Unique Ink

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Can a person literally die of boredom?” she whispered to the ceiling.

  She’d already counted the tiles twice and paced off the room over and over. There was nothing to look at, nothing to occupy her mind except useless speculation and an ongoing barrage of emotions. Her mental thrill ride started off with paralyzing fear. She’d been sure every sound in the hallway was Elias returning to ring her neck. Lord knows he was big enough to do it without breaking a sweat. But none of these men had harmed her since this nightmare began. In fact, Odintar had taken time out to ease her pain and Lor had been surprisingly diplomatic.

  Gradually anger burned off the fear and anxiety required motion. She hadn’t done anything wrong. They had no right to lock her up like a criminal! She prowled the tiny room, sitting, pacing, then pounding on the door again and yelling for attention.

  No one came.

  It took at least an hour for her temper to burn itself out. They obviously didn’t give a damn or she wouldn’t be locked in a cell. That was when depression and self-pity took over. She’d cried, cursed, then cried some more. Her life was a long series of unfortunate tragedies, one bizarre situation after another, and the only common denominator was her.

  She’d never tolerated useless emotions, so the woe-is-me phase didn’t last long. She needed information and she obviously wasn’t going to get it if she continued to provoke her captors. She had no idea what they thought she knew or how long they intend to keep her, but cooperation made more sense than continuing to indulge her rebellious impulses.

  The electronic lock popped, drawing her attention to the door. Then she heard the subtle scrape of a mechanical lock as well. Redundant safeguards. How comforting.

  She didn’t bother getting up. Instead she folded her hands behind her head and crossed her feet at the ankle.

  Elias strolled into the cell and rewarded her with a startled expression. “You look—comfortable.”

  “I’d been standing on my head, but my arms got tired.” Even upside down the man was easy on the eyes. Was that part of the strategy? Did they send gorgeous women to interrogate heterosexual men? Or was physical beauty a prerequisite for their organization. She hadn’t seen an ugly person yet.

  He sat several large foil packets on the table as well as a basic takeout carton. “I’ve come to barter.”

  “Really?” She swung her legs down and to the side, rotating her body until she sat on the edge of the bunk more or less facing him. “The only thing I want is out of here. Is that what we’re bartering for?”

  “One step at a time, Miss Impatience.” His tone was almost playful. What happened to the drill sergeant who’d questioned her before? She wasn’t sure which Elias she found more unnerving. “How about we barter for dinner?”

  “Dinner? What happened to lunch?” She’d attributed the tightness in her stomach to stress rather than hunger. It seemed like he’d been gone for hours, but time always passed slowly when there was nothing to do. “What time is it?”

  “A little after four, so we’re early for dinner or late for lunch. Take your pick.”

  She looked at the assortment of packages on the table and then at her captor. “What are my options?”

  “Well, these are MREs, standard field rations. They really have to be experienced to be believed. And this…” He motioned toward the takeout container. “Is a flame-broiled hamburger from a local sports bar with lightly seasoned, hand-cut home fries.”

  She started to say she was vegan, then realized she only punished herself with the claim. “And what do I have to do to earn the burger?”

  “Call Jett and let him know you’re fine and we’re taking good care of you.”

  She laughed at the absurd suggestion. “But my mother taught me not to lie.”

  “He’s worried about you and the call’s already late. There’s no reason for him to think the worst when you can—”

  “What did he threaten to do? Post a notice on social media that I’d been kidnapped by spooks?” Jett could be fiercely protective when someone he cared about was threatened. It was one of the things she liked most about her unconventional friend.

  “Something like that.” Elias swiveled one of the chairs and sat, motioning toward the other. “Call him so you can eat while we have a civilized conversation.”

  The smell of the food was making her mouth water and all her stubbornness had earned her was a five-hour time-out. Besides, Jett was a worrier. If he’d been suspicious of their cover story from the beginning, he’d be frantic by now.

  “He has no way of locating you. Even if he calls the most tenacious reporter on the planet, he’ll just make himself look foolish.”

  “He threatened to call the media?” She chuckled. “Go Jett.”

  “Do you want him to be ridiculed and investigated? Good reporters do background assessments on witnesses before they pursue a lead.”

  She tensed at the subtle slur. Tattoos were becoming more and more mainstream, but the stereotype managed to linger. “Jett dyes his hair and is covered in tattoos so he must have a criminal record?” She sat down across from him and picked up one of the field ration packets. She’d heard horror stories about them, but she was still tempted to defy this pompous jerk. Sweeping generalizations always pissed her off.

  “I don’t want to argue with you and I didn’t mean to insult your friend.” He slid the takeout container closer, torturing her with the appetizing smell. “Make the call.”

  Elias might have annoyed her with his approach, but he was right. Jett didn’t have a hope in hell of finding her and no one would believe him if he tried to go public with the story. She’d already put Jett and Tess in danger with her decision to work for Sevrin. Roxie would not let him pay the price for her willfulness.

  “Fine.” She huffed. “But this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

  He handed her a compact tablet computer as he came around to her side of the table. “We had to use the satellite network. There are no phone signals down here.”

  “Down here?” She arched her brow at him, but he just shook his head. Were they underground?

  “He’s expecting a video call, and I’m expecting you to behave.”

  “Silly you.” She took the tablet from his hand, trying to ignore how intimidating he was at close range. She was tall for a woman, but he seemed to suck all the space out of the room. She woke up the computer with a swipe of her thumb and found the video call programed and ready to launch. “How did you get his number?” Jett wasn’t even his real name.

  A ghost of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Isn’t that what spooks do?”

  Probably the internet, she tried to convince herself as she activated the call.

  Jett’s image came onscreen after the first ring. “Thank God! I don’t usually answer blocked numbers, but I thought it might be you.”

  “A little birdy told me you’re being a mother hen, as usual.” She hoped her smile was convincing and her hand didn’t shake too much. There really was no reason for Jett to be stressed out by her misfortune. And the less he knew about all of this, the safer he’d be.

  “Jillian promised she’d make this happen, but the two-hour window came and went and I still hadn’t heard from you.”

  “They had to finish their tests before they could release me from quarantine.”

  “Quarantine?” Disbelief raised his voice half an octave. “What sort of weapon did he fire on us?”

  “They weren’t sure. That’s why they’re being so careful.”

  “But if it might have been contagious, shouldn’t they have quarantined me too?”

  She forced herself to snicker. “Feeling left out? You felt fine when you woke up, so I guess they knew you didn’t have it.” She paused for an elaborate shrug. “I don’t know. It was a toxin not a pathogen, so we’re both going to be find.”

  “I’ve been worried sick.” And he looked it. His hair was a spiky mess and his makeup was smeared. Not like Jett at all.

&nbs
p; “Well, I’ve been just plain sick. Nazerel’s new toy did a number on my head. As I said, they’ve ruled out anything contagious, but they want to run more tests. They want to make sure nothing got scrambled in there. Lord knows I don’t have any brain cells to spare.”

  “Yeah right.” He finally smiled. “You’re easily the smartest person I know. When will they release you for good? Do you need a ride home?”

  “I’m not sure. It depends on the tests. And they’ll deliver me safe and sound to my front door or they’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” His gaze narrowed as he studied her face.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now stop worrying about me. That’s an order.” He reluctantly agreed and Roxie ended the call.

  “Nicely done.” Elias took the tablet back and moved the takeout container in front of her.

  She opened the container and inhaled. Her stomach growled so loud it made her blush. “You’d think I hadn’t eaten in days not hours.”

  Elias returned to his side of the table and sat. “Now for the civilized conversation.”

  After setting aside the top bun, she picked up a ketchup packet. “Does that mean you’ll finally answer my questions?” The food was still hot. He’d either microwaved it before he walked in or they weren’t as secluded as she’d presumed.

  Or he knew someone who could teleport.

  She sighed. Elias really was her only hope for understanding any of this. She’d been desperate for answers ever since Sevrin walked into Unique Ink. It had been obvious from the start that something was off with Sevrin. It had been equally obvious that Sevrin had zero interest in explaining what was really going on. This was as close to understanding as Roxie had come and she couldn’t afford to squander the opportunity.

  “How many of the men did you tattoo?” His voice was deep and assertive without seeming confrontational.

  “Ten or eleven. I’d have to check my records.” She covered the burger with ketchup then replaced the bun. She was hungry, but she was also glad to have something to do with her hands. Something about Elias made her nervous. No, not nervous exactly, more like restless.

  So much of her life had been filled with uncertainty and danger that an image had formed in her dreams, a strong, heroic man capable of vanquishing her enemies and protecting her from anything that even tried to upset her. As she grew older, and more lonely, her dream protector became something more, an aggressive lover capable of driving reality away with the force of his desire for her and only her. She never really saw his face, but he had a body just like Elias.

  “And you never saw any of them outside the shop.” His rumbling voice drew her back to reality.

  She froze with the hamburger halfway to her mouth. “I thought we had that much settled. I’m not their girlfriend. They didn’t pass me around like a communal toy. I gave them tattoos. That’s all.”

  “Do you have phone numbers for any of them?”

  “Half of them didn’t bother with names.” She quickly took a bite before his questions dried up her appetite.

  He rubbed his jaw, obviously lost in thought. His eyes appeared particularly green as he stared through her. He was being almost friendly at the moment and still he was imposing. She dragged her gaze away from his rugged face and tried to concentrate on her food, but his image lingered in the back of her mind.

  “You seem convinced that they’ve left town,” he digressed. “Did they give you any idea where they were going?”

  “No. And why are you fixated on the men? It was pretty obvious to me that Sevrin is their leader.”

  He shifted on the metal chair as his gaze moved over her face. “She’s more familiar with Earth, so the men depend on her. But it’s unlikely that any of them consider her their leader.”

  “If you say so.” She took another bite and closed her eyes as she chewed. Ground beef had never tasted so amazing.

  “Do you have any water left? I forgot to grab you a beverage.”

  She opened her eyes and wiped her mouth with the paper napkin that had been tucked inside the takeout container. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He stood and smiled down at her. “All ya have ta do is keep talkin’ ta me.” The Texas twang was back and it was a lethal combination with that sexy smile.

  The jerk could actually be charming when he wasn’t trying to be such a hard-ass. She’d finished the hamburger by the time he returned, but she was happily munching on the fries. He set down a large mug of steaming coffee and a pile of cream and sugar packets. He’d even remembered to grab a stir stick.

  For half a second she pictured throwing the coffee in his face. It was as close to a weapon as she was likely to come. She shook away the notion. He’d be pissed off and she’d still be locked inside this room.

  He chuckled. “Contemplating mischief?”

  “Malicious mischief is more like it, but I talked myself out of it.”

  “Glad to hear it. We were getting along so well.”

  If he was willing to indulge her, she had all sorts of questions. “Who are these guys and why are they on Earth?”

  “They’re called Shadow Assassins. They consider themselves political refugees. We consider them fugitives.”

  “I had them pegged as foreign mercenaries. I just didn’t realize how foreign.” She added cream and sugar to the coffee then picked up the mug. “Are they wanted for specific crimes, or just being assassins in general?”

  He hesitated, his gaze narrowed and bright. “Everything I’m about to tell you is classified. You can’t tell Jett or anyone else. If you don’t agree to this stipulation, we’ll go back to our earlier dynamic.”

  “One-sided interrogation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Obviously, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” As with Jett, no one would believe her if she started spreading tales about aliens and the secret government organization trying to apprehend them. She wasn’t sure she believed it herself. Well, they were obviously aliens; no human could do what they did. But the rest was still an undefined conflict into which she’d stumbled.

  “The Shadow Assassins operated on a planet called Ontariese until six or seven months ago. They were a closed society populated entirely of men. They enslaved their members with a combination of intimidation, logistics, and ritual beliefs.”

  “Like a cult?”

  “More like a private army that had been brainwashed into obedience. The generation who was liberated from the Shadow Maze had all been born there. They knew no other way of life, had nothing with which to compare their Sacred Customs.” He emphasized the last phrase with finger quotes.

  “They literally lived underground?”

  He nodded. “Those who couldn’t teleport were prisoners of their own society.”

  “And those who could teleport? Like Nazerel. Were they allowed to leave whenever they wanted?” She couldn’t even imagine what it would have been like to live without sunshine and rain-washed breezes.

  “It’s complicated and few of the specifics affect the current situation. Let’s stay focused on the present.”

  “Fine by me.” She hadn’t meant the phrase to sound as snotty as it had sounded. His meandering explanation was just feeding her anxiety.

  “Their way of life was no longer tolerated on Ontariese, so a small group of the Shadow Assassins came to Earth. We don’t know when they connected with Sevrin or who contacted whom, but they’re obviously working together now.”

  “Tell me about Sevrin.” She pushed aside what remained of the fries, more than ready for this topic. Learning that the men were part of some bizarre secret society didn’t seem real or particularly relevant. Her interaction with each of them had been superficial. Sevrin, on the other hand, had been terrifying. It would be a relief to know anything about her. “Is she from Ontariese like her men?”

  “She’s from Rodymia. There are three inhabited planets i
n their star system, Ontariese, Bilarri and Rodymia. The inhabitants of Rodymia are known as Rodytes and the current planetary ruler is Sevrin’s uncle.”

  The revelation didn’t surprise Roxie. Sevrin emanated power like no one Roxie had ever met, except for maybe Nazerel. “Oh my God, does that mean she has diplomatic immunity?”

  He shook his head. “That only works when diplomats are in our country with our permission. She’s an illegal alien in the truest sense of the word. However, no one is in a hurry to piss off a race of people more technologically advanced than our own. With one transmission to Uncle Quentin, she could summon a Rodyte army. We really don’t want it to come to that.”

  Hungry for overall understanding, she didn’t allow herself to pause over the details. She’d analyze the implications once she saw how all the pieces fit together. “You said Sevrin and the Shadow Assassins are working together. What are they trying to accomplish?”

  “Shadow Assassins have abilities similar to Lor or Odintar. Sevrin is working on a way of transferring those powers to people who were born without them.”

  “Seriously?” He inclined his head, obviously expecting her disbelief. “You said she’s ‘working on a way’ to do it. Does that mean she hasn’t done it yet?”

  “To our knowledge, none of her attempts have been successful—yet.”

  “Well, that’s good at least.” Her mind went blank, objecting to the rapid saturation of unbelievable facts. Aliens from two different planets were on Earth trying to create more beings like Lor and Odintar. She shivered. And what would they do when and if they achieved their goal? How would they use those superhuman abilities? “You said the Shadow Assassins already have magic powers. What do they gain by helping Sevrin?”

  “They want mates with powers equal to their own, which in turn will increase the chances that their offspring will also be able to manipulate magic. As it is now, only a small percentage of their children end up with abilities.”

  He spoke of magic powers as if they were nothing special, nothing she should have a problem accepting. She couldn’t deny what she’d experienced firsthand, but it was still hard as hell to digest. “The women on Ontariese can’t manipulate magic?”