Zealot

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Welcome back, songbird.” His pace slowed as he neared his sister. “It’s so good to hear your voice again.”

  With a shake of her head and several quick blinks, Chandar returned to the present. “I was pretty sure I’d sorted through the com-strands, but I didn’t feel brave enough to try. Until now.”

  He pulled out the chair on Chandar’s other side and sat. “No need for concern. You’re thoughts came through loud and clear.” His smile was warm and encouraging, but he was careful not to touch her. “Did you need something specific or did you just want to chat?”

  Chandar motioned toward Indigo. “We’ve been trying to rediscover my past, but we’re not sure what we’re looking for. What was I like before I was given to Akim? What were my abilities?”

  Danvier looked at Indigo as if asking permission before he began. She nodded in silent encouragement. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you. Until quite recently, I believed you’d passed beyond many years ago.”

  “Tell us what you can,” Indigo suggested. “What was she like as a child?”

  “Watchful, incredibly inquisitive.” He shifted his gaze back to his sister and sadness restrained his smile. “You had your first prophetic vision at three, so everyone knew your power would be considerable.” He quickly lapsed into silence, obviously reluctant to provide details.

  “Go on,” Chandar prompted. “Hold nothing back.”

  “You were taken out of regular classes and given private mentors, and not just Rodyte tutors, you studied with masters from many different planets.”

  Indigo suddenly saw a vivid image of a tiny, silver-haired prodigy, doted on by the guild elders, yet ostracized by her peers. “Did this upset the other classmates?”

  “Of course. The other trainees resented her—and me. They claimed that Chandar was only favored because her mother was the guild mistress.”

  “Are prophetic dreams my only ability?”

  He shook his head, his regal features serene as usual. “Your abilities were just beginning to develop when we were forced to part, but everyone believed you were a true clairvoyant.”

  “What does that mean? I’m unfamiliar with these terms.” Indigo wasn’t sure how much Chandar remembered, but it was easier to ask him for clarifications.

  “If her gift developed as the elders believed it would, she should be able to see into the past, present and future. Many clairvoyants can determine a person’s motivation and spot deceptions with just a glance into a person’s eyes.”

  His description made Chandar sound like a vampire, so Indigo had to ask, “Is she able to influence others? Implant suggestions, that sort of thing?”

  He shook his head. “Harbinger abilities don’t work that way. In fact, the vast majority of our abilities are passive. We have access to information that others don’t, but we can’t manipulate that information.”

  “What’s the most aggressive use you’ve ever found for your abilities?”

  It was a fascinating question, but Indigo couldn’t help wondering what had made Chandar ask.

  He shrugged, but tension crept into his voice as he admitted, “I’m sometimes able to see how a person dies. One particularly nasty officer wouldn’t back down, so I pushed the image into his mind.”

  “But that might have allowed him to escape the scene,” Chandar objected.

  Again, he shook his head. “He might have been able to change the specifics, but there’s no cheating death. That’s one of the first lessons harbingers learn. Some events are fluid and others are not. We don’t waste energy trying to manipulate the inevitable.”

  “Is death always inevitable?” Indigo asked.

  “The easy answer is yes, but the honest answer is no, with a massive caveat. Whenever events are changed to prevent someone’s death, the universe finds a way to balance the scales. And the adjustment is never pleasant.”

  “Meaning someone else dies in their place?”

  “Not always, but there is always a price and it is always as devastating as the death would have been. It’s best just to leave death alone.”

  They fell silent for a moment as the females absorbed Danvier’s information and dissimilated the various implications of what they’d been told. Chandar was the first to speak again. “I keep seeing a woman with strange multi-colored hair.” Danvier motioned toward Indigo and Chandar smiled. “This woman is older and her hair shifts from one color to another. She’s our mother, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. Her name is Pyre Sterling,” Danvier told her. “She might have given us birth, but I don’t consider her my mother.”

  “Why are you reluctant to claim our mother?” Her tone remained conversational, but suspicion and annoyance brightened her expressive eyes.

  “Pyre’s aspirations have always outweighed the needs of her family. She’s ruthless.” He shifted in his chair, looking at his sister and then away. Finally, he dragged his gaze back to Chandar’s face and said, “She killed our father.”

  Chandar pressed against the back of her chair as if he’d struck her. “She was involved in the situation that resulted in his death or… Are you accusing her of coldblooded murder?”

  “I was there, Chandar. I saw her shove the blade into Father’s chest with my own eyes. And then she ripped you from his arms and swore that neither of us would ever see you again.”

  Her chair scraped as she pushed back from the table, then she stood so fast it nearly toppled. “Why would she murder her mate? It makes no sense.”

  He shifted so he could see her, but didn’t leave his chair. “Father was determined to escape the academy. He could tolerate imprisonment and abuse, but he refused to allow his children to be political pawns. You especially needed to be protected.”

  “Why would he need to protect me from my own mother?” Her fingers crumpled the front of her tunic as she paced the limited floor space.

  The wildness in Chandar’s eyes urged Indigo to her feet. “I think we should talk about something else.”

  “No.” Chandar nearly shouted the word. “I want to know. I need to understand.”

  Danvier stood as well. After pushing in his chair, he slowly approached his sister. “I’m not trying to upset you, but Pyre Sterling is dangerous. She can seem sweet and loving one minute and then blast you with a pulse pistol the next. You cannot trust her. Ever.”

  After a tense pause, Chandar urged, “Finish the explanation. Why did she kill our father?”

  “Father was summoned to her bed. It was never about love or even affection.”

  “Mating bonds can’t be forced. There had to have been some sort of attraction.”

  She’d said it with such authority that Indigo believed her, but how had Chandar known? Memories and context seemed to come more naturally when Chandar wasn’t focusing on the past.

  “Pyre is very beautiful and Father was very young.” Rather than elaborate, he moved on. “For the most part he was able to protect me, but he was barely allowed to see you. He knew he’d have no control over what they did with you.”

  “‘They’? Who do you mean?” Chandar often backed herself into a corner when she felt threatened. The dining area was nearly circular, so she pressed her back against the outer wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Moving up beside Danvier, Indigo touched his shoulder. “Chandar, you look terrified. If you need a minute, we’ll back off.” Though the option was offered to Chandar, it was also a warning for Danvier.

  “I’m sorry, songbird.” He took a step back, his breath escaping in a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m only upset because I don’t understand.” Her voice was shrill, eyes wide and tear bright. “Why would our mother kill our father?”

  “He was trying to protect us, trying to prevent what happened to you.” His tone grew choked and raw as he spoke the last phrase. “But he failed. We all failed and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  Emotions swirled around them, pulsing bet
ween the two harbingers like blasts of energy. “She’s had enough.” Indigo squeezed his arm to emphasize the point.

  “I can’t—” Chandar cried out sharply and pressed her head between her hands. “What is…” She swayed and Indigo rushed forward, steadying her.

  “Take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

  Chandar’s only reply was a forlorn moan. Her entire body began to tremble and her knees buckled. Danvier caught her half a second before she hit the deck. He didn’t seem nearly as terrified as Indigo felt, so she asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

  Without looking up from his sister’s pale face, Danvier explained, “She’s having a vision.”

  * * * * *

  “See anything you like?”

  Zilor turned his head as the scantily clad blonde sidled up on his right. A tightly cinched corset of blood-red synth-leather confined her waist and pushed her breasts well into view, while the matching lace thong did little to conceal her other assets. Fingerless gloves and platform boots added to her overblown persona. Was she one of the house Mistresses or just another customer?

  “I’m not here to play,” he stressed. “I have business with Lady M. The hostess told me to wait.”

  The female scoffed and gestured in the general direction of the front door. “Holly’s a bitch. She’s intentionally wasting your time. Lady M hasn’t been in for a couple of days now. No one is sure when she’ll be back.”

  Raising a hand to the back of his neck Zilor rubbed at the tension gathering there as he debated his options. He stood on a railed gallery, slightly elevated to offer better views of the main floor of Club Norax. His companion was definitely an employee. “Were you here the other day when they brought in the harbinger?” He intentionally left the question vague to test the accuracy of her reply.

  “That poor girl.” The blonde shook her head, clearly distressed by the memory. “I’ve been roughed up a time or two. It’s almost inevitable in places like this. But what they did to the harbinger was inexcusable.”

  Zilor thought of Chandar’s delicate form bruised and battered by her sadistic captors then let the resulting anger shape his expression. “I’m looking for the bastard who hurt her. Do you have any idea where I can find him?”

  The blonde paused for a jittery look around before responding. “Akim’s protected by the crown. No one screws with him.”

  “I’m not afraid of Quinton Keire. Can you at least point me in the right direction?”

  She grew even more agitated, nervously licking her lips. “You just missed him. He was in here last night.”

  Zilor muttered a curse under his breath.

  “He left with Lynn, but I doubt he’s still there. He’s not a hang around for brunch sort of customer.”

  At the very least, he could talk to Lynn and see if Akim said anything that might indicate his current location. “Where can I find Lynn?”

  “Akim’s one of her regulars.” The blonde shook her head hard enough to send her curls swishing across her bare shoulders. “She won’t tell you anything.”

  “I’d still like to speak with her. Where’d they go last night?”

  One of her shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “Her crib is a few blocks from here, Wanderlust complex, flat 6.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Milanni stood in the trees surrounding Vinton Tandori’s cabin and scanned for barriers both energy-based and mystic. She held her pulse pistol in front of her with both hands, unwilling to relax until she had a clearer picture of the situation. Jamestown was roughly fifteen miles northwest of Boulder, Colorado. A sleepy little town nestled in pine-tree-covered mountains. Her small shuttle circled above the tranquil setting, undetectable to human technology. Rodytes, however, could spot the small craft if they knew how to interpret the distortion created by the modulating shields. But Tandori Tribe had been moldering on Earth for generations, so she was relatively certain their technology would be antiquated.

  Drawing air in slowly through her nose, she waited for the atmospheric analysis to scroll across the right side of her vision. Any chemical traces or aberrant energy particles would be detected by her olfactory sensors. That was the beauty of integrated tech. Rather than risking the body rejecting a bunch of intrusive devises, recent advancements allowed them to harness biological systems and expand their original purpose. Now she could “smell” bombs and identify toxins. She could analyze the movement of soundwaves to “hear” the exact location of an object or person. And she could “see” perfectly in the dark thanks to the nanites attached to her retinas that could morph from rods into cones and vice versa.

  A dense energy field surrounded the cabin, primitive but effective. The easiest way to disable it was to find the power source and— For no apparent reason, the barrier just disappeared. Then the front door opened, and a large yellow dog came lumbering out into the grassy clearing in front of the cabin. Its floppy ears shifted and its black nose twitched as it scented the air. Milanni couldn’t help but notice the similarity to her own actions. The creature was analyzing its environment, likely sensing that something wasn’t quite right. The dog cocked its head then growled.

  She tucked her pulse pistol into the back of her pants and pulled her blouse down over the weapon. The dog had just provided her with an opening. She couldn’t bring herself to kill it. Still, she had no intention of being mauled by an over-protective pet, so she kept her weapon close.

  Walking toward the cabin with long, purposeful strides, she soon drew the dog’s attention. It barked, growled, then barked some more. The blinds concealing the front window swayed as Milanni went down to one knee and extended her hand toward the watchful dog.

  “Good, doggie. Give me a sniff. I’m not going to hurt you.” Right now. The dog sniffed her hand then growled, yet its tail was wagging. The irrational thing must be male.

  The front door opened and a tall, dark-haired man stood framed by the threshold. His hair was long, flowing well past his shoulders, unusual, but not suspicious. In faded jeans and a flannel shirt, he looked ordinary, possibly human. But why was he wearing sunglasses? The sky was overcast and hazy.

  “This is private property,” he insisted. “You need to leave.”

  Oh, he was the friendly sort. Wonderful. She stood and brushed off her jeans. The dog continued to sniff her, letting out an occasional whine. “I have a message for Vinton Tandori.”

  “Don’t know who that is.” His head snapped left then right, causing his long hair to sway. “How’d you get here?”

  There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, so this was likely her target. “Haven sent me.” She paused, allowing him to absorb the significance of the statement. “May I come inside? Your sister said the information is important.”

  He hesitated a moment longer then backed off the dog with a firm command and motioned Milanni toward the doorway.

  “My ship is circling your cabin,” she answered his earlier question once they were alone inside the cabin.

  After closing the door, he removed his sunglasses and set them on a table by the door. “But how did you get from the ship to the ground. If you’d landed, my sensor grid would have detected the disturbance.” Suspicion ignited his phitons, forming distinct purple circles around his pupils.

  His tech was obviously outdated and so was he if he didn’t even know about bio-streaming. The process had been in development for almost a decade before it was released. Was he completely isolated from other Rodytes? “I think you’re due for some upgrades.” She softened the observation with a friendly smile. She’d dressed casually in jeans and a semi-frilly blouse, suspecting that he’d respond better to Milanni than Lady M. She wasn’t willing to change her hair or hide her tattoos for anyone, so her appearance always retained a rebellious edge. “I can pass on the message if you like.”

  He didn’t offer her a drink or ask her to sit down. Apparently, he’d been playing hermit for a little too long or no one had ever taught him about common courtesy.
r />   “Who are you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze as piercing as his tone.

  “The name’s Milanni, though I’m sure that means nothing to you. I’m Haven’s primary contact on Earth. She’s the one who told me how to find this place.”

  “Why?” He shook his head, setting his hair to motion again. “I’ve got rebels stealing my women and an entire generation that no longer wants to play by the rules. I’m in no position to help Haven with anything.”

  Of course he’d presume that Haven needed help. Typical male arrogance. Rather than explain his mistake, she pulled the message out of her back pocket and handed it to him.

  Vinton shook out the folded paper then read the message. “How do I know this came from Haven? You could have emailed it to yourself.”

  “Who else knows where you live?”

  He crumpled up the paper and tossed it toward the fireplace. It bounced off the stone hearth and slid under the couch. What an asshole.

  “Tell Haven I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what she can do.”

  Milanni accepted the response with a stiff nod. He obviously didn’t trust her, but she refused to come all this way for a pointless conversation. “Did you hear about Javin?” If she presented her suspicions as facts, perhaps he’d confirm or refute them.

  “What about him?” Vinton’s sculpted features remained utterly expressionless.

  Damn. “Never mind.” She averted her gaze and put on her best little-girl-lost face. “If it wasn’t in the message, Haven might not be ready to share.”

  He took an aggressive step forward, snapping her attention back to him. “As it happens I know about Javin. But now I’m wondering if you do? I think you’re fishing for information.”