Grower's Omen (The Fixers, book #2: A KarmaCorp Novel) (3 page)

She studied me for long enough that I started wondering what sins I might need to confess. “I think your soul will need it.”

Well. I set down the celery—her words had just very effectively killed my appetite.

She nodded slowly, eyes serious. “I worry about your next assignment.”

I was getting that, loud and clear. “In what way?” Premonitions of the real variety tended to be pretty murky.

“The meaning is not certain.” She paused a moment. “But I believe that when you get back, you will have need to be reminded of your roots.”

That was downright ominous. “I’m hardly going to forget them.” They were taught to every Lightbody from the cradle—one assignment wasn’t going to change that.

Mundi’s weathered hand reached out to touch my cheek. “See that you don’t.”

“
A
h
, Tyra. Do you have a moment?”

I slid to a prompt halt. Everyone had a moment for that voice, even if they were late for an important date involving face tats, chocolate, and bootleg cider. I resisted the urge to wipe dirt off my cheeks and turned to face Yesenia Mayes, KarmaCorp Director and the closest thing to a deity in my world. “Of course.”

Her eyes scanned my face. “You’ve been in the gardens.”

That was obvious enough that a toddler could have figured it out. “We’re rotating crops at the moment. It’s all-hands-on-deck time.” And an unplanned detour on my way to the storage closet where I’d stashed the cider bottles, which was why I was running late.

“It’s important work.”

It was—and this was a very strange conversation. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Perhaps.” Yesenia inclined her head slightly. “I realize you’re on leave, but I hoped I might ask you to undertake a small task for me.”

Nobody sane would say no to that, even if she really wanted to. “Lightbodies are always ready to serve.”

“Yes.” Something shuttered in the boss lady’s eyes. “Your family is a credit to KarmaCorp and to Stardust Prime.”

Those shouldn’t sound like curse words. I felt like a clover stem hanging out under an elephant’s foot—trampling was coming. It was just a question of how to pancake so that I’d be able to get up again.

“I’d like you to work with my daughter,” said Yesenia abruptly.

I blinked. I’d never heard the boss lady even acknowledge that she had a child—a fact which had caused quiet rumblings at Lightbody dinner tables on more than one occasion.

“I believe you know Tatiana.”

I pulled my shit together—the ice shards in that voice meant serious business. “Of course.” Everyone on Stardust Prime knew of the golden child. A lot fewer felt sorry for her, but I was related to most of them. “What did you have in mind?”

“The third-year trainees have a shadowing day coming up. I know you’re not supposed to be in the rotation, but I’d like her to spend it with you.” Yesenia looked down at my hands.

I assumed they were as covered in dirt as the rest of me, but that wasn’t something I’d ever been ashamed of and I didn’t intend to start now. I was, however, very curious. There was generally only one reason for a trainee to hang out in the gardens. “Has she developed a Grower Talent?” If so, it had been kept well under wraps.

“No.” One short, very certain answer. “But she may yet do so.”

Dangerous territory. The kid was a Dancer, and a good one, and very few Fixers manifested more than one Talent. I was, however, looking into the hard brown eyes of one of them. “You think she may be a Traveler.” One of the mythical Fixers who had all the Talents and could push them through time and space.

Yesenia’s eyes gave nothing away. “I think it would be useful for her to spend some time with her hands in the dirt, and you’re the strongest Grower Talent we have.” Her lips hinted at something that was almost a smile. “I also assumed you might appreciate an assignment that kept you clear of your pod for a while.”

My brain neurons snarled. Was the boss lady making a joke?

She made a quick, pissed-off-royalty motion with her hand. “Please let Lucinda know by the end of the day—she will be handling the matches for shadowing.”

I knew better than to take hours to consider a decision which only had one possible outcome. And it wouldn’t be a hardship—I loved shadowing days. It was no secret that I wanted to teach trainees one day, and the general consensus was that I had the unflappable calm needed to do it well. I was pretty sure Yesenia wasn’t asking me to work with her daughter because of my sunny personality, but I’d have done it just to make Bean’s life easier.

And I’d definitely do it to keep myself out of the director’s doghouse. The last Fixer who’d ended up there had recently been assigned to a reconnaissance mission in the Katmandu system. She’d be back in about a decade.
“I’ll be happy to work with Tatiana.”

Yesenia nodded sharply, as if she’d expected no less—and then walked off as if we’d never met.

I shivered and let myself into Iggy’s pod before anything else bizarre came rolling down the hallway. I had things to do, especially if tomorrow had just been reassigned into the work column.

I had the first bottle of cider halfway out of my bag when Iggy banged through the pod door herself and slid it shut behind her. She posed against its sky-blue flatness and raised an eyebrow. “What the heck is Yesenia doing skulking in the hallways?”

I resisted the urge to shove the cider under a pillow. Barely. “She’s still out there?”

“A couple of walkways over, but she’s got terrified people taking detours all over the place.”

Scuttlebutt traveled fast, especially if it kept people out of a surprise face-to-face with the scariest woman in the habitat. “I assume you weren’t one of the detours.” Imogene Glass might look like a whimsical, lightweight fairy, but she changed her course for no one.

“Nope.” Iggy grinned and pulled out a shiny package of Venetian dark chocolate. “So the rumor that she can smell contraband at fifty paces has been dispelled.”

“More than once today.” I leaned back in my gel-chair and offered her a bottle of my favorite contraband. “I had this in my bag when she walked past me.” I wasn’t ready to talk about Yesenia’s strange request yet—I needed to let it process a little first, and put my ear to the underground currents. I wasn’t a Fixer who moved quickly.

Iggy took a long swig from her bottle and then reached for her bag. “We should do the tats before we get totally plastered.”

That never happened—not with a Grower in the room, anyhow. “The cider’s got something in it to take care of that.”

“You’re no fun.”

I laughed. “I’ve been working on this particular additive. It doesn’t mess with the high overmuch, at least not in moderation. Just the aftereffects.”

Iggy picked up her bottle again, studying it with interest. “You’ll be rich beyond all imagining.”

Probably not—most of the universe wasn’t all that fond of moderation. “Just a little gift for my friends.”

Her mobile face told me exactly what she thought of that idea. “You’re the best Grower in the quadrant, and you refuse to make any money doing things that hordes of people would be willing to throw credits at you for.”

A whole bunch of things in that sentence were disputable, so I picked the easiest. “I make money—I get my KarmaCorp salary every rotation, same as you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

I did. We’d had this argument plenty of times before.

“Other Growers do it, and even Yesenia doesn’t blink. I’d do it in a heartbeat if I could.”

I wasn’t as convinced of that as she was, but neither of us would likely ever know. Most Talents didn’t monetize all that easily—not without crossing ethical lines really fast, anyhow. Growers were different, especially those of us who were good in the science lab. There were plenty of useful, ethically permissible lotions and potions. “You know why I don’t.”

“Because it messes up how people connect with you.” Iggy rolled her eyes and bent into one of the contortions she called stretching. “So you give away valuable gunk for free even when most of your customers could happily afford to pay for it.”

It paid me, just not in credits. It was one of the ways I gave back to my tribe and made them stronger—and that, in so many very important ways, fed me. “Not everything is about money.”

She uncoiled and smiled. “I know, sweetie. I’m just riling you, and I’ll stop now.”

I grinned and repositioned her cider bottle where she could reach it. “You’ve picked up some of Raven’s protective instincts.” Probably hard to avoid if you slept with a thin wall between you and a Shaman’s vibes.

“I pick up lots of things.” Iggy’s fingers were on the move. Weaving, speaking of harmony, integration. “Raven’s mother-duck stuff. Your devotion. Kish’s tendency to bang her head into rock.”

I had to laugh at that. “She’s not doing much head banging at the moment.” Or if she was, it was probably Devan’s fault—our bedrooms weren’t designed for guys his size.

“She looks happy.”

She did. And that still worried me. There were too many ways for it to end with my roommate yanked around by the whims of the universe again. I kept quiet and sipped my cider.

“So.” In one of the mercurial mood shifts she was famous for, Iggy reached over and dumped her bag out on the coffee table. “You want flower tats again, or something a little sexier this time?”

Flowers could be plenty sexy. “I’m due up for assignment soon, so something that won’t make the natives blush.”

She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “Natives of where, exactly?”

Good point—some planets were definitely more open-minded than others. I pulled out the special powder I’d mixed for us. “Let’s stick with staid and boring on the stuff that’s going to be visible.” I crossed my arms and pulled off my warm shirt, leaving just a silk cami, and grinned at the woman who was already getting busy with her henna pots. “You can be more creative on the rest of me.”

“Yes.” Iggy dove for her brushes. “You totally have to seduce someone tonight, though, so they can admire my handiwork.”

“Wasn’t on my agenda,” I said dryly.

She snorted. “Sex is always on your agenda.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Like fried fish and gossip and free potions, sex was just another way I drank from the good energy in the universe—and put back out what I could.

“Nothing.” She grinned and kept stirring. “Even if some of us would be exhausted if we tried to keep up with you.”

Iggy traveled through the world totally differently than I did. “You dream. And wield sexy paintbrushes.” I handed over the tea kettle so she could add hot water to the henna.

The smell made my nose happy—earthy and a bit pungent and something I entirely associated with meandering afternoons and friendship. Kish thought it smelled like four-day-old sock rot, which is why we usually did our face decorating in Iggy and Raven’s pod. I reached for the pile of stencils. I could freehand simple stuff, but I didn’t have Iggy’s artistic skill. “You want sexy this time, or cool and sophisticated?”

“Right. Like I could pull either of those off.” She blew a red curl off her face. “Let’s try for vaguely mysterious—that’ll give me good cover for my lost-in-space routine.”

One that she spent too much time practicing. “You don’t give people much chance to take you seriously.” Another conversation we had fairly frequently.

“Says the woman who walks around with dirt on her face.” She dipped a skinny brush in the henna pot and tested it on one of the spare bowls sitting nearby.

I brushed at my cheeks just in case, and then held a hand out over the henna, testing the energy. Iggy was the artist, but I wanted what touched our skin to mesh with who we were. Augmentation of self, in the best possible way. Ethereal strength for her. I thought of Mundi’s worry and added an extra shot of rooting and healthy growing for me. The strength of here—just in case.

Iggy held out a brush toward my collarbone and sighed. “I can’t believe you’re going to hide most of this away under your clothes.”

I frowned. “I don’t hide.”

“You do so, at least when you’re on assignment. Prim and proper Tyra Lightbody, with her neatly coiffed hair and the face of a virgin queen.”

I tried not to laugh—it would screw with her painting. “There are good reasons for that.” When I turned my Talent on full, I exuded an energy that half the people on Stardust Prime thought was a mating signal. Which was fine if it didn’t interrupt my work. Out there in the rest of the world, I built connections more subtly, but no less implacably. It was how I did my best work.

“Virgin queen.” This time she whispered it under her breath.

I rolled my eyes—carefully, so as not to make my collarbones move.

She moved from my collarbone to my shoulder, tracing a curvy line, and I considered it safe to turn my head and contemplate her face. “What do you want?” I was in the mood to be creative.

She considered a moment. “Your choice. Something freehand.”

I had a love of freehand design, but not the skills. However, Iggy would survive if it was ugly—henna eventually washed off. I thought back to her earlier words. “Mysterious, huh? Like the mystic lady of the lake or the hot courtesan behind her fan?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Either could be fun—you pick.”

I stopped asking questions, knowing that she was plenty capable of being opinionated if she wanted to be. Today was either a mellow day or one where she’d been swamped with Fixer minutia. Either way, I’d just been granted artistic license.

I thought for a minute, and felt the beginnings of an idea float up from wherever that place is that creativity is born. KarmaCorp thinks it’s the solar plexus. Dad thinks it’s our roots. Iggy thinks it’s a belly full of chocolate.

I’m officially agnostic.

I shaped the design carefully in my head, knowing my freehand skills weren’t really up to the job, but wanting to do it anyhow. Three Kanji symbols, for long life, grace, and truth. No courtesans today. I wasn’t entirely sure I had the middle symbol right, but Kanji readers were pretty rare on Stardust Prime.

And then a simple doodled background, one that wouldn’t lean on my skills too hard. Repeating patterns, like the classic henna styles.

“Lean your head back and chill,” said Iggy, waving a brush in front of my eyes.

I smiled and followed orders, relaxing the muscles of my face as the paintbrush began to sneak up my neck. And submersed myself in the energies of beauty created by a friend.