Free Hakusan Angel by Alex Powell Page A

black void, and there was nothing out there to see, nothing to move towards.
    *~*~*
    Kaede huddled against the warm and solid form at her back and tried not to remember the feeling of nothingness beneath her feet. She'd come a hair's breadth from plunging downward, with nothing to break her fall but the metal floor far below. Mari didn't say a word, her arms tightening around Kaede's body and pulling her closer.
    "Where is Hakusan ?" Mari whispered, the flimsy words withering away to be lost in the dark void.
    "Wherever we left it," Kaede replied, finding her body relaxing on its own into Mari's warmth surrounding her. She had a musky scent, and Kaede let it fill her lungs and her head with an almost drowsy contentment.
    "Where we left it?" Mari asked, and Kaede could feel the vibration of the words against her back.
    "No one can move Hakusan but us. We left it against the wall of the cavern somewhere. We have to go and find it," Kaede explained, looking out into the dark, searching for a black, looming shape.
    Reluctantly, Kaede pulled up and away, finding that her legs trembled beneath her. Her heart had calmed since her latest scare, but it jumped one last time as she helped pull Mari to her feet. Their hands fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and Kaede lingered a moment too long in separating them.
    They called the lift down again, and Kaede found herself standing too close, almost plastered against Mari's side, where previously they had stood with at least two feet between them. What kind of reaction to danger was this? The urge to be closer, to be protected, to protect ... She shouldn't be dwelling on this when there were battles to be fought.
    The black seemed even more consuming when standing within it, the closed doors at their backs offering no comfort in the deep gloom.
    "We can't just walk out there with no light," Mari murmured at her side.
    "We don't have a light," Kaede said, looking around and seeing nothing that could help them. The controls for the lights were probably somewhere above them, on a higher level.
    They didn't have time for this. There was a battle going on above their heads, and they had to go help their comrades as soon as they could.
    "We do."
    "What?" Kaede asked distractedly as she considered walking sightlessly across the empty space between them and their war machine.
    "We do," Mari repeated. "Have a light, that is."
    In the ensuing pause, it took Kaede only a moment to understand what Mari was trying to suggest.
    "Don't you remember what happened last time?" she hissed, pulling away slightly and feeling the difference in air temperature almost immediately. The dark was cold and slightly damp, sticking to her skin and covering it in a cool layer of slickness. It made her hair stand on end.
    "No one else is here to mess it up. You can control it without interference," Mari insisted.
    It was probably true, and simply lighting up the space around them would take very little energy from her. She briefly considered refusing, although she could think of no good reason not to try. She batted the feeling away and reached down to undo her yukata.
    She quickly shed her outer layer of clothing, and the feeling of being surrounded by coldness increased, making her shiver. Kaede handed her yukata to Mari, and let the energy rise to the surface of her skin.
    The glow of blue energy rose up around her, and she could barely see anything past the light as it buzzed over her body. It was calm, calmer than it had ever been.
    "That's good, let's go," Mari said, and Kaede followed her voice.
    "Keep talking," she said dreamily, mind in a light trance. "I still can't see anything."
    "What should I say?"
    "Anything you want."
    Kaede heard Mari start to talk, something about training days as a beginner pilot. She didn't really hear the words, just let them wash over her. Mari lead the way, and Kaede let her voice guide her through the veil of darkness and the haze of light surrounding her. It was a journey