just know that someone's going to get hurt, not now maybe, but in the long run. And I'll be the one dishing it out.
"Kizna was telling me some of her students died Quark-related deaths. Is this true?" Hiead cut in. Answer the question, Zero, and give me something to think about. Something that doesn't involve sweeping you upstairs and locking the door to the guest room.
"All true. You think it might be related to Ryker's death?"
"Not directly, but this definitely gives me some grist. Seven deaths in Red River, which are or may be Quark-related, Mickey's death---"
"Hold it, I thought he died from complications with his treatment."
"Enna, Resilient Q was created at Q Labs, and I think it may be a variant on Quark. Same goes for Brilhante. You saw how your soccer player went into convulsions, how he was foaming at the mouth? The same thing happened when Mickey died."
"So why the different names?" Kizna wanted to know.
"What's the difference between morphine and codeine?"
"One is stronger than the other. But both are opiates, no?"
"Precisely. And I suspect that Brilhante, Resilient Q, and Quark are all derived from the same base. And there's more."
"More than that?" Zero chimed. He removed a brioche from a bag, tearing off a piece. "Is there something stronger?"
"Yes. There's an ultra-pure form of Quark, called Sombra. Massive highs, very addictive, and lethal."
Zero chewed the brioche, as he pulled two pastry boxes out and set them in the refrigerator. Habibi walked into the kitchen, weaving around his legs.
"Little love, how are you? Miss me?" He bent down, and nuzzled the cat.
Hiead and Kizna looked at each other, grins on their faces. "Has he always been such a kid?" Hiead asked. I know the answer, but I wonder what you make of this.
"He spoils that cat rotten. Fresh fish on Saturdays, the occasional bits of goose liver, and enough catnip to send lions into euphoria. Imagine him as a father." He'd be as much a kid as any he would raise. And with a daughter, oh my: she'd have him at the beck and call!
The image of Zero, taking a young boy fishing, crossed Hiead's mind. "I think he'd be a good father." Nope, on second thought, he'd be a dad, or a daddy if he had daughters. I'd be "father" to the kids. If I ever did have kids. Why am I thinking this way? I need some breakfast.
"Who wants brioche French toast?" Zero asked, walking toward the pantry.
"I'm game," Kizna replied. "Need a hand with anything?"
"Get about six eggs and give them a good beating."
"Okay." She pulled a large red bowl from the cabinet, and set it on the counter. She counted off six eggs, brought them to the bowl, and started cracking them. "Could you hand me the flat whisk?" Kizna asked, when Zero prepared Habibi's breakfast. He reached into a utensil drawer, and pulled the whisk out, handing it to Kizna.
"Anything I can do here?" Hiead wanted to know.
"Start slicing up the brioche," Zero answered. "Once you're done, hand it over to Kizna."
"I'll do it." He found the bag with the brioche, and pulled a knife from the cutting block. Within ten minutes, Hiead handed a board with thick slices to Kizna, who began soaking them in the beaten egg mixture. "You want me to put together a fresh pot of coffee or something?"
"If you like. I've got the beans in the freezer, and I'll get you the grinder." Deep breaths, Enna. Get some oxygen into your lungs. Your fiancée is here, she's fixing breakfast with you. And she's actually going to stay for it, instead of dashing to one of her endless meetings. You aren't with him. That was another life. A totally other life. The coffee grinder slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor. Kizna and Hiead rushed over to him.
"Zero," Kizna said. "What happened?" Is there something on your mind? Something I need to know? Come on; tell me. Talk to me, please.
"You look a little ragged," Hiead added, taking Zero's arm. "Tell us what to do, and we'll wrap up here." Rei, what's troubling you? Say something.
Zero looked at the two, giving them a shaky smile. "I guess I was a little preoccupied there. Sorry." You think you can fool them? Preoccupied nothing. You're with the most amazing girl, and here you are thinking of Hiead. And let's not kid around; you haven't gotten a wedding band for yourself. You look at his picture; and it's his picture that's always had fresh flowers and candles by it. How many times have you heard a song, or looked at a map, and thought of him? And when did you last kiss Kizna without recalling how Hiead's lips tasted? You are a gutless wonder, Zero.
He sat at the kitchen table. Hiead picked up the grinder. Kizna placed a skillet on the stove, and began heating it.
"You know, I think tea would suit this better. Kizna," Hiead asked, "what do you think? A little Irish Breakfast sound right?"
"Sounds fine," she answered. "Help me set the table?"
"Certainly." Hiead gathered plates, cups, and utensils together. He set three places, making sure not to startle Zero, who was staring at an unseen point. He's too wound up to be merely preoccupied. I know there's something he's trying to hide.
Habibi scampered to the table, jumping into Zero's lap. He started, and then relaxed as the cat rumbled, settling in to rest. "Ya habibi. Little love, are you worried? Please don't. I'll be fine."
Hiead and Kizna finished their tasks. She brought the French toast to the table; he took the cups and prepared the tea. Once he was done, he returned, and the three sat to eat. Zero sat with his back to the kitchen window, with Kizna to his right, and Hiead to his left.
They ate, in silence, each on a different thought train. Hiead cleared the table, and started washing the dishes. Kizna dried and put everything away.
Zero nudged Habibi off his lap, stretching, as he got up. "Thank you," he yawned, "and sorry for not giving a hand. I guess I'm still a little knackered, so I'll go up and grab a nap."
Kizna walked with him, to the door of his bedroom. "Call me if you need anything," she said, kissing him on the cheek. What are you thinking? And why won't you tell me?
He kissed her on the lips, whispering, "I will. So stop worrying." You're thinking of him, even now. Do you really take this woman for a fool? Do you think she won't work out the scene?
"I'll be in my room. If Rio or Garu call, should I wake you?" You may be kissing me, but you're not here, are you? Are you?
"Yes, please." How do I do this? "There's something I need to tell you." No, I'll sleep on it now. Maybe then I'll have cleared my head.
Kizna gave him a smile, walking to her bedroom; once she shut the door, she flung herself onto the bed and wept, trying not to make a sound.
Hiead went upstairs, passing the door to Zero's room. He paused a moment, then knocked.
"Go away, I'm trying to rest."
"I thought you might need to talk." I need to know---what is eating you up, Rei?
Silence.
"Well, when you want to talk, knock on the door to my room, all right?" Don't shut me out this way!
"I will, Hiead. Thank you."
Hiead walked past Kizna's door. Better not knock.
"Hiead, is that you?" His eyes widened.
"Yes."
"Come inside," she said.
"Are you sure you want me to?" Mother Kannon, give me mercy. I don't know what to say.
He heard the sound of feet, before the door opened. Kizna looked at him, bewildered. Hiead asked again: "Are you sure that you want me to enter your room? I could, for all you know, be a stranger, posing as Hiead Gner, to confuse your fiancé and throw your world into utter chaos. I might be hoping to strike Zero, now that he's at his most vulnerable. I could threaten him with pain. I could threaten him with love."
She studied his face, measuring his ruby eyes with her cornflower-colored ones. The ghost of a similar conversation, when she was still a Repairer Candidate, and Hiead was 87, flashed across her mind.
"What is your game, Hiead?" Kizna screamed. "You stop fighting Zero on a twice-hourly basis. Then he starts babbling about how you two are bonding, telepathic links, and the like. Now I come in, and I find you compiling songs onto a disc, and talking to yourself about how priceless the look on his face will be. Tell me, what sort of mind fuck have you inflicted?"
Hiead stared at her, his eyes calm. "Is that what you think this is? A head game? Maybe you're right, Towryk. Maybe all I want is to lead him on, to make him believe that I have a beating heart, a living soul. Yes, what a pretty sight: to drive him mad with the airy-fairy notion that he actually can read me, and that I can read him. A sweet poisoning, made sweeter with the knowledge that I made him believe I could love him---the naïf, the misguided little fool, who gives his heart to me. It's not unlike charming a calf into thinking the abattoir is a green and pleasant field, so that when the bolt thrower pierces the skull, it smiles."
Kizna edged away, terrified. "But head games are for the feeble. There's nothing feeble about Zero. And while I still may possess the stomach for pain, were I to hurt him, now, I would bleed. I still want to fight him, make no mistake. And I still want to best him, to pilot the White Goddess, and I probably will until we both ascend. But to break him would break me. He's become a central part, you see, of my landscape. And he trusts me. Why he does, I may never really fathom. But he does, and that unnerves me to no end."
Hiead shook his head, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" he teased, though his voice was more sad than playful. "I saw what you saw there. You had every right to doubt me; he was your partner, and I was his rival."
"But the battle, the vessel---I don't understand. Why didn't you come for him sooner?"
"I spent the last seven years living as another person, with a stolen identity. I lived as a bounty hunter, with nothing to show but a bungalow in the Outlands, a few bits of furniture, a letter from the young woman who was my Repairer, and this ring." Hiead lifted his left hand, letting the light hit the third finger. And I had dreams, and flashbacks, some pleasant, others frightening, all that time. Now I learn I'm someone else. Someone who redefines the term 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know.' And I still don't understand it all. But I think I understand enough to say that I---"
Kizna put a finger to his lips. "I know. Just as I knew, later that day, when you gave him the disc. Does this mean I'm about to call this engagement off? Hardly. That will be another day." She paused, giving him a sad, wry grin. "Well, if you're coming in, come in already. We've got a lot to discuss, you and I."
"Thank you, Kizna." And yes, we do have much to talk about. Hiead followed her into the room.
Author's Notes
Hello all, and thank you for reading this story. Well, the fateful encounter has happened. And like the preceding chapter, this one has been a bit difficult to write. Not a complaint---I'd worry more if this came too easily! D-chan: thank you for the review on the last chapter. I did promise lime, and I do intend to deliver, and soon. I think, in this story, there is something to be said for deferred gratification. UE: tovarishch, thank you again, so, so much! You really do give me a lot to ponder. Oh, and by the by, I popped over to your blog. Very (to use a Clay-ism) interesting place. I'd like to pop in again. 88: thank you, as always, for your words of encouragement. I shall press on. I promise.
Glossary:
Arco iris (ar-ko-ee-rees): Spanish for rainbow.
Naïf: the masculine version of naïve; Hiead uses the term to refer to Zero and his alleged ignorance of the real world.
Borstal: I believe this actually refers to the juvenile detention centers in the UK, Australia and New Zealand. In post-VICTIM Zion, a Borstal is an off-planet psychiatric colony.
Abattoir (ah-ba-twah'): French word, meaning slaughterhouse.
Food terms:
Brioche: a sweet, buttery yeast roll, which can be eaten with jam and a strong Café au Lait. The dough can also be baked as bread.
Milhojas (meel-o-has): a pastry found in South American bakeries, which can have a mousse, sponge cake, or puff pastry base. It's usually cut and sold by the piece---perfect for a dessert sampler. Literally the term means "a thousand leaves," so I'm guessing this was adapted from French pastry making.
Alfajor (al-fah-hor): a type of cookie sandwich, made with dulce de leche. The cookie itself is similar to shortbread, though less sweet. They're found throughout South America, and can range from simple to fancy.
This chapter's title is the title of a song, which Gene Pitney recorded in the early 60s, written by George Goehring, Wally Gold, and Aaron H. Schroeder.
Coming up: A little of the conversation between Hiead and Kizna. The tinderbox that is Ryker Kuerten's funeral. Clay and Hiead meet. And the dinner party kicks into high gear after that! Stay tuned.
Again, thank you all for reading, and I really do appreciate your reviews.
Antoinette (poetisa)