Starfall

By Chris Quinton

Ash is looking for his sister. He refuses to accept she's dead and he's come halfway across the galaxy to the lakes of Vermont in search of her.

 

Faye and Conn are on the trail of an underage runaway who has no intention of going back to Florida with them.

 

They all meet up in Amassol, Vermont. When Ash and Conn encounter each other, the attraction is immediate and almost overwhelming. It's also impossible. Ash's mission and Conn's assignment, as well as rival biker gangs, make sure of that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kouros Books
• Release date: May 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9798224076451

Chris Quinton

Chris Quinton  Chris started creating stories not long after she mastered joined-up writing, somewhat to the bemusement of her parents and her English teachers. But she received plenty of encouragement. Her dad gave her an already old Everest typewriter when she was ten, and it was probably the best gift she'd ever received – until the inventions of the home-computer and the worldwide web. Chris's reading and writing interests range from historical, mystery, and paranormal, to science-fiction and fantasy, writing mostly in the male/male genre. She also writes the occasional male/female novel in the name of Chris Power. She refuses to be pigeon-holed and intends to uphold the long and honourable tradition of the Eccentric Brit to the best of her ability. In her spare time [hah!] she reads, or listens to audio books while quilting or knitting. Over the years she has been a stable lad [briefly] in a local racing stable and stud, a part-time and unpaid amateur archaeologist, a civilian clerk at her local police station and a 15th century re-enactor. She lives in a small and ancient city not far from Stonehenge in the south-west of the United Kingdom, and shares her usually chaotic home with an extended family, three dogs, a Frilled Dragon [lizard], sundry goldfish and tropicals

Book preview

Chapter One

Angi had wedged herself into the darkest corner of the bar and curled over her drawn-up knees, arms wrapped tight around them. Her head was down, white-blonde and purple dreadlocks tangled around her. The crying had stopped, but she rocked back and forth like a hurt child. Rose hesitated and glanced around the bar. It was deserted but for themselves, too early for the breakfast rush, or what passed for it. In any case, her regulars wouldn't sell her out for giving a distressed almost-certainly-underaged girl a boost. So she poured a small amount of whiskey into a shot glass. Angie had been strung tight for nearly a week now, and Rose guessed her out-of-character breakdown had something to do with her absent ex-boyfriend. But Rose needed to be sure before she could help. There were rumors about why he'd left, of course, and they hinted at hurt and blood and gone for good. And all at the girl's instigation.

Here, Rose said, kneeling beside the forlorn huddle. Drink this, honey. Straight down.

I had to get him away from here and he wouldn't go! Angi whispered, raising her make-up smeared face to the older woman. The metal in her ears, eyebrows, and nostril glinted in a stray beam of light from the nearest grimy window. Tell me I did the right thing?

Rose huffed and thrust the glass closer. Sure, I could, she said gently. If you told me why you did it. You'd already dumped the poor kid for Kyle, so why get him worked over as well? Make me understand, hon. Please.

He wouldn't leave! Angi groped for the whiskey and obediently knocked it back. She coughed, her eyes tearing up again. I tried, Rose, but he refused. So I thought maybe they could drive him away. But— Oh, God, they went too far, I know they did! Fucking animals! But I didn't have a choice! I didn't, I swear! I don't know what's going on, but I needed him to be safe— Her hand flew to her mouth and for a moment Rose thought the girl was going to throw up. I saw— She stopped, drew in deep breaths as if she needed extra oxygen.

What did you see?

Can't tell you. But I'll sort it. A different tone grew in the girl's voice now, something hard, determined, and gradually her expression changed. She wasn't the hurting and terrified teenager anymore. The mask slid back in place and on the surface Angi returned to her usual strong-minded independent self, older than her years. Rose wondered briefly what had happened in the girl's short life to make her that way. Then Angi rose from her crouch with a suppleness Rose envied, and wiped her hands across her face, creating a grotesque camouflage of heavy kohl and purple lipstick. I'm okay, she said, tossing back her dreadlocks. Her voice barely shook now. I'm fine. I'm going to clean up. If you see Ash before I do, tell him I have to talk to him.

Rose watched Angi disappear into the restroom labeled 'Gals', and swore.

What's goin' on? her father demanded as he lurched out of the kitchen. This time of the day, the uneven step was due to his shortened right leg and the cane rather than tequila, for which she was thankful.

Don't know yet, Rose answered. I'll maybe let you know when I find out.

Maybe, hell, Josh Quincy grunted. It's a little late in the day to have an attack of guilt. Kyle's a jerk, and dangerous.

Ain't that the truth, Rose muttered as he retreated to his domain.

Angi had been working at the Roadhouse only a few months, but she'd found a place on the short list of those Rose called friends. Zack, not so much. Kyle Devlin was the Boss-man of the Catamounts, one of Amassol's biker gangs. He'd been sniffing round Angi from the moment she and Zack showed up in town, but the girl turned him down every time. Zack had been inclined to mouth off about it, and recently he and Angi had had some spectacular fights. Then the girl had suddenly taken up with Kyle and had gotten him to persuade Zack out of town the hard way. Angi was smart, stubborn as hell, and not afraid of anything or anyone. Or so Rose would have said, until now. The whatever-it-was that had broken through her barriers must be some heavy shit, and the only reason Rose could think of was belated guilt over Zack. Then another possibility occurred to her. Maybe she'd learned something from Kyle that would fire up the ever-present potential for gang warfare.

But where did Zack and Ash fit into that? Neither were a part of Amassol's various gangs. Angi's ex, Zack, had been just another young tough with nothing else to distinguish him but his pretty face, while Ash... He was the lone outsider the Catamounts seemed to respect and the Shotguns probably didn't know existed. He was also more of an enigma than Angi herself.

He'd shown up in Amassol a few weeks before Angi and Zack, and been added to Rose's list within days. He had no ID, no driver's license, no Social Security number, but that didn't bother her. He had an air of quiet competence, possessed a dry sense of humor that appealed to her, and he wasn't afraid of getting his gloves dirty. Nor did it hurt that he was easy on the eyes. He was also willing to work for cash and to rent one of the two trailers behind the Roadhouse.

After a phone call from Rose, Paul and Emma Camino up at the Lodge had been prepared to break the law and pay cash for a hard worker as well. They'd taken him on as a glorified groundsman and jack-of-all-trades, maintaining the cabins, dinghies, trails, and lakeside. He helped out at the Roadhouse in the evenings on a regular basis and his few eccentricities were easily overlooked by the usually unforgiving customers, especially when he proved himself to be a quietly efficient bouncer. Ash stood about six feet tall, lean as a whip, and what he lacked in muscle-bulk he more than made up with speed and skill. So it didn't matter that he'd colored his hair as bizarrely as Angi.

Speak of the Devil, Rose drawled as the street door opened and Ash strolled in with his usual lithe grace. He gave her a quick smile, his reflective aviator shades in place, his hands covered in thin leather despite the summer heat. She'd never seen him without gloves and only rarely without the shades.

Morning to you, too, he answered. She smiled, caught every time by that oh-so-subtle accent of his. It was so slight as to be not there, but she thought she had it pinned down. French-Canadian, leaning more toward the French, maybe. But she never asked and he didn't say. No one pressed for information at Quincy's Roadhouse & Grill. Which reminded her of the girl in the restroom.

Angi wants to talk to you, Rose said, nodding toward the closed door. She's upset. About Zack, I think. Not for the first time, she wished she could see his eyes to gauge his reactions, but he only removed the damned shades when it was virtually dark and even then, hardly ever. Anyone would think he was a fucking vampire wannabe, except Ash didn't go for the big grandstanding scene. Apart from the hair.

Okay. Then can I get a coffee? he added, heading for the restroom.

Sure thing. He probably didn't hear her. He'd ignored the 'Gals' sign and gone in.

Rose might not fish for information, but she wasn't above eavesdropping. She moved silently to the door and listened through the thin wood.

What's wrong, Angi-child? she heard Ash say, his voice quiet, concerned. Can I help?

You tell me, Angi said abrasively, and Rose shook her head. That wasn't the way to deal with a man. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Last week I heard something at Mulligan's Bar. Rose stiffened. That was Shotgun turf. What the hell was the silly bitch doing so deep in their territory? She'd been told often enough to stay away from there. Now that she was known to be Kyle's girl, she would be a natural target for the rival gang. Amassol might well be a small town in the back of Vermont's beyond, but it still had the usual urban problems. Then Rose abruptly realized Angi would have been at Mulligan's only a few days before Zack had been beaten up and driven out of town.

So? Ash didn't sound impressed.

Hal Bennett was talking to someone on his cell.

So? Ash said again, impatiently this time.

So I thought you ought to know.

Me? Why?

Because he was talking about the lake—Verde—and how he wanted to take it over. I've seen you there at night. I've seen you walk into the water.

If Ash had any reply to that, Rose didn't hear it. Kyle Devlin chose that moment to barrel in with half his gang trailing in his wake. Just as she finished serving them, Ash strode from the girls' restroom, pushed through the bikers and headed straight out of the Roadhouse without saying a word.

* * * *

That night Ash followed the faint game trail away from the cabins to the wilder side of Lake Verde, and this time he made very sure he wasn't followed. Angi had sworn she would keep his secret, but only, she'd said, because he was a real pretty freak rather than a fugly one, and he was their pretty freak. Whatever that meant. Right then, he couldn't decide what unsettled him more; that he had been careless enough to have been tailed and not known it, or that someone else was showing too much interest in the lake.

He'd been planetside for over a year now. In that time he'd sent no messages and his ship remained stealth-veiled in sleep-mode in the deepest part of Lake Champlain. He'd taken a risk choosing that site. It was one of the narrower sections of Champlain and close to urban areas, but its depth outweighed the disadvantages. He was fairly confident that in the unlikely event the Ostathren even knew he existed, they hadn't been able to trace him and his small ship two-thirds of the way across the galaxy. His fighting crest rose and his lips drew back from his teeth. The Ostathren.

Their species mindset clashed with virtually every other member of the Fourth Consortium. They were tall, heavy-set bipeds on short, powerful legs, their gray-green hides glossy with a natural secretion that protected them from the harsh environment on their home planet. Comparatively new to the association of phase-traveling societies, they had yet to learn that take what you want wasn't the way things were done in the Consortium. Not yet. Possibly they'd benefit from the lesson the Vyans would give them when Ash returned with incontrovertible proof the Vyan colony had been destroyed by an Ostathren strike-force.

The ship he hunted was a different matter. He'd had no hint so far that the Ostathren were looking for it as well, but that didn't mean they weren't. It was one of theirs and they'd want the incriminating information in the craft's auto-logs destroyed. Either way, the danger had increased exponentially and his time was suddenly running out. Anger sparked an undercurrent through the grief silting up his life. Those logs would give him the chance to take some bloody revenge. But first he needed to know Tria was safe. To know she was alive.

Gravel crunched under Ash's feet and he halted a step away from the water's edge. He took off his sunglasses and immediately the night sprang into sharp focus. His eyes were so different from the Douryan norm that the tinted reflector lenses were a necessity most of the time.

The lake was placid, metallic-dark but for the swathe of moonlight painted across it. He took the printout from his pocket and unfolded it. This and the partial coordinates Tria had managed to send out on a degrading phase-link were all he had to go on. They'd been enough to eventually bring him to the prohibited Douryi Three—Earth, to its native inhabitants—and to this quadrant of this landmass. But they had been nowhere near exact enough to pinpoint the crash site of one small ship. He'd explored what seemed like dozens of inland waters. All of them had stories attached to them of strange sightings and odd lights. None of which panned out.

The image in the printout was grainy and blurred. It showed tree-like shapes and a sheer cliff that plunged into water. Yet again, he compared it to the scene spread out before him, slowly turning to encompass it all. Off to his right was a steep scarp. He'd already gone over the area at its foot and found nothing, searching only at night because daylight would make it too risky. Nor had there been any sign of the rumored underwater lights, let alone the creature supposed to have been seen a couple of times. The creature that might be his sister. However, a quarter of the lake remained to be checked. Solo exploration of the lakebed was slow going, and he hadn't been able to go out every night. But he refused to give up hope.

He'd spent too long cloud-gathering, his guard down. Ash caught the scent of her perfume before he heard her, and swore under his breath. The girl hadn't followed him, just decided to turn up where he was. That was so like Angi. Of course she was going to continue looking for the answers he hadn't given her in the restroom.

I guessed you'd be here again, she said, stepping out of the deeper darkness beneath the trees. Why? What are you looking for? You never said.

Ash knew he didn't have much choice, not if he wanted to keep the girl onboard. Not what, he answered. Who. My sister. Tria's out there, I just have to find where.

Here? In Amassol?

Maybe. All I know is that she was coming down into water somewhere north of the Massachusetts border. Which was a huge generalization, but he wasn't going to go into any details.

That's what you're doing? Searching the lake? I thought you'd drowned the first time I saw you go under and not come up. But she—I mean—uh, are you sure she's alive?

Yes. He would continue to believe that until he saw her body.

Ooo-kay... She sounded wary, not exactly disbelieving, but she stayed well out of his reach. Her right hand, he suddenly realized, was out of sight and his instinct told him she had a weapon of some kind. So you're telling me this is a one-ET rescue mission? Or is it a first contact we're gonna invade you mission? Angi, he acknowledged, was no ordinary human, despite her youth.

Ash made a decision he hoped he wouldn't regret. If her ship survived the landing without a hull-breach, there's a good chance she's okay. But it'll be shielded and she would have deactivated the tracking signal so scans can't locate it. She wouldn't go far from its safety, and she'd stay well away from any natives. Our colony on Ducreant was attacked by the Ostathren, he added abruptly, his voice harsh. They denied it and the Consortium believed them. She was the only survivor. He didn't add that Angi reminded him of Tria in a lot of ways.

Holy shit! So they're here hunting for her, too? Angi came closer, the pale streaks in her dreadlocks almost luminous in the moonlight.

I doubt it, but it's not impossible. It wasn't worth trying to explain all the political ins and outs; they'd be here all night and into the day. Somehow she managed to steal one of their scouts before it returned to the mother-ship. The flight records would have the proof of what they did.

Fuck.

Yeah. His smile was bleak. That about covers it.

This is crazy. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, staring out over the water. She'd armed herself with a carving knife and it gleamed in the meager light. "I love sci-fi, you know? Star Trek, Stargate, Battlestar Galactica, all that stuff. Never believed it was real now, just that it might be, sometime in the future. You really are an alien, aren't you?"

Last time I looked, yeah, Ash answered casually. Thanks to illegal sleep-learn strips and too many hours of talking with border-runners in squalid dockside bars and hostels another arm of the galaxy away, he had a good knowledge of the continent's main languages. The same sources had also taught him the social customs and mores. Not that there wasn't a Douryan presence already out in the galaxy. Some species had made a habit of raiding primitive worlds before the Consortium put a stop to most of it. Most being the key word. But those Douryans had been of little help to him. There had been generations of divergence from their kind on their home world.

With these Douryans being so close to space flight, interest in the planet had been growing for some time, regardless of the Fourth Consortium's prohibitions, enough to give him most of the information he'd needed. Having hidden his most notable external differences, he was careful not to show his teeth when he smiled, and took a piss in a toilet stall rather than the more public urinal. He avoided any kind of intimate contact and had acclimatized, more or less, blending in with the local population as best he could. So far, he was coping with the higher gravity and thinner air—given his search pattern, open water and the respite it offered was never far away.

Cool, Angi said with a cocky grin, but her eyes were still wary. Slowly she approached him, taking her time, ready to duck and run if Ash was any judge. That's why the shades? And the gloves. She stared at him pointedly, one foot tapping, until he took the hint and peeled off one of his gloves. He held out his hand for her to see, flexing his fingers. Six fingers, including the usual opposable thumb. The webbings between his fingers had been surgically removed when he was born. Cool, she said again, but no less cautious. Alien's better than a vampire. They are so last year.

Does that mean I'm a fashion accessory? he asked gravely, surprising her into a chuckle. His gentle teasing seemed to allay the rest of her fears and she visibly relaxed.

I wish. How about other differences?

Uh, what? I'm a mammalian carbon-based biped, just like you. Well, near enough.

"You are so not. You know what I mean. Other."

I'm amphibious?

"Yeah, that, but no. Other." This time her eyes traveled slowly down his body to his crotch, and Ash managed not to laugh.

Oh. That other. He patted her cheek gently. Angi-child, you will never know.

Bastard. She grinned up at him with an impish charm and for a moment the curve of her mouth, the cant of her head, were so like Tria, it hurt.

You're taking this very calmly, Ash said cautiously.

Angi gave a short laugh. No, she answered. I've been freaking out ever since I saw you do your Aquaman thing. But I learned a long time ago it's not what people look like that counts. It's what they do.

You did? he asked, fascinated.

"Yeah. We were vacationing in Mexico City. Mom and Dad were brown-nosing at a fancy dinner party at the American Embassy, and Nana was baby-sitting me back at the hotel. I was about six, I think. This drugs cartel was having a running battle with the Federales and they holed up in our hotel. They rounded up the guests that night, pushed us into trucks, and drove us out into the sticks. I was the only kid taken and I was scared shitless." She laughed again, this time with reminiscent affection.

Nana was so cool and calm and awesome, but it was Maria-Elena who made the difference. We were being held in this small, rundown warehouse. It was almost in ruins, and the rats and roaches were just unspeakable. Anyhow, she was something to do with the gang—I never knew what—she just took me and Nana under her wing and for days she made sure we got food and clean water, and that no one bothered us. She had some kind of birth-defect. Her legs were stunted and twisted and her face was so crumpled she looked like a—a goblin. But she was so kind and gentle... She trailed off, and when she spoke again her voice was flat, hard. "The Federales rescued us. Most of the bad guys were killed. So was Maria-Elena. Nana said that if we could survive that without breaking, we could survive anything."

Courage is one thing, common sense another. Angi, why did you go to that bar? You know it isn't safe for you.

Angi shrugged and wouldn't meet his eyes. I just wanted to check out the Guns in their home turf, she muttered.

Yeah? Was that your idea or Kyle's?

We talked it out, okay? Angi snapped. He didn't tell me to go, if that's what you're thinking. We'd heard they were going to make some kind of deal with another gang, so I went to sneak around.

Not clever, Angi-child. You're too distinctive.

I'm not dumb! she flared, tossing her dreadlocks. I stuffed my hair up inside a beanie and I took out my piercings. No one looked twice at me. Anyhow, it paid off, didn't it? I heard about the Verde deal!

Okay, Ash said, smiling ruefully. He touched her cheek again. You have a true heart and high honor. You'd better get back to the Roadhouse, he continued, before Kyle comes looking for you. I'd hate to have to throw him in the lake. Again.

Nah, he's smart. He won't try to go one on one with you again. Especially in front of an audience. She turned away, then glanced back