The high desert scene vanished, and the lower hangar bay’s dark gray surfaces and painted insignias reappeared. Willowood walked through her mystics and spread her arms. “Hello, my dear.” Then she hesitated. “Something the matter?”
“Can we talk?” Awen asked.
The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Of course. There’s a small—”
“No.” Awen glanced around and then stepped to the hangar bay’s corner. “There’s no time.”
Willowood followed Awen. “What is it?”
“I sensed Piper.”
“While you were in Ithnor Ithelia?”
Awen nodded. “When I went to close the tunnel over Worru, I sensed her.”
“As we already knew.”
Again, Awen nodded, but more slowly. “Only this time, she was leaving.”
“You think she’s on the move?”
“I know so,” Awen said. “I was able to see her. On a ship.”
“You think she’s been captured?”
“No.” Awen took a breath. “I think—I think she chose to go with Kane. But I just don’t understand why she would do that?”
The older woman’s face fell, and she looked aside. “So she has found her grandfather.”
It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. “What?” Awen could hardly believe the words she’d heard. “Are you saying that—that Kane is Valerie’s father?”
“It’s more than that,” Willowood replied. “He was my husband.”
“You were married?”
Willowood nodded.
“To Admiral Kane?”
“Quite happily, too. Once.”
Awen blinked, then noticed that she was holding her breath. She let out a puff of air and found herself repeating the facts. “You were married to Kane.”
Willowood nodded.
“And Valerie was your daughter—I mean, both of yours.”
“Yes, child.”
“So that makes Piper…”
“As I said, that makes Piper Admiral Wendell Kane’s granddaughter. Quite significant to think about.”
“I—yeah—well, significant is—I mean—”
“Steady.” Willowood placed a hand on Awen’s shoulder. “You need to sit?”
“I just—maybe.” Awen put a hand on a nearby cargo crate and leaned against it, putting her other hand to her head. “This is no small thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
Awen glanced at Willowood. “And you didn’t think to tell me or anyone else sooner?”
“First off, it wasn’t mine to tell.”
“How in mystic’s name is it not yours to tell? He was your husband.”
“And Valerie’s father.”
“So?”
“Did she ever bring it up to you?”
Awen was about to answer hastily but thought better of it. She searched her memoirs for any conversation about Kane’s identity in relationship to Valerie. “No, but she—”
“She what?”
“She—” Awen worked her mouth for more words than where there. “She never said anything about it.”
“Then she didn’t deem it pertinent to you, and you’re just going to have to trust her judgment there.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“You never thought to tell me?”
Willowood sighed. “That marriage was long ago, and a lot has changed since then. Had I felt it would have impacted our cause, I would have shared it.”
“But it has impacted our cause,” Awen said as the tone of her voice rose. She didn’t want to be disrespectful, but Willowood seemed short sighted on this point. “Kane—Moldark—whoever—he went after Piper because she is his—your—granddaughter. And if he told her as much, that would be one reason why she left with him, don’t you think?” Awen stared at Willowood, waiting for a reply, wondering if she’d spoken out of turn.
Awen could feel the heat in her face. Perhaps she was just frustrated that Valerie had never said anything about this in all their time together. There had been plenty of opportunities. But now Awen guessed she’d never know why, and it was unfair to take out her frustration on Willowood. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Finally, the older woman nodded. “You’re right, child. I was wrong to keep it from you, and I’m sorry. I suppose—well, I don’t know what I supposed. Sometimes you try to bury the past so much that you fail to see how it’s impacting your present.”
“I understand, and I forgive you.” Awen felt grateful that her words of correction weren’t out of line. It took a strong woman to admit when she was wrong, and Willowood proved once again just how wise she was. Still, it didn’t explain Valerie’s behavior. “But why wouldn’t Valerie tell me?”
“I can only speculate, but I wonder if both Kane and I are cause for her silence.”
“How so?”
Willowood’s eyes seemed to look past Awen, gazing upon a distant time. “While our marriage started beautifully enough, it did not end so. He wanted the navy, and I wanted the Luma.”
Awen’s thoughts went to Magnus. She could appreciate the tension that Willowood and Kane must have endured.
“And when Valerie showed no signs of being a true blood, well, Wendell took that as a sign from the cosmos that I should renounce my allegiances, abandon my desire to serve in the Order, and dedicate myself to being a mother while he went off to protect the galaxy.”
“But you didn’t, did you.”
Willowood shook her head. “I was stubborn back then.” She placed a hand on Awen’s forearm. “Far more than I am now, even. I insisted that our daughter should not be raised in the ways of war and that we commit ourselves to the Order’s teachings as a family.”
“And that went over even less well,” Awen said.
“He was furious. He’d always had an angry soul—I suppose it’s what made him a good military man. But the anger eventually turned into violence, directed against anyone or anything he didn’t like.”
“Including you.”
Willowood nodded. There was so much sadness in her eyes. “He refused to let Valerie come with me.”
“Because she wasn’t a true blood.”
Again, Willowood nodded. “And because I refused to fight him further. He was so…”
Willowood clearly struggled to finish the sentence, and Awen could only imagine the pain she’d been through—verbally, emotionally, and physically. For Willowood to have abandoned her child, Kane must’ve been—a monster, was all Awen could think to say.
Awen covered Willowood’s hand. “So, he raised her…”
The older woman gave a sad smiled, grateful for the hard conversation’s change in direction. “As much as a navy captain can. Boarding schools did the majority of it. And the rest, well, you probably know. Marine, medic, doctor, senator’s wife, and—”
“And the mother of the greatest true blood the galaxy has ever seen.”
Willowood’s eyes were still distant. “And, my, how brightly she doth gleam, outshining them all.”
“Is that Demworth?” Awen asked as she thought back to her Luma literature studies.
“Samperson,” Willowood corrected, her eyes coming back to the present. “I may have dated him once.”
“You dated T.R. Samperson?”
“Don’t get sidetracked, dear. That’s a story for another day.”
“But, I mean—”
“Tell me what you saw with Piper.”
“Right.” Awen shook the idea of Willowood dating one of the great poets from the last century from her head. “She was with Kane. I mean, Moldark.”
Willowood’s eyes lit up. “Prisoner?”
“I don’t think so. She didn’t seem like she was in distress.”
“Then we can safely assume two things.”
“Which are?”
“She went willingly, for one. And that Kane is still in his body somewhere.”
“You think that’s why Piper went with him?”
/>
“Hard to say. The last I knew, Valerie had kept her father’s identity a secret from the child. In fact, as her father moved up the ranks in the navy, they had less and less contact—to the point that Valerie asked me to help her shield much of her activity.”
“What do you mean?”
Willowood pursed her lips. “Well, take the ship they flew from Capriana, for example.”
“You mean the one Magnus went to rescue?”
The older woman nodded. “Word had spread that war might be coming to the capital, and Darin and Valerie wanted to get clear. Piper had been having nightmares about the city being destroyed too. So for her mental and emotional health, they decided to get as far away as possible.”
“And you helped get them off the planet, and kept their movements concealed.”
Willowood nodded. “For a while, anyway.”
“But how? You’d either have to know someone wealthy or…” Awen studied Willowood’s face.
“Or be wealthy myself?” The older woman gave Awen a sly grin. “I said I was a Luma—I never said I was poor. But in the end, Kane still found them.”
“And he’s been hunting Piper ever since,” Awen said in conclusion.
“We must assume as much.”
“But why?”
“Because you and I both know her potential.”
“Yeah, but what does Kane want with her?”
Willowood shook her head. “Not Kane. At least not anymore.”
“Moldark.”
“Yes. If there’s anything left of Kane, Piper has no doubt seen it—or at least a shadow of it. I believe he’s genuinely interested in meeting her.”
“Because they’d never met before?”
“That’s right. Valerie didn’t want Piper to know either of us.”
“She didn’t?”
“At least not until she was older. I think my daughter feared that if Piper met me, the girl would want to become a Luma.”
“And Valerie didn’t want that.”
“Of course not. She saw what my obsession did to me.”
“And she didn’t want her to meet her grandfather and become a slave to the Republic war machine either.”
Willowood scrunched up her nose the same way Piper did. “Family can be a complicated thing, can’t it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“So you think Moldark exploited Kane’s bloodline to get to Piper?” Awen pushed some strands of hair behind her ear. “But that seems crazy to me.”
“What does?”
“That whatever Moldark is—I mean, at his core, beyond Kane—that he would not only take over a man of immense military and political power, but also one in the lineage of a magnificently powerful true blood.” Even as Awen finished speaking the sentence, she felt her stomach churn. She looked up at Willowood. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you.”
Willowood sighed. “I don’t know what Moldark is, and I don’t know what he wants ultimately, but based on everything I’ve learned in the last few days, I fear it’s for the worst. And I think Moldark chose my ex-husband very carefully. Again, I don’t know what or how, but it—that thing within Wendell, as you say—it chose deliberately. And it’s co-opted both him and Piper for its evil purposes.”
“Mystics—which are?”
“I already told you, I don’t know.”
“But if you had to guess?”
Willowood sighed. “To take over the Republic.”
Awen studied Willowood’s features. “You don’t really believe that though, do you?”
“My child, I’ve already told you, I don’t—”
“What does your gut say, Willowood?” Awen knew she was being more forceful than etiquette allowed, but this was no time for tiptoeing around the facts. Deep in her heart, Awen already felt she had her answer, but she wanted to see if Willowood thought it too. If she didn’t, then Awen figured she must be overthinking everything. But if she did, well, then things were worse than everyone feared.
“My gut says Moldark is out for blood,” Willowood replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“As in?”
“As in, he wants to kill everything alive. Everywhere. And he’ll use every tool at his disposal.”
“Including a little girl.”
“Including Piper, yes.”
Awen stood up straight. “We’ve got to tell Magnus. Let’s go.”
17
Moldark looked down at the blaster wound in his side. The shot would have put down a regular human—one without an Elemental in it. Kane, therefore, was supremely fortunate to be playing host, or else he would have been dead. The weakling.
Alternatively, the blaster shot had a different effect on Moldark than what the Marine who shot him probably anticipated. Rather than slay him, the blaster bolt fed him. Not like a human soul did, of course—there was more sustenance in just one of them than a megajoule of electrical energy. But it did invigorate him, providing a renewed sense of alertness.
The wound itself would need to be healed, but that was easy enough to do. Later, he noted. First, he had an audience to attend to. These Marines had given him no warning—they’d made no threat. Instead, they’d simply come to assassinate him. So he would give them what they’d come for. Death.
Moldark looked up from the blast hole and then stared at the shooter’s helmet. In the split second before Moldark reacted, he wondered if the man was unsure what to make of a target that didn’t fall. Aided by his ethereal power, Moldark leaped into the air and sailed above the Marines just as they fired into the space he’d been standing a split second before. The fools. He figured that someone would have already made an attempt on his life. The fact that it was so long in coming was further evidence that this race needed to be extinguished—slow, incompetent, and unable to forge their own way in the universe without taking from other species.
He could practically hear their gasps as they tracked him through the air with their blasters. When he landed in the middle of the Marines, they turned inward, apparently unsure if they should fire due to the threat their crossfire posed to each other. How courteous of them. But their hesitation evaporated as they opened fire again.
In a fraction of a second, Moldark stretched his soul out and touched a shooter in the chest. The man’s soul bucked but then gave way, flowing into Moldark. There was no time to enjoy this feeding—he yanked on the man’s life force. The victim screamed so loudly that Moldark could hear it, even despite the Marine’s helmet. With the trooper drained of life, Moldark dashed the dust-filled suit of armor against the next closest man. That Marine jerked away from the collision, seemingly shocked by the near-instantaneous disappearance of his companion.
Suddenly, Moldark felt a warning behind him, coming from a Marine who’d recovered from his initial surprise at Moldark’s speed. Moldark leaned aside as a blaster bolt zipped over his shoulder. The shot had been meant for his head and sped through the gap in the circle made by the first slain Marine.
Spinning on his heel, Moldark reached out an invisible tentacle and latched onto the offending trooper. “How unfortunate that you missed,” Moldark said. He could tell the man was trying to say something back, but there was no sound. And, there was no time—Moldark was moving faster than they could think.
Like a child might flick something around at the end of a stick, Moldark threw the Marine right and left, bashing him into the men on each side. The first blow snapped the tethered man’s neck, killing him instantly. But his body was still useful as a weapon. So Moldark flailed him around like a mace, knocking four more Marines to the floor. One downed man tried to climb back up, but Moldark pummeled him with the corpse and bashed him twice more into the floor.
It was a waste of soul energy—what he was doing now. Breaking their bodies so quickly meant their life force had the opportunity to dissipate into the ether, never to be recaptured for himself. But there was still half the kill team left, and he already felt full enough as
it was. A little waste from time to time wasn’t a bad thing, so long as it suited the big picture.
Moldark released the Marine he’d used as a club and then turned to a new victim, this one aiming a weapon at Kane’s left side. Moldark grabbed the man’s blaster and yanked it forward, pulling the man off balance. Then, just as fast, Moldark wrenched the weapon from the man’s hands, spun him around, and used him as a shield. The next blaster rounds blew holes in the man’s armor as Moldark turned and pushed toward two Marines emptying their magazines. The shield-man’s body spasmed in Moldark’s hands as he drove into the oncoming fire.
By the time he was near enough to the gun-wielding Marines, Moldark tossed the body and then connected to the two men at the same time. He took no pleasure in their deaths, but he didn’t let their life force go to waste either. Drawing energy in as fast as he could, the Marines’ armor clattered to the ground in a second.
With just three men left and Brighton writhing on the floor, Moldark extended his hands and moved toward the nearest Marine. The man fired but Moldark raised a hand and absorbed the three rounds into his palm. He was so nourished that Kane’s skin hardly felt damaged. Instead, the current flowed into Moldark and—as before—rejuvenated him. As if I needed something more, he noted with a grin.
Using the same extended hand, Moldark reached around the blaster and latched onto the Marine’s wrist. Then he connected his soul to the man’s life force and found the place where the trooper’s mind controlled his hand—an easy enough feat. Moldark turned the man’s arm toward the other Marines while stepping behind the new host body and then forced the man to squeeze the trigger.
Blaster fire crisscrossed the room. Moldark fired into the remaining two Marines, taking the first out with a neck-shot just beneath the helmet’s brim, and the other with four rounds through the chest plate. But they’d returned fire before their deaths, striking their brother in arms several times in the chest and head. The reckless idiots.
When the other two men fell, Moldark released his hold on the Marine and allowed him to join the rest on the ground. The room was still, save for Brighton, who lay with his arms covering his head.
“Get up, Brighton,” Moldark said.
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 148