Sleight of Hand: Book Three: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  “What is it?” Vael asked, opening his eyes.

  “I can’t sit any longer. I’ll be back,” Jaered said.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Just what you’re doing,” Jaered tossed over his shoulder. He followed the curvature of the tunnel until Vael was out of sight then turned on the ball of his foot and paced within the narrow confines. He’d forgotten to bring the flashlight and didn’t trust tripping the alarm if he wandered too far away. Pent-up energy fueled his limbs and his steps picked up speed, but soon built into a frenzy. About to explode, Jaered spun around and rammed his fist against the dirt wall. Between throbs he focused on the pain, the only thing that kept Kyre’s memories at bay.

  A few minutes later, Jaered returned to his spot and plopped down.

  Vael kept his attention riveted on Jaered’s bloody knuckles. “Thanks for not taking that out on me.”

  The corner of Jaered’s mouth twitched. “I’ve been tempted.”

  “I used to drive my mom nuts. She said if she could survive my,” Vael made quote marks in the air, “‘why-stage’ of development, then she could survive anything.”

  Jaered pressed his back against the wall. “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

  “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the fact that the Primary’s hundreds—”

  “Thousands,” Jaered corrected.

  “Goddamn, frickin’, blow-my-mind old,” Vael said. “Everything I was raised to believe, my dad, my grandfather and countless other ancestors . . . we were fed nothing but lies. That’s a lot to swallow, Jaered.” Vael paused. “Is my dad in danger?”

  “If he learns that the Primary rewrote Weir lore, then the answer would be, yeah.”

  “But the Primary, my dad, and the Syndrion, they’ve done a lot of good. Their conservation projects have spanned the globe for decades.” Vael caught himself. “Probably longer.”

  “The man has a dark side, Vael.”

  “How dark?”

  “He has his elite guard hunt down anyone who won’t follow his agenda. If the unlucky soul is a shyftor, they’re murdered. The others are displaced. The remaining few who get away hide among the billions of people on Earth. The Primary refers to them as—”

  “Duach,” Vael said. “But they’re evil.”

  “That’s what he would have the Pur believe to keep everyone separated.” Swelling had transformed the throbs in Jaered’s hand to a pounding ache. He cradled it under his arm.

  “What do you mean, displaced?”

  “I’ve spent much of my adult life helping Thraens escape our dying planet, while at the same time, your Primary has condemned his enemies from Earth, to live there.”

  Vael’s lips parted with an audible breath. He didn’t inhale.

  “Your Primary secretly defies his own law and parashyfts his enemies to Thrae.”

  {17}

  At the sound of voices and commotion, Rayne ran to the balcony. A young woman, not much older than her, stood between Tara and Milo. The old caretaker had a firm hand on the woman’s upper arm. She bumped into the foyer table, knocking the silver platter on the floor. Several, tinny wobbles later, it came to a rest.

  “Let go of me!” she shouted.

  “Joule, please calm down,” Tara said.

  “I demanded that you leave my research site. How did I end up in that equation?”

  “What’s going on?” Rayne asked.

  The girl locked a hateful glare on Rayne. “Was kidnapping me your idea?”

  “You kidnapped her?” Rayne quickly descended the stairs.

  “How’s Ian?” Tara and Milo asked in unison.

  “His core temperature was at three hundred twenty degrees the last we checked,” Rayne said.

  “Whoa.” The young woman stilled. “That’s way too hot. His body won’t be able to tolerate that kind of heat.” When her temper didn’t rear its head again, Milo let go of her arm.

  “That’s why we needed you,” Tara said. “But you wouldn’t let me explain.”

  “Since you and Ian showed up at our site, my life went from near perfect to fucked in a nanosecond. My dad’s work has been destroyed, he’s missing, and asshole marauders raided our site and stole most of our equipment. They sent four of my team to the hospital, including my assistant. They got away with my laptop and all my research notes.” At her pause, Rayne wondered if it was to take a breath, or to gear up for round two. “Who did you tell about our experiments?” Joule demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Milo said.

  “It’s as if someone deliberately shut us down,” Joule said.

  “It didn’t come from us,” Tara said. “We never really trusted you.”

  Joule thrust out her chin. “Then why kidnap me?”

  “Because Ian is dying,” Rayne snapped. The young woman quieted. “Armageddon is about to rain down on us all.”

  “Literally.” Milo grunted. “Thanks to your experiments.”

  Joule shook her head. “It couldn’t have been a result of our tests.”

  “He was ambushed soon after we returned,” Tara said. “Whoever it was, injected him with nanites. Whatever they’re doing, it’s elevating his core temperature.”

  “That’s not my area of expertise,” Joule said. “My father worked with the other core doctors and scientists, not me.”

  “But you live and breathe electricity. We’re going to drain Ian’s core—”

  Panic widened her eyes. “That’ll kill him for sure.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them,” Milo said and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Ian retains oxygen as efficiently as amphibians,” Dr. Mac said from the balcony. “After his core drains, his oxygen reserves will feed his brain and major organs for up to five minutes, probably longer. We may be able to gain a few more if we can successfully lower his body temperature below ninety degrees.”

  “How?” Rayne asked.

  “I’m thinking liquid nitrogen,” Dr. Mac said.

  “Even if you could drain his core, how did you plan on restarting it?” Joule climbed a few stairs then turned and sat down. “It would take a tremendous amount of energy. A standard defibrillator would be no more than a tickle.” The girl had morphed from an off-her-meds psych-ward inmate to an intrigued scientist before Rayne’s eyes.

  “We’re counting on you having some knowledge of your father’s exedrae designs,” Dr. Mac said. “I still have copies of his original blueprints. With your help, we may be able to modify the Heir’s boost, to no longer draw minerals and proteins, but to pull and trap energy from lightning.“

  Tara took a couple of steps toward Joule. “If the Prophecy holds true, the storm that Ian’s death unleashes will be unbelievably violent.”

  “We intend to use that to our advantage, and bring his core back to life,” Dr. Mac said.

  “Like Frankenstein’s monster,” Milo snarled. “And look how that ended up.”

  Joule stood. “If I help you with this, you’ve got to help me. I need to know what happened to my father.”

  “Deal,” Tara said.

  Dr. Mac, Joule and Tara gathered in Ian’s bedroom. They slid his mattress back, unscrewed the panels and exposed the guts that made up his boost. Tara asked a barrage of questions while they dismantled much of it. Some, Joule patiently answered, while others caused her to become animated and slide into mini lectures. Every time she asked, Dr. Mac and Tara skirted the topic about draining Ian’s core.

  From comments Joule made, it was obvious to Rayne that the young woman had a complicated relationship with her father. Her admiration for his brilliant designs and discoveries about the natural world seemed to eclipse an emotional disconnect. Rayne wondered if her father cared more for his science than for his family. The topic scraped open old wounds of her own.

  She left them to their work and returned to the guest bedroom. Patrick sat on the closed toilet, keeping vigil while Saxon slumbered on the rug.

  Ian’s
skin had turned translucent. Arteries ran the course of his body, branching out into lesser capillaries, a vast river system that nurtured muscles and bone. Sometime earlier, Dr. Mac had placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Rayne wondered if it was to help build up his reserves in preparation for the event, or if his vitals were fading faster than the old doctor would admit.

  “Not much longer, one way or the other.” Patrick looked like he’d awakened after an all-night frat party.

  Rayne gazed at her hands. “I don’t know if I have what it takes to do this.”

  “You’re saving more than just Ian, Rayne,” he said.

  “Am I? There’s no guarantee that this will work. Not only could I end up murdering Ian, but billions of people.”

  “It’s going to work. It has to,” Patrick said.

  “Let’s say it does, and they revive him.” She pressed a fist to her chest. “I’m the result of a science experiment that didn’t turn out the way it was supposed to!” She dialed back her anger, grabbed Patrick’s arm and pulled him out of the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. She then closed the bedroom door leading to the hall. Rayne glanced in the direction of the bathroom, and lowered her voice. “Jaered told you that Ian was the first successful artificial core. If that is true, when he wakes up, will he still have his powers?” She gulped, but the constriction in her throat remained, making it difficult to swallow her emotions along with her words. “If by some miracle he survives this, will Ian be the same?”

  {18}

  Rayne stood at the foot of the configured boost and stared at an opened flower with massive steel-gray petals, that waited to cradle a dying Ian. Gone were the standard comforts of Ian’s bedroom, giving it the appearance of a science lab, instead of a place of retreat. They’d left Ian’s mattress upended and resting against the wall. His pillows were stacked next to it. Joule had opened the door leading to the balcony, and gusts of rain swept into the room while she secured a lightning rod at the edge of the patio. The thunder had grown deafening, and the winds were at hurricane intensity. Rayne grabbed the bedpost to stay steady on her feet.

  Milo had received a couple of messages from Marcus, inquiring about the Heir’s well-being. The old caretaker responded that he was fine, just exhausted. They kept the estate’s security jam to maximum so no one could make a surprise appearance. If anyone tried to shyft there, they’d have to use the two outlying vortex fields—and be faced with a very soggy and tedious journey.

  Dr. Mac stepped up next to her. “Are you ready?”

  She closed her eyes. “Promise me he’ll live through this.”

  Dr. Mac glanced in the direction of the master bedroom door. The others were in the east wing with Ian, and yet, he lowered his voice. Rayne had to strain to hear him. “I wouldn’t ask this of you if we had any options left.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any,” Rayne shouted over the thunder.

  “Only through sacrifice will others live,” he said. “For the greater good.”

  Rayne had spent most of the night torturing a man whose only crime was his devotion to the world. She was about to murder the only man she’d ever loved. What was sacrifice, if not that?

  A tremendous clap of thunder. Sparks burst at the edge of the patio. “The rods are working!” Joule shouted.

  Rayne walked to the guest bedroom with Dr. Mac.

  Milo had laid Ian in the guest bed but had left his chest exposed. The outer triangle of Ian’s Seal glowed amber as the sun inside the image pulsated, lit up by the intense energy trapped in Ian’s core. If it wasn’t for the oxygen mask and translucent skin, Rayne might have taken him to be sleeping. Saxon lay next to Ian. The wolf’s snout brushed Ian’s fingertips.

  “The liquid nitrogen lowered his body temperature,” Dr. Mac said. “But it won’t stay that way for long.”

  Ian hadn’t uttered a word for more than an hour, yet Rayne lingered in the doorway, willing him to wake up and spare her of this burden.

  “It’s time, Ian,” Tara said. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Her tears wet his cheek. Saxon licked his hand, then leapt off the bed and followed Tara out with a whimper.

  Milo stepped up and squeezed Ian’s arm. The old caretaker postured as if to say something, but instead raised his face in an emotional battle, and took a minute to compose himself. He leaned close and muttered, “Survive this or I’ll kick your ass for all eternity.” He bumped shoulders with Dr. Mac as he charged out of the room.

  Patrick stood looking out the window. When Rayne placed her hand on his back, he shook his head. “This isn’t goodbye.”

  “There must be something you want to say?” Rayne said softly. Her show of empathy had more to do with selfishness, seeking any delay possible.

  A second later, Patrick tore away from the window and walked up to the bed. He leaned next to Ian’s ear. “You’re a hard act to follow, Ian,” Patrick whispered. “Since the day we met, you were more than a client.” He turned his face to the side and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “You’re my best friend—brother. You’re going to make it, and not because it’s what’s best for the earth,” Patrick said. “You’ve got to live through this because I can’t go after the sons-of-bitches without you! Survive this, goddamn it!” He backed up and stood next to Rayne. “Dr. Mac gave me the honor of carrying him to his resurrection.”

  “Patrick is the only one strong enough,” Dr. Mac said. “The power from our cores might be felt in Ian’s. We can’t take that chance. Once you drain Ian’s core, it must stay that way for the first few minutes. You may need to keep the connection all the way to his bedroom.”

  “Long enough to make those nasty bugs believe he’s dead.” Patrick locked his fingers and cracked his knuckles.

  “Once Patrick gets him in the boost, Joule will take it from there,” Dr. Mac said. “Any questions?”

  Rayne stepped up next to the bed. She shook her head.

  “Hurry Patrick. I don’t know how long it will take Joule to direct a bolt into the room and into the boost. Every second will count.”

  “I got this Doc,” he said.

  “Then it’s time,” Dr. Mac said.

  Rayne cringed. Dr. Mac had raised his voice as if announcing a man’s execution to a crowd. The Weir doctor left them, closing the door behind him. The click rang like a death toll in her ears.

  *

  Jaered sprang to his feet and stuck the tranquilizer gun into his belt. He withdrew another one from the duffle, then kicked Vael’s boot. The recruit snorted and opened his eyes. “Get up, it’s time,” Jaered said.

  “Now will you tell me what we’re doing here?” Vael rubbed his eyes and stood.

  Jaered handed Vael one of the tranquilizer guns. “There’s two rounds. Use them to take down the caretaker, then the doctor, in that order. Don’t let the doctor touch you, or you’ll wake up in a Pur prison.”

  “What are you going to do?” Vael asked.

  “I’ll take care of the others, and if need be, the wolf. Stay behind me until we get to the room, and don’t improvise.” Jaered got in Vael’s face. “If you even remotely interfere with what I’m going to do, you won’t walk out of there.”

  Jaered started up the ladder. Shooting pain erupted from his hand, but he fought past it and kept going. He had three stories to climb in a matter of seconds. For this next part, timing was everything.

  {19}

  Ian’s lips parted, and he gulped air. “Rayne,” he said barely above a whisper. He opened his eyes and looked at her with such compassion that it was impossible for Rayne to keep the tears away. She gave into their flow and stared back at those incredible dark eyes full of depth and emotion, unwilling to lose even a blink of a moment to gaze upon them for what might be the last time.

  “Don’t speak, Ian,” she said. “Please.” Disheartened that he had awakened, she had convinced herself that killing him would be easier if he didn’t know what she was doing. If he couldn’t feel anything. But she had only been ki
dding herself.

  His chest rose as he filled his lungs. “If I am to leave this world,” he gasped, “know that I want it to be with your lips upon mine.”

  She collapsed next to him on the bed. Sobs racked her chest and denied her breath. “Forgive me,” she whimpered.

  Ian moved his hand toward her. “I love—”

  “No!” Rayne screamed as anger rushed in like a tsunami. “Don’t you dare say it! Not now, not like this.”

  “I do,” Ian whispered. His voice rose above her sobs. “I always—”

  Rayne grabbed his head and kissed him. Hard. Rough. Forcing herself to carry out what was demanded of her, emptying her mind and not thinking about why, but only focusing on who. Ian returned her kiss with incredible tenderness, in spite of the pain his body must have endured. She felt his hands on her back, pulling her closer until she pressed against his chest. Her kiss transformed into a hunger to savor as much of this moment as she could, giving into what had been denied them both for so long. The energy drain intensified, and Rayne found herself in a battle, resisting the instinct to let go as his energy, his very life force flowed into her, through her—and out.

  Within seconds, his skin cooled, and their kisses became one-sided. His heartbeat slowed. Rayne made to pull back, but Ian had locked his arms around her and with the last of his strength, wouldn’t release her from her duty—no longer for his sake, but for the sake of the Earth.

  Rayne pulled her lips away. His eyes were closed. As she gazed upon him, the muscles in his face relaxed and he appeared at peace for the first time in hours. A final breath escaped his blue, parted lips. His arms slipped away.

  A blinding flash and the bedroom window splintered into the room, making way for a deafening thunderclap that shook the mansion like an earthquake.

  Patrick grabbed Rayne and held her tight until her screams subsided and turned to sobs. “It’s not the end,” he shouted.

  Rayne threw back the covers and Patrick grabbed Ian’s hands, then hoisted him up and over his shoulder. She opened the door and as Patrick rushed by, she gripped Ian’s hand in hers and they hurried down the hall. An icy chill snaked up her arm, but she didn’t let go. His lips had turned from blue to deep purple. His skin was opaque, pasty, and lifeless. Ian was dead. It was up to Rayne to make sure his core stayed that way for the next few minutes.