Strength Read online

  Strength

  Jane Washington

  Jaymin Eve

  Contents

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also By Jane Washington

  Also By Jaymin Eve

  Connect With Jane Washington

  Connect With Jaymin Eve

  Copyright 2018 Jane Washington and Jaymin Eve.

  All rights reserved.

  The authors have provided this ebook for your personal use only. It may not be re-sold or made publicly available in any way.

  Copyright infringement is against the law.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

  Washington, Jane

  Eve, Jaymin

  Trickery

  www.janewashington.com

  www.jaymineve.com

  Edited by David Thomas and Josephine Banks

  www.josephinebanksofficial.com/editing

  ISBN-10: 0-9942795-9-0

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9942795-9-0

  For Jaymin: Stop trying to use em-dashes.

  Also for Jane: Stop trying to censor the sex scenes.

  Glossary

  dormire – server residence

  howler – wolf

  longneck – flamingo

  sleeper – spider

  click – minute

  rotation – hour

  sun-cycle – day

  moon-cycle – month

  life-cycle – year

  One

  The greatest thing about being dead was the food. I mean, sure, I had to endure a knife in the chest and a creepy death-cuddle from the worst being in all the worlds to get to the food, but I couldn’t help but feel it was all worth it. Every sun-cycle I woke up, I pressed a panel on the wall, and a server appeared on the table.

  On the table. Like a menu.

  The server I was currently looking at was short, with a bald head and pale, grey eyes. I knew that it was a woman because her weird little skinsuit covered the chest. The skinsuits of the male servers only covered the hips.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her.

  It was my favourite game—asking their names. I’d been hiding out in Cyrus’s sterile white residence for almost seven sun-cycles, and in that time, I’d had seven different servers. After asking one of them why there was a new server each sun-cycle, I had discovered that a certain number of servers were assigned to the different sections of Topia. They were on a regular rotation because of the high volume of servers that ended up dismantled or banished when the food wasn’t exactly right. In reply to that, I’d asked if they were the ones cooking the food, and she had replied that no, they weren’t.

  The servers that attended food calls had a relatively simple schedule: they were assigned to a section of Topia for the sun-cycle, and they answered the food call of every being in that section. After receiving the order, they went back to their dormire to fetch the food and deliver it. I hadn’t had a chance to ask who or what the hell their dormire was, because the server that I had been questioning had been called away to answer another food call.

  “Bush,” my current server answered me, interrupting my thoughts and reminding me that I had asked for her name. “I am called Bush, Sacred One. What can I get for you?”

  Bush. I cringed. “I’ll have some bread, and some cheese, and some milk … and I suppose I should have some chocolate, just in case. And some of that iced nectar drink, to wash down the chocolate. And some crumbed swimmer cakes, because you should always balance out too many sweets with other things that aren’t sweet. And some chocolate milk, because you should always balance out too many savoury things with other things that aren’t savoury. And some apple pie, with the frosted crust. And some—”

  “That’s probably enough for breakfast,” Yael drawled, walking into the room.

  The server snapped her head to Yael, and then switched her eyes back to me. Then back to Yael. Back to me. Back to Yael. She needed some sort of confirmation.

  “That’s enough … for now,” I told her.

  She nodded quickly, looking relieved, and then disappeared.

  I twisted in my chair to narrow my eyes on Yael. “I wasn’t done ordering,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah you were. You told us you needed to leave the cave or else you would wither and die … again, so Coen organised a little outing. We leave in one rotation and there’s no way you can eat that much food in one rotation.”

  “Try me.” I huffed a little, but it was hard to stay angry when they had finally decided to let me out of the cave.

  I turned back around as Yael took the seat to my right. I was sitting at the head of Cyrus’s dining table, clutching the knife and fork in front of me and leaning over my empty plate. It was the same way I had greeted the past seven sun-cycles. I called it my power stance: back straight, head up, cutlery ready. If I was going to have to be dead, I was at least going to spend my afterlife eating cheesy bread and gulping chocolate milk. I deserved it. Dying was hard.

  Yael leaned back in his chair, smirking at me as Aros came into the room. I could sense him rather than see him, the smell of burning sugar plants drifting faintly through the air, so faint that I could barely catch it. A touch drifted across the back of my neck. He took the seat next to Yael. They knew the drill: breakfast first.

  Aros tsked. “Actually, the family motto is safety first.”

  “I’m the one who died, so I get to pick the family motto,” I countered. “It’s breakfast first.”

  “We’re all undead, technically.” This had come from Rome, who had entered the room far too silently for his massive frame.

  His hands gripped the back of my chair and I could feel him hovering over me, his breath against the top of my head.

  “You were born already dead.” I toyed with the knife in my right hand. “That doesn’t count.”

  Instead of answering me, Rome straightened away and spoke to whoever had stepped through the doorway after him. “Willa changed the family motto.”

  “It’s not safety first anymore?” Coen asked.

  “Nope.” This had been from Siret—the last to enter the room. “It’s dinner first. We spoke about this last night, did you all forget?”

  “No.” I dropped the knife and fork, spinning around to face their little group, since Yael was the only one who had actually taken a seat. “It’s breakfast first.”

  “I swear it was dinner first.” Siret seemed confused. “Did it change?”

  I didn’t answer, because Bush had reappeared and was laying down dish after dish. I quickly picked up my knife and fork again. The appearance of food also seemed to clear up all the confusion in the room, as the guys claimed seats. Coen ended up on my left.

  “We’re going somewhere this sun-cycle?” I asked him hopefully.

  He wasn’t by any definition the ‘leader’ of our group, but he was the grumpiest and the most responsible, so that somehow translated to him policing most of the rules … but he definitely wasn’t the leader. If the leader was anyone, it would definitely be me—

  “We’re taking you to see our mother,” Coen said, interrupting my thought, and I suspected that it was deliberate.

  He leaned forward, piling his plate with food. I quickly began to fill up my own plate before all the dishes emptied out. I had only ordered my
part of breakfast before Yael had cut me off—I hadn’t had a chance to order for all the rest of them, too. Luckily, the server had brought several servings of each dish and several jugs of each beverage. She was now standing off to the side, I noticed.

  I was torn. Coen had mentioned his mother with such a lack of care, as though we went to see her once every few sun-cycles for family dinner. The rest of the Abcurses went on eating as though nothing was happening. None of them were acknowledging the strangeness of the outing he was suggesting, which meant that they had all planned it without me, and definitely had ulterior motives. On the other hand, I really wanted to ask the server where she managed to get all this food from if she wasn’t cooking it herself, and what the hell dormires were.

  Putting aside the mention of the Abcurses’ mother for now, I turned to Bush before she was called away to serve anyone else.

  “So who makes all this food?” I asked her.

  She blinked as though she had heard me, but her face remained stoically facing the table, waiting for any further orders.

  “Bush,” I prompted, forcing her head to snap up and turn my way. “Who makes this food?”

  “The pool,” she told me. “The Platter of Staviti is used for the food, and the Cup of Staviti is used for the beverages.”

  “You mean the cup that—”

  “Yes,” Rome cut across me. “That one.”

  “But if we stol—”

  “It’s a copy,” Aros answered, glancing up at me from his plate, his golden eyes holding mine, warning me to drop the subject in front of the server. “Staviti lost the original cup after being tricked by Abil—and then the original cup was stolen from Abil. Nobody knows where it is.”

  I snorted, turning my attention back to my plate. “So mysterious. But—” I looked to the server again. “How can the pool and the platter and the cup make all this food?”

  “The platter is placed in the pool and we ask for the food. It is the same with the cup.”

  She flickered out, then, leaving her words behind for me to ponder.

  “That’s what the cup does?” I asked the others. “It gives you … stuff to drink?”

  “It holds the power of Creation,” Siret replied. “And it gives stuff to drink.”

  “Okay then, so what is this pool?” I couldn’t let it go. I had been asking them questions for sun-cycles, about everything. Everything and anything that popped into my mind.

  Maybe it was because I had become accustomed to just letting things go for most of my life. Especially the things that made no sense, despite how often senseless things happened, like clumsy curses colliding with my chest and the daily threats to my life. Not even my inability to conform and dwell in the dirt with the rest of my people made sense.

  “It’s just water, Will,” Rome answered. “Staviti uses it to channel his Creation to make all our lives easier.”

  “Not all of our lives,” I muttered back.

  Siret chuckled. “It’s Topian water; it only works inside Topia. If he tried to use it for the sols in Minatsol, it wouldn’t work.” His calm voice was enough to capture my full attention.

  My mind immediately forgot about dwellers and focused on another word … water.

  That word had so many meanings to me now. Firstly, there was the mystery behind the sacred waters of Topia. The panteras had taken me to the stream and had asked me to drink from it, telling me that it would enhance my powers. They had also told me at the time that I’d been given the water before, that it wasn’t my first time. They were really cagey with the information, which meant that I was definitely taking a trip back to visit them as soon as I could.

  “What’s on your mind, Soldier?” Siret asked, not picking up on my thoughts.

  I blurted, “Water.”

  There was a beat of silence, which gave me a click to look between my guys. The five Abcurses: five specimens of perfect, over-sized, godly sexiness—

  “Your thoughts came back at a good time,” Coen remarked, as varying shades of amusement fell over each of their faces.

  I glanced to my left, where Yael sat. There was something behind the amusement in his eyes. Something heated. I swallowed and glanced at the seat next to his, where Rome sat. The same heat was there, boiling behind his expression and setting my insides to squirming. The dark green depths were mesmerising, swirling as they watched me from across the table. Suddenly, my mind jumped to a very different kind of water.

  I’d recently learned how to swim with Rome and Yael. There had been a lot of swimming, among other things, going on that night. None of us had acknowledged the fact that the pact had been broken. It didn’t seem like a breach in our friendship, but more of a natural progression in our relationship. I had acted out of character, spurred by grief over the death of my mother, but I didn’t regret it. Not for a click.

  I kind of wanted to do it again. Keep it even, Willa: that’s what they’d said to me. I was technically obliged to do it again. With each of them.

  “Can you go back to having no thoughts?” Yael’s voice was strained.

  I didn’t blush. For some reason I couldn’t conjure up the slightest embarrassment about being with Rome and Yael, at the same time. It felt natural, and it wasn’t anybody’s business but ours.

  “Do you think it’s time we chatted about what happened?” I asked, looking between them again.

  I wasn’t sure where this new streak of maturity was coming from, but I knew that Emmy would be so proud. I had always told her that she wouldn’t regret saving my life. Several times. Now, finally, I was proving it with sex discussions. Coen crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair, still wearing a somewhat amused expression. I liked it a lot more than his death-eyes, but since I didn’t see it much, I was completely unsure about what might come out of his mouth.

  “What exactly do you think we should chat about?” he asked, a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  My eyes went very wide. I quickly stuffed two swimmer puffs into my mouth so that I didn’t have to answer immediately, because I had no idea how to properly start the conversation. So far, we had all been sleeping in the same room like a pack of howlers, seeking comfort through close proximity after everything that had happened. None of the Abcurses wanted to let me out of their sights, and I didn’t want to be away from them either. An asshole had put a blade through my chest the last time I walked away from them … it was enough to deter me from ever doing it again.

  So, we definitely weren’t going to be having any more swimming lessons in the near future. Our focus had been on each other: on growing closer, healing, and treasuring a brief time of comfort and safety. I wasn’t eager for things to go back to how they had been with our pact in place—I was finished with being their girl-brother. And I didn’t want to pretend that I hadn’t shared that experience with Rome and Yael. I wanted to continue moving forward, so it felt like something had to be said.

  Siret’s grin was so wide that he looked to be moments from laughing. If anyone was going to find our situation amusing, it would be him. I focussed on chewing as I searched for what to say, because I had no idea what would happen if I choked as an un-dead dweller.

  “Don’t hurt yourself, dweller-baby.” Coen took pity on me. “There are no rules, no need to check that our feelings are hurt. Just …”

  “Keep it even,” I mumbled, interrupting him.

  “Exactly,” Aros agreed. “Now that we know our powers shouldn’t have a negative effect on you, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to police your intimacy with us anymore.”

  I nodded. “Like the bullsen during mating season.”

  Siret snorted and shook his head. “No, Willa, not like the bullsen. This is more than mating season for us, you know that.”

  Right, I forgot they didn’t like me to use the domestic labour beasts as a reference point for relationship development. Unfortunately for them, my influence in this department had been limited to my mother’s relationships, growing up. Unless t
hey wanted me to start charging them tokens for swimming lessons, they needed to let me pull references from wherever I wanted. Although, the ‘Abcurse’ way of mating sounded a lot nicer. The bullsen grunted too much, and I didn’t even want to think about what kind of noises my mother had made.

  Siret lost it then, his laughter setting off the rest of the guys at the table. I tried not to laugh—because I was significantly more mature than them—but a sound escaped anyway. Luckily, I had a goblet raised to my lips, so I passed it off as almost-choking. After that, our conversation drifted to topics unrelated to water sports, and as we finished up the food and moved to stand, I realised that I hadn’t asked them about their mother.

  “You’re pretty easily distracted,” Yael agreed, answering my thoughts as he so often did.

  That’s not the point. I took a deep breath. “So, your mother … Adeline, goddess of beauty … who has been missing for how many life-cycles …. feel free to jump in at any time here, guys …”

  I felt like I had missed the first part of the story: the part where they explained why their mother had been ‘travelling’, and where she had been ‘travelling’ to. Also, who she had been travelling with, and what kind of clothes she took travelling. Admittedly, I was a little too invested in exactly how the Goddess of Beauty handled long stints of travel, because I was sure that she didn’t sit at the back of a bullsen cart, sweating and fanning her face to drive away the stench of the beasts. There likely weren’t even bullsen on Topia, they probably had winged, sparkly beasts.