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BOOK EXCERPT

‘Put a spell on you’

Zane

‘I’m out.’

The tall, lean Edenite rose to his feet abruptly and left the table. He ducked under the trailing gossamer lights, the cascade of mirror balls and dripping flower arrangements. Heading towards freedom, escaping the cloud of cloying expectations behind him, away from the sticky web of endless celebrations that he frankly had no more patience for.

A woman gave chase, gripping his arm. ‘Why are you leaving? The reception has barely begun.’

‘Need some air,’ Zane Sable declared, gently but firmly, looking down at his stunning and perfectly coutured girlfriend. He disengaged her long fingernails from his arm. ‘I’ll be back, Athena. Soon.’

Only time and circumstance would judge whether he’d keep that promise, but he’d give it a red hot go.

He turned on his heel and left her gaping at him, missing her snarl of frustration at losing her arm candy.

But he could sense it and gave a wry smile. Athena was nothing, if not predictable.

He nodded to a few faces he recognised, glanced at the miserable-looking groom slumped beside the wedding table, swung past the bar where he nabbed a bottle of water, and kept powering on.

Through the heavily bejewelled doors, down the ornate staircase and out of the exclusive hotel, a luxury property floating above one of Eden II’s most valuable and oldest archaeological Paladian sites.

Underneath the hotel, visible through the transparent plexiglass floors penned off around the hotel by intricate barriers, was the lunar rock’s most extensive ongoing and systemic archaeological excavation. The suspended floor and the hotel above had been designed to protect and display the extensive ancient ruins.

Hundreds of people teemed on the rock faces below Zane’s feet, including archaeologists, restorers, and historians from all over the System. Since they’d begun over three years ago, they’d unearthed million-year-old mosaics, still-intact Paladian statues of ancient gods, and hundreds of artefacts designed by the mysterious civilisation of beings, long gone.

Hordes of tourists circled the hotel, peering through the clear floor into the depths of the dig. Many were fascinated by legends of the old gods. Some were drawn by religious fervour, and others by the promise of being the first to spot an ancient treasure being unearthed for the first time.

Zane gave the excavation, and the crowds thronged around it a cursory glance and wide berth. While the hotel structure and ruins below were an architectural marvel, he was more drawn to the view above him.

What he’d give right now to be on his corvette, winging by Alphetraz. The binary stars were currently in complete alignment, a rare phenomenon he’d wanted to see in person, offering a celestial sight unseen anywhere else.

He’d only glimpsed the eclipsing binary once before, and the ethereal dimming of light in space as the stars passed in front of each other had touched his soul profoundly. There was perfection and symmetry to the age-old starlit dance that Zane’s love for the precise leaned towards.

He’d kill to be flying over the wide open sands beyond the metro, winging over the regolith plains that always seems to call out to him, while the most beautiful, incandescent and almost gem filled light from the rock’s twin stars danced overhead.

Zane pushed through the barriers and crowds and left the hotel’s steel, plex and gold gleaming structure, suddenly feeling lighter, unburdened as if a weight had lifted. He took a deep breath and prowled on, unencumbered, through the streets of Eden II’s old quarter, not quite knowing where he was headed.

He needed to clear his mind. He’d too many thoughts tripping him up, especially lately, as he dealt with the immense pressure of his workload, which he was using as a dragnet away from dealing with the growing questions about his future.

He needed to decide what to do about Athena and whether he’d be making a lifelong commitment to her any time soon. The thought triggered a memory, of the moment he’d first seen her. On the side of The Nirvana racecourse after he’d won The Endurance Meet early the year prior.

She’d been icy cold and blonde. Perfectly turned out and absolutely aware of her aura. Dressed in the finest designer gown, killer heels and dripping in diamonds. She’d flicked her calculating eyes over him and beckoned, and for some reason, Zane had wandered over, trophy in hand, clearly up for the challenge of capturing yet another prize that day. Caught up in his champagne-fuelled high and still feeling so alive after his race win, he’d seduced her, and she’d reciprocated.

At first, her beauty, elegance and incredible calmness had drawn him in. She matched his personality to a T. Then there was her peerage and heritage. The Jansens were one of the oldest and most respected society dynasties in Rhesia and one of the few to have retained their original prestigious and historic Earth name for so long.

Their romance had been a whirlwind affair, rubber-stamped by her parents and wealthy elite friends. The rush into their full-blown relationship had taken him by surprise, yet he’d gone along with it, mostly in wonder that it was happening at all.

Who’d a thought a kinai from the Pika streets of Eden II would be the beau of one of the System’s most desirable belles?

Zane had now been dating Athena for a year and a half, six months longer than any previous girlfriend. She was starting to drop hints about her expectations of their ongoing relationship. Of engagements, weddings and entanglements he wasn’t quite ready for.

He couldn’t put his finger on a single reason, though. His fellow brothers were partnering for life with their women. Kainan was now married to Selene, and Kage had recently placed some serious ice on Harlow’s finger. So why couldn’t he get his act together?

Frustrated, he pushed his relationship to the back of his mind as he wandered past ancient monasteries, expansive halls and packed squares. Everywhere he turned, Zane was reminded of the majesty of this historic sector of Eden II. At each corner, he encountered grand temples dedicated to worshipping mythical Paladian gods. He marvelled at the strange forms on the temples’ roofs and walls. Hewn from rocks, the illustrious gargoyles were misshapen, yet mysteriously beautiful—whose creators’ identities had been lost in time. The quarter was alive with the energy of locals and tourists alike, who perused the sellers’ stalls in front of the iconic landmarks for Paladian-themed trinkets and relics.

As he walked, he attracted stares from eyes drawn to his lean, towering and powerful frame. He ignored them, his luminous aqua eyes taking in the sights and smells of the old suburb.

Before he knew it, he’d wandered onto the outskirts of the Old Town, towards the edge of the Pikani settlements, where a sea of synth-board shacks were lined against each other, holding thousands of Pikas crammed into tiny rooms. The ancient Paladian temples were the only regolith rock buildings towering over the synth board and tin patchwork shanties.

Evening was approaching. Music blared as the light dipped and dust whipped through the narrow alleys from the tunnels beyond.

Drinking from his water bottle, he wended past vendors selling their wares - from tins of synth-coal and barbecued meats to frying potatoes and sweet dough balls.

He darted between fires, lit on the street to warm up the locals, wandering deeper into Pika territory, past the alleyways and street corners he’d once ruled.

Despite his designer suit and embossed shoes, he felt like a local. Because, at heart, Zane Sable, the most sartorial of the Sable Riders, was a Pikani himself. The wilder, edgier burbs of Eden II were his old haunt, where he strangely felt most at peace.

As a younger soldier, fresh from five years of imprisonment, he’d walked these streets for years, dreaming of a better life. He’d roamed the wild jumble of intertwining backroads, where lunar hounds and rats were the only wildlife in this perilous metro jungle.

He smiled wryly as nostalgia rushed at him. He keenly remembered the thinly walled hovel he’d crashed in with his fellow Riders, existing on one meal daily. Back then, survival had been rough, lean, and scrappy; every hour a struggle to survive. All he and his brothers had dreamed of back then was a good life - not one of material splendour, grand homes and shiny flyers but a trouble-free existence, free of war, crats and the endless grind of poverty.

More memories came flooding back - of lurking on corner streets, hawking watches and jewellery from a case on the ground. Of winding up a long day with drinks at the local kuratina bar. Then spending nights betting on Kage to win another kapo bout at the local kupiga dens, running along the roofs of Eden II to the spaceport, where he and his brothers would lie on their backs looking up at the stars and dream about taking over the rock for themselves.

Over twenty years later and they’d done just that - a testament to their unity, determination and deep loyalty to each other. Maybe this commitment to brotherhood was the only one he needed to make for life.

‘Oy, taj, kaa!’

A hoarse voice cut through Zane’s reverie, demanding he stop at the command.

The lean, tall man paused mid-step, sensing three heartbeats behind him. He turned slowly on his heel to find a trio of young Pika swaying on their feet on the edge of a dark alleyway.

The faces he saw were ravaged, pitted, and thin. Their clothes barely hung on their skeletal frames, and the koko fumes from their wasted, scarred skin hit him in waves. They were weak and severely malnourished, yet a fire in their eyes promised violence as they darted over his classic, beautifully tailored suit, crisp dark trousers and white shirt that he’d teamed with sleek patent-leather, custom-embossed Oxfords.

One of the three kinais stepped forward, smacking his lips. His eyes were fixed on the timepiece strapped on Zane’s wrist. A vintage Tempus Terrae Limited Edition 18-karat gold chrono made of sapphire glass crystal. At over 300,000 schill, it was a resellers’ dream.

Fokk, Zane sighed to himself, tossing his empty water bottle into a rubbish bin nearby. He’d let his guard down and lost himself in the thick of Pika gang territory. Evidenced by the sickly sweet scent of koko burns and the roughly scrawled gang graffiti on the regolith-caked walls of the narrow side streets.

He ran through his options; he could shed all inhibitions and defend himself, but he was hesitant to hurt anyone. Or he could put his new friends to sleep. Time dilated as his mind made a series of syllogising computations, and he smiled wryly at how easy it would be to take the trio out.

His mathematising took seconds, time enough for the three men to rush him. He watched them lazily, leaning back casually as they flailed about him, his mind calculating their next moves and dodging their blows before they made them.

Loathe to return to the wedding banquet with dirt on his suit, he was about to drop the trio with a psionic burst when he felt a presence suddenly ghost into the alleyway. Then, he heard a voice interject.

‘You three kalifus should be ashamed of yourself. Taking on a taj instead of standing up to one of your own.’

The attacking trio wheeled about and whipped around.

So did Zane.

His feet and heart lurched as a gut punch of galactic proportions stopped his breath.

His eyes drank.

Deep copper red hair with gold threads that glimmered against the low starlit backdrop. The resulting oceans of red curls fell in waves over sculpted shoulders and white overalls. While stained and covered in dust all the way to the steel-toed boots, the workers’ jumpsuit still clung to her long-limbed curves, highlighting her generous, almost muscular curves and hips.

Skin golden, flavour with a caramel kind of flow and covered in a sprinkling of freckles. Her ear was lined in ruby studs all along her lobe. Her pert nose, too, featured a ruby stud. Below, her cheekbones were high, her lips soft and lush.

Above her right eyebrow was a line of tiny embedded rubies.

But it was her eyes, a flashing hazel green, that sliced through his core.

She stood, easy, relaxed. Her stance was ready to strike, and Zane saw the tension in her muscles. He sensed her coiled energy and breathed in, his nose flaring at a wild, unexpected jolt of desire.

Then she lifted a hand and beckoned the three men with a grin.

Salivating, they leapt towards her. ‘Want some hot action, mamin?’ the second kinai called out, excited by the challenge.

‘Indeed I do. Come get it, boys.’

Zane laughed under his breath. Her steel was savage.

The trio crowed and rushed her.

The Rider was seldom surprised, but he quickly reared back as the newcomer moved in a series of lightning-fast kapo moves with an almost ballerina grace to them.

She took out the lead kinai with a martelo kick that folded him onto the ground.

The next Pikani tumbled to the ground when she smashed him, then she rushed the third and grabbed him in a choke-hold.

Her strikes were almost pound for pound, the same Zane had imagined in his mind no more than a few minutes ago.

‘Sweet Eden,’ he whispered to himself.

He watched with a raised eyebrow as the redhead carefully eased her third victim onto the street’s oil-slicked surface. No sadist then, he thought, as she straightened up and turned the full force of her presence onto him.

He hissed under his breath. She encapsulated only one kind of energy. Shida. The ‘high-octane trouble’ kind. He felt it through every ‘noid. It whipped through him, and he shut it down before it tripped him.

Nose flaring, he studied her. She stood there, barely swaying after her savage takedown of the Pikani youths, all now snoring gently where they’d fallen.

‘Sante,’ Zane murmured.

‘Karibu, you’re welcome,’ she drawled. Voice husky, melodic, sultry like the night they were surrounded by. She gave him a quick smile, touching him with a rare warmth. Unused to the flare of unexpected heat, he withdrew from its magnetic draw.

She cocked her head for a beat studying him, her eyes flicking over his face, settling on his glowing sapphire eyes.

‘You’re a meta,’ she observed. ‘You could have dropped them without my help I s’pose.’

He jerked his chin response and spoke low and deep, careful to keep the hammering in his chest from vibrating in his words. ‘Naam, I could have rained violence on them, but chose not to. I’d have taken care of them my way. You really shouldn’t have,’ he said, seeking to put some distance between the strange metaphysical reaction he was having to her.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Why? Because you didn’t have a chance to deploy your form of justice your way, thus your ego is bruised, or because women shouldn’t be allowed to rescue a man?’

His lips twitched. ‘The latter, but my ego is certainly not bruised. I just wouldn’t have goaded them into a fight because I loathe violence when other paths are more accessible. Regardless, I thought you were proficient. Reckless, a little bit feisty, but proficient nonetheless.’

She smiled slowly, but he saw the warmth in her eyes shut down. ‘Reckless? Done this many times, taj. I know my way around a street brawl.’

She was feisty.

‘I’ve insulted you,’ Zane said drily, unwilling to indulge in a pointless debate. ‘Please accept my apologies.’

‘Takes more than that to insult me. Looks like all I did was interrupt your evening stroll, and ‘tis clear I wasn’t needed.’

Zane jerked his chin, not disagreeing with her assessment.

She cocked her head as if trying to read him, and he caught himself in her gaze. He felt a seismic shift threatening to floor him. On top of being trouble, she also had unusual spiking levels of psi emanating from her.

He sent a gentle probe. Her eyes widened when it made contact. She shook her head, and with a laugh, she suddenly moved.

He caught the wild cinnamon scent of her incredible hair as she whipped past him. The strands brushed his cheek as she legged it, and Zane sucked in air at the electrifying contact.

He also thought he heard a soft, gentle, tinkling sound as she powerfully swung onto the wall ahead.

She shimmied incredibly, impossibly up the side of the building before him, before vaulting to its roof and crouching on it, looking down at him.

He stared back, body humming like she’d turned him up a thousand degrees.

With another soft laugh, she saluted and somersaulted further up the arched canopy before disappearing over the roof line.

Zane stood there for the longest time before fleetingly checking on the still-fallen kinais. Satisfied that they’d live to fight another day, he loped away, deep in thought.

Later, in his penthouse on the Sable 517 rooftop, he poured a whisky, nabbed the glass and pushed open the sliding doors, wandering to the edge of the terrace.

He looked over the stunning night vista, reliving his encounter with the redhead. His gaze flitted over the rock, its rooftops and canopies, his meta vision sifting through the low light for a glimpse of crimson lushness, a flash of green eyes.

Who was she?

She’d tossed aside his psi-probe with ease. One of a kind, he mused, still sprung by the moment. He let out a low laugh at the memory of her kicking ass and dropping three gangsters as quickly as he, Kage or Kainan would have done.

‘What’s so amusing?’

He turned slightly at the words to see Athena sidling towards him, shrugging on a silk gown over her delicately textured nakedness.

She was a provocative vision, from her perfectly coiffed bob to her slim sculpted body and glowing pedicure. But for the first time since meeting her, he felt nothing for her. Not even the slightest twitch.

Yet he stood there with a subtle smile on his lips.

‘What’s delighting you?’ she repeated, winding her arms around his waist.

He took his time replying. Finally, he shared. ‘Life, Athena, life. In all its strangeness.’

She gave him a curious look, and then her eyes intently narrowed. ‘Forget the bizarre. What we have here is real. It’s so incredible, Zane, so unbelievable that we’ll never find it anywhere else,’ she murmured.

He held his tongue, only reaching a hand to pull her to his side, his eyes tracking over the roof lines of Eden II and beyond to regolith plains that beckoned him with ancient whispers, and above to the stars, yearning for something he couldn’t quite articulate.