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ARIES ARMED
ZODIAC GUARDIANS
BOOK EIGHT

TAMAR SLOAN
TRICIA BARR
 CONTENTS

1. Ethan
2. Tristan
3. Brielle
4. Kerrim
5. Cassandra
6. Ethan
7. Brielle
8. Tristan
9. Ethan
10. Brielle
11. Kerrim
12. Logan
13. Brielle
14. Kerrim
15. Tristan
16. Brielle
17. Cassandra
18. Ethan
19. Brielle
20. Kerrim
21. Tristan
22. Ethan
23. Tristan
24. Brielle
25. Ethan
26. Tristan
27. Brielle
28. Kerrim

Pisces Dreaming
More fantasy romance to fall in love with!
About the Authors
 1

ETHAN

E than holds very still, making himself at one with the foliage
around him. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves and they brush his
skin as he crouches on a branch high above the ground, flickering
over his view of what’s happening below.
The group of Chardis’s assassins roam around the circle of
scorched earth, lips curled and brows low. One mutters under his
breath but even though Ethan strains to hear, he doesn’t catch it. He
decides there and then, that’s his target. This one has something to
say.
His hand tightens around the trunk as he does the math. He
followed the two assassins to this patch of the forest, where they
joined eighteen others. Twenty enemies to exterminate. Just him.
He likes those odds.
Slowly, intuitively matching the rhythm of his movements to the
breath of the breeze, Ethan slips a knife out of his boot and up his
sleeve. Then another from the other boot and up the other sleeve.
His quiver rests across his back, a familiar and welcome weight.
The assassins stalk one way then the other, kicking up ash, a
couple even toeing the scar at the center of the explosion, revealing
unusually dry soil beneath it.
They know as much as Ethan does when it comes to what
happened here. Actually, he suspects they know what self-
destructed here or they wouldn’t be roaming the area like restless
wolves. They might even know why. But they’re desperately trying to
find some clue as to who did this.
And if the assassins are interested, then Ethan is, too.
He goes from still to lightning in a split-second, grabbing his bow
where it was resting against the trunk and firing three arrows off in
quick succession. They lodge in the furthest assassin’s throats, one
after the other.
Three down.
One of them cries out in alarm just as Ethan drops to the ground,
crouching to absorb the impact, then springing straight back up. He’s
running before the shout of alarm has finished. In fact, he cuts it off
when he flings one of the blades tucked up his sleeve with enough
thrust that the assassin stumbles backward and crashes into a tree.
The familiar flash of something to his right triggers the next reflexive
flick. The assassin who was just drawing his gun from his jacket
finds his hand pinned to his chest, the blade plowing straight
through his sternum and dropping him.
Five down.
Ethan runs toward the center of the clearing as if the piece of
scorched earth is his goal. He unclips his bow from his back, loads
an arrow and releases it. Then another. And another. And another. A
gunshot sounds and he drops into a roll, fires another mid-tumble,
then continues to run.
Ten down.
“Get him!” someone shouts. “He’s got to be one of them!”
Yes, he is.
The Aries, in fact. Ethan almost feels sorry for the assassins.
They converge on him simultaneously, recognizing him for the
threat he is. Ethan instantly changes direction, darting toward the
forest surrounding the clearing. His acute hearing registers the
assassin’s footfalls and breathing, cataloging how far away they are,
the snapping of a twig when one gets a little closer than the others.
Ethan spins, fires another arrow, then continues running, not
even bothering to see if the assassin goes down. The garbled grunt
and thud tell him he has. As does the knowledge that he rarely
misses. This is what he’s trained all his life for. Hunted assassins for
years so he could hone his skills and fight Chardis while he searched
for the other Zodiacs.
These twenty fools don’t stand a chance.
The line of trees fast approaches and Ethan angles for the closest
one. The assassins will assume he’s making for the cover of forest,
maybe preparing to play cat and mouse amongst the shadows. But
he’s no cat, and certainly no mouse.
He doesn’t hide and he doesn’t stalk.
He meets everything head on.
The thick tree stands solidly and patiently, allowing Ethan to
calculate trajectories, to make a mental note of the locations of the
remaining assassins. Where they’ll be when he’s done. Where the
one he wants is. Focusing every sense, he runs up the trunk and
executes a flip, more arrows flying from his quiver to his bow to the
chests and throats of the assassins.
By the time he’s landed, bodies are littered around him. Most are
silent, one or two groan as they fight the inevitable leeching of their
life.
Nineteen dead or dying.
The remaining assassin looks around, still trying to process
what’s happened. Within the space of a few minutes, all his
comrades have been taken out.
And he’s the last one standing.
The assassin stumbles, clearly getting ready to run, but Ethan
shoots another arrow. The assassin jolts, then trips over a body and
tumbles backward. He lands in the dirt, blinking as he realizes he’s
still alive.
A few leaps and Ethan’s standing above him, a boot on his chest.
“You missed,” the assassin snarls.
“Did I?” Ethan challenges.
The assassin goes to move, growling when he discovers he’s
pinned to the ground, the arrow that missed his chest impaled
through his shirt and into the soil. “Hurry up and kill me, then.”
“You’re alive for a reason,” says Ethan, his voice hard. “What
happened here?”
 The assassin’s eyes glint, seeming to make the telltale silver ring
around his irises flare. “Ah, you want to know about the pod.”
For the first time, Ethan’s laser focus breaks. A pod? Someone
sent one to Earth? His pulse has barely accelerated the whole fight,
but now, it jackknifes. Could it be her?
He puts more pressure on the man’s chest, relishing in the
grimace it triggers. “Yes, I want to know about the pod.”
“The Zodiacs weren’t able to decipher the message before it self-
destructed, either.” The assassin grins wickedly. “Chardis will be
pleased to hear that.”
The fool obviously thinks Ethan is working alongside the other
Zodiacs. He would be if he’d found them. The fact they were also
here tells him they’re getting closer. It’s only a matter of time before
the first mission he set himself the moment he landed on Earth is
fulfilled.
Find the Zodiacs. Join them.
“Chardis will never know whether or not we received the
message,” Ethan growls.
With one swift movement, he yanks the arrow out of the soil and
slams it into the assassin’s chest. The man arches as his eyes fly
wide open, then collapses a second later. Ethan makes sure his
death is swift—a small token of thanks for being so forthcoming with
the information.
Pushing to his feet, he stares at the scorched ground where the
pod would’ve landed, then self-destructed. But not before a message
was sent out. His breathing levels out as a new mission settles his
very soul.
He needs to know what was on that recording.
He needs to know if it came from her.
 2

TRISTAN

S aveTristan
the Ark.
sighs as he sits back in his chair in HQ. Three words.
They sound so simple. Straight forward. They’re all that’s needed to
sum up what the Zodiacs need to do.
Except they have no idea where the Ark is.
Or how to get to it.
He glances up at the screen and the image of the pretty young
woman with the midnight hair, highlights of luminescent blue
framing a delicate face. He doesn’t need to press play to hear what
she says in the recorded message. It’s branded in his mind and
playing on a permanent loop.
“I send this message from the Ark, a refuge for all those
escaping the trail of destruction Chardis is unleashing across the
Universe. We thought we were safe until we discovered a spy among
us.”
A spy. Which means Chardis may know where the Ark is.
“The spy has been killed.” The young woman had been so regal.
Yet the way she clutched her hands had given away her worry. “But
we don’t know how much he knew, or what he told Chardis. The Ark
is in danger. We need help.”
The Ark is in danger.
The Zodiacs need to help.
 Which brings Tristan back to his original mission.
Save the Ark.
A sound at the stairs has him turning around. He’s pretty sure
most of the other Zodiacs are all cozied up in their pairs. Veronica
and Jareth would be in his room, probably decorating it with
imaginary daisies. Logan and Cassandra would be in her room, and
Tristan isn’t going to give a millisecond of thought to what they’re up
to. Ada and Eric would be tucked up with a laptop or a coding book
or something equally nerdy. Shreya, the only single one—although
she seems quite happy to be—was baking in the kitchen last time he
checked.
That leaves Brielle and Kerrim, both of whom live elsewhere.
They could be anywhere. Doing anything…
Which Tristan wants to think about for even less time than Logan
and Cassandra.
He looks at the doorway expectantly, wondering who dragged
themselves away from some well-earned down time to come down
to HQ. Delight shoots through his veins when Brielle appears, and it
only grows when he registers Kerrim isn’t with her. Although Tristan’s
reached a truce with the Scorpio, it doesn’t mean he likes seeing him
with Brielle any more than he did when they were at odds.
In fact, it seems to be getting harder and harder to watch them
together.
Brielle smiles, the motion almost looking hesitant. “Hey, I was
hoping we could talk?”
Tristan’s about to say he’d like that, without trying to give away
exactly how much he’d like that, when Esther’s voice carries into the
room.
“Disturbance in dark matter detected, Tristan.”
He shoots to his feet. “Is it the Ark?”
“I doubt it,” Esther responds matter of factly. “The coordinates
match the location of the pod’s self-destruction.”
Tristan and Brielle’s eyes widen simultaneously. Skins? Or
something else?
He’s the first to move, quickly striding toward the stairs. “I’ll
check it out.”
 “I’m coming with you,” says Brielle, already by his side.
He glances at her, about to speak, when she gets in first.
“It wasn’t a request.”
Tristan finds himself grinning. “I was going to say thanks.” Which
is the truth. Yes, there’s a protective streak that runs as deep as the
Universe itself when it comes to Brielle, but she’s just as much a part
of this fight as any of the Zodiacs.
Plus, he likes the thought of just the two of them working
together. How long has it been since that happened? It feels like it
was lightyears ago.
Brielle smiles back as they jog up the stairs, giving his heart a
little jolt. “We’ve got this.”
Why is it that whenever she’s around, that’s exactly how
everything feels?
Not letting himself dwell on that question, Tristan leads them to
the garage where they climb into his truck and leave.
“Esther,” he says once they’re on the road. “Notify the other
Zodiacs of our location. Tell them to stand by.”
“Yes, Tristan.”
Brielle shifts so she’s more settled in her seat. “What do you
think it is?”
“My guess is Skins are checking the place out. They may even
know that the message in the pod was intercepted. If that’s all it is,
then we don’t engage.”
Brielle nods. “Agree.” She glances at him as he keeps his gaze on
the road. “Could it be another Zodiac?”
“Maybe,” he says. “Although how they’d know about the pod
location is beyond me.” He glances back at Brielle. “Maybe whoever
has the Staff visited the site.”
Her lashes flutter as she tenses. “Maybe.”
Silence grows in the car as they both focus on the road,
reminded that things aren’t as simple as two Zodiacs off to check out
a disturbance in dark matter. Brielle kept secrets. Tristan’s hands
tighten on the steering wheel. She didn’t trust him enough to tell
him she was meeting with Solomon so she could retrieve the Staff.
 The rest of the trip is silent. Tristan doesn’t even bother turning
the radio on. He can’t think of any music that wouldn’t feel either
intrusive or downright triggering right now. The first song of
unrequited love or betrayal would have him turning it off.
He’s almost relieved when they reach the edge of the forest
they’d parked at only a couple of days ago. They climb out then
blend in among the trees. “Be ready for anything,” Tristan says
quietly.
Brielle nods, her face tense and serious. They make their way
through the forest, skirting the location of the pod and stopping
often to listen for anything. All Tristan hears are the odd scarlet
tanager, the rustle of leaves, and the occasional twig that Brielle
steps on, wincing every time.
They reach the clearing where the pod self-destructed after a
Skin put his hand on it and Tristan peers through the trees, catching
sight of the ashen circle. The place is clear. Empty.
Except…
“Tristan,” Brielle whispers in shock.
The clearing is littered with dead bodies of Skins.
Still keeping an eye out for any threats, Tristan slowly enters the
clearing. He counts a total of twenty dead bodies littered around. He
squats next to the nearest one, registering the clean hole in the
man’s neck. “They weren’t shot,” he observes.
Brielle appears beside him. “Then what killed them?”
“A small knife. Maybe an arrow.” These Skins died quickly and
cleanly.
Brielle looks around at the lifeless bodies. There’s very little blood
to be seen. The scene is almost peaceful. “Who did this?”
Tristan pushes to his feet, unsure how he feels about this. Nebula
agents use guns. And the Zodiacs didn’t do this. Is there another
stakeholder invested in this fight? That’s the last thing they need.
He looks around even though he knows whoever did this is long
gone. “I have no idea, but we’ll have to shelve that investigation for
the moment, just like the Staff. We need to focus on the Ark.”
Brielle chews her lip. “The Staff is what I wanted to talk to you
about.”
 He tenses. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was up to, Tristan. But to be
honest, I’d probably do the same thing again. Especially after I
learned the Staff can be deadly to the Gemini Twins.”
He frowns. “Who told you that?”
“Solomon, and he told me enough truths that I think it’s smart to
listen.” She takes a step forward. “I couldn’t bear the thought of
something happening to you.”
His breath disintegrates. Disappears. Dies. The genuine concern
in Brielle’s moss green eyes is all that’s keeping him alive right now.
“Brielle…”
He has no idea what he wants to say, all he knows is his
fingertips burn with the need to touch her. To once more feel the
connection he’s only ever experienced with this sweet, beautiful girl.
But she takes a step back, her face twisting as if she’s in pain.
“The Zodiacs need you.”
The words snap him out of his foolish, impossible urge. “Of
course,” he says, clearing his throat when the words come out raspy.
“The Zodiacs.”
They’re his focus.
And ironically, the reason he can’t be with Brielle.
Not when his Twin is out there, waiting to be found. After all the
discord amongst them, he can’t afford to cause more upheaval.
Spinning on his heel, Tristan makes his way back to the car. They
need to be far away from here before the police or Nebula turn up.
Jack already has enough reason to hate them. The last thing they
need is more complications.
Which means remembering his role. To lead the Zodiacs.
To unite them.
And find the Ark.
 3

BRIELLE

B rielle’s just opened the door to her home when she hears Frank
call out. “Brielle? Is that you?”
He must’ve been listening out for her. Which means he has
something important he wants to talk about.
Brielle can’t help the knot that forms in her stomach. After
discovering Bea and Frank know about the Zodiacs, and that she’s
one, they’ve been closer than ever. It means she picks up on the
tension in Frank’s voice, despite the innocuous words. Something’s
up, and Brielle’s not sure she has the headspace for it right now.
A moment with Tristan always seems to do that.
It always takes time to find her equilibrium again. To remind
herself there’s no future with him, no matter how he makes her feel.
Irrespective of the way her heart comes alive the moment they’re
close. Even though she’s never been able to forget the feeling of
being in his arms.
Every one of those truths had roared to life when she stepped in
close, the need to touch him, to respond to the call in his blue eyes,
had been overwhelming.
It had taken every shred of willpower to step back again. She’s
with Kerrim. Tristan has a soulmate.
There’s no future for them.
“Brielle?”
 The concerned note in Frank’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts.
“Sorry, yes, it’s me.”
“Great,” he says, sounding relieved. “Can you come into the
office for a moment?”
“Sure, coming now.”
Brielle hooks her messenger bag on the wall, then makes her
way to the office, trying to think of what this might be about. Had
she done something wrong with the recent paperwork Frank asked
her to complete? He’s been slowly giving her more and more
responsibility when it comes to the family company, and she’s been
trying hard to make him proud. She just hopes the error isn’t a big
one. Their share prices were just starting to climb back up after
Frank was unjustly sent to prison.
She pokes her head through the door, surprised to find someone
in the office with her father. “Oh, hi.”
“Brielle,” Frank smiles warmly. “I’d like you to meet Dylan
Snowberry, our new Chief Operations Officer. He’ll be overseeing the
day-to-day administrative and operational functions of the company.”
Brielle’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.” She thought Frank loved doing
all that. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Snowberry.”
The man nods, a friendly smile creeping up his bearded face.
“Please, call me Dylan. I’ve heard a lot about you, Brielle.”
Frank steps forward, his gaze softening. “I had a lot of time to
think in prison. To really reflect on what’s important to me, and
that’s family. Especially since the day you completed it.”
“Oh,” she says again, this time a little softer.
Frank grasps her upper arms, his touch warm and comforting. “I
want to not only step back in running the company, but also help
you step up.”
Brielle’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “Me? Step up?”
“Yes,” Frank says, his smile broadening. “You’ll be the one taking
it over one day.”
“Wow,” she breathes, still a little shocked. “Are you sure?”
“Completely,” he responds firmly. “You’ve excelled at every task
I’ve given you. This is what I want.”
 Bea enters, smiling just as broadly as she slips an arm around
Frank’s waist. “And I think it’s a wonderful idea. I’ve been trying to
get him to slow down for years.”
Brielle blinks, taking in the two people who changed her world
when they adopted her. She’d do anything for them. “Of course. I’d
be honored.”
Frank and Bea engulf her in a hug, the warmth reaching in and
wrapping around Brielle’s heart just as tightly.
They all pull back simultaneously, and Brielle finds Mr. Snowberry
—Dylan—watching them with his own soft smile. “This couldn’t be
happening at a better time,” he says, tapping a folder on the desk
beside him.
Brielle glances at Frank. “Why is that?”
Frank walks back to the desk to pick up the folder, his face now
pensive. “Things are happening. Big things.”
Brielle tries not to tense at those words. She’s had enough of big
things for the moment. She simply stands and waits, having learned
that’s not going to make a difference. Destiny forges on, irrespective
of what she wants.
Like Tristan.
“Sinclair Holdings is floundering now it doesn’t have a CEO,”
Frank says, the lines around his mouth tightening. “Investors are
uneasy, and their shares are plummeting.”
Brielle freezes. “You’re going to stage a takeover.”
Frank nods sharply. “We are.”
The Libra in her can’t blame him. It was Cassandra’s father who
had him sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Taking over his
company would tip the scales of justice back in her adoptive father’s
favor.
Dylan picks up the folder and leafs through the paper inside it.
“To do that, we’ve acquired a shell corporation. Hex Industries will
be the one buying out Sinclair Holdings. We don’t want any bad
publicity if people start asking why we’re doing this.”
Bea shakes her head. “This isn’t just about evening the score.
Dick’s company employed hundreds of people. They shouldn’t pay
the price for his evil.”
 Brielle nods, realizing Bea has a point. All those employees
depend on Richard’s company. And they deserve the chance to work
for someone who has integrity. Someone like Frank.
She stiffens her spine. “What do you want me to do?”
The smile that blooms across Frank’s face tells her she made the
right call. Making Frank and Bea proud is deeply important to her.
They gave her the one thing she never thought she’d have—a family.
“You’ll be working alongside Dylan as Hex Industries makes an
offer they can’t refuse. I want you to be a part of this.”
Brielle smiles back, nodding. “Of course.”
Bea beams as she and Frank exchange a glance. The pride they
feel has warmth pooling in Brielle’s belly. As Dylan indicates for her
to join him in reviewing the portfolio, Brielle almost hesitates. Two
words are embossed on the front of the folder.
Sinclair Holdings.
For the first time, Brielle wonders what this will mean for
Cassandra.
She wouldn’t want anything to do with her father’s company,
would she?
 4

KERRIM

K errim gathers the surrounding shadows, smiling with satisfaction

as they wrap around him like loving serpents, obscuring his
presence until he’s little more than the shades of night he’s standing
in.
He moves closer to the wall of the old building he’s standing
beside, but not close enough to touch it. Everything in the human
world is so…coarse.
Dirty.
Primitive.
He can see why his father can so easily turn a blind eye to the
collateral damage humans will become in this intergalactic war. It’s
no different than a human swallowing an antibiotic to rid themselves
of the millions of bacteria who are weakening their body.
Kerrim draws the shadows in tighter, as if they’re a cloak. When
the time comes, he’ll be there by his father’s side. He needs to be
just as impervious.
This is what he was raised for.
A man appears at the other end of the street, carrying a long
tube. He glances furtively one way then the other, then hurries
toward the old storefront Kerrim is tucked beside.
The man stops beneath the sagging awning, glancing around. His
gaze passes straight over Kerrim, failing to see him.
 Which is just how Kerrim likes it. His role is to mold and
manipulate. Not to be seen.
He steps forward, pulling back the shadows as if they’re a
curtain. The man leaps back, stifling a gasp. He shakes his head,
curling his lip to show his disgust.
Kerrim leans closer, smiling a little. “Show it to me.”
The cylindrical case could contain anything. A fishing rod. A
broom.
A fake.
The man lifts his chin in defiance, then quickly recoils as he looks
away.
Kerrim finds himself smiling. Sometimes he likes to keep his
features moving from one to the next. One moment his nose is thin
and aquiline, the next it’s thick and bulbous. Or his brows are
straight and high, then bushy and low. Sometimes, he barely has
any lips at all. Or no teeth.
It’s fun to remind humans exactly how primitive they actually are.
They can’t even see dark matter, or measure it, let alone manipulate
it.
The man holds out the case, still avoiding looking at Kerrim.
“Take it.”
Kerrim wraps his hand around the cylinder, wondering if he’d feel
anything when he touches the contents. Probably not, he thinks
sourly. Only the chosen two would.
The Gemini Twins.
The only ones with the power to be a real threat to his father. To
his dream to restore balance to the universe.
Kerrim’s hated them from the moment he learned of their
existence. He grew up with his father telling him exactly how
dangerous they are. That they will never understand what needs to
be done.
That they’d side with the humans.
When Kerrim first met Brielle, they’d suspected she was one. The
soulmate for Tristan. The ultimate weapon against Chardis. But even
without her claiming the Libra stone, Kerrim would’ve soon realized
she’s not.
 She’s too…sweet.
He didn’t hate her, not with the same burning passion he hates
Tristan.
Nor did anything happen when she touched the Staff.
Kerrim grips the case even tighter, noticing the man is trying to
take unobtrusive steps back, hoping he won’t notice. Not that he
cares. If the man has cheated him, then he’ll soon learn that was a
mistake.
Dark matter is just as much a part of him as it is the shadows.
Just as much at Kerrim’s mercy. The choice would be between
compressing the dark matter, or expanding it…
Kerrim carefully unzips the case, muting the sound with little
more than a flicker of his lashes. Dark matter is the energy the
universe is built on. It’s a part of everything—sound, flavors,
thoughts. And the more his powers grow, the more he can influence.
The end of the case slips off and dangles like an almost-
amputated limb. His heart thudding hard in his chest, Kerrim tips the
contents into his palm.
The Staff lands in his hand, catching the light from the streetlight
several feet away. Kerrim withdraws it fully, unable to stem the smile
climbing up his face. He has two of the three components that will
ensure victory.
The trust of the Zodiacs.
The Staff.
Now, all he has to do is wait for the Zodiacs to find Tristan’s
soulmate.
Despite the victory holding the Staff means, Kerri’s confused to
find his smile slipping away. Each win for him is a loss for Brielle. He
stole the Staff from her. She’ll fight for the humans, even though it’s
a waste of time.
And she’ll be devastated when Tristan finds the one he truly
loves.
She thinks Kerrim doesn’t know. That he doesn’t notice the
flashes of longing, sometimes when Tristan’s not even around. The
way she stills when the Gemini is close. That she infinitesimally
tenses when Kerrim is near, but for a completely different reason.
She’s preparing to lie to herself.
In some ways, it makes it easier. Brielle’s using him as much as
he’s using her. The Zodiacs are just as willing to sacrifice and use
others.
Kerrim jams the Staff back in the case with rough, sharp
movements as he shakes away the unwanted thoughts. He doesn’t
care what the Zodiacs think. They’re his enemy, nothing more,
nothing less.
A glance around confirms the man is gone, which is good. Kerrim
needs to focus on his next task.
Throwing the case up and catching it, he draws his grin back up
again. It’s time to make some trouble among the Zodiacs while he
waits.
Then, he’ll finish what he came here to do.
He’ll make his father proud.
 5

CASSANDRA

I twhich
feels odd to be entering her father’s office now that he’s gone,
surprises Cassandra. Although she never wished him dead—
even if Jareth believes she’s capable of killing him—she certainly felt
relief. He was a painful chapter she was more than willing to close.
She was never good enough for Richard Sinclair. Discovering the
Zodiacs allowed her to see how wrong he was.
His death was a weight cut from her life, her heart, her future.
So the way her steps falter as she exits the elevator is definitely
noticeable. So is the sudden tightening in her chest.
Cassandra glances around, noticing that although there’s a new
secretary behind the desk, everything is the same. The sleek gray
color scheme. The large windows that look out over Mirror Point.
The couches that she’d bring coffee to whenever there were
business associates waiting for a meeting with the CEO of Sinclair
Holdings.
It’s familiar in a way that brings tears to her eyes.
The office was one of the places her father was openly
affectionate with her. She didn’t realize it was for the benefit of
others until she was older, but even then, she looked forward to it.
She enjoyed visiting him here. It was the reason she tried to get
involved in the company.
She was always trying to make him proud.
 It’s a reminder of how much she wanted her father to love her.
Cassandra realizes she no longer wants that. Logan has shown
her what real love looks like. So have the Zodiacs. Their bond is
what allowed her and Brielle to overcome their childhood
misunderstandings and animosity. And that freedom has allowed her
to acknowledge there is some grief when it comes to her father. That
she wishes things had been different. That he’d been different.
That she will do everything in her power to be nothing like him.
The door across the foyer opens and a man Cassandra’s never
seen before appears, smiling when he sees her. “Ah, Cassandra.
Thank you for agreeing to meet me here.”
She nods, keeping her face composed. She figured this
appointment is about her father’s will. Cassandra wonders how Mr.
Robert Marlin will respond when she tells him she wants nothing to
do with her father’s company. She’s here to sell it to the highest
bidder.
Robert steps back and she enters her father’s office, this time not
taken aback by the pang in her chest. In fact, she uses it to fuel her
determination. Her legacy will never be like her father’s—one of
pain, resentment, and bitterness.
Robert adjusts his waistcoat—who even wears one of those these
days?—then invites her to sit at the table to the left of the room.
Cassandra does so, avoiding looking at her father’s desk. The large
mahogany monstrosity was always a symbol of his power.
She clasps her hands on the glass surface of the table, conscious
her palms are hot. It’s the reason Logan asked if she wanted him to
come with her. He knew this meeting would play havoc with her
emotions.
Which would play havoc with her powers.
She declined because she knew this is her opportunity to cut the
hold Richard Sinclair has had on her. To ensure his taint won’t be
part of her future.
“I assume we’re here to discuss the future of the company,”
Cassandra says, deciding to get to the point. The sooner this is over,
the better.
 Robert clasps his hands on the table, mirroring her. “Yes. Sinclair
Holdings is in a tailspin after your father’s death. Investors have lost
confidence.”
Cassandra nods. “It was inevitable.” The foundations of this
company were corruption and exploitation, and Robert Marlin
would’ve been a part of that. She’s about to tell him she wants
nothing to do with any of it, but he speaks first.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Cassandra.” Robert gazes at
her steadily. “Although I’ve worked here for years, and was
appointed Chief of Operations not long before your father died, I
never liked him. In fact, I loathed the way he ran this company.”
Cassandra remains unmoving as she hides her surprise. She
wouldn’t mind Brielle being here so she could tell her whether the
man across from her is lying. “It’s time to let the ship sink, Robert.
With every stinking rat on it.”
Robert smiles, surprising her again. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Straightening, Cassandra allows herself a small smile. This is
going to be smoother than she’d hoped. “Then sell it. I don’t care
how much for.”
“We could do that,” Robert says with an incline of his head. “In
fact, we’ve had an offer above the market value.”
Cassandra glances around. “Where’s the paperwork? I’ll sign it
now.”
Yet the table is empty, as is the expanse of the desk.
Robert leans forward, his clasped hands tightening. “Except from
what I can tell, Hex Industries is little more than a shell corporation.
We have no idea who’s trying to buy us.”
“I don’t really care,” Cassandra bites back, raising her chin. “Get
me the paperwork.”
“Have you considered it might be one of your father’s associates?
The unsavory ones?”
Cassandra blinks. She hadn’t.
“Hundreds of employees depend on our company, Cassandra.
Their jobs are at stake.”
Cassandra still doesn’t reply. She’s noticed Robert’s use of ‘us’
and ‘our.’ But this company isn’t hers. She refuses to link herself to
her father’s empire. It would be as rotten to its core as he was.
“Richard wouldn’t have cared,” Robert continues. “But I do. We
owe it to these people to look after them.”
“Then find someone else to sell it to. Someone with a good
reputation.”
Robert’s gaze once more settles on her. “There’s another option.”
Cassandra tenses, not liking the sound of that. “What option?”
“We turn it around. Make it great.”
“We?” Cassandra asks sharply. How the hell is she involved in
these grand schemes?
Robert nods. “Sinclair Holdings needs someone to alter its
course. To look after its employees. And as the sole inheritor of the
company, that can be you.”
Cassandra narrows her eyes. “Me? I have no idea how to run a
company.”
“I can already see you’re a fast learner,” Robert comments,
looking at her shrewdly. “I propose you step into the role of CEO. A
Sinclair would still be at the helm. You make me director, and I teach
you how to steer this ship to healthier, happier waters.”
“No back door deals? No association with anything illegal or
unsavory?” Or downright evil, like Chardis.
“We can do some real good with this company, Cassandra.” He
grins. “Richard would hate it.”
Cassandra leans back, letting out a slow breath. Her father really
would hate it for his company to be…good. Upstanding. Something
to be proud of.
Everything he wasn’t.
“Does Sinclair Holdings have the capital to do this?”
Robert’s eyes warm with respect. “I’ve been digging through the
accounts and found something very interesting. Your father had a
side venture where he collected rare artifacts. A lot of money was
invested in it. They were looking for a Staff.” He leans forward, his
voice dropping. “A very valuable Staff.”
Cassandra keeps her face neutral, even though there’s no way
Robert could be talking about a different Staff. Of course her father
was looking for it. Which means those files could have information
the Zodiacs don’t. “Interesting.”
Robert leans forward even more. “I’ll only be an interim director.
The moment you can take over the reins, it’s yours.”
She arches an eyebrow, her palms once more warming, but for a
whole different reason. She’s excited by this idea. “So we oppose the
takeover?”
“Damn straight we do.” Robert’s mouth thins, the first sign of the
hard businessman her father promoted through the ranks. “No one
will touch your company.”
Your company. Cassandra’s reeling from the sudden turn of
events. She’s gone from wanting nothing to do with her father’s
company to…seriously considering this.
Who’s she kidding? She’s already decided.
“Get me the paperwork,” she says, knowing she’s talking about a
completely different set of dotted lines she’s about to scrawl her
name across. “I’ll sign it now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Robert says, a smile curving his lips even as his
eyes glint with purpose.
He exits the office, calling out to the secretary to get him the
folder from the safe. While he’s gone, Cassandra stands and makes
her way to the piece of furniture she thought she’d never see again.
She slips behind her father’s desk and splays her hand over the
glossy timber, welcoming the heat in her palms. It’s a testament that
she’s different. That she’s strong.
This is her chance to forge the future of the Sinclair name.
And help the Zodiacs.
 6

ETHAN

N othing. That’s what Ethan’s found. Nothing.

He jams his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as
he wonders where he’s supposed to look next. It feels like he’s
scoured every street of Mirror Point, looking for a sign, a
disturbance. Something.
And come up with nothing.
There’s been no signs of Chardis’s men, let alone any other
Zodiacs. His hunter senses can feel that everyone is lying low.
Waiting. He just has no idea why. Or what for.
Which has uneasiness coiling through his muscles like thousands
of restless serpents. He’s used the uncomfortable feeling to fuel his
search, barely sleeping, not bothering to eat unless it was absolutely
necessary.
Time is running out. He can feel it.
Although he keeps his cap pulled low to cover his face, Ethan’s
aware of everything around him as he stands at an intersection not
far from a fro-yo cafe. He can hear faint music playing through the
buds in a young woman’s ears on the other side of the road, a
strange mix between country and rap. The scent of charcoal chicken
and chipotle sauce wafts from the man’s bag to his left. And
footsteps are approaching him from behind. One male, judging by
the longer stride and heavier steps, the other almost sounding like a
child, they’re so light footed, more of a skip than a walk.
Ethan’s just decided he may as well go back to his dingy
apartment, maybe get a few hours’ sleep before roaming the streets
at night, when a voice behind him has his pausing.
“Urgh, so much for having good luck,” a female voice groans.
A voice Ethan recognizes.
He subtly shifts closer to the man with the hidden chipotle
chicken, casually glancing over his shoulder as he does. Just as he
suspected, it’s the girl he saved from Chardis’s men a few months
ago. He hasn’t seen her since she so foolishly wandered off with
them to a secluded underpass. She looks just as carefree and
cheerful as she did then, clearly clueless about the dangers that lurk
behind the assumption that Earth is safe.
She’s walking with a guy, well-built, sandy hair, a tense air about
him. He rolls his eyes as the girl wipes away the dollop of soft serve
ice cream now streaked down her hot-pink top. “It’s only considered
good luck if that white stuff was bird poop.”
The pixie girl nudges him with her elbow. “Believing it’s good luck
that a bird pooped on you in something people with bad luck tell
themselves, Tristan.”
The guy, Tristan, jams a spoonful of his own soft serve in his
mouth, three gummy bears crammed into the sizable dollop. “So
you’ve never had a bird poop on you?” The girl shakes her head, still
dabbing at the spilled ice cream. “My guess is you’ve never worn
your fro-yo, either though.” He makes a point of squinting up at the
sky. “Hope there aren’t any albatrosses around.”
The girl giggles, elbowing Tristan again. It’s clear they’re good
friends, yet Ethan doesn’t sense it’s any more than that. There’s no
hovering in each other’s personal space, no getting lost in extended
eye contact.
“Come on,” Tristan says, glancing one way then the other as if
he’s about to cross the road. “We’d better get back. The meeting
starts soon.”
The girl nods, her face brightening. “Maybe this happened
because I really wanted a reason to wear my new top. It’s got
slashes cut out of it with mesh behind them.”
Tristan rolls his eyes. “Not everything has to do with luck, Shreya.
Maybe you just missed your mouth.”
Ethan files the girl’s name away. Shreya pokes her tongue out.
“Everything happens for a reason. That’s what luck is all about.”
The two see a gap in traffic and quickly dart over the road. Ethan
waits a moment until they’re halfway down the block, then follows at
a distance, mostly because this is more interesting than his
apartment which has little more than a mattress and a duffle bag
with his standard uniform—black t-shirt and black cargo pants.
Tristan and Shreya continue to talk and eat their fro-yos, Tristan
seeming to hunch his shoulders more and more the further they
walk, Shreya looking as if she’s working harder and harder to draw
him out of the funk. The busier streets of Mirror Point morph to
more suburban ones, houses and yards lining each side as they
continue to talk around spoonfuls of what looks like caramel for
Tristan and some sort of rainbow explosion for Shreya.
Ethan starts to wonder how far he’s going to sink, stalking two
people eating their ice creams, when something catches his eye.
They’re being watched, and not just by him.
The same dark SUV that just passed them a few moments ago,
driving slowly even for a suburban street, is now parked up ahead.
What’s more, another just appeared at the other end.
Interestingly, Tristan also notices. Ethan doubts he would’ve
registered it if he wasn’t watching the two so closely. But Tristan’s
shoulders tense, then he reaches out to Shreya, doing nothing more
than brushing his hand past her forearm. Shreya’s spine straightens,
the silent communication heard loud and clear.
Tristan looks one way then the other, either scanning for exit
strategies or for weapons. Maybe both. Ethan catalogs the fact he’s
clearly a strong fighter. Alert. Ready.
Interesting.
He wonders whether Tristan’s registered the old man watering
his lawn a couple of houses up.
Then Tristan says a handful of words that have Ethan just as
alert. Words that are little more than a mutter, and without his Aries
powers, he doubts he would’ve heard them.
“No suits unless we absolutely have to.”
“We won’t need them,” Shreya whispers back. “We have luck.”
Ethan slips behind a pest control van, deciding it was definitely
his good luck that he’s here. He’s never heard anyone refer to suits…
Suddenly, the SUV ahead roars as it powers forward. It speeds
toward Tristan and Shreya, headlights flashing. Tristan grabs
Shreya’s arm, clearly ready to jump, but the driver yanks down the
steering wheel and the back end of the SUV spins out, sending it
careening sideways.
Ethan breaks into a run, shocked at the blatant violence in a
quiet suburban street. Behind him, he hears the second SUV roar. It
shoots past a moment later, speeding toward the first.
As if they’re going to collide.
Crushing Tristan and Shreya in between them.
Pushing into his feet, Ethan welcomes the rush of adrenaline.
Feeds it. Uses it to inject more speed into his frantic run. It only
takes a few strides to catch up to the SUV, then he vaults, hands
slamming onto the roof and feet landing on the rear bumper. He
clambers onto the roof, his hair pushed back in the wild wind as he
thumps his fist with each crawl forward.
The SUV loses speed for a moment, just as he hoped. But then
the driver decides to ignore the threat above him and it jolts with a
fresh burst of speed. Once glance ahead and Ethan knows why.
They’re seconds away from colliding with the first SUV. It’s a
suicide mission, but the reward must be worth the cost.
The death of Tristan and Shreya.
Shreya’s wide-eyed and frozen. Tristan’s calm as his head moves
in sharp movements, as if he has more than a heartbeat to decide
what to do before they’re crushed.
Two things happen simultaneously. Ethan rolls across the roof of
the speeding SUV, curls around, and slams his feet through the
driver’s side window.
With a mighty shove, Tristan pushes Shreya with enough force
that she crashes through the nearby picket fence. His hand shoots to
something hanging around his neck, a word forming on his lips.
 One that never gets to be said.
The two SUVs careen into each other, but the one Ethan’s on is
no longer pointed head on. The driver is unconscious at the wheel,
his nose bloodied after Ethan’s foot rearranged it. He uses the
momentum of its wild twist to throw himself back up and out.
Time slows, allowing him to execute his leap with absolute
precision. He propels himself off the side of the SUV, diving into the
rapidly closing space between the vehicles as his legs continue over
in a graceful arc. He grabs Tristan under the arms and flips, bringing
him with him.
The maneuver is made easier by the fact Tristan leaps, then flicks
his own legs, somersaulting through the air alongside Ethan. Metal
colliding, crunching, then glass exploding is their soundtrack as they
land a few feet away.
Ethan grips Tristan by the shirt and yanks him further toward the
footpath as the SUVs finally grind to a halt. There’s a creak of
suspension, shattering glass as a window crumples, then silence.
Tristan turns to Ethan, chest pumping in and out. “Who the—”
Shreya darts around the vehicles, glancing inside as she does.
She stops in front of Ethan and Tristan. “Holy pitch!” she gasps, eyes
as big as saucers. “What the heck was that?”
Tristan narrows his eyes at Ethan, an assessing glint in his eye as
he breathes hard. “Thanks.” His gaze narrows. “Aries.”
Ethan grins, being called his Zodiac sign telling him he’s finally
found what he’s spent so long looking for. “Anytime.”
“Double holy pitch!” Shreya gasps, bouncing on the spot. She
stops just as quickly as she started, a smug smile climbing up her
face. “Well, isn’t that a spot of luck that you were in the right place
at the right time?”
“The Sagittarius,” Ethan asks, inclining his head in question.
“Yep, the power of luck,” Tristan responds. “We also have the
Libra, the Capricorn, the Leo, the Taurus, the Virgo and the
Aquarius.”
“Whoa.” Ethan can’t believe so many have found each other. “And
the Gemini Twin?”
 Tristan’s mouth turns down, his gaze drifting to the two cars.
“Not yet.” His brows shoot down. “We should check—”
“The Skins are dead,” Shreya says. “They look like sardines
whose can went through a packing machine.”
“Skins,” Ethan repeats thoughtfully. It’s an apt label for the
humans Chardis has taken over with the manipulation of dark
matter. Their soul is gone, leaving little more than a husk.
Tristan turns back to him. “There’s a lot to tell you,” he says
solemnly. “A pod was recently sent to Earth. It had a message.”
Ethan's very soul goes still. “From the Ark?”
Tristan’s eyebrows twitch in surprise. “You know about the Ark?”
“I grew up on it.” Ethan has to stop himself from gripping
Tristan’s shirt as urgency explodes through him. “What sort of
message?”
“It was from a girl saying they’re in trouble.” Tristan peers at
Ethan. “If you grew up on the Ark, you might know her.”
Ethan’s throat is almost too tight to speak. “Show me.”
 7

BRIELLE

B rielle smoothes her hands down her pencil skirt, then quickly
stops herself when Mr. Snowberry—Dylan—glances her way. She’s
not sure, but she thinks he imperceptibly shakes his head. She
straightens anyway, trying to calm her pounding heart.
Frank presses a warm hand to her back as the elevator continues
its climb. “You’re just here to learn, Brielle. This will be nothing more
than a routine meeting, which is why I thought you should come.
We’ve made them an offer they can’t refuse, especially without
someone at the helm. This is just a formality.”
Brielle smiles weakly at her father. She’d almost pulled out of this
merger meeting at the last minute seeing as Tristan has called a
Zodiac meeting, saying there’s been a new development.
But she knew it was just an excuse because the little voice
whispering in the back of her mind wouldn’t shut up. The voice that
always assumes the worst. No matter how much Brielle tells herself
its predictions were wrong.
Surely Cassandra will welcome this takeover as good news. The
corrupt, evil company her father built will become something better.
Something good. In fact, Cassandra wanted nothing to do with her
father’s legacy. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening.
Brielle straightens a little more, using a deep breath to inject
some strength down her spine. Coming here was the right decision.
She’s supporting her father. And like Frank said, this meeting
shouldn’t take long. There’s time to do this before heading back to
the Zodiac house.
The elevator slows to a stop and the metal doors slide open,
revealing a large, modern foyer. Dylan exits first, then Frank
indicates for Brielle to follow with an encouraging smile. Brielle
smiles back, finding at least that feeling is genuine. She loves Frank
and Bea. She won’t let them down.
The chrome and gray foyer is empty, but Dylan walks confidently
to large doors on the left, gripping one of the large metal handles.
“We’re early,” he says quietly. “It gives us an advantage.”
He swings it open and steps back, waving for Brielle and Frank to
enter. Thanking him with a nod, Brielle steps through, Frank at her
side.
They both stop when they discover their opponents already have
the edge.
Two gasps ricochet through the room. Brielle’s sharp intake feels
like a jagged shard down her throat.
Cassandra’s is just as sharp and serrated.
Frank’s face fills with storm clouds. “What is the meaning of
this?”
The man sitting beside Cassandra smoothly pushes to his feet.
“Hello, Mr. Snowberry. My name’s Robert Marlin. I’m the senior
director of Sinclair Holdings. I’m sure you know our CEO, Cassandra
Sinclair.”
Brielle doesn’t drag her gaze from her childhood best-friend,
who’s staring at her with just as much shock. Cassandra’s the first to
recover. “What are you doing here?” she hisses.
Frank stiffens. “Brielle is my daughter. My company will be hers
one day.”
Cassandra snaps back. “You’re Hex Industries?” she hisses.
Dylan takes a seat across the table, placing a folder on the
spotless surface of the boardroom table and smoothing his hands
over it. “Yes, we are. And I’m sure you’ve reviewed our very
generous offer.”
 Frank also sits, and Brielle does the same, perching on the edge
of the chair. She clamps her hands beneath the table, glad it’s not
glass as even that barely stops the shaking. This isn’t how this was
supposed to go.
Mr. Marlin clasps his hands in front of him. “We have.”
“And it’s a no,” Cassandra adds, her Leo eyes flashing.
Dylan leans forward, unruffled. “Your shares have dropped even
in the time it took to travel to this appointment. No one is going to
offer you better.”
Cassandra narrows her eyes at him. “And who, exactly, are you?”
“Dylan Snowberry is my chief operations officer,” Frank answers.
“He’ll be overseeing this deal.”
“Well, he’s going to be disappointed,” Cassandra snaps back.
“Because there is no deal.”
Mr. Marlin leans back, spreading his hands on the table.
“Especially now that we know who’s behind Hex Industries. The
moment you buy Sinclair Holdings, you’ll tear it apart piece by
piece.”
Frank shakes his head. “That’s not our intent.”
Mr. Marlin snorts. “Of course it is. You hate Richard, and this is
your chance for revenge.”
Frank’s hands turn into fists and Brielle can feel the frustration
pouring from him. Or maybe it is hatred. Richard had him jailed,
even though he knew he was innocent.
“You’re right,” he growls. “I have more than enough reason to
hate Richard after he framed me, but I’m also nothing like him.
People’s livelihoods depend on this company. We won’t let Richard’s
evil hurt them, too.”
Mr. Marlin shakes his head. “You’ve probably told yourself enough
times that you believe it.”
Brielle watches the altercation, each word feeling like another
barb jabbing into the growing tension in the room. She turns to
Cassandra, noting the flush in her friend’s cheeks. “Cassandra,” she
says, a pleading edge creeping into her voice. “Surely you can see
this is the right thing to do. Richard’s mark needs to be wiped from
this Earth.”
 “Exactly,” Cassandra hisses. “And I’m the one who needs to do
it.”
Brielle’s chest tightens as she leans forward and lowers her voice.
“Think about it, Cassandra. How well do you know Mr. Marlin?”
“How well do you know Dylan Snowberry?” Cassandra shoots
back.
“Enough!” Frank snaps. “You’ll be well taken care of with the
money from this deal, Cassandra. That’s something you should
consider.”
Brielle stares at her friend, her fellow Zodiac, registering the way
Cassandra stills. Then raises her chin. She knows the fiery Leo well
enough to understand Cassandra’s made her decision.
Cassandra pushes to her feet, flicks her blonde locks over her
shoulder and stares at Dylan, then Frank, and finally, Brielle. “There
will be no deal. There will certainly be no takeover. Sinclair Holdings
is mine.”
She spins on her heel and stalks out, Mr. Marlin close behind her.
Brielle watches her leave, feeling like a rock has lodged itself in her
chest. One as hard and immovable as the situation she’s found
herself in. She’s caught between her best-friend and her father.
Between the two families she’s been gifted with.
Frank and Bea. And the Zodiacs.
Dylan stands, buttons his jacket, and tugs at his sleeves. “I
planned for this.” His jaw sets with determination. “There are other
ways to ensure this takeover happens.”
 8

TRISTAN

A nother Zodiac.
And this one saved his life.
Tristan sits back in his desk chair, still trying to process it all. As
he’d watched the SUV careen toward him, he’d allowed himself three
thoughts. That he’s glad he saved Shreya. That there was so much
more he wanted to do.
And that he wished he could’ve seen Brielle one more time.
He wipes his hand down his face, then rubs his knuckles into his
eyes. The regret he can understand, but he really should’ve been
thinking about his soulmate. With the Aries now joining them, she’s
one less Zodiac away.
Speaking of the Zodiac—Ethan’s going to be back any second,
meaning Tristan has to get it together. They now have an ace fighter
on their team. The fight against Chardis just tipped in their favor
once more.
Yet all Ethan wanted to focus on was the message in the pod.
Tristan wonders at his connection to it. If Ethan grew up on the Ark,
then maybe he knows the black-haired girl?
More importantly, maybe he knows how they can find her.
It was only the firm statement that they needed to wait until all
the Zodiacs were here that had Ethan agreeing to choose a room
and wash up. The energy thrumming through him was palpable.
This message was important to him.
Tristan sighs, then adjusts himself so he’s sitting up straighter in
his chair. He’ll have his answers soon enough—the Zodiacs are all on
their way thanks to the alert he sent them.
In fact, movement appears on one of the screens, the one
connected to the camera pointed onto the front porch. Tristan
wonders if it’s Cassandra, seeing as she rushed off to some
important meeting, or Jareth and Veronica, looking like they always
do—as if they were making out three seconds ago. Tristan sits up a
little straighter. Maybe it’s Brielle.
The person who appears is the one Zodiac who sets his teeth on
edge.
Kerrim saunters up the path, jeans slung low and black shirt a
little too tight. He flexes his shoulders and rolls his arms, as if he’s
always ready for a fight. As if he’s not approaching the one place the
Zodiacs can be safe.
Tristan shakes his head, conscious the animosity for the Scorpio
is slowly creeping back in. Kerrim also saved his life. He’s proven he
can be trusted.
He pauses a few feet from the door and pulls his cell out. He
glances at the screen. “Archaic technology,” he mutters, then presses
the phone to his ear. “Yes?”
He frowns. Then scowls. “How could you fail? You had the
location!”
Kerrim ducks his head, his eyes flicker up and right, then he
spins on his heel and stalks away. Tristan leans forward in his chair.
Kerrim knows there’s a camera there. And a speaker.
Which means he’s hiding something.
A minute passes, then another, and Kerrim doesn’t return.
Whomever failed despite having the location must be in big trouble.
The sounds of footsteps filter through the speakers but Tristan
narrows his eyes. They’re not Kerrim’s. In fact, he knows exactly
whose they are.
Brielle appears, looking tense and pale enough for Tristan to
furrow his brow. Something’s happened.
 Kerrim slips smoothly into the picture, wrapping an arm around
her waist and scooping her up the final stair. Brielle squeals, then
giggles as he puts her back down.
Tristan thinks he hears one of his teeth crack, his jaw is clenched
so tight.
Kerrim flashes a devilish smile, but it drops as Brielle’s giggle
quickly dies away. “Is everything okay?” he asks, playing concerned
boyfriend as if that’s what he actually is.
Brielle hesitates. “You know Frank’s asked me to play a bigger
part in the company.”
Kerrim nods. “He wants you to be his successor.”
Tristan blinks. He had no idea. While Kerrim knew exactly what
Brielle’s talking about.
“Well, I went to the meeting as we’re planning on taking over
Sinclair Holdings. We want to make things right for the people
employed there.”
Tristan’s jaw goes slack. Richard’s company? As in Cassandra’s
father’s company?
“A noble cause,” Kerrim murmurs encouragingly.
Brielle sighs hard enough that her shoulders rise and drop. “Well,
Cassandra was there. She wants to run the company herself with the
help of some Robert Marlin. The meeting was a stalemate.”
“That would’ve been tough.”
Tristan narrows his eyes, conscious that Kerrim’s saying all the
right things…without actually saying anything.
“It was,” Brielle sniffs. “And now I don’t know what to do. I love
Frank and Bea, and I want to be loyal to them. But that means
fighting Cassandra for Sinclair Holdings.”
Tristan rubs his eyebrow, sensing a headache forming. Brielle and
Cassandra had finally got past their years of misunderstandings and
animosity. This is the last thing the Zodiacs need. Surely Kerrim
realizes that.
The Scorpio pulls Brielle into his arms. “I love that you’re so loyal
to those you care about.”
The headache explodes behind one eye, then quickly claws its
way to the other. Tristan wants to look away from the image of
Kerrim holding Brielle, but he can’t. No matter how nauseous it
makes him.
Kerrim pulls back so he can gaze into Brielle’s face. “Cassandra
should realize how important this is to Frank. To you. She’s clearly
being blinded by her hatred for her father. Of course you should
support the two people who mean the world to you.”
A creak, then a crack has Tristan realizing he’s gripping the arms
of his desk chair. Yet he can’t seem to release his vice-like grip on
them.
“Your blood pressure is rising, Tristan,” says Esther, sounding
concerned despite being computer generated. “Yet I haven’t
detected any danger.”
That’s because their AI assistant doesn’t have gut instincts.
Or a green-eyed beast clawing to get out.
“Thanks,” Brielle says, giving Kerrim a tremulous smile. “I think I
needed to hear that.”
Kerrim draws her back in, then presses a kiss to her forehead.
When he pulls back, his dark gaze flickers up and right. Straight into
the camera.
One of the arms snap off Tristan’s desk chair.
“Come on,” Kerrim says, his voice as warm as tar. “We have a
new Zodiac to meet.”
Brielle nods and they enter the house, disappearing from view.
Tristan sits back in his chair, glaring at the broken arm rest as he
tries to sort through his jumbled emotions.
And gets nowhere.
“Should you see a medical professional, Tristan?” Esther asks.
“Your pulse is also quite high.”
“No, I need a fork to stick in my eye.” Seeing Kerrim hold Brielle
is getting harder and harder.
“I fail to see how that would be helpful. I have the sense you
believe you’re blindly leading the Zodiacs as it is.”
Tristan’s mouth twists. Seems Esther is more astute than he’d
like. “Nothing wrong with fake it till you make it, Esther.”
“Make what?”
 Tristan spins around, his heart jolting in his chest as he sees
Brielle entering HQ. She glances around, one foot taking a second
too long to catch up to the other as she walks in. She just realized
they’re alone.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What happened to your chair?”
Tristan looks down, realizing he’s still holding the broken arm.
“Must’ve leaned on it wrong,” he says, tucking it under his desk.
“Maybe Alden skimped on the office furniture.”
Brielle looks around. “When everything else is so high tech?”
He shrugs. “Budget constraints.”
She smiles, the quick motion sparking in her eyes as it
simultaneously tugs up her lips. Tristan finds himself smiling back
before he knows what he’s doing.
A faint blush creeps up Brielle’s cheeks. “Ah, where is everyone?”
“On their way.” Tristan stands and shoves his hands in his
pockets, wondering when time alone with Brielle will stop being so…
thick with emotion. “I thought you were with Kerrim?”
“He stopped off to chat to Ada and Eric about locating the Ark.”
Which they’re no closer to. “He told me to go ahead—” Brielle
frowns. “How did you know I was with him?”
Tristan’s own cheeks suddenly feel hot. “I saw you two arrive on
the cameras.” He waves to the screen, the gesture looking lame
even to him.
“You were watching us?”
“I always keep an eye on who's coming and going,” Tristan says,
trying not to sound defensive. “Don’t I, Esther?”
“It’s not necessary, Tristan,” the computer responds in her
smooth, warm-yet-neutral voice. “My algorithms are set to record
every movement around the house.”
Tristan throws the speaker a baleful glance. “Well, it doesn’t hurt
to be extra careful.”
Brielle steps further into the room, watching him closely. “Tristan,
were you spying on us?”
“Not on purpose.”
“But you were.”
Tristan has to work hard not to scowl. “I don’t trust him.”
 Brielle rolls her eyes. “Not this again.”
“Listen to me. Before you arrived, he took a call and got all
frustrated that someone failed him.”
“And?” She plants her hands on her hips. “It could’ve been a
delivery guy for all you know.”
“Well, he sure gets intense about his Amazon parcels.” Tristan
moves closer to Brielle. “I heard what he said about you and
Cassandra. This could really affect the Zodiacs.”
Brielle stiffens right down to the muscles around her eyes. “You
eavesdropped?” she gasps.
“I didn’t mean to, but that’s not the point. We need to be united
now, more than ever.”
“Says the guy who’s saying he doesn’t trust one of our team,”
Brielle challenges.
Tristan sucks in his chin as the words feel like they just clipped
his jaw. “That’s because—”
“You’re jealous,” Brielle says, her green eyes flashing. “Even
though it can never happen between us.”
This time, Tristan almost staggers backward as the truth
cannonballs him in the gut. His hand unconsciously lifts, maybe to
steady himself, maybe to try and brush away the hurt now glistening
in Brielle’s gaze. “I was going to try, anyway.”
“What?” Brielle whispers.
For a drawn-out second, Tristan wonders if he should’ve kept his
mouth shut. He’s opened up an old wound. One he’s been trying to
ignore, no matter how long it refuses to heal.
But the wide-eyed way Brielle’s looking at him chases away any
hint of regret.
“Tristan—”
“It was good luck,” comes Shreya’s sing-song voice. “That, and
some impressive acrobatics from Ethan.”
Tristan and Brielle leap apart even though they weren’t touching.
Yet.
Shreya skips into the room, followed by Ethan, Jareth and
Veronica, then the remaining Zodiacs. Kerrim’s at the rear, his gaze
glinting as it leaps from Brielle to Tristan and back again.
 Cassandra stops as she registers they’re only a couple of feet
away. Brielle quickly moves away, her cheeks pink once again, and
Tristan goes back to cracking another molar as she goes to Kerrim.
The Scorpio slips a casual, possessive arm around her shoulder
before his lazy gaze lifts to Tristan.
The steady, almost knowing look in them has Tristan wondering if
Kerrim sent Brielle down here knowing he was probably alone.
Tristan turns away. He’s getting paranoid.
And like Brielle said, if he keeps this up, he’ll create a rift in the
Zodiacs. He was telling her the truth when he told her that’s the last
thing they need.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for coming, everyone. Shreya
and I had a near miss with some Skins today, but we were saved.”
He looks to Ethan. “By the Aries.”
Ethan nods. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. It’s good
to be here.”
“The Aries’ power is super strength and a natural expert fighter,”
Tristan says. “As Zarius used to say, Aries never misses his target.”
“Zarius was a good man,” Ethan says, smiling. “A loyal guard to
Gemini.”
Tristan jolts in surprise, noting that Brielle does too. “You knew
Zarius?”
“I grew up on the Ark. I was ten when I was sent to Earth.”
Ada gasps. “You’ve been on the Ark?”
Eric’s eyes are wide as he glances at his partner, then Ethan.
“You could have the information we need.”
Ethan’s about to open his mouth, but Tristan steps forward. “Let’s
do the introductions, shall we?”
Tristan introduces each of the Zodiacs, explaining their powers.
Ethan nods at each one, his eyes sharp with intelligence. Tristan’s
guessing the Aries already has each Zodiac cataloged according to
their strengths and weaknesses in battle. He absentmindedly
wonders what Ethan decided about Brielle. Her powers aren’t
offensive, and she’s still new to fighting.
Yet somehow, she’s the glue that holds the Zodiacs together.
Or maybe she’s the glue that keeps Tristan together…
 Before Tristan can even try to mull that over, or avoid the idea all
together, Ethan turns to him. “You said there was a message from
the Ark.”
“Yes. They found a spy and killed them.”
“Pitch,” Ethan mutters, making Tristan realize the word he
inherited from Zarius is another link to their alien heritage. “Who
sent it?”
“A young woman, a few years older than us,” Cassandra answers.
“Black hair with indigo highlights. Blue eyes tending toward more of
a cerulean shade. I would estimate a size six.”
Logan’s lips twitch. “In summary, dark haired and pretty.”
Ethan’s gone so still, Tristan wonders if someone just pressed
pause on the guy. “You know her,” he observes, realizing that’s one
heck of an understatement.
“I grew up with her.” Ethan says the words simply, but the
intensity in his voice, the fierce glint in his eyes, say the girl is far
more than a childhood bestie.
It’s probably the same intensity Tristan would have if someone
were to ask him about Brielle, and he told them they’re friends and
fellow Zodiacs.
They’ve never been just that.
Ethan turns to the large screen up on the wall, his body looking
like it’s been forged from steel. “Show me.”
 9

ETHAN

W hen Ethan first entered the Zodiac house, he’d been surrounded
by those he'd spent a decade searching for. He’d already met
Shreya, but there was Jareth and his non-Zodiac girlfriend, who was
clearly an ally but he’d already picked up that things weren't as
simple as that. Then Cassandra, who’s smile had been genuine, but
pulled a little too high, as if it was trying to push something else
away. Kerrim was an interesting one. He was open and welcoming,
yet Ethan felt like the Scorpio was taking his measure as much as he
was him.
As everyone had bubbled with excitement that their numbers had
grown once again, there was talk of Ethan’s own room, even of
finally being reunited with his stone. Yet from the moment he
entered the house, there was only one thing Ethan wanted to see.
He’s met the Zodiacs. He’s found his kin.
Now, it’s time to see the other missing part of his heart.
“Show me the recording,” he says hoarsely, his gaze already on
the black screen.
“Esther?” Tristan asks.
“Of course,” comes a voice from the speakers. Ethan’s vaguely
impressed that the Zodiacs have incorporated alien technology into
the house, but it doesn’t distract him.
Not when the screen has just come to life.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 So teen mekaar aangedruk, soos reisigers deur ’n onweer
bedreig, smaak hulle nog die geluk van hul laaste samesyn, tot die
droewige afskeidsure aanbreek.
Jan en Paula slaap nog toe mevrou Kibert stilletjies uitgaan om by
haar God die hoogste krag te gaan soek wat sy netnou nodig sal kry.
So sit sy dan in die kerk. Sy het meer behoefte aan moed as aan
kalmte. Voor die uur van smarte slaan, soek sy krag en geduld by
Hom Wat alle menslike ellende gedra het sonder kla.
Mevrou Kibert sit ’n bietjie apart in ’n donker hoekie, verlore in
haar eie oordenkinge. In gedagte gaan sy die laaste jare van haar
lewe weer oor, en vind soveel om die Heer voor te dank. Het Hy haar
nie die seën geskenk waar sy so lank met besorgdheid om gesmeek
het nie—die geluk van haar dogter? Paula, haar eie Paulatjie—sy
het haar wel nie die liefste van al haar kinders nie, maar sy is die
sagste, en was haar steun in die beproewinge van haar oudag; hoe
dikwels het sy nie die Here Se seën op haar afgesmeek nie, want op
Paula veral het die verdriet van die famielie neergekom! En om haar
dogter nou die afgebede seën te skenk, verskeur die Heer die hart
van die moeder. Maar dewyl die Heer dit nou vir so’n prys wil doen,
hoe sou sy so laf kan wees om te murmureer teen Sy wil en
weldaad, hoe kan sy dit regkry om die eensaamheid te verwens wat
sy vanaand sal ingaan soos in ’n vroegtydige dood? En sy sê in haar
gebed:
—Nee, nee, ek sal myself nie beklaag nie; ons is tog maar te gou
om soiets te doen tot verontskuldiging van ons swakheid. My God, U
ondersteun my in my behoefte. Vanaand wil ek sterk wees. Hulle sal
my nie sien ween nie. Ek sou tog nie met hulle kan saamgaan nie. U
het my gewaarsku dat my kragte uitgeput is; en dan, my werk is
gedaan. My kinders sal dit voortsit beter as ek kan. Ek dank U dat U
my, in U goedheid, nog die geluk van my dogter laat sien het. Ek dra
haar op aan U beskerming gedurende die lang seereis, en ook haar
man, wat ook my kind geword het . . . . Ek dra ook aan U hoede op,
my God, ’n ander lewentjie wat nog in duisternis en onsekerheid
verkeer, die lewentjie van ’n klein wesentjie wat nog moet kom, wat
my oë nooit sal sien nie, wat my hande nie sal verwelkom in die
wêreld nie. Gee daaraan ook gesondheid, verstand, wilskrag, en
onderwerping aan U heilige wil. Gee hom ’n lang lewe, opdat hy U
lank en goed kan dien. Laat hom volhardend en sterk wees in wat
goed is; laat hom nie bang wees om te lag nòg om te ween nie; laat
hom werklustig wees; en laat hom word vir sy moeder wat sy vir my
gewees het . . . .
As mevrou Kibert haar hoof ophef van haar hande, waarop sy
vooroor geleun het, sien sy dat die priester klaar is om die diens te
sluit. Sy verwyt haar dat sy nie na die preek of gesang geluister het
nie. Maar sy vind dat sy in haar gebed die kalmte en vrede gevind
het wat sy kom soek het.
Die mense staan op van hul sitplekke en verlaat langsaam die
kerk. Mevrou Kibert stap ook uit op die sneeu, in die triestige
winterdag, wat haar sal sien terugkom van die stasie . . . . alleen.
As sy terugkom op Maupas, en deur die gang stap, wat vol kiste
en koffers is, vind sy haar ou meid Marie besig met die ete klaar te
maak.
Meneer het uitgegaan, sê sy, om ’n rytuig te bespreek.
—Sonder te eet? vra mevrou Kibert—sorgsaam soos altyd.
—Hy wou nie.
—En mevrou?
—Watter mevrou? Ag ja, juffrou Paula. Ek kan tog nie gewend
word om haar mevrou te noem nie . . . . is dit nie snaaks nie? . . . .
die juffrou is in haar kamer . . . . As ’n mens oud word, dan vergeet jy
ook alles, en ek is niks meer werd nie.
—Dit kan ook nie anders nie, Marie: ons is altwee oud.
Maar albei vergeet wat hulle te doen het en dink aan die vertrek
wat op hande is; die ou bediende haal haar bril af en stryk haar hand
oor haar oë.
Met haar bewende hande wil mevrou Kibert nog vir die laaste keer
haar dogter haar sjokolade klaarmaak soos sy daarvan hou. Dan
gaan sy luister aan die kamerdeur, en hoor Paula sug. Sy klop, stap
saggies binne, en vind Paula in trane.
—Ma, ag ma, moet ek regtig weggaan! Ek het geen moed meer
nie.
Mevrou Kibert sit die koppie neer, en lê haar gerimpelde hand op
die voorhoof van haar dogter:
—My liefste, ek wou jou vanmôre nog bedien, en ek het van
hierdie broodjies laat kom, wat jy so graag eet.
Sy buig vooroor, en terwyl sy Paula kus, sê sy saggies:
—Hou moed, Paula, God wil dit so! Die liefde van jou man gee my
die versekering dat jy gelukkig sal wees. En moenie oor my ongerus
wees nie.
Maar die trane hou maar aan. Jan kom binne, en sien die twee in
mekaar se arms. Hy dink dat dit Paula is wat moeite doet om haar
ma te troos.
—Ons kom weer, ma, sê hy. Ek beloof u, ons kom weer. Ander
jaar kom Etienne en sy vrou kuier, en dan kom ons die jaar daarna.
Maar as die ou vrou opkyk, merk hy met verbasing dat sy nie
ween nie, en dat dit sy is wat moet troos.
—Waar sal ek in dié twee jaar wees? dink sy. En kalm en ernstig
antwoord sy:
—Jan, jy moet jou vrou tog baie liefhê. As julle vèrweg is, dan sal
dié gedagte my krag gee. God is goed en Hy waak oor ons. Die
skeiding sal die band tussen ons hegter maak. Ons gedagtes en ons
harte bly één. As daar sekerheid van liefde is, dan beteken afstand
tog maar min.
Met dié plegtigheid, wat sy waarskynlik nie opsetlik aan haar
woorde gee nie, gaan die ou moeder aan:
—Bemin mekaar trou. Moenie jul liefde maak tot ’n vervelende en
verswakkende tederheid nie. Put daaruit, en uit jul wedersydse
vertroue, die wilskrag en die volharding vir jul lewe. Kyk vooruit. As
julle agteruitkyk na ons dode, na my, moenie dat dit julle ontmoedig
nie, maar laat dit strek tot beter begrip van jul jonkheid en van al wat
God daarvan verwag.
Jan en sy vrou het haar hande geneem en haar spraakloos
aangehoor.
—Ja, sê sy nog daarby, asof sy in die toekoms sien, kyk vooruit,
na jul planne, na jul toekomstige kroos. Gee aan jul seuns en
dogters dapper harte, en laat hulle ook voor hulle uitkyk, met oë wat
uit jul eie verlede krag sal put om te sien.
Hulle ween albei, terwyl die ou moeder doodkalm bly. En sy
besluit:
—Ek seën julle. Vir jou, Paula, om jou vrome waaksaamheid oor
my, en om jou sorg vir jou broers. En vir jou, Jan, om jou vriendskap
vir Marcel, en om al die geluk wat ek in daardie twee oë lees, al is
hulle vol trane . . . .
Mevrou Kibert gaan met hulle saam tot by die stasie. Hulle
ontmoet daar bowendien nog ’n paar vriende wat die jong
vertrekkende paar kom groet. Jan se oom is siekerig, maar hy het
die bediende gestuur met ’n ruiker blomme. Alida staan opsy—bleek
en skraal, hoewel sy ’n dik pelskleed aan het: sy wag op ’n geskikte
oomblik om Paula te groet. Paula sien haar staan, en gaan na haar
toe; ’n oomblik aarsel die twee, en dan is hulle in mekaar se arms.
Paula sien hoe haar ou skoolmaat lyk, en vra saggies:
—Nog altyd so verdrietig?
—Altyd nog. Maar jy Paula?
Terwyl hul saam na die kant van mevrou Kibert stap, vra Paula
snel aan haar:
—Alida, bewys my tog ’n vriendskap: gaan tog af en toe na ma
toe, hou ’n oog op haar, en skryf my hoe dit met haar gesondheid
gaan.
—Ek beloof jou dit.
Alida bly alleen staan, en bewoë stap Paula terug na haar ma en
Jan. Soos altyd as die oomblik van afskeid kom, is die laaste woord
van die ou vrou ’n gebed:
—Dat God julle beskerm!
Maar as die trein wat hulle wegneem, verdwyn het, raak sy haar
voorhoof aan en voel dat dit yskoud is, en sy dink:
—Dit was hoog tyd. My moed was op.
Sy is verplig om op die bank te gaan sit, in die derdeklas
wagkamer. Die reisigers wat kom en gaan, is besig met hul
reiskaartjies en hul koffers en sien nie eens die ou vrou in haar
rouklere wat daar alleen sit en huil nie.
Sy het weer geword ’n arme, swakke, lydende sterfling. Maar sy
het darem die krag besit om tot die laaste oomblik haar wanhoop
verborge te hou vir haar kinders.
In die trein druk Jan sy wenende vroutjie aan sy bors. Sy leun haar
hoof teen die hart waaraan sy haar heeltemal oorgegee het, en laat
aan haar trane ’n vrye loop. Hy begryp dat hy maar stil moet bly. Hy
streel net saggies haar wang met sy hand, en nou en dan buig hy
vooroor om ’n eerbiedige kus te druk op die oë waarvan hy die trane
nie kan stuit nie. Sy lig nou haar hoof op, en Jan verseker haar:
—Ons kom eendag terug, Paula.
Sy skud haar hoof, twyfelagtig, of wil nog nie vertroos word nie.
—Jy is my alles, Jan, fluister sy; en dan begin sy weer te ween.
Hy begin nou oor haar ma te praat:
—Paula, wat ’n voorbeeld gee sy ons van moed en selfopoffering.
Dat ons dit tog nooit vergeet nie! En as ons dit haar miskien moet
nadoen, dat ons dan steeds aan haar terugdink. O, dat dié wat uit
jou gebore word, soos sy mag wees! Dat hy ’n ferm en dapper hart
mag besit! Dat hy sy bestemming aanvaar sonder sy hande slap te
laat hang, opdat hy, deur nie bang te wees vir die lewe nie, die dood
ook nie vrees nie: dis net onvrugbare siele wat terneergeslae word
deur die gedagte aan die dood. Dat God ons kind beskerm, en ook
haar vir wie ons daar agterlaat met verskeurde hart.
 —Ja, antwoord sy nou, dis ook my gebed. Dis God wat aan ma
die tevredenheid en berusting gegee het wat sy op my wou oorbring.
Haar jong lewe het menige uur van smart en rou geken. Maar sy
dink dat hierdie nog die swaarste is. Sy dink dis die dood wat sy
voel. Maar dis die lewe—die lewe in sy verhewenste roering—wat sy
voel in die diepste van haar siel. En dis dié hoogste lewe wat haar
liefde louter, en dié heilige vlam van moederlike opoffering waarvan
sy die krag meer en meer sal ondervind. Eendag sal sy verstaan dat
die edelste, innigste, volste lewe bestaan in algehele oorgawe van
eie hart, en in selfopoffering.
Die trein stoom verby die eikebos van Maupas; en Jan en Paula
kyk nog ’n keer uit oor die welbekende ou landskap. Die takke van
die bome dra sneeuvlokkies, soos klein wit blaartjies wat die
ondergaande son tempteer; en die ryp op die wingerdstokke blink in
die aandstrale soos skitterende kantwerk.
Dáar, en nêrens anders, het sy haar lewe deurgebring totnogtoe,
dáar het sy kennis gemaak met die lewe, met die dood, met die
liefde. En sy dink aan ’n jong, trotse dingetjie wat ’n hoë borsie opsit
omdat sy haar ma oppas.
—Soen my, sê sy aan haar man.
Hy omarm haar, en voldoen aan haar wens. En dié kus verwek ’n
heilige ontroering in hul wese, want hulle voel daarin nie alleen ’n
tere vereniging van hul liggame en siele nie, maar ook haar lange,
vrome toewyding aan haar moeder; hulle voel ook die geheimsinnige
vooruitsig op die betekenis van hul vereniging vir hul ras en nasie; dit
vermeerder hul lewenshoeveelheid en deel aan hul liefde iets
onsterfliks mee . . . .
 X.
KALME BERUSTING.

Met moeite staan mevrou Kibert op van die bank waar sy gaan sit
het om te huil. Sy sien al die vreemde mense heen en weer
verbystap, en wil haar droefheid vir hul oë verberg. Sy dink by
haarself:
—Hier kan ek tog nie veel langer bly nie.
Sy staan eindelik op, en moet aan die muur vashou om te bly
staan. Sy vra haarself of sy wel ooit nog krag genoeg het om die
huis te bereik. Sy voel nou eers haar swakheid en ouderdom soos ’n
sware drag op haar skouers. Sy dink terug aan die dag toe sy
aangesukkel het in die eindeloos-lange laning van Chenée. Aan die
deur van die stasie, dink sy met swarigheid aan die lang ent pad
huis-toe. Gewend om nooit koste vir haarself te maak nie, dink sy
daar nie eens aan om een van die huurrytuie te neem wat daar
staan nie.
Stadigies begin sy aan te stap, leunend op haar sambreel, voetjie
vir voetjie, om nie te gly op die sneeu nie. Die moeite wat sy haar
moet gee, trek haar aandag van haar droefheid af. Maar elke keer as
sy ’n oomblik stilstaan, fluister sy die naam van Paula—Paula, wat
haar nooit meer tot steun sal wees nie. In gedagte volg sy haar twee
geliefde reisigers, wat haar geluk wegdra.
—Hulle is nou al dáar of dáar . . . .
As sy oor die bruggie gaan van die troebele, wild-tuimelende
spruitjie, bly sy ’n oomblik staan en leun teen die brugreling om
asem te kry. Daar hoor sy ’n sagte stem roep:
—Mevrou, wil u my toelaat om met u mee te gaan?
Dis Alida, wat gesien het hoe die ou vrou aarselend en sukkelend
die pad van die stasie ingeslaan het, huis-toe; sy het nie geweet of
sy die ou vrou moet help nie—volgens haar belofte aan Paula—dan
of sy haar maar ongesteurd moet laat in haar diepe smart. Maar nou
sy sien dat mevrou Kibert nie meer kan nie, kom sy nader.
Mevrou Kibert is so gedaan, dat sy somaar die arm neem van die
jongvrou. Sy stap bedruk en spraakloos aan. Alida is by-die-hand
genoeg om haar op ’n mooi manier te troos deur haar te vertel hoe
bly haar kinders sal wees as hulle mekaar daar in Asië ontmoet. Aan
die deur bedank Paula haar moeder haar hartlik vir haar moeite.
—Maar ek sal u ook nog die trap ophelp, sê mevrou Marthenay.
—Dis baie goed van jou, dankie.
En as hulle bo kom, sê mevrou Kibert:
—Bly nog ’n oomblik om uit te rus. Ek het swaar op jou arm
geleun, die hele pad.
Daar lê iets smekends in haar gedoofde oë, wat die treurige
verlatenheid van haar huis aanskou. Dit maak Alida verdrietig, en sy
antwoord dat sy ’n bietjie sal sit.
Sy volg die ou vrou in haar slaapkamer, wat oordag ook as
voorkamertjie dien—’n skerm is voor die bed geplaas.
Ou Marie, nog bedroef oor die vertrek van die juffrou, bring ’n
telegram binne:
—Hier is ’n telegram, sê sy; en stuurs kyk sy die deftige mevrou
Marthenay aan.
Met moeite, want sy beef, maak mevrou Kibert die telegram oop.
Die rooi papiertjie, wat die dood kan inhou, maak sy nooit meer oop
sonder angs nie. Maar haar gelaat helder meteens op. Solank as sy
lees, kyk Alida onwillekeurig rond na die armlike meubels—byna
kloosterlik eenvoudig. En daar val haar oog op ’n vergrote portret
van Marcel. Sy gaan nader om te kyk. Die portret was geneem na sy
terugkoms van die woestyn, as kommandant; hy het die strenge kyk
van ongenaakbaarheid in sy oë. En duidelik sien sy weer die dag
terug toe hy met haar gepraat het in die bos van Chenée.
Mevrou Kibert lig haar hoof op van die telegram en sien hoe Alida
daar voor die portret staan. Sy het nou spyt dat sy haar daar in die
kamer gebring het. Maar as sy omdraai en na die ou vrou terugkom,
bars Alida meteens in trane uit.
—Wat makeer?
—Mevrou, o mevrou!
En die jongvrou snik haar geheim uit voor die moeder van Marcel.
—Ek het hom liefgehad. As u kon weet hoe lief ek hom gehad het!
Met groot medelyde kyk mevrou Kibert die jongvrou aan, wat haar
seun moeg gemaak het vir sy lewe. Paula het haar vertel dat Marcel,
op die oomblik toe hy gesneuwel het, in die binnesak van sy baadjie
die portret gehad het van ’n blonde meisiekind. ’n Meisiekind, ja, dit
is sy, ’n swak kind, wat die uitverkorene was van die manhaftige siel!
—Arme kind, sê sy, terwyl sy met haar hand die wang streel van
Alida, wat uitgeput op ’n stoel neergesak het.
Die ellende wat die ou vrou nou te vertroos het, laat haar haar eie
smart vergeet, en oombliklik het sy haar teenwoordigheid van gees
en haar moed terug.
—Alida, my kind, bedaar!
Maar mevrou Marthenay snik aaneen. Eindelik bring sy die
woorde uit, wat al eenkeer oor haar lippe gekom het, en wat ’n
samevatting is van haar hele ongelukkige bestaan.
—Waarom is ek nie sy weduwee nie? Dan sou ek minder
ongelukkig gewees het as nou.
Mevrou Kibert sê saggies:
—Maar jy wou nie sy vrou word nie.
—O, ja, ek wou wél, want ek het hom liefgehad; maar my ouers
was teë daarop.
Sy beskuldig haar ma nie alleen nie.
Maar die ou vrou skud haar kop, en naderbykomend, sê sy nog
sagter, terwyl sy altyd nog Alida haar wang streel:
—Arme kind! Jy het nie geweet wat dit beteken om lief te hê nie.
 Alida wil teëpraat, maar die ou vrou gaan aan:
—Nee, jy het nie geweet wat liefde is nie. As ’n mens jou hart
weggee, dan is dit vir altyd. En liefde skenk krag, geduld en
lydsaamheid. Jou ma het jou geluk gesoek—maar op háar manier.
Sy het gedink dat sy goed doen deur jou af te keer van my seun.
Beskuldig haar nie: beskuldig net jouself. Ongetwyfeld sou mevrou
Delourens toegegee het as jou liefde onherroeplik gebly het. Want
sy het jou liefgehad en sy sou geleer het om in te sien dat die
voorwerp van jou liefde haar goedkeuring werd was. Nee, jy wou nie
die vrou word van Marcel nie.
 Arme kind, sê sy, terwyl sy met haar hand die wang streel van
Alida, wat uitgeput op ’n stoel neergesak het.

Alida snik wanhopend:

—Ek het hom nog lief.
Buite haarself van verdriet, hou sy nog vas aan haar nuttelose
liefde.
Op ferme toon gaan mevrou Kibert voort:
—Jy was bang vir die lewe. Jou ouers was bang vir die lewe vir
jou. Die lewe, Alida, is nie die tydverdryf en ydele gedoente van die
wêreld nie. Om te lewe is om te voel dat jy ’n siel besit, en dat jy dit
heeltemal besit. Dis om lief te hê, lief te hê met al jou kragte, vir
altyd, tot aan die end, tot aan selfopoffering. Daar moet geen vrees
bestaan vir moeite, nòg vir groot vreugde, nòg vir groot verdriet: dis
alles net openbaringe van ons menslike natuur. Uit die dae wat
verbygaan, moet ’n mens die goeie opvang, wat nooit verbygaan nie.
’n Meisie wat gaan trou, neem aan om deelgenoot te word van
arbeid en van gevare, en nie om groter gemak te soek of
beuselagtige genot nie. In haar toewyding self sal sy groter behae
skep. Dit weet jy nie.
Alida luister nou aandagtig, en sy dink by haarself:
—Dit het niemand my nog ooit gesê nie.
Mevrou Kibert gaan aan:
—Op hierdie oomblik selfs, dat my hart verbryseld is, kan ek nie
anders nie as God dank vir sy oorvloedige weldade. Jy verbaas jou
daaroor, my kind, dat ek jou, op so’n dag as hierdie, nog van my
geluk vertel. En tog is dit waar: ek is gelukkig. As God my sou vra
om weer met my lewe te begin, ek sou weer begin. En nogtans het
ek gesigte wat my die liefste was, koud en beweegloos gesien; en ek
het die dood geken in sy wreedste gedaante vir ’n moeder: as hy
haar kind wegneem wat vèrweg is van haar. Maar in my man, in my
seuns en dogters, het my hele hart geleef, en het ek alles gesmaak
wat die goddelike goedheid ’n mens kan gee. My lewe was vol
omdat ek verbind was aan hul lewe. Myself het ek nooit beween nie.
En nou voel ek ook nie eensaam nie. My dode hou my geselskap, en
dié wat leef, verlaat my nie. Kyk, hierdie telegram het ek netnou van
Etienne gekry. Hy weet dat Paula vandag van my weggaan; en uit
naam van almal spreek hy my moed in. Ek het dit nodig gehad.
—Mevrou! sê Alida, en soen haar hand.
—Ja, my kind, ek het my lewe liefgehad, ek het die lewe liefgehad.
En ek kan sterwe, selfs in eensaamheid, selfs as vreemde hande my
oë sal moet toedruk: God het my ’n skone deel toegemeet. En die
dood sal my volgsaam en tevrede aantref as hy kom.
Daar skitter ’n vreemde verrukking in haar helder oë. Alida is nou
kalm en kyk haar aan vol eerbiedige bewondering.
—Praat nog so met my, smeek sy as mevrou Kibert ophou.
Die ou vrou kyk haar lank en teer aan. Dan streel sy weer haar
wang, en sê:
—My kind, jy moet my iets belowe.
—O mevrou, alles wat u wil.
—Moenie meer aan Marcel dink nie. Jy het nie reg daartoe nie.
Neem jou teenswoordige lewe op, in sy geheel en sonder wroeging,
God wil sien dat jy moed genoeg toon om vroeëre bande los te
maak. Dit was verkeerd van jou om jou man sy betrekking te laat
neerlê. Werk is die adel van ons dae. Spoor hom aan om iets te
soek waarmee hy hom kan besig hou, opdat jou fout weer
goedgemaak word.
—Hy het my verlaat, mevrou.
—Niksdoen was miskien oorsaak daarvan. Probeer om hom dit te
vergewe. Gaan met jou hart te rade. Laat hy self sy landerye
bestuur, laat hy deelneem aan gemeentebelange—so is daar nog
veel waarvan ek nie weet nie. En dan sal jy sien dat alles beter sal
gaan. Jy kan nog gelukkig word. Jou dogter sal jou daarin te hulp
kom. Is ’n vrou wat ’n kind het, ooit te bekla? Kweek deug aan in die
jong lewe, en bevalligheid en standvastigheid. Jy moet haar liefhê,
nie in jou belang nie, maar vir haar welsyn. En die vrede van die
Heer sal op jou neerdaal.
 —Ag, sê Alida, ontroerd, as u wil toestem om my af en toe hier by
u te ontvang, en so met my te praat, dan sal ek seker weer nuwe
moed skep.
Sy dink daar nie aan dat haar teenwoordigheid ’n pynlike
nagedagtenis oproep by mevrou Kibert nie. Die ou vrou aarsel nie
langer as ’n enkele sekonde nie: is dit nie God wat haar vra om
hierdie arme swak skepsel ook nog te help nie?
—Kom so dikwels as jy nodig het, is haar eenvoudige antwoord.
As mevrou Marthenay weg is, neem sy die portret van Marcel en
sit dit agter die skerm, naas haar bed, terwyl sy dink:
—Hier is hy nader by my, en kan Alida hom nie meer sien nie. As
sy haar hele plig dapper wil volbring, dan is dit nodig dat sy sy beeld
nie meer sien nie.
Dan kniel sy, en bid:
—Vader, U Wat my sterkte is, help my. Ek het nou aan U afgegee
alles wat ek liefhet. Ek het nou niks meer om U te gee nie as my
smart. Neem dit van my aan. En beskerm almal wat ek liefhet, die
dode wat in U vrede rus en die lewende wat hul plig doen as mense .
...
As sy opstaan om ou Marie te help tafel dek, dan is daar ’n glans
van heilige vrede op haar gelaat—die vrede van dié wat die dood
sonder vrees tegemoet gaan nadat hulle die lewe aanvaar het
sonder swakheid.

EINDE.

[1] Die naam Kibert uit te spreek op ooreenkomstige manier as

die naam Joubert.
[2] Die naam Berlier op ooreenkomstige manier uit te spreek as
die naam Villier.
[3] Dis daar so die gebruik dat die moeder dit doen.
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