Copyright © 2011 by LK Rigel and published here with her permission

Raptor and Chalice

Now

Cripes, it was cold this morning. Jake’s settlement in the New Central Pacific Zone was always cold compared to Corcovado. Char moved out of the wind, onto the side path to the citadel’s basement kitchens. Leaning against the wall, she pulled a lumpy snood from her bag.

The crocheted hat, a horrific blend of green, red, and blue hemp, was larger on one side than the other and had no brim. Jordana had made it especially for Char to hide her hair in, never mind the fact that Jordana didn’t know how to crochet.

Char watched the common yard for Jake. He had stopped to pick up weapons from the armory for their trip outside the wall. Another search for Tesla. After eight years, Sky must be dead, but they still searched for the vault and the technology it contained.

And Char had to know. She had to see the body. What if Sky was alive? There were a million what ifs.

What if everybody in the vault had died except Sky, leaving enough food and water for one person to survive? What if, being scientists, they had extended the life support systems? What if a shibbing miracle happened? What else were the gods good for, now that they were back?

Char fingered her half-heart pendant. The other half of the heart might well dangle from a dead body, but until Char saw that body, the what ifs would never go away.

In the common yard, the cagers worked in the open. Crazy cagers. With hand axes, two cagers stripped birch trunks and branches into poles and cross-beams. Wiry but well-muscled, the two bantered with some other cagers who might be women, but they were so angular and lean it was hard to tell. A nice change from Corcovado, where sexuality permeated everything down to the molecules of the rocks.

Right. Who was she kidding? Since she arrived last week, she had had Jake in her bed every night. She couldn’t get enough of him. These last few years, anything would put her in the mood. Watching cagers make boxes put her in the mood.

The women cagers bound the wood into a rectangular box, complete but for a roof. It wasn’t big enough to hold a raptor. In Jake’s design, the cages were meant to keep birds out. The men walked around in this one and aimed imaginary weapons at imaginary raptors while the women laughed and admired their pantomimed prowess.

A few feet away, a lone woman knotted rope into a lattice-like net. The cage’s roof. She was eerily thin, skeletal compared to the cagers. Her bald head was uncovered, but she didn’t seem to mind the cold weather any more than she minded the cagers’ cold indifference. As if she and the net were all that existed.

She was a ghost who’d come in from the wild.

By some counts, roughly one-fifth of the world’s population had survived Samael’s fire, and among the survivors were some ghosts. Because they rarely ate, the ghosts who did escape the fire easily made it through the post-cataclysm famine. Jake had recently discovered that ghosting’s apathy could be fought. The woman making the net was coming back to a communal life one knot at a time. A herculean labor, harder than taking on a raptor with nothing but a longbow.

Cripes! A wagon loaded with produce narrowly missed the ghost woman and headed toward Char. She backed up toward the citadel. It swerved and lurched to a halt, losing the carrots that were piled on the potatoes.

The driver scrambled to the ground, frantic to unhitch the horse. “Don’t you see them?”

Fear rippled through her, and she scanned the clouds in the east. Nothing there, but he could only mean raptors.

The driver dragged the horse by its bridle toward Char. “Get up against the wall!” He checked his anger when he noticed her fine clothes. Then he saw her face, and his eyes widened with full recognition-though her odd cap seemed to befuddle him.

She put a hand to the cap. It was in place, but a strand of hair had escaped. Shib. When people in the world saw her hair they inevitably bombarded her with questions. Have you actually seen the goddess? What is Durga really like? Is it true she can [insert preposterous superpower here]?

And the one Char hated the most: Why didn’t Asherah make you a chalice?

“A blessing, my lady!” The man seemed torn between flattening himself against the wall and prostrating himself at Char’s feet.

Cripes, cripes, cripes. She glanced at the common. The cagers had disappeared. One of the women was just ducking through a perimeter wall door. The ghost woman still sat on the ground working her net, oblivious to the danger.

“Please, my lady. The favor of a blessing. My wife and I are expecting. Could I be so bold as to touch your hair?”

“Be quiet, citizen.”

Shibad. The world had gone from believing in nothing to believing in everything. One touch of “Asherah’s hair” could cure a fever, prevent an Empani from reading your mind, and ensure a healthy bagger. Char had heard of countless other fancies.

The first scream echoed over the common, and the driver forgot about the hair. Eagles. Not the worst-that would be peregrines. At least with eagles, you knew they were coming. The sky was still clear, but Char’s heart about pounded out of her chest with fear.

Every part of her wanted to stay with the driver flat against the wall, but she couldn’t let the ghost woman be taken. She’d seen a raptor feed its young the warm intestines of its still-living prey.

“Do you have a bow?”

The driver was lost to her. His eyes were jammed shut, and he was moving his lips-the kind of prayer Asherah especially despised. At least he tried to save his horse.

Char forced her legs to move. Another scream sent adrenaline coursing through her body and gave her some speed. There was more than one bird, and they were close.

“Char, catch!” Thank Asherah! Jake was in the common. He tossed a crossbow that hit the ground ahead of her, and she scooped it up on the run. It was loaded. Another scream, an angry one. Jake had hit a bird.

Char raised the crossbow and fired. The quarrel would be poisoned. If she could paralyze a leg, it wouldn’t be able to grab.

Years of training with chalices at Corcovado kicked in. She bent down, slipped her arm around the ghost woman’s waist, lifted her off the ground, and kept running for the closest door in the perimeter wall. Now that she was reasonably sure she wasn’t going to die, it was all a bit thrilling.

The tower bells erupted in a furious clang, clang, clang. Char put the woman down and said stay. Jake was halfway up the stairs. She followed him up into the cages bolted to the top of the wall and loaded another quarrel.

An eagle hit by a shot from the cage guard let out an enraged cry and let go of its prey, which landed on slate tiles in the common with a thud and crack of snapping bones.

Aiming through the cage’s net roof, Char sent the quarrel flying. It struck the bird’s throat, and the quick-acting poison did its work on the raptor’s nervous system. Wings spanning some forty feet twisted and jerked in unnatural spasms. The raptor hit the ground outside the perimeter wall.

Jake lifted his weapon over Char’s head, his arms and shoulders hovering over her as he took aim at the other eagle. It was hardly appropriate, but she couldn’t help thinking how sexy he was in his lord-of-the-manor apocapunk brown-black leathers. It took everything she had to keep from reaching up and pressing her palm to his chest.

But then she was always weak for Jake right after they escaped death together.

“Shib.” He checked his aim and lowered the crossbow. The bird had moved out of range, and quarrels weren’t exactly plentiful.

From this vantage the land outside the perimeter wall was in full view. There were the beginnings of a forest to the east and foothills beyond that. Flat wasteland lay to the south. The escaping raptor flew north, past a peninsula that curved westward to shelter the bay. Farther west was the Pacific Ocean.

The guard moved to call the all-clear but stopped when he saw Jake.

“You’re in charge, Gordon,” Jake said. “Be in charge.”

The man squared his shoulders and yelled, “All clear!” His unit repeated all clear along the wall. Two clangs signaled from the bell tower.

“We lost no one,” Gordon said, “and Lady Char took out a raptor.”

“It took both our hits to bring that monster down.”

Gordon nodded, acknowledging the compliment. “The birds are learning to stay away, my lord. Attacks are down by half since the cages were installed.”

“That’s the plan,” Jake said. “Soon I want to walk to the hospital and hydroponics without need for a weapon.”

The cagers dashed through the gate to retrieve the dead eagle. There was no nice word for how raptors tasted, but protein was protein. The kitchen would marinade and spice the meat and dry it into semi-bearable jerky. Char had some of the execrable stuff packed in her bag for today’s outing.

She always brought goodies from Corcovado, and she always meant to eat them. But it was just too tacky to hide treats from people who survived on textured protein and raptor carcasses with the occasional carrot. The strawberries and chocolates and coffee and real beef jerky usually became gifts for the servants within an hour of her arrival.

“Lord Ardri!” In the center of the common the wagon driver stood over the real treasure, the gorgeous black-tailed doe the raptor had dropped. “Will you have this deer cut into steaks for tomorrow’s feast?”

If looks were poison quarrels, the driver would be a dead man. A mason slammed his hammer against a stone, but the driver seemed unaware of the distress he had caused. There was a ban on hunting endangered deer, but this doe was a gift from the gods.

Jake got that twinkle in his eye. “That’s fine of you to care, Hamish.” He walked out of the cage onto the open perimeter wall. “You’ll be attending that feast, I believe?”

“That I will, my lord.” Hamish beamed with pleasure at being recognized and ignored the grumbles all around.

“And as chief of hydroponics, you know all these hard-working people have so graciously given up their share of this week’s crop in order to impress the poobahs coming in for that feast.”

The pleasure left Hamish’s face.

“Haul that animal down to the kitchen,” Jake said. “I want a good venison stew made for all the workers in the common, masons and cagers alike.”

“To Lord Ardri!” One of the cagers cried.

“Rah!” The masons and cagers responded in unison. They broke into laughter at the driver’s tragic expression.

“And Hamish.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You will personally see that the ghost woman who makes the cage nets eats a cup of the stew. I don’t care if it takes her a day.”

Char wrapped her arms around Jake’s waist and leaned her head against his chest. “No wonder your people love you.”

“It’s my secret to successful lording. People like to eat.” He kissed her forehead and tweaked her cap. “Jordana’s work gets more interesting all the time.” His gaze traveled from her cap to her lips, and then his mouth was on hers, and for a moment the world went away. There was only Jake’s kiss, his arms, his aching murmur of desire, and her body’s responding heat.

“To Lady Char!” The approval of the kiss was answered by a group Rah!

Jake grinned and gave the cagers and masons a thumbs-up. “It’s good to be alive, Meadowlark.”

The sane part of Char’s brain knew that Jake loved her. But a perversity in her couldn’t let go of one small problem. He was having children with someone else. It was kind of driving her crazy, even though it was her own fault.

Char had helped Durga and Magda convince him to do it. Jake could be lord sheriff of the settlement without heirs; but city status required a king, and a king must have two natural born children. It was all about establishing dynastic rule and stability. This was Asherah’s law.

The chalice Faina had already delivered a girl, and she was five months pregnant with a boy. Everything was going according to plan. Char just hadn’t expected to feel so jealous and insecure about it. Jake swore he didn’t compare Char to Faina, but how could he not? Char compared herself to Faina, and always came out wanting.

Beautiful, sweet, fertile Faina. Truly nice Faina, always a pleasure to be with.

“There they are.” Jake nodded toward the gate where a handler held the reins of two horses, saddled and packed for a daytrip. “Let’s get out of here.”

Vain To Deny It

Char and Jake galloped north in silence. Halfway to the peninsula, Char fell back a length to enjoy the view. She liked Jake’s hair longer, the way he wore it now. The brown as yet had no grays.

Cripes. She had done it again. It was probably because of the coronation, it being such a life-changing event, but she’d been thinking about age a lot lately.

She and Jake were both natural born, and they could expect to live to eighty or ninety. Unlike the poor baggers who rarely lived past fifty. Nor was it the hundred and fifty years of youthful good health promised to a chalice, but Char wouldn’t want to live sixty years in a world without Jake.

Still. She was thirty-two, and Jake was thirty-six. She should have married him right after the cataclysm, the first time he asked. Before things got so complicated.

Shibadeh, he looked good. His muscles had always been natural, no enhancements. Good thing too. So many people had lived through the war and the cataclysm and then died from enhancement withdrawal.

Jake was in better shape than ever. Years of physical labor at the settlement had put even more muscles on the man. He was funny and smart, an excellent lord sheriff who worked to better his settlement. He would – he had – risked his life for the people he loved.

It was a bonus that he was gorgeous.

At the top of the rise of land that overlooked the bay, she looked back at the citadel. A grey blimp had tied down in the dirigidock. At the sight of a dark blob in the distant sky she nearly panicked-then realized it must be another airship coming in.

“I want my shades back.” Durga had confiscated the telescoping sunglasses long ago, promising to return them after she had the design copied for reproduction. Char wasn’t holding her breath anymore.

“That’s Zhōngguó in the dirigidock,” Jake said. “I see Ithaca came by sail.” A square-rigged clipper ship had just entered the bay from the south. His face went all misty. “Now, isn’t that pretty.” Maybe he was remembering his time as pilot of the Space Junque. “We should have built a harbor. What will my fellow poobahs think of me?”

“They’ll be impressed, believe me.”

Char should know. She’d been to plenty of shibdung settlements and so-called cities to consult on hydroponics systems. Most lord sheriffs were closer to the Sheriff of Nottingham than to Jake. They drove their people to exhaustion with constant labor and fed them nothing but textured protein and oatmeal. In most of the world, public works like hydroponics and hospitals and even waste disposal came as an afterthought.

In Jake’s settlement hydroponics had come first, and then the hospital, even before the citadel proper. The perimeter wall surrounded it all, enclosing land enough for future streets and parks and housing and schools and shops-every good thing a proper city would want.

Technically, everything within the settlement wall comprised the citadel. But when people said citadel, they really meant the huge administrative structure that was beginning to look like a castle from an old fairy tale. The residential tower even had a turret with a window facing the bay.

“Rapunzel should live in the turret,” Char said. “Or Sleeping Beauty.”

“Durga will like it, don’t you think? She can pretend she’s in a fairy tale fighting off dragons.”

“You forget she’s grown up now.”

“True, she is quite the young woman. And attractive, though I don’t think she knows it.” Jake’s attention was still on the bay. A jollyboat pulled away from the clipper ship and headed for shore. “I’m putting her in the tower for security.”

“No one would dare.”

“I mean for privacy. Most of these people are coming only for the chance to see The Chosen One.” It was cute how his cheeks turned a little red. “I’d like to see some man touch her without permission. She could kill a guy with a blow to the trachea.”

“Or Asherah would smite him.”

“There’s always that.” Jake squinted at the airship still in the sky. “I’m guessing that’s Hibernia.”

The second airship had come in as close as the clipper ship and turned to line up for the dirigidock. It was as large as Corcovado’s Monster, but the resemblance stopped there. This one was faster and much better looking, emerald green with polished brass trim and a huge gold harp logo on the side. Char said, “When Durga sees that, she’ll demand a new airship.”

“I’m sure Hibernia has that in mind, since they have the charter on airships. Next to this rig, the Monster is shibdung ugly.”

Char chuckled, remembering the first time Durga saw Sanguibahd’s airship. She called it a big red monster-and not in a good way. Among her friends, the name caught on.

“Shíbā dài!” A thunderous boom cracked overhead. Char’s horse was up on its hind legs before she knew it, and she fought to throw her body weight forward to keep from falling. A black fuel-based jet plane burst out of the eastern sky and over the bay. As Char and Jake calmed their horses, the jet circled the Hibernian airship then headed toward the citadel.

Garrick. Arrogant shibdabs.

Char hadn’t heard the roar of engines in years. The sheer power and speed of the thing made her pulse race. It was vulgar, an insult to her sensibilities. It was blasphemous, as much as she hated that word. No wonder Garrick wanted to get its hands on the orbit runner.

Jake had been right to take the horses today. Thank Asherah he’d had the foresight to hide the runner while the poobahs were in residence. Char and Jake watched the jet until it dipped down behind the citadel. She had no idea what he was thinking.

“I suppose we should go back,” she said.

“It would be the right thing to do.”

“You are the proper person to greet them.” Char’s heart rate slowed to match her sudden bad mood. She and Jake weren’t going to have any time together until this whole thing was over.

“I don’t know.” He had that mischievous glint in his eye. “Hamish is probably already organizing a tour of hydroponics.” Jake took off east toward the new forest, laughing. He called over his shoulder, “Catch me if you can, Meadowlark!”

Char urged her horse on after him into the trees. Young oaks, eucalyptus, and birch were dwarfed by pines that had grown tall abnormally quickly. Under the cover of the branches, Char felt her body relax. She had been subconsciously on the alert for raptors.

They took a turn into an area Char didn’t recognize and had to slow down to pick their way through untraveled undergrowth. The scent of pine was invigorating, and she heard the sound of a waterfall.

“Char, watch it!”

Jake reined in his horse on the verge of going over a cliff, a sheer drop to a canyon that ran northeast forever. A river flowed through the gorge below, fed by a waterfall on the canyon’s other side.

“It’s beautiful.” Char dismounted. On a clear night, this would be a fantastic place to watch meteor showers.

“Let’s eat.” Jake jumped down from his horse and spread a blanket on the ground.

Despite the shade, Char was warm from the ride. And besides, she had prepared for more than lunch. A little bare skin never hurt anything. She tossed her jacket and cap on the corner of the blanket and shook out her hair. She had hardly anything on underneath, a bra and a soft pink camisole. She had only worn the bra because they were riding horses today.

“A drink?” As Jake handed her a bota bag from his pack, his eyes widened with appreciation at her changed look. He took off his own jacket, disclosing broad shoulders and strong arms in a sleeveless forest green hemp shirt. Very nice combined with black leather pants and black boots.

“Lord Ardri.” Char had expected water, but the bag contained wine. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She slowly traced her lips with the tip of the bag, then slipped it into her mouth and drank.

“Milady, you’ve discovered my evil plan.” In two steps, Jake was at her side. He took the bota bag out of her hands and flung it away. “And now I’m going for your precious parts.” He lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Their mouths crashed into each other, as if they’d been waiting forever.

She felt him swell with desire, and she squeezed tighter against him. He groaned and pressed a hand to her breast, fingering the nipple. She was hot and wet, and she had to have him right now. She let go with her legs and slid to the ground, and Jake helped her unfasten his pants. He lifted her camisole over her head and she had her bra off in an instant. Then he was on his knees kissing her breasts.

She ran her fingers through his hair down his neck to his shoulders and moaned with pleasure, pulsing with heat and pressure. She slipped out of her pants and tossed them on the pile of her clothes, then pushed Jake down onto his back and straddled him.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all morning.”

It took an hour to remember they were hungry for food. Char retrieved the wine and opened the lunch the kitchen had provided. Thank Asherah, no raptor jerky. She pulled out a red apple. “What a treat! How did this escape tomorrow’s dinner?”

“I have an in with the cook.” Jake put his arms behind his head and admired her still-naked body. “But she would only give me one. We’ll have to share.”

She took a bite and tossed the apple to him. Her pants easily slid up over her thighs and hips. With the rest of the world, Char had grown thinner. She was hardly ghostly; and unlike the cager women, she did still have breasts. But she was nothing like Faina.

One of the horses snorted, as if it had read her mind. They were grazing nearby in a small clearing. Jake hadn’t read her mind, but he had read her face. “What happened just now? You were happy, and then the light went out.”

“I was just thinking. This spot is so beautiful. The view and the waterfall and the trees. What if we were wildlings and lived here alone? No settlement, no Corcovado, no poobahs.”

“No Faina.” Jake knew her too well.

“No Faina.” She accepted the last of the apple and sat down. “Don’t get me wrong, Jake. You did the right thing.”

“Then why is Faina in our way?”

When Sanguibahd made the offer of kingship, it had taken some time to convince Jake to accept. He came up with all kinds of reasons why it wasn’t the right time, but none made any sense. He had overseen the settlement’s design and build-out, and he had been truly happy in the work. He wasn’t afraid of the commitment. He relished it. He had often remarked on how it was the first time he had made the world a better place.

He finally told Char it was the children clause that bothered him. Two natural born children which a chalice would provide. It was sweet, really. Jake didn’t want to have children with someone else.

“I love you, Char.” Again, he had asked her to marry him. “I want a family with you, not somebreeder.”

“That’s a harsh word.” Char had taken Durga and Magda’s side. “The chalices serve humanity by Asherah’s command. We have no say in this. And you couldn’t even have baggers with me. The hospital that stored my eggs was destroyed in the fire. We can’t go against the gods’ laws.”

It had been so strange to hear those words coming out of her own mouth. We can’t go against the gods’ laws. Positively medieval.

Garrick, of all things, spurred Jake to action. The city offered to provide one of its scions to do the honors. Jake couldn’t stand the thought of Garrick enjoying and corrupting all he’d built. With that possibility looming and Char taking Sanguibahd’s part, he accepted.

But Char couldn’t marry him, not yet. Not until she was sure. If Jake did fall in love with his chalice, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Faina isn’t in our way, Jake. I’m in our way.”

“You once asked me to ignore what happened with you and Mike.”

“That was just a kiss. And it was an accident!”

“As you said. Plus you shoved him out an airlock, so I’ve always been pretty much convinced you didn’t like him all that much.”

“I can’t believe you would bring up Mike.”

“I’m just giving an example of how a person might have an interaction with another person, but it doesn’t mean a person is in love with a person. It doesn’t mean I took any pleasure in it.”

“I can’t believe you would bring up Mike, is all.”

“I can’t very well throw Faina out an airlock.”

“And you’re telling me you had sex with someone as lovely and sweet as Faina and you took no pleasure in it?”

Jake’s face went all screwy. Ha! He couldn’t deny it.

“Bees. Boom.”

What the shib? Both their heads jerked toward the clearing. The horses were undisturbed, still poking around looking for goodies in the undergrowth. Char and Jake remained still for minutes, but she didn’t see anything unusual.

It had definitely been a human voice…hadn’t it? She whispered, “Did you hear that?” Jake put a finger to his lips then pointed.

About thirty feet away behind a clump of birch trees, a ghost was staring at them.

The Beekeeper, The Samaeli

The ghost was a girl, nearly as thin as the birch trunks she stood behind. With her bald head and filthy face, no wonder she’d been so hard to spot. She blended right in.

“Bees,” she said again. “Boom.” The words came out haltingly, and she held her hands up, palms forward, and pushed them toward Char and Jake like she was trying to make them go away.

“Hello,” Jake said.

“Don’t scare her,” Char said.

“Scare her? She’s the one sneaking up on people.”

The ghost pushed her hands at them again, but she didn’t run away when they moved toward her. When they reached the birch trees, she pushed her hands a few more times and mouthed the word boom.

She was older than Char had first thought. Not a girl. A young woman, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. It was hard to tell with ghosts.

She dashed away from them. She had no shoes, but her clothes were in suspiciously good shape. A long-sleeve hemp shirt, far too big on her skeletal frame, and coveralls equally huge. Dirty, but no holes or rips. In a flash she crossed the clearing and disappeared.

“Where did she go?” Char said. The horses both stared at the spot where the woman had vanished into the foliage.

“If we chase her, we’ll lose her,” Jake said. “It took me a week to get the ghost woman who makes the cage nets to come in. After three months, I still don’t know her name.”

The ghost popped back into the clearing. “Bees!” Her expression was a mix of alarm and exasperation. “Boom!” Again with the pushing hands.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Char said.

She tilted her head and crossed her eyes as if to say well, obviously and waited for them. As soon as they caught up to her she was off again through the brush. No one had been here since – well, forever, it seemed. The ground was covered with undergrowth, and the bushes were so thick Char’s arms were soon all scratched up.

“Please don’t let this be poison oak.”

“Great shibbing gods.” Jake stopped dead in his tracks and Char bounced off his back. The ghost had led them to another clearing. Bigger, maybe two acres.

The air was electric with a droning, humming buzz.

“This can’t be.” Char stepped into the clearing, dazed. “They were lost before I was born, wiped out by neonicotinoid insecticides. Everywhere. I mean everywhere in the world. No one has seen them since.”

Honeybees!

The clearing was covered with little mounds of dirt, neat row upon row of them. Atop each mound was a nest-like hive made of mud and twigs and leaves. There had to be thousands of hives.

“It’s a miracle,” Char said. “Where did you … how did you come by these bees?”

“Hair lady.” The ghosts eyes widened and she pointed at Char’s hair.

“It is a miracle, Jake. I think Asherah must have chosen this … this ghost to watch over a miracle.” The gods did work in mysterious ways. This god did, at any rate. “Bees!”

“Bees! Boom!” The ghost pointed at the sky.

Of course. “It’s the plane. Garrick’s shibdung jet. The noise frightened the bees.”

“Not to mention the exhaust,” Jake said. “Who knows how delicate these bees are.”

“Think of it. Pollination. Honey. Beeswax. This has to be Asherah’s doing. She will be delighted.”

“Bees boom no!”

“Bees boom no,” Jake said. “But we can’t ask Garrick to change course going home without an explanation.” He studied the ghost and eyed her semi-decent clothes. “From my limited experience bringing in ghosts, I’d say you’ve been watching us. Maybe you’ve come down to the citadel a time or two. Picked up a few things you needed. You’ve decided we’re safe, or you wouldn’t have let us see you.”

The ghost didn’t deny it. She looked pointedly at Char’s hair. But how could she deny anything if the only words she knew were bees, boom, and no?

“We’re going to help you with your bees,” Jake said, “but first I want you to help me with something.” He crouched down on the ground and looked up at her. Brilliant. Not so intimidating. “Do you remember your name?”

She tilted her head again and assumed a coquettish look that completely clashed with her skeletal frame and dirty face-and her body odor. But it was clear. She remembered her name. Char and Jake waited.

The bees buzzed.

And they waited some more.

“Alice.”

“Alice,” Jake said. The ghost broke out in a smile so big Char wanted to cry. How long had it been since the poor thing heard someone speak her name?

“Fifo died,” Alice said.

“Yes,” Char said. Fifo. Probably a pet or a loved one. “I’m so sorry. My sister died.” It was the first time she’d said it aloud. Her throat constricted and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh!” She couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Sad,” Alice said. “Sad.” She put her arms around Char. Cripes, she smelled awful. Char hugged her back, and they both shook with violent sobs. Jake stood up and put his arms around them.

When they’d cried everything out, Jake said, “Alice, we need to get you and the bees to a safe place. A place with no boom. Out of the rain. Away from raptors.”

Alice nodded. “No boom.”

“No boom,” Jake said. “I want you to come with us back to the citadel. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll take the bees to a place where you can take care of them with no rain, no raptors, and no boom.”

“And you can have a warm bath,” Char said. “With bubbles.”

The skin where Alice would have eyebrows scrunched. Char grimaced at Jake, thinking she’d ruined it with the bath suggestion.

Alice nodded. “Bees no boom. Bath.”

“Outstanding,” Jake said. “Just outstanding.”

He was thrilled that he’d saved a ghost and learned her name. He had no idea that he was about to become one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. But Char was a hydroponics agronomist, and she knew. Asherah had given them a treasure infinitely more precious than Garrick’s oil or Luxor’s gold.

Jake and Char started back to the horses, but Alice yelled, “Wait!” She ran away down a row of mud hives and disappeared into some trees.

“I guess we wait,” Jake said.

Ten minutes later, Alice was back, carrying a bush that was all sticks covered with hard woody buds. “My goodness,” Char said. “A lilac. A real lilac bush. Alice, you’re amazing!”

Alice smiled. “Flower.”

When they got back to the picnic blanket, Char tore off her camisole. Clouds were building up again, and in the chill breeze she grabbed her jacket and put it on over her bra. She dug up some dirt and packed it around the lilac roots, then wrapped that with her camisole.

Jake put Alice in front of him on his horse, and Char handed her the lilac. “At the citadel you can choose where to plant this.”

Alice was a ghost, no question. In the bath, she barely displaced the water. As if she knew what she had to do to come back, Alice listened and repeated words she seemed to like. Bubbles. Warm. Bees.

Bees. Let’s hope Alice went light on that word until the bees were secure. Char left Alice to her bath.

“I’m not sleeping.” Jake jumped up from the sofa and ran his hands through his hair. “So Alice must be a high-performing ghost. She said more words today than cage net woman said in a month.”

Char walked Jake to the door. “I wonder if having the bees to care for made the difference.”

“It makes all the difference.” Jake touched her cheek. “Caring for someone.” He enveloped her in a bear hug. There were tears in his eyes, and he laughed. “Ah, Meadowlark. Something about Alice and her bees gives me faith in humanity. It’s a strange feeling.”

Char kissed him and pressed against him in the open doorway, wishing he didn’t have to put in an appearance with the early arrivals. She was in the middle of saying something like mm-mm when she realized someone was out there.

A young girl wearing the white shift and brown tunic of a Samaeli priest stood transfixed in the corridor not five feet from Char’s door. Trancelike, she swayed, her eyes closed. She seemed familiar, but Char was confused by the priest garb. Jake rushed to steady her. The girl’s face went white, and she fell backwards against the wall. Her eyes opened.

Char gasped. The girl was a chalice, gone missing from Corcovado months ago. She glanced from Char to Jake with a mix of nausea and triumph. An icy shiver ran down Char’s spine.

“Maribel?” Jake recognized her too.

“It’s Mother Maribel.”

Right. The Samaeli called their female priests mother. What was she, sixteen?

Maribel was one of the original nine chalices Jake had rescued from orbit at the outbreak of the DOG war. She had been a sensitive and tender little girl and highly adept in all the ways of a chalice, especially trance work.

“You look fit, Maribel,” Char said. “We’ve all been so worried about you.” Maribel had always been precocious, the first to master any new technique. She undertook her first gestation at fifteen, against Durga’s wishes, and it went badly. “How is it that you are here?”

“I am advisor to Garrick. As you see, I am under Samael’s protection.”

Char forced her mind past the illogic of a chalice turned any kind of Samaeli, whether priest or mere follower. That was confusing and tragic enough.

But advisor to Garrick?

“How old are you now, sixteen?”

“Seventeen.” It sounded like a lie. “Four years younger than Faina.” If she had batted her eyelashes and said meow, it wouldn’t have been out of place. Maribel’s mean pleasure was downright insufferable and out of proportion to the petty dig.

So much for Jake’s faith in humanity.

*