Orion's Kiss

By Becca Lusher

Have you ever wished upon a star?

When Freyda arrived at the Institute, she was just another orphan. By the time her two week quarantine was over she was an experiment. Ten years on she remains a puzzle that the scientists cannot solve. How does she stay cool when it’s hot, or warm when it’s cold? Why isn’t she affected by these extremes like everyone else? Freyda knows, but she isn’t telling.

Until the disdainful Beatrice Winters arrives and threatens to make Freyda homeless in a cruel, hard world. Freyda needs help, but she has no one to turn to - except the stars she wishes on every night.

Fear not the shadow, for in the darkness shine the stars.

Set on a near-future Earth where energy shortages have split the world into modern ‘haves’ and powerless ‘have-nots’, this collection contains four stories about Freyda and the choices she has to make. Includes the novella Orion’s Kiss, a novelette, a short story and a very short interlude.

Welcome to the immortal world of the Aekhartain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Becca Lusher
• Release date: Feb 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311171054

Becca Lusher

Having an overactive imagination hasn’t always been a good thing: I spent much of my childhood scared of the dark and terrified by the stories my older sister told me (mostly to stop her being the only one afraid of the dark). These days I find it useful. I love stories, I love fantasy, I love things with wings, stars and the world around me, and I have great fun combining them all into my stories.Born in the UK, I live in the wild south-west where I run around with my dogs and get bossed about by cats, while taking photos of gorgeous landscapes, reading lots of books and climbing rocks.I’ve also been known to write stories.

Book preview

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Tales of the Aekhartain:

Freyda’s Tale

ORION’S KISS

Becca Lusher

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All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © Becca Lusher 2014

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

ORION'S KISS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

INTERLUDE

IMPOSSIBLE THINGS

BLACKBIRD

Glossary

About the Aekhartain

Acknowledgements

Also Available

About the Author

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For anyone who's ever

wished upon a star

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ORION’S KISS

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Prologue

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER knock at the door. Kevin had been at the Institute long enough to know what that meant so early in the morning. Especially with snow on the ground outside and the chill of winter seeping in around the windows. He wiped the hint of pity from his face as he walked down the hall to answer the knock.

Outside, the world was draped in a pristine blanket of snow, soft and fluffy, covering up the worst of the ugliness around the Institute’s old compound. According to the pictures in the upstairs office, this place had once been surrounded by lovely parkland that swept down to the river, where little pleasure boats bobbed and sailed.

The boats were gone now, the parkland too. Instead factories kept cropping up, more with every year. The land around the Institute wasn’t being used for anything special anyway, while the factories churned out valuable things. Yes, pretty landscapes and beautiful wildlife were nicer to look at, but when it came to survival, well, food factories were more important.

So Kevin didn’t let himself look for the soot and the murk that lurked beneath the soft snow. Instead he studied the figures huddled together in the warm glow of the porch lantern.

What a pretty picture they made: blonde as wheat, slender as reeds, pale as the snow. The little girl was well wrapped up against the weather, frail wisps of fair hair escaping from beneath her green bobble hat. It was hard to tell how old she was, bundled up like that, but Kevin guessed somewhere between eight and ten. Her coat was two sizes too big and tattered from much wear, but it was keeping her warm enough not to shiver. Not so for the tall woman by her side, holding tightly to her hand. Her coat was thin, her head uncovered. She was shivering constantly, her bare hands red from the cold.

We’re here to see the Matron, the woman rasped, breaking off to cough harshly.

The little girl stared up at her with worried blue eyes, an expression no child should have to wear. Kevin had seen it before; he knew he’d see it again. He also had a job to do, so he stepped back and pushed the door wide, inviting the woman and child inside.

The Matron’s office is this way, he said, turning to walk down the hall, knowing they would follow. They always followed. They wouldn’t be here if they had any other choice.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind him.

Remember your promise, Freyda, the woman whispered, struggling to suppress her rattling coughs. You’ll be good, yes? Just like we talked about.

Yes, mummy, the little girl mumbled back.

They walked in silence for a moment, marked only by pattering footsteps and hushed wheezes.

You’re a good girl, Freyda, but we wouldn’t want a repeat of the Widow Mariah incident, would we?

That wasn’t my fault! the girl piped up indignantly. Then lowered her voice as the cry echoed around the empty hall. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but she was always so mean and smelled of cabbage, and the cat –

I know, Frey, her mother interrupted, her chuckle turning into another cough. Just promise me, okay?

I promise, the girl muttered sullenly.

A pause, the soft sound of a kiss against a cheek. That’s my Aeafreyda.

Kevin paused politely, flexing his hands against his sides as he listened to the sound of material brushing together. He closed his eyes, able to picture the woman crouching down, her little girl’s arms clenched tightly around her neck.

I’m scared, mummy. It was the barest whisper.

I know, baby, the woman’s voice wobbled, fighting back coughs and tears.

I don’t want to stay here. It’s big and scary. It’ll have ghosts.

A soft chuckle, a sniff, then the sound of the woman standing up again. There are no ghosts, baby, remember.

Because there’s nothing in this world worth staying around for.

Exactly.

They started walking again and Kevin finally reached the Matron’s study. He knocked, waited a few moments, then pushed open the door. You have visitors, Matron, he said, just as he’d been taught.

Seated behind her desk, the Matron looked up, dark eyes flicking over the worn woman and the well cared for child. Then she stood and smiled kindly.

Welcome, she greeted, and waved at the chairs waiting before her desk. Come, take a seat. Some refreshments for our guests, please, Kevin.

He shut the door and walked to the kitchen, knowing that whatever went on in that room, it was not kindness. Not really. It was wrapped up that way, but it never turned out so well. He took his time with the tea, digging through the fruit juice bottles and wondering which one the girl would like best. Finally settling for apple and blackberry, he walked back to the office.

The woman was already signing the form. Kevin sighed and slid the tray onto the desk, while the poor woman coughed into her fist. There was blood on the handkerchief the Matron had given her. He’d suspected there might be.

The girl had been sent to the corner to play with the toy box, but even though she held a doll in her hands, her eyes were on her mother. Worried, dark, knowing.

He opened the bottle of juice, poured it into a glass and took it over to her. She stared up at him with her sad blue eyes. He could see the question she wanted to ask, one he would never be able to answer, but she took the drink with a polite mumble instead and glared at the doll in her hands.

By the desk her mother put down the pen and refused the offered tea. I should go, she said, coughing again.

At least stay for a drink, the Matron urged, her dark eyes holding a rare hint of pity. They all knew the form was meaningless. This was one woman who wouldn’t be returning within the month to reclaim her child. Nor would she manage to scrape together the funds to buy her back sometime over the next six. She wouldn’t survive that long.

Shaking her head, the woman got to her feet. No. I should go. There’s someone I have to see, and it’s a long walk. I’d like to get there before dark. Even though she was talking to the whole room, her eyes were fixed on Freyda.

The girl held the doll against her chest. You’re leaving?

We talked about it, baby, remember? Mummy has things to do, and it’s too cold to take you with me. The nice people here are going to look after you, okay?

Freyda sniffled, dropped the doll and threw herself against her mother. The woman crushed her child tightly against her frayed coat. Her eyes were closed, and Kevin had to look away. He felt like he was intruding.

I don’t want you to go, Freyda said, voice scratchy with tears. Stay here. You’ll get better if you stay.

The woman buried her head against Freyda’s bobble hat. She didn’t speak.

Please, the child whispered, and Kevin found himself blinking back tears of his own.

The woman’s slender frame shook as she pulled away, careful not to cough on her daughter. When the fit was over, she wiped her mouth and turned back to her child with a bright smile. Be good, baby, like you promised. She straightened Freyda’s coat collar with brisk motions. It’ll only be for a month, then I’ll be back. Just like we said. She held up her fist, little finger extended.

Just like we said, Freyda whispered, linking her pinkie finger with her mother’s. And you’ll be back in a month, promise?

The woman’s smile faltered, but she dragged it back up again and folded the front of Freyda’s hat up so it didn’t cover her eyes. You’re the best girl in the world, baby, and mummy loves you. Remember that, always.

I love you too, mummy, Freyda said, but didn’t move to hug her again. She just stood there, hands by her sides, watching her mother stand up and cough into the handkerchief before thanking the Matron.

One month, baby. I’ll see you soon. Be good. With one last smile and a kiss blown from her fingertips, the woman walked out the door.

Kevin was the only one to see her shoulders hunch in the corridor, the only one to see her shake with a mixture of grief and suppressed coughs. He was the one who opened the door to watch her walk out into the snow. And he was the one who locked that door behind her.

But they all knew she would never come back.

Keeping his feelings from his face, Kevin returned to the Matron’s office. Freyda was staring out of the window, even though it looked in the opposite direction from where her mother was walking.

Take Freyda upstairs, Kevin, Matron ordered, as he gathered the unused tea things back onto the tray. She’ll want to settle in. Two weeks should do it. Take the doll.

So as the Matron went back to her stacks of important paperwork, Kevin put the tray to one side, picked up the doll from where it had been abandoned on the floor and called the girl softly. Those sad eyes stared at him again, but there were no questions in them now, only blank acceptance. She took the doll when he offered it to her and followed him upstairs to the tiny room put aside for such occasions.

The Institute took in many children – orphans, runaways, abandoned babies, ones whose parents couldn’t care for them anymore – but Freyda wouldn’t be allowed to meet any of them just yet. Not when her mother was slowly dying somewhere out in the snow. Usually Kevin hated this rule, thinking the children would get along better if they could make friends from the start. That it might make their loss easier to bear. But as he settled Freyda into her room, helping her out of her heavy coat, he saw the empty expression on her face and her complete lack of curiosity, and knew she’d prefer it this way.

So he left her the doll, pointed out the books on the shelf and told her how to summon someone if she felt thirsty or hungry. Then he left, locking the door behind him, off to change his clothes and boil the ones he was wearing. It was called quarantine for a reason.

ALONE IN HER new room, Freyda pushed the doll to one side and climbed up onto the tiny windowsill, gripping hold of the freezing metal bars. Outside it was snowing again, the dark river almost invisible in the whirling white. Freyda stared and stared until it felt she’d gone blind.

Goodbye, Mummy, she whispered to the white day. Get better soon.

::1::

IN THE RUINS of the town, lost amongst the shadows, a bell tolled. Freyda sat at her open window and counted the chimes. Four in the morning, and all was well. Huddled in a blanket, she stared up at the night. When she’d first arrived here ten years ago it had been hard to see the stars so close to town; nowadays it was easy. Smiling, she tucked her blanket around her feet and marvelled that there were good things about the energy shortage after all.

The stars were beautiful tonight, fiercely bright and so very clear. As she angled herself to stare south over the sea, she felt all the tension in her body unwind. Orion was rising. There were the unmistakable three bright points of his belt, and the four corner stars. From there it was easy to see the sword at his side, the club in his upraised hand. The hare ran beneath his feet and his faithful hounds followed close behind, the bigger one glowing with the blue brilliance of Sirius.

Freyda loved the stars. There was something pure and clean about them that was too far away to be tainted by the ugliness of this world. They knew nothing of nightmares and bad memories. They listened to her troubles without ever passing judgement, and they carried her secret wishes inside their burning hearts.

They were perfect. Freyda didn’t know what she’d do if she couldn’t see