by Ivy Barrett
Reaching for his comlink, Drake prepared to call medassist.
“Don’t!” Ritter gritted out between clenched teeth. He’d opened his eyes, but his features remained tense and pale. “We can’t explain this without revealing her location.”
“I’ll protect her. You need help now!”
Miranda placed her hand on Drake’s shoulder and soothing warmth swept into his chest. “Let me see what I can do then we’ll work out a story.” Without further explanation, she covered Ritter’s eyes with one hand and his burned hand with the other.
Disbelief washed over Drake. They couldn’t expect him to kneel there uselessly while his partner died!
Drake’s heart lurched and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he watched Miranda. He couldn’t actually see the transfer, but he sensed energy stirring all around him. Her hands trembled and her lips moved in a soundless chant.
Ritter moaned and Drake leaned closer, afraid to speak, unwilling to distract her in any way. She eased her hold on Ritter’s hand, stroking his fingers until he unclenched his fist. An imprint of the scanner had been branded into his palm. Drake’s stomach tightened. He was sickened more by the excruciating pain Ritter must be feeling than the sight of charred flesh.
Over and over, she circled his hand, hovering above the wound. With growing amazement, Drake watched the flesh mend a bit more with each rotation. This couldn’t be real. Mystic healing had never been proved in a controlled environment. So how was it happening before his eyes?
She maintained the slow sweeping circles until Ritter’s palm was barely pink then she focused on his eyes.
Time passed. Minutes, hours, Drake wasn’t sure. Perspiration dotted her brow and her lips parted with each ragged gasp. She shuddered and swayed. Drake instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her against his side.
With a muffled groan, she turned into his embrace and whispered, “I’ve done all I can.”
Drake lifted Miranda into his arms and she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. Healing wasn’t her primary gift. It was always exhausting when she channeled so much energy into one of her lesser abilities. She shifted, undeniably aware of his strong arms and the sculpted chest pressed against her side. He carried her to the bed and carefully placed her on top of the dingy bedspread.
“Are you all right?” He brushed her hair back from her face, his gaze searching her features with concern and curiosity.
She didn’t need to touch his mind to interpret that expression. He enjoyed her physical attributes, yet the stubborn set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his leaf-green eyes revealed his resistance to what he’d just seen. How typical. Ritter was the only enforcer she’d met who was worth the effort it took to maintain a conversation.
“I’ll be fine.” She sat up, trying to decrease her contact with the grungy bedding. “Just give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need.” His gaze darted to Ritter then located the mangled scanner in the far corner of the room.
An intriguing undertone in his fresh, spicy scent lingered in her nose. Soap, shampoo and a hint of aftershave mixed with something dark and evocative. Was it possible he had latent abilities? He certainly smelled like magic.
Though rugged and unabashedly masculine, his features were symmetrical and appealing. His dark hair had a tendency to curl, despite his obvious effort to tame it. He was probably annoyed by his physical appearance. A handsome face and tall, broad-shouldered body would make it harder to blend into a crowd. Enforcers liked to remain unnoticed until they were ready to strike.
As he glanced again at Ritter, Drake’s expression tensed. “Why hasn’t he stirred?”
“He will. The pulse momentarily overloaded his brain, but I sensed no permanent damage.”
“I still think he should be examined by a doctor.”
She arched her brow as their gazes clashed. “Don’t you mean another doctor?” His skepticism was so common she tried not to take offense. “Nothing I learned in medical school would have helped him as quickly or allowed him to heal as completely as the energy transfer you just witnessed.”
“I’ve never met a legitimate psychic healer before. That was pretty amazing.” Every word was spoken with obvious reluctance.
Ritter groaned and struggled to a sitting position. He took one look at them and shook his head. “Couldn’t you have waited until I left the room?”
Drake ambled across the floor, presenting Miranda with an intriguing view of his dramatically tapered back and tight butt.
“How do you feel?” Drake asked his partner.
“Like I got shot in the head with a stun blast.” He flexed his nearly healed fingers and looked at Miranda. “That scanner cooked my hand. Did you do this?”
“I tried.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand. Her wobbly legs refused to support her, so she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not technically a healer.” Drake’s startled expression made her smile.
“What are you—technically?” he asked.
“Whatever the situation requires.” The Perrlain Tribe was big into labels and inflexible traditions. She refused to be quantified.
Accepting her ambiguous answer with a distracted nod, Drake turned back to Ritter. “Did you get any useful readings before the ring attacked your toy?”
“There’s nothing inorganic in the ring.” Drake helped Ritter to his feet and Ritter rubbed his temples, much as Miranda had done after her contact with the ring. “My brain was flooded with images. The transfer was so fast it was little more than a sickening blur.” His dark gaze settled on Miranda with a combination of regret and expectation. “You can’t hide from this, Miranda. Who gave you the ring and what did you see when you scanned it?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, she accepted the truth in his statement. She’d known her career was over when she contacted him. No, her career was over when she stumbled into the middle of this power struggle. She’d obviously learned something she wasn’t supposed to know. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t sure what that something was or who didn’t want her to know it.
“The ring belongs to Nicay Testalanti.” The men exchanged uneasy glances. They obviously knew the name. No surprise there, everyone in New Shardrake had heard of the Testalanti brothers. “I have no idea who rigged it to blast energy like that.” She pushed to her feet and took a step toward Ritter as guilt twisted through her abdomen. “I honestly thought it had fully discharged or I never would have given it to you.”
“It’s not your fault and you repaired the damage.” Ritter closed the distance between them and gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Were you able to manage the images?”
“That’s surprisingly hard to explain.” She glanced at Drake. Everything would have been easier if Ritter had come alone. She slipped her hands back into the pockets of her coat as she debated how much to say.
“You can trust him,” Ritter told her. “He covers my back on a daily basis.”
She didn’t really have a choice. She’d witnessed at least one murder and suspected she’d seen the faces of a whole lot more. “Aysha gave me the ring. She was afraid something had happened to Nicay.”
“If her husband is missing, how did she get the ring?” Drake asked, confirming Miranda’s conclusion that he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of Testalanti family dynamics.
“She told me he’d left it for her to find. That’s why I expected to encounter images either proving her suspicions or indicating what had happened to Nicay.”
“I don’t understand how all this works,” Drake said. “Did Aysha know what you’d see when you scanned the ring?”
“My gift allows me to relive memories. Aysha knew I’d see what happened to Nicay the last time he wore the ring.” With a frustrated sigh, Miranda finger combed her hair out of her eyes. “I doubt she realized what I’d see.”
“What did you see?” Drake prompted, a tinge of impatience sharpening his tone.<
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“I saw Aysha having sex with her lover.”
“How would that image have ended up imprinted on the ring?” Ritter asked.
“Nicay must have caught them in the act.” Drake looked at Miranda for confirmation.
She nodded. “Nicay definitely saw them. The memory’s perspective confirmed that much. I think the other man realized Nicay was watching, but I’m not sure about Aysha.”
“Why would Aysha have intentionally exposed herself by asking you to scan the ring?” Ritter flexed his fingers, his expression distant and thoughtful.
Miranda tried not to remember all the ways Aysha had exposed herself. “It’s possible I wasn’t meant to survive the scan.”
“Why would anyone want you dead?” Ritter shook his head, clearly upset by the possibility.
“Can you identify Aysha’s lover?” Drake asked.
His gaze settled on her face and awareness wash over her. She’d never seen eyes quite like his before, dark green, yet brilliantly reflective and far more expressive than he realized. “I’d recognize him if I saw him again. I can go through profiles or whatever. I’m as curious to know who he is as you are, but we need to understand what happened with the ring. If there is no technological device, then the pulse was psychic. I can’t think of anyone in New Shardrake who has that sort of power.”
Ritter reached for her hand, dragging it out of her coat pocket. “Did you see more than Aysha and her lover? As the pulse blasted into my brain, I saw terrified faces and… Most of the images I saw were violent.”
Shuddering, Miranda nodded. “I saw those images too.”
“And you think Nicay was involved in what you saw?” Drake crossed his arms over his chest, a hint of suspicion lingering in his eyes. “I have no doubt he’s a thief and a conman, but none of our intel indicates he’s violent.”
“It’s complicated,” Miranda told him. “All I can verify is that at some point Nicay was exposed to the images imprinted on the ring.”
“If Nicay was wearing the ring,” Drake put in as his disbelief gathered momentum.
His point was valid, but his attitude annoyed her. “Nicay could have committed the murders, witnessed them or simply seen the victims on the infostream. Take your skepticism a step further, and you could argue that everything I saw was nothing more than the memory of an entertainment vid or simulation.”
“Your instincts are impeccable,” Ritter countered with equal conviction. “What do you think—”
“It doesn’t matter what any of us think,” Drake insisted. “It matters what we can prove.”
Unable to suppress the impulse, Miranda wrapped her fingers around Drake’s wrist and sent clear memory segments stabbing into his mind. He gasped and tugged against her hold. His head rocked back and his eyes squeezed shut as she reinforced the connection.
“Miranda.” Ritter placed his hand on her shoulder and warning snapped in his tone. She released Drake’s wrist and he stumbled back a step, shaking his head. “You know better than that. Mental links of any kind must be consensual.”
“Yes sir.” She put sarcastic emphasis on the title. “I just didn’t feel like arguing with him for the rest of the night.”
“Do you have any idea what you just showed me?” Drake’s voice sounded strained and disbelieving.
She’d sent him flashes of the sex scene, and the one clear murder in its entirety. “I thought this might be important. Why do you think I contacted Ritter?” Each volley brought them closer until they stood toe to toe.
Stepping between them, Ritter smoothly backed them off. “Stop sparring long enough to tell me what’s going on.” He looked at Drake and asked, “What did she show you?”
Chapter Three
Still rattled from the rude intrusion into his consciousness, it took Drake a moment to answer. “Aysha’s lover is Kwinton Rizaria.”
“Holy mother of God,” Ritter muttered. “Are you sure?”
Drake’s laugh was sharp and abrupt. “This is your area of expertise. I deal in cold, hard facts.”
“What exactly did you show him?”
He’d posed the question to Miranda, but Drake replied, “Kwinton Rizaria had Aysha Testalanti bent over his desk. Do I need to be more specific? Then he used an equalizer to brain fry a blond man. I’m not sure who the vic was, but I know I’ve seen him before.”
“Are you sure it was Kwinton?” Ritter persisted.
“Who is Kwinton Rizaria?” Miranda asked.
Drake just shook his head. She had no idea what she’d stumbled into.
“We suspect he’s Nicay’s boss,” Ritter explained, “but we’ve been unable to substantiate a connection. We have plenty of circumstantial evidence linking Nicay’s older brother Cephus with Kwinton. Unfortunately, these guys know how to cover their tracks. I’d hoped Nicay hadn’t followed in his brother’s footsteps. It looks like my hopes were in vain.”
“I tend to be more realistic than my partner,” Drake said. “There was never any doubt in my mind that they both work for Kwinton. Nicay is the brains and Cephus is the brawn.”
“I’m not sure that answered my question. If the Testalanti brothers work for Kwinton, what do they do?”
Drake knew he was jaded. Suspicion and mistrust were occupational hazards. Still, sharing information with Miranda was inevitable if they were going to work together. “On the surface, Rizaria is a shrewd businessman with a wide range of interests. Beneath his semi-legitimate façade, however, is a labyrinth of crime and corruption encompassing everything from narcotics to trafficking infants.”
“Why hasn’t he been arrested if you know he’s a criminal?”
“Because what we know and what we can prove are two different things. He’s smart, he’s careful and he knows how to work the system.”
“And anyone who opposes him has a way of disappearing before we can convince them to cooperate,” Ritter added.
“I’ve worked this case longer than anyone else.” Drake stepped up beside Ritter, trying to make each movement nonthreatening. He couldn’t afford to spook her now. If the rest of the images in Miranda’s mind were as damning as the glimpse she’d given him, she might possess enough information to build some much-needed momentum. “Can you show me the other faces?”
“It’s a wonderful idea, but she can’t do it here. Miranda’s safety has to be our top priority.”
Drake began to pace as he often did when he was anxious. He raked his hair with his hand and looked at Ritter. “How much does admin know about your other duties?”
“About as much as you did before tonight. The other enforcers think I’m a joke, and it suits my purpose to let them dismiss me. Admin has been told to back off by someone they can’t afford to ignore.”
“How widespread is your support system? What is Prefect VinDerley’s interest in mystics?”
Ritter averted his gaze and said, “I can’t tell you any more than you’ve learned tonight. I’ll request a clearance waiver, but for now you’ll have to trust me.” While Drake absorbed the implications of that statement, Ritter turned to Miranda. “The only way to keep you safe is to let them think the ring worked. That will take some time to arrange. Is there anywhere you can go until we have a better understanding of what’s going on here?”
“Can’t I just check into a hotel?”
“This is the sort of hotel that doesn’t require identification.” Ritter motioned to the room surrounding them. “Do you want to stay here?”
“I know where we can take her,” Drake grumbled.
“We can’t take her anywhere. My connection with mystics makes me a liability. You have to disappear with her until the news of her death is spread throughout New Shardrake.”
“Are you okay with that?” he asked Miranda.
One of her eyebrows arched and she tightened the belt around her waist. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Glad to hear it, because I want you to show me every image that r
ing left inside your brain. Maybe together we can figure out what it all means.”
“Why don’t we take a walk,” Ritter said.
Understanding the subtle command in Ritter’s suggestion, Drake followed him out into the cool spring night. They crossed the shuttle lot and entered the cruiser before Ritter spoke again.
“Are you going to take her to your brother’s place?”
“Reluctantly. Jericho and I might not see eye to eye on a lot of things but he understands discretion and security.”
Ritter nodded, yet his gaze remained troubled. “Did Miranda lose consciousness while she healed me?”
“She went weak and shaky, but she never actually passed out. Why do you ask?”
He started to speak then looked off into the distance.
“If I’m going to protect her, I need to understand what I’m up against and what she needs.” Although Drake understood Ritter’s caution, it didn’t keep him from being annoyed. Didn’t six years of partnership count for anything?
“When a mystic’s energy stores are depleted, the most effective way to restore their levels is to siphon energy from those around them.”
“What if no one around them has psychic energy?”
“Everyone has psychic energy, most just have no idea how to access or control it.”
Drake wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, so he asked, “What does this have to do with Miranda?”
“She has always been reluctant to ‘feed’ off others without their knowledge and consent, swears she won’t live like a vampire.”
“Then how does she rebuild her energy stores?”
“Usually food and time is all she needs. When that’s not the case, she asks another mystic to infuse her.” Ritter met his gaze before he continued. “If you take her into hiding, she won’t have access to other mystics and the memory transfers you have in mind can be very taxing.”
“What’s the alternative to mystic infusion?”