jumped behind Shade, clinging to his shoulders. “What was that?”
Shade peered at the water. Whatever it was, it was gone. “I don’t know. A flerver?”
“What the hell is a flerver?” Tess cried.
“You’re scared of a flerver?” Shade couldn’t help it; he started laughing.
“I don’t know what a flerver is, you idiot!”
“Small. Brown.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Webbed feet. Semiaquatic.”
“Do they bite?” she asked, not letting go of him.
“Yes. Very hard.”
“What?” She practically jumped on his back, knocking into him.
Shade slid to the side, wrapped an arm around her waist, and propelled her toward dry sand. His feet were freezing. “Just kidding. They’re harmless.”
Tess whirled on him, scowling. “Why do you do that?”
Because teasing her was the most fun he’d had in years.
He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger just a little longer than he knew he should. “I know you’re brave. Why are you scared of a little animal?”
She shivered. “We’re all scared of something, right? It’s only human.”
He nodded, the levity draining from him again. It had been like that all evening—highs and lows until he felt like a yo-yo. “Yeah, you’re right.”
As they collected their shoes and socks and got ready to walk back to his cruiser, Shade realized he was starting to feel pretty damn terrified himself.
For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do.
Chapter 13
I left the Squirrel Tree at dusk after an uneventful day with no sign of Shade. My anxiety level amped up the second I hit the streets with a large hover crate full of contraband books. I wasn’t sure what made me more nervous as I headed toward Susan’s bookstore—the fact that the books were all unsanctioned by the galactic authorities, or the fact that they were all stolen.
Only the latter would get me into immediate trouble, but the former wasn’t great, either. It could leave me open to questioning and eventual holding—all of which could lead to an arrest.
Using a small wireless remote, I guided the crate through the darkening streets of the docking district before heading into more open and welcoming Windrow. I cultivated a certain walk as I went, throwing the vibe I needed off me like radio waves. It straddled a line somewhere between I’m perfectly normal, there’s nothing to see here and Don’t fuck with me, or you’ll be sorry.
I’d learned the nuances of both in prison. No one wanted to be the weirdo, all alone, that people ganged up on. And everyone wanted respect. I’d started thinking of effectively blending the two attitudes into one as a difficult but achievable art form. Mastery of the walk had given me something to aspire to on Hourglass Mile—with the added benefit of usually keeping me safe.
I heard the three long electronic beeps that signaled a public announcement and stopped along with everyone else, keeping a hand on my crate as I let it touch down. The whole city seemed to hold its breath, waiting. My stomach clenched when the Overseer’s live image appeared on the huge visual display unit attached to the front of the building across from me. He was in his office, a room I knew well for having been summoned to it more than once for long, sometimes violent lectures.
As usual, he wore plain, dark clothes. In fact, he was a plain, dark-haired, dark-eyed man. And every time he popped up on a building-sized screen to project his propaganda across the galaxy, his bland uniformity anchored itself a little deeper into the collective psyche as the galactic ideal.
Tonight, I was as guilty of conforming to his stark, unembellished image as everyone else. My tight black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, clingy dark top, and drab little vest made me look just like any other woman my age. I remembered playing with some of the dresses my mother had kept from her youth—clothing with integrated lights and materials that changed colors when you moved. They’d made me dream about laughter and parties until my despot father had found them and thrown them in the garbage. Neither Mom nor I had been allowed out of the house for a month, and from one day to the next, everything in our closets had been replaced by clothing of the Overseer’s choice.
“Citizens of the eighteen Sectors,” the Overseer began. “You live in a time of peace and prosperity. Of great discovery and progress. Despite that, there are still misguided people who would take from