Promise regained consciousness with a slow opening of her eyes. The pain had ebbed. She lay flat on her back on something hard, and above her, a bamboo platform holding lights hung suspended from a tall ceiling. Where in the world was she? She swallowed and partially sat up.
Oh, cripes. She sat on the middle of a smooth conference table made of what appeared to be reclaimed wood. Mark stood adjacent to the table next to another man—a colossal man with intriguing bluish green eyes. Almost a true aqua.
“Dr. Williams.” Mark reached for her hand to help her swing her legs around. “Are you all right?”
Heat burst into her face, and she straightened her skirt to keep from flashing her plain white panties at them. “I do apologize.” She pushed an escaped spiral of her dark hair away from her face. “That has never happened before.” At least the losing consciousness part hadn’t. She’d felt the pain before. Her sensible heels caught the edge of a chair, and she pressed her knees together.
“My, ah, wife will be here in a few minutes,” the other man said, no expression on his face but definite concern in his eyes. Concern and curiosity. “She’s a doctor.”
“I don’t require medical assistance.” Promise scooted off the table to stand. “But thank you, anyway.” What in the sphere of all reality had happened? Did she have a tumor or perhaps a blood clot from the accident? High blood pressure could account for such an attack as well. It was time for a physical, clearly. “I was in a car accident yesterday. Maybe I’m having a residual reaction.” She rolled her neck. No pain. Not any. “I feel centered now.” She studied the man. He stood to about six foot six and filled out the black designer suit as if his body were metal and the fabric just a finish.
He held out a hand mammoth enough to palm a basketball. Maybe two. “Ronan Kayrs.”
She shook. “Dr. Promise Williams.” Her body still trembled from the pain, even though it had evaporated. “I must apologize for my attack. I am so sorry.”
He smiled, turning his face from rugged into sheer male beauty, although he dropped her hand rather quickly. His palm had felt rough and raised. Scarred? “No apology necessary. I’m quite used to women fainting in my presence.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Another man entered the room, this one just as big as Ronan Kayrs with hair as dark and a blue suit just as expensive. But his tie was an intriguing bright pink, while Ronan’s was a deep blue. “You need new material.” He held out a hand. “Dr. Kane Kayrs. It’s nice to meet you.”
Another Kayrs. She shook hands, and Kane released her as quickly as Ronan had. These businessmen didn’t believe in the long shake, now did they? And his skin had felt odd as well. Like it had been branded. But she couldn’t very well ask to see his palm; that’d be odd. “Brothers?” They certainly had similar bone structure and physiques. But Kane wore light-refracting glasses, so she couldn’t see if the uncommon aqua eyes were a family trait.
Kane snorted. “No. Distant relations.”
“Very distant,” Ronan said, his grin flashing again.
Kane smiled. “Good one. My presence was requested around midnight, and here I am. See? Family.”
She looked from one handsome man to the other, her curiosity piqued. They obviously shared an inside joke. She’d never had one of those. What would it be like to have family again? Not that she’d ever experienced much family time, anyway. “I hope my losing consciousness doesn’t influence your decision for the grants.” How could this have happened?
“Not a chance.” Kane gently led her to a chair and waited for her to sit, making her feel all feminine. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” She frowned, rubbing the base of her neck beneath her braid. “Just fine now. I don’t understand.”
A rustle sounded by the door, and the receptionist stepped partially inside. “Dr. Brookes? Since Dr. Williams is feeling better, how about you follow me for your interview for the grant for research into ordinary differential equations?”
An ice pick ripped into Promise’s neck, and she bit her lip, trying not to cry out. If it was a tumor, would the thing just explode and get it over with? She just had to complete this interview, and then she would make an appointment with a neurologist immediately. The room swam.
“Sure.” Obviously not noticing her distress, Mark patted her shoulder and followed the petite woman, disappearing from view.
The pain receded and then sputtered out. What were these attacks? Promise exhaled slowly and let her shoulders relax. Okay. Time to concentrate. She’d figure out her health problems right after the interview.
Ronan cocked his head. “You okay?”
She nodded, bewilderment filling her. What would account for the pain coming and going so suddenly? “Yes. I experienced another sudden headache, but the pain has receded.”
Kane looked toward the door. “Completely gone now?”
“Yes.” She breathed in, filling her chest, and then exhaled again, slower this time. If she’d just destroyed her chance at the grant money, then her brain could up and explode. The good the university could do with such funds was inspiring. She had to turn this around. “I’m fine, gentlemen. Shall we get started?”
The two men exchanged a glance and then took chairs across from her at the table.
Ronan cleared his throat. “We don’t have a lot of time to mess around, so here it is. Based on your application and a background check, you’re one of several finalists for this grant. We’re interested in studying different dimensions. I mean, the possibility of travel between and to different dimensions.”
She blinked. That hadn’t been mentioned on the application. Was he serious? “As a practicality instead of theoretically?”
“Yes,” Kane said, leaning forward, his elbows on the table.
Oh, for goodness’ sake. So much male beauty and no darn brains. She sighed. “All right. So, first we probably need to get the terminology straight. Dimensions refer to distance, so you don’t travel to another dimension. At least we don’t. We’re third-dimensional beings, so we’re in the third dimension. If there are other dimensions, and I believe that there are, we don’t go there. Or rather, they could be all around us right now, and we wouldn’t even know it, because we can’t see them—just like a two-dimensional being wouldn’t be able to see, well, off the page.” It was as elementary as she could make the explanation.
Kane blew out air. “We should’ve never shared that word with the humans. Ever.”
Ronan nodded. “They have perverted it. Dimensions don’t even mean dimensions anymore. Damn Einstein. I blame him for taking the word and screwing it all up.”
She looked from one to the other, her heart rate increasing. “Um, excuse me?”
Kane flattened large hands on the table. “Just kidding. Quote from an old sci-fi book I read as a kid. All right. So say we somehow travel through space, time, whatever…and end up in another third-dimensional world. One not here.”
Who were these men? Some billionaires who’d been watching too many television shows? “Are you talking about the multiverse?” she asked.
Kane shook his head. “Not in that there are identical universes with different paths. Not at all. I’m talking maybe different universes. Or even other places in this universe, though I’m thinking that’s not it. Universes with places you can get to only by, well, jumping through dimensions. Or black holes. Or wormholes.”
Her eyebrows rose. “All right. Then bubble theory? That our universe is one of an infinite number?”
“Yes,” Kane said. “Bubble theory accounts for black matter, so it’s possible.”
She nodded. “That is one of many theories for black matter.”
“Exactly,” Ronan added. “We’re interested in that kind of a study. More specifically, how we could jump to another place in this universe, or a different universe, or world, or bubble—not a parallel universe but
one different from this one. Whatever.”
There had to be a way to earn the grant and somehow not insult these men. As a child, she’d dreamed often and vividly about such possibilities until her parents forced her to face reality and study accordingly. “I understand the appeal of such a theory. I truly do.” She cleared her throat. “If you subscribe to superstring theories, then you’d have to believe that the D-brane expends over three spatial dimensions. But those can’t move at right angles, so there’s no exploring the universe outside of the brane.” Did they even comprehend that much of string theory?
“Perhaps we’re looking at an alternate theory about the D-brane,” Kane said. “Something outside of the box, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Alternate theory? “Physics does have some laws we follow,” she murmured.
“Really?” Ronan’s gaze darkened to more green than blue. “The most prevalent theory right now is that the universe is made of strings—that we’ve never seen. The laws of physics are constrained by our understanding of the universe, and we’re probably dead wrong.”
Well, gravity probably did warp time. She smiled. “You’re sounding like one of those conspiracy groups who were sure the Large Hadron Collider would make black holes and destroy our entire planet.” Which, of course, hadn’t happened. Initially, she’d been concerned too, but the science behind the machine had reassured her.
Kane smiled. “Maybe we were just lucky that space and gravity reacted as we’d hoped. As we’d theorized.”
There was some truth to his statement. She nodded her head, relaxing finally. “So you at least do understand what you’re asking with this grant.”
“Yes.” Ronan Kayrs tapped long fingers on the table. “I’d also like to discuss a couple of your academic papers.”
That made sense, considering their focus. “You’re concerned about my declaration in the paper about fracking that the possibility of a positive outcome doesn’t always justify the risk involved.”
“That’s one of the papers,” Kane said. “And I’m not saying I disagree with your analysis. But we do need to discuss your general belief system.”
“Do we?” she asked.
Ronan leaned forward. “Risk versus reward. If there is a way to bend time and alter gravity to travel through dimensions, there could be risk factors.”
She coughed out a laugh, allowing herself a moment to descend into their fantasy. “Yes. Say that we figure out a way to do what you want, and say it doesn’t take two hundred years, then we definitely would need to look at the risks involved. You’re talking about math and science, about possibilities that aren’t even imagined fully right now. We don’t even know if we have the other dimensions correctly identified.”
“You are a theoretical physicist,” Ronan said quietly. “Theorizing is wonderful, especially when you use the absence of something to prove the existence of something else. But we’re looking for somebody willing to experiment along with theory. To take the chance—take the risks.”
Risks were for the foolish. As a scientist, she had a duty to protect life.
However, even the risks were theoretical at this point. She kept her smile in place. These guys were bored Star Trek fans with millions to donate to a good cause, like her school. Yet intelligence showed in their eyes, and their knowledge base had been impressive so far. But they were dreaming. She cleared her throat. “Any theory would have to take into consideration risks of altering the known laws of physics. It’d be irresponsible otherwise.”
Ronan smiled. “Well, you’re one of the brightest minds of this century, so have a little faith. Come up with a theory, some sort of plan to find a theory to get us what we want, and we’ll grant you five hundred million dollars to use as you please at your university in order to prove it. You have one week.”
Chapter Six
Ivar kicked back in the control room, watching the interview in the conference room through one of the several monitors set up on the long table. His area was windowless and quiet, which suited him just fine. Promise Williams was even prettier today with her gray suit and pale pink blouse. Her curly dark hair was secured in a no-nonsense braid that highlighted her strong features, her cheekbones high beneath her very smooth, warm beige skin.
The suit was form fitting in a classy way. Though the shoes had to go. Sensible, square heeled, boring. She had slender ankles made for sparkly sandals. Something told him there hadn’t been much sparkle in Promise’s life.
Not that he’d had much either.
It was an odd name. Promise. No doubt a hope for her large intelligence and expected contributions to science. He’d researched her family. Both of her parents had been professors who’d appeared to be more involved in work than with each other. The pictures of the skinny and awkward little girl had interested him. She’d attended math camp, space camp, even chess camp. No ponies, no lakes, no campgrounds. Only books and huge brown eyes and a sense of loneliness that he could feel in his own bones. A sense he lived with daily. Her parents had died when she’d been a sophomore at Harvard, but she’d looked alone even before that. Long before that.
The need to join her in that conference room pricked beneath his skin and up his neck. Even his blood felt more aware with her in the building. He glanced at the other monitor of Mark Brookes giving his spiel in another room. Boring. He picked up his phone and called Mercy at the front desk.
“What?” The sound of her typing furiously came over the line while she no doubt moved currency through markets as she pretended to be their receptionist for this week of grant interviews. The female did love investing.
“Would you do me a favor? Poke your head in the conference room and ask if they want any water,” he said, his adrenaline flowing way too freely.
Mercy sighed. “They can get their own water.”
He grabbed onto his temper with both hands. The last thing he needed was a pissed-off fairy in his day, and Mercy could be mean when she wanted. With her mate, Logan, and Garrett having left early that morning to secure a secondary safe location, the sprite was already cranky. So he chose his words with care, even though they burned through his already burned throat. “I know, but I’m asking for a favor. Don’t go all the way in. Just stop at the door, ask, and then leave when they say yes or no.”
“Fine.” She slapped the phone down.
Ivar winced as his ears rang. Then he leaned toward the monitor, his instincts humming. His muscles vibrated with the effort it took to keep himself in that chair, in that room, and away from that woman. Promise. Even her name jolted something inside him. Mercy came into view through the monitor, her feminine green suit flouncing. She reached the doorway to the conference room and asked if anybody wanted a drink, her tone polite.
The color fled Promise’s face, and she visibly tensed. Her pupils widened, and her chest rose rapidly. She shook her head, as did Ronan.
Mercy shrugged and strode back down the hallway, looking up at one of the cameras to stick her tongue out at him.
He turned his gaze back to Promise. The color filled her face again, and her breathing smoothed out. She rubbed the base of her neck as if something had stung her. Why would being in Mercy’s proximity give Promise a raging headache? That was three for three times—so it wasn’t a coincidence, and it had nothing to do with the car accident the day before. At least he didn’t need to carry that guilt. For now.
Was it because Mercy was a Fae? Did Promise, as an Enhanced human female, have some sort of allergy to the Fae? Was that even possible? Damn it. Where could Ivar find another fairy to test his hypothesis? They weren’t just hanging around, and most of them didn’t like the Seven. Mercy was definitely an exception, and frankly, he wasn’t sure she liked him very much.
The back door clanged, and Ivar turned toward another monitor. Benny was back. Good. Benny was usually on Ivar’s side, and he’d understand why Ivar had tried to kid
nap the physicist the other day. Oh, he’d have plenty to say about the mission being a failure, but at least he’d still be supportive. Besides Ivar, he was probably the member of the Seven most removed from sanity, which wasn’t a terrible place to be. Reality often sucked.
Benny high-fived Mercy and then kept walking, finally reaching the first conference room.
Ivar cocked his head and turned up the volume on the speakers. It’d be riveting to see how the cerebral woman interacted with Benjamin Reese. Benny was around six foot eight with size sixteen boots and an even bigger ego. His hair was dark, his eyes a metallic mesh of colors, and his laugh booming. At the moment, his T-shirt was torn, his mouth bleeding, and his left hand full of candy corn.
Ronan’s face hardened to that granite look he got when his plans weren’t going as he wanted. He partially stood and introduced Promise and Benny, his gaze all but shooting blades at the newcomer. “Why are you bleeding?” he asked, way too calmly.
“Was sparring with my bastard demon cousin,” Benny said, munching on the corn. “The guy who helped Ivar with the shrink?”
Ivar groaned. They had to get Benny out of there before he said something he shouldn’t. Something else, that was. Hopefully Promise would think “demon” was an expression and not meant literally. Of course, she might just think Benny was nuts, and she’d probably be correct.
Ronan nodded. “All right. Why don’t you go find Ivar and report on the shrink?”
Benny leaned against the doorjamb. “I don’t know. I’m part of this organization, and I like conference meetings.” He looked up at the camera and winked.
Ivar reached for his phone again to call Benny if he didn’t comply. Then he noticed Promise’s face. Pinched with wide eyes. She clutched the armrest of her chair so hard, her knuckles had turned white. She swayed.
“Time to go, Benny,” Ronan growled.
Benny rolled his eyes and strolled away, heading down the hallway toward the computer room.
Promise slowly released her hold on the chair. Her breathing smoothed out. She smiled at Ronan, but her lips trembled a little. “I’m sorry. I think my headache is returning.” Her voice was soft but clear.
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