Born of Fire

“Well, I could have still been in prison being raped and beaten, so trust me. The Dumpsters weren’t so bad.”


How could he be so accepting? How could he not hate his mother for turning him out?

To this day a part of her despised her father for his neglect and shortsightedness and he’d never put her through anything like Syn had suffered.

“So how did you end up here?”

“I stowed aboard the first ship I could find with an open hatch.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I guess I should have checked its log first to see where it was headed. Not that it mattered. This is where I’d lived with my father so I wasn’t used to anything better.”

Shahara leaned against his knee so that she could better see his face. “When did you meet Mother Anne?”

“Who’s telling this story?”

“Sorry. You are.”

“All right,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall again. “Once the child arrived, he realized that survival wasn’t going to be easy on his own. But the boy had enough of his father in him to get what he needed.”

“You stole?”

“Everything that wasn’t welded down. The child didn’t care who he stole from so long as he got away. And one day, the boy made the mistake of lifting the wallet of a man who could outrun him.”

“He caught you?”

“No, just as he was about to seize the boy, the boy dodged into a vacant building, ran through it and came out in the spaceport. The boy dodged around machines and debris until he found a tunnel that led to the entrance of the catacombs.”

“The man didn’t find you?”

“No,” he said, switching pronouns. “I wandered around down here for hours until I realized that one, it was a tomb, and two, the man wasn’t coming in after me. After sleeping here a few nights, it dawned on me that no one ever came here. It was just me and the dead.”

“So you made this your home?”

“What can I say?” He flashed his dimple at her. “It was the cleanest, safest home I’d ever had.”

She shuddered at the thought. “You still haven’t told me how you met Mother Anne.”

He reached out and fingered her cheek, his warm fingers a stark contrast to the icy air. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch, his smell.

“One day one of the priestesses died and they brought her down here. I stayed hidden until they left and, after I’d fallen asleep, Mother Anne and Mother Omera came back to conduct Final Rites.”

She opened her eyes. “They found you?”

He nodded. “Their kindness changed my life. They took me into their private chambers and kept me bathed and fed. It was the first time in my life I had somewhere safe to stay, where no one tried to hurt me.”

She winced at the thought.

He moved his hand over to her neck where he brushed the backs of his fingers against her flesh, doing wicked little things to her body. Again the needful throb started.

“The Mothers taught me how to pray and how to forgive. They showed me that some people spend their lives trying to help others and that helping people wasn’t stupid or weak. That not everyone was a user.”

“That’s why you’re pious now?”

“Yeah. It’s the least I can do. I owe them everything.”

“So they raised you in their chambers?”

“Not entirely.” He moved his hand down the line of her jaw, sending waves of pleasure through her. His fingers trailed over her lips, her closed eyelids and then down the side of her neck. She drew a ragged sigh of pleasure.

When Syn continued, his voice was a full octave deeper. “The High Mother found me and had a conniption. Men aren’t allowed to take holy vows and she considered my presence a desecration to the temple.”

“What did you do?”

“I moved back into the catacombs.”

She cringed at that. “No, you didn’t.”

“I had no choice. But this time, I at least had blankets and a pillow. The Mothers would bring me a hot meal at night and they helped enroll me in the local school.”

She became distracted by his touch as he trailed his fingertips back across her lips and under her hair. “Did you use your real name?”

“Hardly. I quit using Wade the day my father was executed.”

She still didn’t know where C.I. Syn came from. “Was it the Mothers who named you Syn?”

He laughed, his lips dangerously close to her own. “No. For an obvious reason, they refused to ever use it.”

“Where did it come from then?”

“Given my parentage and youthful occupation, it seemed to be the only appropriate name.”

She shook her head at him. “You’re worth so much more than that.”

He moved to kiss her.

As much as she wanted his kiss, she didn’t want to distract him. Not while he was actually telling her about his past.

Pulling back, she asked, “So what does C.I. really stand for?”

Disappointment flickered in his eyes and he sat back with a sigh. “Certifiably Insane.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s too embarrassing.”