Courage Is the Price Read online

  Rue shudders, but she stands as straight as she can with half her weight on Priti. She doesn’t feel particularly defiant or heroic, but she thinks Mrs Krombel would be proud of her, acting as though her life depended on her posture. The housekeeper would undoubtedly be less pleased to discover that her life does, indeed, depend on it. Rue doesn’t care.

  Right now, in this moment, she is needed and nothing is going to stop her or stand in her way. Just this once, just once, Rue will not be the coward that jumps at her own shadow like everyone always says she is. She will not.

  Libby does not seem to be in a mood to talk. Rue had expected talking, grand plans and taunting before attacking them. She’d expected bullying, Libby-style snide remarks to cut into their self-confidence, such as it is, but there is only silence.

  There is only Ghost floating through her, or around her, with a chill that almost makes Rue drop the device. Her arm is shaking so much Priti reaches out a hand to steady it. Rue isn’t too proud to pretend she doesn’t need the help. She only points. Libby doesn’t appear to be holding anything, but it might be in a pocket, perhaps.

  “End this,” Ghost says. Libby laughs. She laughs and laughs and reaches out for Rue’s friend, her hand passing through Ghost entirely. Ghost fades so much for so long Rue thinks her friend has vanished, but no. It startles Libby, seems to, just for a moment, but that moment is enough.

  It gives Ghost a chance to strike and pull Galbrath partially out of Rue’s nemesis and Rue hits the button that activates the device. If Galbrath-Libby thought they’ve brought it only as a threat… Well, the screaming proves that wrong. Rue can feel Priti’s body shift against her as the other girl tries to cover her ears. Rue has no such luxury. She can’t even close her eyes from the ghost-writhing as Galbrath gets further and further away from Libby and she has to be quick enough to follow with the device. It makes her feel sick, and she gags when Libby crumbles to the ground like a sack dropped from a height.

  All Rue can do is keep pointing and pointing and pray that the energy charge will last long enough for Ghost to knock Galbrath out. Or whatever it is ghosts do to one another. Rue can feel Priti’s hand close around her good wrist to squeeze it lightly and she’s grateful for the gesture.

  Then the steadying presence of her friend vanishes to check on Libby. The screaming is dying down now and Ghost might be a little stronger than Galbrath. Rue isn’t sure. They’re both so faded now. Rue does, finally, close her eyes and gag violently when she realises Ghost has just torn a chunk out of the other creature and begins to eat it. It’s disgusting. She doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

  All the same, she can’t help but peek and see Galbrath fade further while Ghost’s form grows firmer, stronger. More like the friend Rue has always known. After this, she’ll be glad to be alone, to never spend time with Ghost again. How can she be friends with something that eats its own kind? That could eat her at any moment? Rue can hear her friend scream ‘Now’, but she doesn’t know what it means. Ghost eats people. At least, for a while, renewed screaming blocks out her thoughts.

  There’s a warmth in her good hand. At first Rue thinks it must be Priti, helping her steady it. She feels faint and she isn’t sure how much longer she can stand on her bad leg. But the warmth doesn’t steady. It keeps getting warmer. And the heat isn’t coming from outside her fist. It’s coming from inside it, from the device.

  Rue whimpers, but she dares not let go. She dares not stop pointing at Galbrath or where Galbrath was last. Where Ghost was? Did she hit Ghost? She can’t let go. What if she hit Ghost? What if she tortured her best and until now only friend? She doesn’t dare look, not even when Priti pries the device from her fingers.

  When she does, finally, open her eyes, Rue can see nothing. Not Ghost and not Galbrath. There is only Libby, stretched out on the ground. Even though it’s Libby, Rue surges forward to check that she’s not dead and falls to one knee. Her bad leg finally gives up on her, but what is one more scrape to the rest of her injuries? It’s a strange relief to find that her nemesis is still breathing, but Rue hopes that something good might come of it.

  “Rue…”

  If not for her leg, Rue would have jumped. As it is, she wobbles into an upright position, leaning on Priti for balance. There is nothing else in the yard, but Rue can feel Ghost’s words feathering at the far edges of her thoughts and even those are dimming. “Thank you.”

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “I don’t have much longer, Rue. Thank you. For everything. I… don’t like sappy goodbyes, but… My name is Aemosne. I wanted you to know. In case we meet again. Goodbye.”

  And before Rue can respond, before she’s even realised what has happened, Ghost — Aemosne — is gone. There is nothing in her mind now. No ghost-body anywhere near, daring Rue to race. There’s only nothing. Silence. Isolation. Rue’s never been this alone before and the thought stuns her more than anything else might have done.

  “I’ll walk you home,” Priti says, but it doesn’t really register until she loops Rue’s good arm over her shoulders. Rue lets her, but she doesn’t move when Priti does.

  “What about Libby?”

  Priti wriggles a phone-pad in front of Rue’s eyes. “I called my mother. She’ll know what to do. We should go before they get here.”

  “Have you done this before?” Rue asks, though she’s limping along with Priti now.

  “No. Not like this. I saw my mum deal with a ghost once, when I was little, but that’s it.”

  “Oh.” Rue is silent until they get to the gate. “Do you want to do this all your life?”

  Priti makes a noise that’s either a sob, a snort or both. “Someone needs to do it. Our ancestors didn’t know this system wasn’t safe when they chose it for our new, safe home.”

  Home. Rue wants to go home.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  Epilogue

  “COME ON, RUE. Stop standing there and help us out.” Priti nudges her in the side and Rue surprises herself with a laugh. The room is far too busy for her liking as she’s enlisted the entire drama club to help prepare the backdrop. They’re doing The Boy and the Howling Wolves this year and it requires a massive forest set that Rue and the other stagehands have been struggling to complete on their own. Convincing the actresses that they needed to help out was the only way they stood a chance of getting the scenery done on time.

  At least they’ve only got the painting left to do, even if it does need to be ready within a week. Her father and Amaranth will be coming to watch and Rue wants it to be perfect. Surveying the other girls working diligently at turning flat surfaces into various kinds of tree, she can’t help but shake her head. A year ago, she’d never have imagined herself as part of a group. Priti’s lies to Mrs Krombel hadn’t given her a choice but to join the drama club. Until then Rue would never have imagined that she’d enjoy making props for actors. But she does.

  And, even though the room is filled with so many people almost everyone is touching and getting in each other’s way, Rue isn’t struggling to hide, to breathe. She’s flustered with discomfort, but it’s manageable. She’s got her own little space out of everyone’s way where she’s been painting the fir trees.

  Her corner is the quietest and the least likely to get caught in a paint war such as the one she’s just been surveying the damage of. It’s not that bad. It’s fixable. It won’t be too noticeable either once they touch up the splatters marring the scenery. As long as they don’t have another paint war until the pieces are restored and put away, they’ll be fine.

  Rue doesn’t have high hopes of that. Anyway, she has to get back to her own painting or the whole set will be done except for her own assigned area. She cannot afford that, so she collects the materials she needs and settles down to work.

  As she’s about to start painting a branch, Priti calls down from a few positions further up, “Hey, Rue! Have I told you about Koyah?”

  “No…” And she isn’t entirely sur
e she wants to know. Not that she begrudges Priti wanting a boyfriend, exactly. It’s just so far from the kind of life Rue wants for her own self that she’s afraid she’ll lose another best friend.

  “You haven’t even told me about this Koyah.” That’s Yasmin, perfect elegant Yasmin, who makes Rue’s heart skitter. Rue still cannot truly believe Yasmin is speaking to her. She had been sure the other girl had hated her too because she’d avoided her and ridiculed her at social gatherings in the past, but no. Yasmin had also been afraid of Libby and tried to fit in, to avoid being hurt herself. Now she’s fast becoming another of Rue’s closest friends.

  Yasmin’s tone has got everyone laughing. Not cruelly, not in the a way that would make Rue look for a dark corner to stuff herself into until nightfall. Just friendly laughter.

  It’s strange to think, to feel, that she has friends, how easily people have fitted into the gap Ghost left and yet how hard it remains to fill. But she does have friends now. She’ll be there for them and they’ll stick up for her whenever she can’t. Whenever she’s out of brave again.

  And so Rue laughs along and listens to the drama club discussing boys and girls and whether this Koyah is really all Priti thinks he is. Rue paints. She’ll make this the best set she’s ever worked on and show Mrs Krombel, and her mother, that her place isn’t on the stage but behind the scenes, that she can do magnificent things without ever standing in the centre of all attention. Her father… He’s already financing the production, so she’d like to think she’s won him over already.

  “You missed a spot, daydreamer,” Yasmin says.

  So she has. Rue leaves room for a light dusting of snow around the edges. She’s been training with Priti’s mother to spot ghosts other than Aemosne. One day, she’d like to see her friend again. Still wants to help build things to make Aemosne’s work easier, to help quietly. Rue isn’t entirely sure. Most of her hopes she’ll never have to find out.

  “Station to Daydreamer,” Yasmin says. “We’re all gathering together to play a game once we’re done. Want to join?”

  Rue has never said ‘yes’ yet. They always invite her along. The game is tradition, a way for the actresses and stagehands to get to know each other better, but they’re a large group. Too many people means too many people.

  But the set Rue is working on is the best she’s ever done. When they play opens, she’ll get a chance to win her parents over, to convince them she is good at this. Rue is in a mood to celebrate. Besides, her friends know her. She’ll be all right.

  “Sure,” she says. Her voice is soft and still a little wobbly with hesitation, but Yasmin and Priti are both whooping, and soon the whole group is flinging the paint around. Just as Rue feared.

  Acknowledgements

  This story is for you, Anna. My heartfelt gratitude because without you this story wouldn’t even exist. I’m sorry it took me forever to get it written and that it wasn’t quite what you were expecting. I promised you something with a happy ending because, no matter how bleak things are, they can always get better. It just might take a little while. You are a total sweetheart and I’m honoured to call you a friend. You matter. Always.

  My thanks also go to Becca Lusher for all the comments and cheerleading, the snarky affection towards Rue (yes, I’m very sure she’s not a cyborg; maybe some other character in another story sometime), the frequent Priti fangirling, and always making me laugh.

  Panth, thank you for putting up with my general fretting about writing science fantasy and my lamenting descriptions, and for reassuring me that yes Rue’s anxiety makes sense. (Fun fact about anxiety: you can base it on your own experiences as much as you want, and you will still fret that people will tell you it’s inaccurate. Because anxiety.)

  Many thanks to Alyssa, Elizabeth, Sina’i, and Kate for their help in polishing this story and catching typos and continuity errors as well. You are all exquisite loves! This book would be much less awesome without your help!

  To the space station featured in this book, I wish I had thanks to give you, but you were a complete nightmare. Why the heck did you want to be a flat disc mimicking a planet surface? My deepest gratitude to everyone who read a draft of this and put up with my whinging about that space station. Thank you so much for listening to me and trying to help me wrangle my brain into understanding why it works the way it does and reminding me to follow the story where it will go. Without you, I don’t know what would have happened.

  Lastly, my thanks to everyone who read this tale. Thank you for taking a chance with me. I hope the story has lived up to your expectations and that you’ve enjoyed it!

  About the Author

  Lynn O’Connacht has an MA in English literature and creative writing, but wouldn’t call herself an authority on either. She currently resides on the European continent and her idiom and spelling are, despite her best efforts, geographically confused, poor things. Her tastes are equally eclectic, though fantasy will always be her first love. She has been chasing stories one way or another since she was old enough to follow a narrative.

  Connect with Lynn online:

  http://www.leoconnacht.com

  http://twitter.com/lynnoconnacht

  Thank you for reading!

  Books by Lynn

  Courage Is the Price

  Feather by Feather and Other Stories

  The Passage of Pearl

  A Promise Broken

  Tales of the Little Engine

  Copyright 2015 © Lynn E. O’Connacht. All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lynn E. O’Connacht.

  Model photo by Dream Perfection from shutterstock.com.

  Starfield photo by Aphelleon from shutterstock.com and NASA.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.

  Please report errors to Lynn E. O’Connacht at [email protected] so that they can be corrected in future versions. She would also love to hear comments!