The Reflective Dissent by Tamara Rose Blodgett

Author:Tamara Rose Blodgett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tamara Rose Blodgett
Published: 2017-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Merrick

“Must you touch me?”

Jeb tips his eyes skyward at the same time he grabs the back of Slade's grimy tunic, fisting the tough leather material just enough to maintain contact.

“Yes,” Jeb answers in a clipped voice.

Slade crosses his arms. “I can't abide jumping.”

Jeb's lips quirk. “Yet you must.”

Slade straightens his shoulders and nods. “For Tiny Frog.”

Jeb scowls, gripping Slade's tunic tighter.

The heat of the jump washes over him, the cold lake water lapping at the toes of his boots—reflecting—as does the entire lake. The two suns, weak by Papilio or Three standards, are low in the sky, and Slade winces from the exposure.

The soft sunlight of this world is perfect for Bloodlings. True vampires could not survive any degree of daylight. But as Jeb understands it all, vampire is only one part of the Bloodling ancestry. The other? That is yet undetermined. If ever there is a time in the future when Papilio is righted back to its noble Cause, perhaps visiting the unexplored sectors is a good place to begin.

Flames of ice and heat drive up from Jeb's feet, bursting at his core and shooting sparks of popping current to his fingertips. The fine hairs on his head lift slightly, and he zeroes in on a break of waves coming toward them.

Sunlight bleeds across the peaks as the late afternoon sun dies against the water.

Jeb tracks.

A moment later, a tense Slade and he slam into the tip of one sparkling chunk of water and are through.

Once in a jump, Jeb immediately senses Beth's tail and hurtles them through the molecular dust of her leap.

As he readies for landing, simultaneous thoughts crowd his brain.

Why this sector—and what other tail is he sensing?

*

Jeb releases Slade so he doesn't drag him, and when the big Bloodling lands, it's palms first, in a slide very much like the game the Threes play. Basebat? Basketbat? Jeb doesn't remember.

Slade rolls over, spitting grass and dirt from his mouth and gifting Jeb with a foul expression.

Jeb's mood immediately improves.

“It will never get better. You don't have a bit of Reflective in your veins.”

Slade groans, rolling over and sitting on his ass, breathing deeply.

The Bloodling does look very bad, positively green.

“Throw up and get it over with.”

Slade scowls.

Stubborn male.

They stare at each other, and when it appears Slade is working through the agony of the jump, Jeb turns his attention elsewhere.

He surveys their surroundings. Mercifully, night has fallen, and though Jeb has a lot of hate for the Bloodling, as Jacky would phrase it, he needs him. And if the Bloodling doesn't get over this jumping sickness, he's of no use to Jeb. Nighttime will be easier for Slade.

Because right now, they've landed in Sector Thirteen. Dangerous and primitive in the extreme, the criminal remnant from Three has been unceremoniously tossed onto this world and perfectly named as Fragment.

The Band, and the people housed inside the decaying biospheres are somewhat protected from this middle criminal element who roam between the great forests of pine where the Band reside and the biospheres that hold the remnants of humans who once lived Outside.

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