The Safety of Nowhere by Iris Astres

a different axis. The spinning made him dizzy, off-balance, which meant he couldn’t trust his mind.
    He couldn’t trust his heart.
    Where had she gone? He didn’t like her absence or the thought of her out in the world with all its dangers. Out of his sight. Beyond the sphere of his protection. He didn’t like it. In fact, he wasn’t certain he could stand it. There was a pounding in his veins like some primordial instinct, telling him to go out after Dinah and bring her home again.
    It was the dizziness. He should ignore it, let it pass. Doubtless, he was just the victim of an internal mirage. He wasn’t mystically connected to her. That was illusion. They hadn’t bonded. This nagging sense of destiny was a residue of shock and illness. A side effect of being tilted, spinning in this new direction.
    To find his focal point he looked around him. The house she lived in was a shrine. Pictures and reminders of the smiling white-haired man seemed to inhabit every corner, every surface. Dinah had made certain no one could mistake her solitude for availability. He should remember that.
    Like all his brethren, Malcolm had a profound respect for grief. For loyalty and loss. She was alone, but not alone. And he was with her now, which didn’t mean he could have her.
    And still he found his gaze drawn constantly back to the door.
    “Are you in danger?”
    “No more than usual.”
    That’s what she’d said. He hadn’t understood her then. He understood her now, and it was unacceptable. That deranged man the boy had spoken of might very well be coming for his son. Malcolm fixed his gaze on the door and warned the unmet stranger not to put his hands on her. The image made a wave of fury rise into his throat. The blood under his skin felt hot, and he was dangerously close to opening the door and charging after her.
    “We’re safe enough, if you stay out of sight.”
    She’d asked him to stay hidden, and he’d already disobeyed her once. It would upset her if she found him striding up that hill. And so he made himself stay in his chair. They were in the Outlands, the very place where hatred for Backusians had begun. He’d made the choice to emigrate to Earth, and so the dangerous hostility, as unanticipated as it was, was something he could withstand for himself. That she might bear the brunt of that ill feeling was unacceptable. He wanted to protect her, not expose her more than she already was.
    But the closed door was hard.
    A distraction. That was what he needed—some way to pass the time until he had her back again.
    The game they’d played came instantly to mind. Loveplay. He rose, retrieved the pink box she’d hastily kicked underneath the bed, and smiled at the wash of lacy hearts and cherubs festooned all around the word. The sexual artifacts of Earth always amused him. Even in his current agitated state, the object piqued his interest. He opened up the box again. There was a paddle in it. Malcolm slapped it hard against his hand. Not bad. Lightweight. A nice, large surface. Good for play, rather than pain. He picked the box of cards up, choosing one at random.
    A police officer has pulled you over in the middle of the night. You are desperate not to get a ticket. Ask the officer in question if he’s willing to devise another means of punishment.
    Sex and power. Across the galaxy the concepts were all much the same. He entertained the thought of Dinah begging his indulgence before he slid the card back in the box.
    “What’s wring its neck?”
    “Kill it with his hands.”
    It was eleven thirty now. But what time had it been when she’d left? He scooped the dice into his hand. Tossed them on the table. Kiss said the first die. Feet said the second. Gladly, but he doubted that would please her much. A quick spin of the dial had him entering her from behind. That he knew she liked. When he picked the pink box up to read what had been written on the back, something shifted under the false bottom and he turned