Kameron Hurley - God's War

There was blood in the bowl of the sink. They’d washed their hands, after.

Under the sink was a single white feather.

Nyx looked at her sister’s body for a long minute. Nyx’s palms were wet. The flat was cool.

She dared not make any calls from inside the flat. They’d likely bugged it.

Nyx did a pass through the last room, Kine’s study. They’d gone through the desk, opened up jars and boxes of bugs. The dead and dying insects littered the floor or clung to the ceiling. Smears of velvet black—blue, violet—ran across the floor. Torn organic papers, bleeding those same colors, were crumpled and scattered around the window.

What did Kine have that they’d wanted? If the only reason they killed her was to get to Nyx, why go through the—

We’re all trying to cure the war.

Nyx turned abruptly and ran back to the bedroom. She felt along the edges of one of the animated photos of her, Kine, and their brothers until she found the catch. The depiction was not soldered to the wall. It popped free and swung out.

For a conservative like Kine, images of living things of any kind were vulgar, obscene. An affront to God. If she had them around, it was to tell somebody something. Or remind herself of something.

Inside the hidden cabinet were Kine’s real records: papers and bug recordings of her work in the compounds. Nyx found a satchel and stuffed the lot of them into it without looking. Rhys would help her sort them out. She put the picture back in place. Her siblings grinned at her. Kine winked. Nyx wiped down the frame.

On her way out, she cleaned the faceplate as well. She walked quickly but didn’t dare run.

Back at the mechanic’s, she found a call box. She flipped the switch that agitated the bugs and plugged in the pattern for the keg.

The bugs chattered for a long time. She heard someone on the other side of the building and ducked behind the box.

“Pickup, you fuckers,” she muttered. She saw a sudden clear image of Anneke with her head blasted in, Taite with a sword through his gut, Rhys’s hands—

“Peace be unto you,” Rhys’s voice carried to her from the desert.

“You listen to me,” she said. Her voice shook. She stilled it. “You tell Taite to get his sister to a safe place and cut free his boy. Tell Khos to get his whores to another house, and if Anneke gives a shit about anybody, you tell her to get them a train ticket. Anybody we care about, get them out of the city or out of their places. And start packing up our stuff. You know the regrouping point. You put a filter up and get out of there. You hear me?”

“Are you all right?”

“Kine’s dead.”

He inhaled sharply. “Nyx—”

“You go get anybody you care about, Rhys. Tell them to clear out.”

“Everyone I care about is on this team,” Rhys said.

“Then they need to move,” Nyx said, and hung up.

Burst sirens wailed out over Punjai; brilliant green burst tails lit up the black sky. Taite and Khos walked quickly, side by side, through the Mhorian district, one of the few parts of Punjai where neither of them stood out much. The faces were paler, the noses flatter, the shoulders broader, and most of the women on the street covered their hair with white scarves. A pity, really. The Mhorian district was the one place Taite ever saw hair that wasn’t black.

“How are we for time?” Khos asked.

Taite shook his head. He knew they were running a little late, and he knew he should have gone to his sister’s first, but he had set up this night with Mahdesh three days before. Mahdesh had been unreachable since then, out poking around some fallen space debris in the desert. Taite needed to speak to him in person. Inaya would have to wait.

Taite stepped over the threshold and into the Lunes Dansantes, a Ras Tiegan café that served Mhorian honeyed tea and kosher food for Khos in addition to saucy, spicy Ras Tiegan cuisine.

They both took off their sandals and piled them at the door with the others. Inside, the light was low, fresh glow worms in glass, and a woman sat with a small string band on a raised platform at the back of the café, singing a Ras Tiegan love song in a high, clear voice.

Taite looked out over the heads of the cigar-smoking crowd, a mixed group of men and women, mostly expatriates like him and Khos. He saw Mahdesh’s familiar shaggy head and slim profile and felt a surge of relief. Of course he would be here. Of course everything was all right.

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Khos said.

Taite nodded, and picked his way among the tables to Mahdesh’s side.

Mahdesh caught sight of him and grinned. He had the sort of grin that could fill a room. A smile that made Taite feel as if he were the only man in Nasheen.

They touched lips to cheeks, twice. Mahdesh kept hold of his elbow, still grinning. He was a little taller than Taite, broader in the shoulders, and had the clear, pale skin and even teeth of a half-breed inoculated Mhorian. Mhorians had no qualms about inoculating their half-breeds.

“Dangerous night?” Mahdesh asked, nodding toward Khos as they sat.

Taite sat close enough so their knees touched. It was as much prolonged public contact as they dared, even in the Mhorian district. Some Nasheenian women took violent offense to overly friendly men, no matter where they sat.

“Yes, I have to be quick tonight,” Taite said.

Mahdesh leaned back in his chair, winked. “I’m getting used to that.”

“We’re having some trouble with a note.”

“You mean Nyx is having some trouble with a note.”

Taite swallowed. “Yes.”

Khos arrived with drinks. Clear liquor for Taite and Mahdesh, amber honeyed tea for himself.

“How are you, stargazer?” Khos asked. He held out a hand to Mahdesh. They clasped elbows, and Khos leaned in and kissed his cheeks.

“I’ve been better. The city’s too hot for me.”

“It’s a good time to get out, then,” Khos said, and sat. “You told him yet?” he asked Taite.

“Nyx’s note is in trouble,” Taite said. “You and Inaya should leave the city tonight. Nyx’s sister was killed. She thinks whoever did it may be coming after our kin next.”

“Are you going to hold my hand, Taitie?” Mahdesh asked.

Taite felt himself redden. “I—”

Mahdesh reached under the table, squeezed his knee, and sobered. “I know. I’ll be all right. What does your sister think about it?”

“We’re going there after,” Taite said.

Mahdesh raised a brow. “Hope Khos is staying in the bakkie”

Khos snorted. “I’m doing it for Taite.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Khos. You just make her nervous,” Taite said.

“She hates me. She hates herself.”

“Don’t say that,” Taite said. God, his sister. “She needs to be looked after, all right? Khos, don’t fuck with me on this. Anything happens to me, look after her, will you?”

Mahdesh shook his shaggy head. “When will you let her grow up, Taitie? She’s nearly a decade your senior.”

“Take care of her,” Taite repeated, still looking at Khos.

Khos shook his head. “Come on, you’ll be fine. It’s why I’m out tonight.” He pulled down his tea in one swallow. “You two catch up. I’ll meet you outside. That singer’s voice grates.”

He stood, and moved back through the crowd.

Taite looked back at Mahdesh. Their eyes met. Mahdesh’s were steely gray, large and liquid. Taite wanted to stay there forever.

“This note… Inaya…”

“I understand,” Mahdesh said. “I have some work to do in Faleen at the docks, muddling over some repairs and doing some translation. I can bide my time until things here cool down. The border’s been a little warm anyway.”