Page 11 of Irene

Jemi sat in slack-jawed wonder as Irene’s voice soared. Every note was a drop of purest gold to his ears. Chills raced up and down his spine as she sang her hope for her brother and her people, of a god’s love despite the hardships they faced. Jemi knew nothing of this god, but he was certain he beheld a goddess on the stage.

She was almost as beautiful as her voice. High cheekbones, slightly up-slanted eyes, and a slender nose combined to give her an arresting appearance. Her long, mahogany hair, glinting notes of gold under the lights, hung loose to her elbows. She wore loose, pale robes, but unlike the Odeergin cape of the night before, they had no hope of hiding an impressive, statuesque figure. She was every inch as impressive as any of the few Kalquorian women Jemi had seen.

Her voice…her incredible voice…

A crash of applause filled the theater as the last shimmering note faded at the end of her song. Jemi jerked as if waking from a dream, though his gaze never left Irene until she exited the stage. Only then did he note some members of the audience wiping their cheeks.

Next to him, Rusp muttered in an awed tone, “Mother of All.”

Jemi glanced at him, then Sherv. Both wore identical looks of wondering shock, the expression he was sure was etched upon his own features.

Jemi watched the rest of the show, but it was as if he saw it through someone else’s eyes, as if it took place in the background of Irene’s sweet, clear voice still singing in his head, behind the vision of Irene imprinted on his gaze.

He might have sat in his seat for the rest of the night in a daze, even as the curtains closed and the audience took their leave, but Sherv jostled him and brought him reluctantly back to the real world. “Hey, come on. We have to get to the club and play our set.”

He blinked at his Dramok. After Irene? He was supposed to perform lemanthev after seeing and hearingher?

Apparently so. He stood and limped after his clanmates, glancing over his shoulder at the stage in the hope she’d reappear.

* * * *

Irene moved among her fellow performers backstage toward the dressing room, smiling at the happy chatter surrounding her. Clan Nil’s visit and accolades had snapped Valentina out of her downward spiral during rehearsal. Fausto’s kinder treatment had helped as well, and she’d been in perfect voice during the show. Relief was a drug, and the entire company was high on a successful performance.

Irene had been certain she’d seen a trio of large figures of Kalquorians sitting at the back of the house during her final bow. She had no idea if Captain Nil’s clan had taken in another show. They, or members of their crew, had probably been the ones in attendance. She doubted the three she’d spotted had been the members of Certain Death. Her inquiries on the space station’s entertainment page had mentioned they had a show to perform that night, scheduled to begin in minutes.

Still, she enjoyed the idea they might have come to see her perform. She liked to think they might be as curious about her as she’d become about them.

Curious? More like riveted.The dreams she’d had the night before…

She hesitated as she eyed the back racks of the wardrobe section. She’d snuck the Odeergin gear to Meg that morning, and Mrs. Hoffman had added it to the pile of laundry and mending she’d returned to the theater when she’d reported in. No doubt Irene’s disguise hung in its usual spot, waiting for her next illicit sojourn through the station.

Normally, she wouldn’t push her luck to go out again so soon. Two nights in a row was begging for trouble. Returning to the club where Certain Death performed was definitely a bad idea.

Nonetheless, she delayed changing. Instead, she gossiped with the women swapping their costumes for dresses and skirts. She dawdled to wash her heavy stage makeup off in the cold water spitting from the bank of sinks and brush her hair. She, Meg, Mrs. Hoffman, and Emma chatted. Irene was aware Dolores kept poking her head into the dressing room to check if she was ready to go.

Mrs. Hoffman was no fool. She edged close to Irene and whispered, “What…orwho…did you find on the station?”

Irene was sure she blushed even as she affected her most innocent expression. “Amazing music from an alien culture. Fausto would have my head examined if he knew what I’d been listening to.”

“Music, huh?” Emma grinned, and Meg giggled.

“It’s called lemanthev. It’s loud and crazy. I brought hearing protection this time.” Irene displayed her earplugs. They’d seen a great deal of use when the company had toured between venues, the only way she could get any sleep on their crowded transport.

Who was she kidding about not going to visit the club where Clan Sherv played that very night? She’d brought the earplugs. She was stalling until she could put on her disguise.

Yes, she would be attending Certain Death’s show as soon as she could sneak off.

Chapter Four

Irene found herself regarded by Mrs. Hoffman’s sad affection. “Our good girl. At least you’re indulging in a few shenanigans.”

“You only live once,” Emma agreed. “I’ll make us tea, and we’ll settle in until the dragon gives up and flies to her lair.”

Sure enough, when Emma began passing out the cups, Dolores stalked to their gathering. She shot Irene a glare before addressing Mrs. Hoffman. “Do you mind—”

“Oh, I’ll be glad to escort Irene to her quarters, if you don’t wish to join us? Emma, make Dolores a cup, would you?”

“It isn’t necessary,” Dolores said quickly. “I’m quite tired. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Jonson.”

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