Sleight of Hand: Book Three: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  “We need him alive and cooperative,” Eve said. “Honey is much more effective than vinegar.”

  Aeros scoffed. “A surprising analogy coming from someone who’s never cooked a meal in her life.” His father’s voice grew distant. “But you are cooking up something, on the side, aren’t you, my dear?”

  “You are the master of two worlds. How could I, or anyone else on Earth, be a threat to you?”

  “How indeed.” A bright flash. His father was gone.

  “Any news from Thrae?” Eve said. “My sisters?”

  “They are as well as can be expected,” Angus said. “Our numbers are dwindling. Those he hasn’t murdered for sport are growing weak. Our crops are not as plentiful and lack essential nutrition. Absence of natural sunlight will do that.”

  “The third Heir—” Eve said.

  “Jaered told us that it worked,” Angus said. “And what of Gwynn’s son?”

  “Ian’s core is strengthening by the hour,” she said. “It will still take some effort to enlighten him that his powers are fully available. The poor boy has lived his whole life believing he was inadequate. It will take a major jolt to awaken his potential.”

  “What kind of jolt?” Angus asked tentatively.

  “I’m working on it.” A moment of silence passed between them. Eve sighed. “Ian believes that Rayne and Jaered are dead.”

  “Are you going to tell him the truth?” Angus asked.

  “I’m weighing the lesser of two evils,” Eve said. “I’ll either have a self-destructive Pur Heir to contend with, or a vengeful one.”

  “You’ve lived too long by the code of secrets and deception,” Angus said. “Why not tell the poor boy the truth.”

  “What is the truth, Angus?” Eve growled. “She might as well be dead. I have no idea how to get her back to Earth without condemning us to the full extent of Aeros’s wrath.” Footsteps drew closer. “Damn you, Jaered,” she whispered in his ear. “Your single act of free will has warped centuries of planning, and likely condemned more people to death.”

  I know! Jaered shouted, but the words only echoed in his head. I know.

  Sounds awakened Jaered. He felt stronger, and for the first time able to open his lids with minimal effort. The bedroom was dark. The covers beneath his face were damp from drool that pooled during his dreamless sleep. He turned his face toward noises coming from the bathroom and stared at the steady stream of light from under the door, trying to break Angus’s Somex-induced sleep. Distant music. Eve was home. A classical melody floated toward his bedroom from down the hall. Bach? Beethoven? Jaered couldn’t tell the Earthly composers apart.

  Jaered’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. Aeros sat in the chair across from Jaered’s bed. His heart skipped a beat at the murderous expression on his father’s face. He fought the Somex.

  A running faucet turned off and a moment later, the bathroom door opened. Angus stiffened at seeing Aeros.

  “Your holistic knowledge is to be commended, Doctor” Aeros said. “If allowed to be shared, it would end so much suffering here on Earth.”

  The compresses were heavy. His body’s heat had warmed the Lavolae and it weighed him down like cement. He pulled an elbow up under his chest and pushed, lifting one shoulder. The compresses slipped off his arms, but the bulkier one on his back took more effort to shed. “Ahhh,” Jaered swallowed any further gasp as the newborn skin protested with lightning jabs at the scraping, sliding compress. It landed on the floor beside the bed with a thud. He rolled onto his back and pressed against the bedspread to ease the worst of the sting.

  “Your patient has aroused just in time to say good-bye.” Aeros flicked a finger. Angus was dragged out the bathroom doorway by an invisible hand. Aeros closed his fist and the man who helped raise Jaered, the only father he’d ever known, fell to his knees at the center of the room. Angus looked up at Jaered. “I knew my time was up the second he returned for me,” Angus said. “He only waited until I healed you enough.”

  “That, and you amuse me.” Aeros stood.

  “Stop!” Jaered shouted, but it came out like a croak. “I’ll do whatever you want from now on, no resistance, I swear. Just spare him.”

  “Resisting me is who you are. I’d rather miss our sparring.” Aeros slowly paced around the condemned man. “He must pay for his sins. He lied about you coming alone.”

  “Word spreads fast.” Angus gave Aeros a smug look. “By now, everyone knows their Heir is alive and well.”

  Aeros gave Jaered a murderous stare. “Do you know the damage you’ve done by going to Thrae?” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You’ve given them back their hope,” Angus said, his voice gushing with pride. His voice adopted a husky, desperate tone. “But if you need a reminder of how strong you are, just look in the mirror, boy.”

  Aeros paused and flexed his neck. “I’ll return and hunt down whoever you took.” With a wave of his father’s hand, Jaered was slammed up against the headboard, pinned by a crushing pressure that denied him air. With one hand thrust at Jaered, Aeros flicked his other at Angus.

  The old doctor’s hands whipped behind as if secured with invisible handcuffs. “You lost your ability to feel centuries ago, Aeros,” Angus said as though rushed to purge what he’d kept to himself. “You feed off of other’s emotions.” He gagged, then coughed. Purple spittle spurted from his mouth when he looked up at Jaered. “You torture the boy because he has what you’ll never possess.” Amethyst streams flowed from both nostrils and dripped to his chest, staining his shirt like a bib. “His mother’s love,” Angus rasped. Gagging, he teetered on his knees and coughed, spraying Lavolae on Aeros’s pants. “Look . . . in the mirror . . . Jaered.” His uncle’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the floor.

  “His Lavolae is quite the legacy.” Aeros’s lip curled. “It’s only fitting he’s buried with it.” His father dropped his hand and Jaered slipped to the bed, sucking air between moans.

  Eve appeared in the doorway. How long had she stood, just outside in the hall? She looked at Angus’s body with cold indifference. “Well, that’s a mess,” she said as if coming across dog poop on a rug.

  “I never did like honey,” Aeros said, and wiped a drop of Lavolae off his hand using the back of Angus’s shirt. “Too sweet for my taste.”

  Jaered screamed. He leapt off the bed, but in his weakened state, landed in a slump at his father’s feet.

  Aeros stepped away from Jaered and gestured toward Angus. “Get rid of it.” A blinding flash. He shyfted.

  Eve’s stoic demeanor bled into despair and brought her to her knees.

  Jaered gathered Angus up and buried his face against his uncle’s neck. He rocked in rhythm to his penance. “I’m sorry

  . . . I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . .”

  {31}

  Rayne sliced a loaf of unleavened bread and spread a jam that she found in the old upright refrigerator. The jam tasted of blueberries. Once she’d finished her snack, Trae brought her to the cavern in time for the assembly.

  Whispers fell silent as Gwynn stepped into the cavern and stood, waiting at the door for the crowd to settle. Liem and Trae set the iron bar across the planked door, and then helped Gwynn onto the rock that she and Rayne had sat on a few hours earlier. When she stood tall and ready to address them, the group sat and grew quiet.

  Gwynn gestured for Rayne to remain standing.

  “Thraens, we were blessed with the presence of our Heir earlier today,” Gwynn said. “He is alive and has brought us good news in their fight against our oppressors.” She cleared her throat. “But Aeros came, and the Heir was forced to return to Earth before he could meet with you and tell you himself.”

  “Who was it this time?” a man said from the front row.

  “Angus,” Gwynn paused as she blinked back tears. Denied the opportunity to mourn the loss of her husband, yet found the strength to carry on in his absence. So much like her son, Rayne thought. “He took my husband.�
�� Grumbling, disbelief, and outrage rang throughout the crowd. Many gazed upon her with pity.

  “But he’s the only doctor we had left,” an old woman cried out.

  “Anyone who needs help has always been welcomed at my home,” Gwynn said. “Nothing has changed. My husband shared much of his knowledge with me. I am now asking for volunteers to assist and learn from me. We will make do, as we always have.”

  “Is the Heir coming back?” a man shouted from the uppermost ledge.

  “He is fighting Aeros on Earth,” Gwynn said. “If and when he returns next, let us pray that he brings news of victory.”

  Fists shot into the air with a resounding cry. Many stood and waved, others clapped. Many remained seated and didn’t join in the impromptu rally. From their creased faces, they failed to share their brethren’s optimism. Gwynn gestured for the crowd to quiet. It took a couple of minutes for them to settle down.

  “What’s Kyre’s paral doing here?” a man shouted.

  Gwynn placed a hand on Rayne’s shoulder. “The Heir brought her from Earth.”

  “When Aeros finds out, he will return!” a woman shrieked. “We can’t hide down here forever!”

  Gwynn shook her head. “We must do everything we can to protect her, if and when Aeros returns.”

  “She will draw his wrath and doom us all!” came from the upper ledges.

  “She isn’t one of us!” another man shouted. “What does Earth know of our struggles? They haven’t come to our aid. Why should we risk what little we have left to protect one of theirs?”

  Liem stepped forward and waved his arms. “Quiet!” he yelled. “Have you lost everything, including your respect? If you want answers, allow our Mother to share what she can.”

  Mother? The reference piqued Rayne’s curiosity, and she added it to the swelling list of unanswered questions.

  “Her name is Rayne, and she is a threat to Aeros, key to the rebels’ plan,” Gwynn said. “We must protect her, and if needed, be prepared to sacrifice our lives to do so.” Rayne stared at Gwynn in stunned silence. The woman cast a gentle smile at Rayne, then looked about the room. “The Heir brought news that the third Heir has risen. The prophesied triangle of power is complete. Their very existence dictates that the Prophecy and all that it claims will come true.” Gwynn raised her voice and pointed at the cavern wall behind her. “Why do we protect this young woman who stands before you? It is because, she is the sun.”

  Rayne looked where Gwynn pointed. A giant replica of Ian’s Seal, a triangle with a sun inside, had been carved into the rock. Her legs turned to mush. Liem went to grab her, but pulled back with a grimace when his core’s draining energy tickled every nerve of her body. She sat down on the rock as Liem gave her a puzzled stare. He was a Sar. Were there others left on Thrae?

  Gwynn continued to address the crowd like a prophet.

  Ian had suspected he wasn’t the only Heir. Was Jaered the second? But who rose last night? Who was the third? She looked up at Gwynn, who had paused, waiting for the crowd to quiet.

  Rayne went over the events of the previous evening—and stilled. Patrick.

  Liem and Trae stood guard just outside Gwynn’s apartment. The woman insisted that she and Rayne not be disturbed.

  Gwynn handed Rayne a steaming mug of tea and chose a chair at the tip of the coffee table. She took a sip from her mug and leaned back in the chair.

  “You’re Ian’s mother,” Rayne said, foregoing any pretense as if the bottled-up questions had popped the lid off and were gushing out. “You didn’t die in a car accident when he was a baby.”

  Gwynn looked weary, the lines in her face deeper than ever. “My pregnancy was hidden from everyone. I gave birth to him on a stormy night.” A relaxed smile gave her cheeks a rosy glow. “It was as if Mother Earth proclaimed his arrival across the universe.” Her voice took on an edge, “but my elation was short-lived.”

  “Why?” Rayne asked.

  “Because Johann, the man you know as the Primary—”

  “The head honcho of the Syndrion council?” Rayne said.

  “He was determined that the Earth’s Heir would be Pur, not Duach. For years, his spies were everywhere. Within minutes of Weir births, the Primary would appear and press his hand to the newborns’ chests.”

  Gwynn looked down at the mug resting in her lap, but she didn’t take a sip. “When the time came, I planned to deliver in secret, but I was betrayed. As I was giving birth to Ian, Johann and his men broke in and ripped my newborn from my arms.” Gwynn closed her eyes as if she couldn’t help but relive it. “Johann pressed his power to Ian’s chest, and knew the second he lifted his hand, he’d found Earth’s Heir.” Her eyes darkened and her lips drew tight. She looked at Rayne. “But more than that, he made him a Pur.”

  “But was that a bad thing?” Rayne said. “Better a Pur, than Duach.”

  “The Heir was supposed to be neither,” Gwynn said. “He was free to serve Mother Earth, and no one else.”

  “Jaered told us that Ian,” Rayne hesitated, unsure how to ask. “That his core wasn’t—”

  “Natural?” Gwynn nodded. “He was conceived in a test tube, but I carried him to term.”

  Rayne had suspected. Allison’s list from QualSton indicated that Gwynn was a researcher in the genetics lab. “Is that why Ian didn’t have his full range of powers?” Rayne asked.

  “He always has, but I made sure that they were stifled,” Gwynn said.

  Rayne shook her head. “Why?”

  “The Primary feared Earth’s Heir. Such a being, more powerful than he could imagine, might be too much to handle. I was frightened that he would find a way to kill Ian.”

  “The Primary didn’t just want to make the Heir a Pur,” Rayne reasoned aloud. “He wanted control over him.” She scooted to the edge of the couch. “But they tortured Ian as a child, trying to bring his powers to the surface.”

  Darkness clouded Gwynn’s expression. “To test him. When he failed, he didn’t pose a threat to the Primary. They cared for him, but no longer feared him.”

  “The Earth is vulnerable, the Sars are dying out,” Rayne said. “Ian hasn’t been able to help because his powers are too weak.”

  “The Earth is dying because, for the past thirty years, Aeros has been draining its power, like he did for centuries here on Thrae. Only, he found the perfect battleground on Earth.”

  “The Pur and Duach civil war,” Rayne said.

  “Aeros fed the hatred, prompting both sides to kill each other. Fewer Sars made it easier for him to drain Earth’s sustenance at a faster rate.”

  “Why would Aeros do such a thing?” Rayne asked.

  “Because shyfting across dimensions isn’t enough for him. He wants to travel and conquer the universe.” Gwynn took a sip of her tea. “But my son has full use of his powers now. Jaered saw to it the other night.”

  Rayne stared ahead, deep in thought. Jaered had summoned the tremendous cloud of energy and dropped it into the reconfigured boost, modified to trap and increase the energy even further. But Ian hadn’t been alone in the boost. “The third Heir, I think I know who it is,” Rayne said, as incredible as it seemed. “But what does this have to do with me?”

  “Your mother and I were close friends at QualSton. When your father was determined to turn you into the first female Sar, it was an opportunity . . .” Gwynn took Rayne’s hand. “To create a weapon.”

  Rayne pulled her hand out of Gwynn’s grasp and bolted to her feet. She stormed around to the back of the couch and stared at the woman who had condemned her to a life of isolation among the Weir. “I can’t touch Sars, the people I love the most in the world, because of you?”

  “This isn’t about you, or my son. This is about saving two worlds.” Gwynn stood. She looked more alive than Rayne had seen her all day, as if energized by sheer will. “What happens in the next few days on Earth is critical to a plan that was hatched by three sisters, over a hundred years ago.

  “What plan?” Rayn
e asked.

  “To bring down two tyrants and set our worlds back on an evolutionary track that should never have been tampered with. If the three Heirs don’t join forces and form their connection before Aeros and his brother Johann discover what we’ve done, Earth and Thrae will no longer be able to sustain life.

  Part Two

  The most powerful of lessons is self-discovery

  {32}

  A rumbling hum filled Patrick’s ears while a not-too-subtle vibration shook him into consciousness. It eventually pulled him out of the hangover from hell that kept his eyes glued shut. He rubbed his eyelids, but the effort it took to lift his hands left him exhausted. When he managed to open his eyes, he found himself in a small cabin with a curved ceiling and rectangular windows. The surroundings felt somehow familiar.

  He rolled to his side, and fell off the narrow couch he’d been lying on. “Ugh,” he moaned when his head connected with the floor. He pressed his palm to his forehead then sat up, leaning his back against the cushion.

  “It’s about time you woke up.” The woman’s voice stirred a memory. She was obscured by an opened newspaper at the back of the otherwise empty cabin. A glass of iced tea sat on the small table in front of her, with a half-eaten croissant sandwich beside it. “You’ve been asleep for most of the day.”

  Patrick stared at a window across from him. Beyond, a few of the brightest night’s stars poked through the last rays of the day, making their appearance before their duller siblings.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, not lowering her paper. “I can have Willow put something together for you. We have a long flight.”

  Something about the voice. He couldn’t remember how he got there. Attempts to play back events yielded nothing, like a video that had been erased. Patrick stared at the fading light coming from the window, and the setting sun drew the shades on his eyelids closed.

  Bleating car horns. Squealing brakes. People yelling. Patrick’s head wobbled, propped against a car window. He opened his eyes, but grimaced and squinted at the bright sun in his face. He moaned and pushed to right himself.