“It is. The gala ball is so exclusive most members of HEC don’t even hear about it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“It seems like a lot of pressure.” In more ways than he could ever know.
“No pressure, I promise. The fundraiser itself will be fun. Great food, great venue, great music. And it’s a masked ball, so you’ll have the chance to dress up.”
Okay, that was mixed news. A mask would protect her privacy but it would also conceal the identity of the other people in the room.
“I won’t lie to you, Wendy. This is really important to me and it would be great for my career.”
“And if I don’t go, you can’t either.”
“Correct.”
She couldn’t give him an answer now. There were simply too many factors for her to consider. “Can I think about it for a day or so?”
Another long pause, and when he spoke his voice was tight with frustration. “Of course.”
“Can you send me a copy of the invitation?”
“No. No copies. I’ll pick you up and drive you to the venue on the night.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. There was no way she was giving Ben her address. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
“Please think about it, Wendy.”
“I will. Bye.”
She ended the call and sat staring at the phone. She hadn’t moved by the time Jaz came back into the kitchen, freshly washed and wearing last night’s clothes. “Anything interesting?” she asked.
Winter rubbed her head, which did nothing to ease her alcohol-induced headache. “Interesting doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve just been invited to a ten thousand dollar-a-plate masked ball, at which I’ll meet the powers behind the HEC machine.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jaz walked over and leaned on the counter, her blue-green gaze level with Winter’s face. “So, why don’t you look happy?”
“Discovering the names of the who’s who in HEC is great for my story. But that information is best garnered from a distance. Meeting people that powerful face-to-face has the potential to go pear-shaped in ways you and I don’t even want to imagine.”
“Are you going to go?”
Winter put her head in her hands. “I have no freaking idea. It’s a big reward but it’s a big risk.” Still slumped over, she lifted her head to meet Jaz’s sympathetic gaze. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Jaz reached across the counter and linked their fingers. “Every story you write is important, and this one is personal for both of us. But no story will ever be worth your life. These people don’t fuck around, Winter. You need to be careful, whatever you decide.”
“I will.”
The problem was, the divide between calculated risk and self-preservation wasn’t as clear as one might expect. And as she was pursuing this story on her own time, she had no backup or logistical support.
Somehow a ball gown and mask didn’t seem like adequate protection.
****
Kasim took a last look around the cabin to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and then he zipped his bag closed. Dressed in the battle-leathers he wasn’t permitted to wear outside the settlement, he checked his weapons and picked up his duffle.
He’d spent the past week recuperating at New Havilah, but now it was time to resume his duties at Hope Tower in New York. He didn’t want to go but there was no way to refuse without questions being asked. The kind of questions he didn’t want to answer.
The Jendari settlement in Washington State had been a haven of normality for him. The natural rhythms and routines of clan life soothed him, and within the safety of New Havilah’s borders, he could let his guard down in a way he never did in a human city.
When he’d arrived at the settlement, the healers had checked him over and declared no lasting physical impairment. He was permitted to move into a cabin used for the transient members of their community. One of a small cluster of buildings that usually housed the tower rhe’hashan when they came to visit. They were also used on occasion by Jendari visiting from the others settlements around the world.
The cabins were empty at the moment and Kasim chose the most isolated one he could find. He needed the comfort and routine of clan life, but he wasn’t interested in two-legged company. For most of the week he’d spent more time in his fur than in his skin. He and Shallamar had hunted, played, and slept. Two nights ago they ran in company with Tallis, Deasun, Hadar, and their me’hendras. But for the most part, Kasim and Shallamar kept to themselves.
Closing the cabin door behind him, he hefted his bag and started walking, Shallamar close by his side. He skirted the edges of the settlement, both to avoid meeting people and to take his last opportunity to absorb the natural beauty that surrounded him.
The Jendari were people of the earth and they considered themselves custodians of the land, not masters of it. The settlement had been seeded with flora and fauna native to Jendar, and the familiar trees, shrubs, birds, and animals nurtured his soul.
New Havilah was the closest thing to home he had these days, despite the fact it was surrounded by trees and not ice. The settlement sat in the heart of twenty-five square miles of clan territory that had once been a human national park. When they’d first arrived on Earth, the Jendari had negotiated several concessions, including secure enclaves all over the world. The settlement was a no-fly, no-trespass, no surveillance zone, and every stone and rock came under Jendari law. If any human was reckless enough to breach their borders—in any way—they’d be answerable to the Elder Council, not human law.
Keeping to the trees as he was, Kasim couldn’t see the village, but he could hear the clansfolk as they went about their daily lives. The settlement fanned out from the edge of a large lake and nestled against the foothills of a forest. The spacious, ecologically sound buildings were constructed on ground and tree level, blending seamlessly into the landscape. Paths through the village were as likely to be on branches as the dirt, and homes were shaped to fit around the existing landscape.
The thought of leaving New Havilah and going back to the hustle, press, and stink of the city made his chest hurt. But leave he must. If he stayed any longer, people would start asking why he was staying when he’d been given a clean bill of health by the healers. They’d wonder about his reluctance to do his duty, which would lead them to wonder about his fitness as a rhe’hashan.
Kasim was broken in so many ways he’d given up on the idea of a normal life. Where he found solace, where he mattered, was in his service to the Goddess. And he was very, very good at his job. His place in the rhe’hashan meant everything to him, as did the family it provided.
He had three friends in particular for whom he would do anything. Deasun, Tallis, and Hadar were his brothers—a family Kasim was proud to claim. He counted on them in ways they couldn’t understand, and in ways he’d never admit out loud.
Among the four of them, favors were easily asked and given. Today Kasim was heading to Hadar’s house to use his transit pad to go back to New York. It was more private and less visible than the main transit station in the middle of the village.
Hadar lived at New Havilah full time in a tree-top home perched over the cold blue lake. His other form was ursaine, very similar to the bears native to Earth. Except in his animal form, Hadar was much bigger and much, much faster. Most rhe’hashan were expected to serve for a year at Hope Tower, working in conjunction with human security. But there were a few, like Hadar, whose coloring was so unusual the Elders considered it more prudent to keep them at the settlement. With silver hair tipped in indigo, and vibrant purple eyes, Hadar was considered too exotic for tower duty.
Kasim reached Hadar’s airy and climbed the first set of stairs. The two-story residence sat high off the ground, but that didn’t stop Shallamar from springing straight from the ground onto the lower-floor balcony. The airy was designed to accommodate Kotiri, Hadar’s me’hendra, and there were staggered balconies on each floor.
/> At the top of the stairs, Kasim pushed through a trap door and climbed up into Hadar’s living space. The room had two glass walls, showcasing the forest on one side and the lake on the other. The other walls housed a spacious kitchen on one side, and on the other side were two doors leading to a store room and a study.
Kasim climbed a second set of stairs, and this time Shallamar pushed up behind him. Just as he was about to step onto the next level, she gave him a shove and he stumbled over the threshold.
The laughter that greeted him was equal amounts sympathy and mean. “Kasim. You’ve been on four legs for too long, the ones you’re in now don’t seem to work properly.”
Kasim straightened up and stepped aside before Shallamar could do any more damage to his dignity. “Nothing that a bit of practice won’t fix.”
Hadar nodded and stepped forward, knowing Kasim well enough not to touch. “I’ve been worried about you, my friend. You’ve spent a lot of time alone and in fur.”
“I know. I needed time to get my head on straight.” He gestured to Shallamar. “And I wasn’t alone.”
“Of course.” Hadar turned to Shallamar and bowed. “I meant no disrespect.”
Shallamar grunted. Kotiri did good job training this one.
Kasim grinned and addressed Hadar. “Shallamar accepts your apology.”
Hadar raised an eyebrow, knowing the me’hendra well enough to assume the acceptance was phrased in a way that wasn’t complimentary.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” This level of the airy had three glass walls, showcasing the spectacular view. The fourth wall butted up against the cliff face and housed two doors. One led to Hadar’s bedroom, the other led to the transit pad.
Hadar walked over to the door on the right, placing his hand on the bioscan that would unlock the door. All rhe’hashan had transit pads in their homes in case they had to mobilize in a hurry. Each pad was coded for limited use—usually just the resident and a few close friends.
But oddly enough, in a strange quirk that baffled everyone—including the engineers who designed the transit pads—the me’hendra used the pads at will. The transits could only be activated by a rhe’hashan singing his or her unique song. As the me’hendra couldn’t sing, no one had any idea how they made them work.
The bioscan beeped and as Hadar sang, the door clicked open. They entered a small, windowless room, painted in unrelieved white. A large potted plant sat to one side, its thick black leaves glossy in the diffused light.
Hadar sang again, and the zaldi bush shivered and shook. The stem twisted, fanning out the leaves and exposing a fist-sized chunk of crystal sitting in the center of the plant. The crystal glowed and a low hum emanated from the large square mat on the floor.
“Time to go.” Kasim gave Hadar’s shoulder a squeeze in farewell before moving to the center of the transit pad.
“Call if you need anything,” Hadar said.
“I will.”
“And even if you don’t need anything, call anyway.”
Kasim gave him a smile. “Count on it.”
Then, with Shallamar pressed close to his side, he closed his eyes and pictured the transit pad in his New York home. Between one breath and the next, he was back in the city.
Stepping off the pad in a room identical to the one he’d just left, Kasim placed his hand on the bioscan and sang his own song. The door opened and he walked out into his loft bedroom. Throwing his bag on the bed, he crossed the room and made his way down the steel staircase.
His city home was a converted warehouse. Lots of open space, bare brick walls, floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, and hardwood floors. The roof line was high and ribbed with steel girders. Kasim liked the vast space. In fact, he needed it after working a shift at the tower.
The cavernous area wasn’t empty though. It was filled with plants and shrubs. Oversized furniture was grouped together and tables and chairs provided cozy little nooks. An entire stretch of wall was covered in shelving which held books, crystals, and items of interest both cerebral and sentimental.
He sat on his favorite couch and wondered, for the hundredth time, if he was going to be able to go back to work.
Kasim’s body had recovered from his ordeal with the speed and thoroughness common to all rhe’hashan. But his heart and mind were much slower to heal. He had no idea how he’d managed to stay sane strapped down to that bed in the lab. Every bit of training and faith he owned had been put to use, and he’d made it through. But since he’d come home, now he was safe, the nightmares came several times a night.
He’d lost count of the times he’d woken sweating and terrified, his only anchor the sound of Shallamar’s voice as she tried to bring him back to consciousness. And he’d clung to her in the dark hours—her heavy, furred body his only shield.
Through the day, he could live in the moment, blocking out everything but the here and now. But at night, when his discipline slept, his demons raged with a vengeance.
Shallamar jumped up beside him, wedging her head under his arm and onto his lap.
You worried.
Yes. There was no point denying it. The me’hendra could always read the emotional state of their rhe’hashan. I’m not sure I’ll be able to function properly when I go back to the tower.
Me can’t help you when you there. Me no like it.
I don’t like it either. The me’hendra were forbidden to go to the tower because if the humans ever found out about them, the me’hendra would be hunted into extinction. Not all Earthers would want to harm them, of course. In fact, Kasim suspected most humans would be amazed by the me’hendra. But the minority who would fear them or want to control them would end the entire species.
Unfortunately, Kasim didn’t trust Shallamar to observe the ban if he caved under the pressure. If he fell apart and she thought he was in real danger, she’d bust through the doors of Hope Tower without any hesitation.
Shallamar rubbed her head against his chest. You no need to worry. Me already tell you how to get better. Shifting to a sitting position, she pinned him with her colorless eyes. When we going to kill those humans?
Soon, I hope. The moment I can identify them, you and I will go hunting.
Good. She plopped down again and butted his hand. Pet me.
Kasim complied, taking as much comfort as he was giving. Shallamar was convinced the nightmares would stop once they killed the humans responsible. Kasim didn’t have the heart to tell her no amount of retribution would fix his broken pieces.
Chapter Eleven
Kasim was still sitting on his lounge an hour later when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID before he picked up the call.
“Tallis. How goes it?”
“We’re all good here. Itohan told me you’re back.”
The four-legged kindred all talked to each other, so it was no surprise that Tallis’s me’hendra had given him the update. “I’ve only just got home,” Kasim said. “I haven’t even unpacked yet.”
“I figured that. Jasmine has boxed up some groceries for you. Is it okay if I swing by and drop them off?”
Kasim didn’t answer for a moment. He and his brothers were tight, but they’d never brought supplies for each other. Jasmine, Tallis’s mate, was new to their family and it seemed she was taking her sisterly status to heart. Kasim’s heart softened in spite of his better intentions.
“You can come over now if you like. And thank Jasmine for me. I really appreciate her thoughtfulness.”
“Our pleasure. See you in a few.”
Five minutes later, Tallis bounded down the stairs after using the transit pad, his arms full of carry sacks.
Kasim stood and eyed the load. “Sweet Badria, how much food did she send?”
“Don’t get too excited, it’s not all for you.”
Kasim trailed after Tallis as he entered the kitchen, dumping his burden on the marble counter top. “Two of the bags are yours, the other two are for Shallamar.”
Wel
l, Jasmine certainly knew how to hit a rhe’hashan where he lived. Caring for Shallamar meant more him than anything else she could have done.
“Please give her our thanks.”
Tallis grinned. “Itohan’s quite put out. He doesn’t like his human providing food for any me’hendra but him.”
That would be right. The me’hendra were fiercely loyal and territorial to a fault.
Kasim nudged one of the bags. “Are you staying for something to eat?”
“No thanks.” Tallis reached into a sack and pulled out a six pack of Kasim’s favorite beer. “I’ll have a drink with you, though.”
“Sounds good.”
Kasim opened the beers and Tallis found a bag of mixed nuts in the shopping bag. Suitably armed, they headed to a couple of armchairs that were set up by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Tallis took a sip of his beer. “So, do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” In fact, fuck no.
“All right, let me rephrase. Do you need to talk about it?”
Probably. Kasim just looked at his friend, unable to say a word one way or the other.
Tallis leaned forward, close enough to keep Kasim’s attention but not close enough to crowd. “Have you talked to anyone about it since you got back?”
“No.”
“And is that making things easier or harder for you?”
Asshole. Kasim hadn’t slept properly for over a week, and he was certain it showed. “It hasn’t been great.”
“Okay.” Tallis’s black eyes held firm and steady. “I think you need to talk, and I’m here. I swear to you on my soul that I will never repeat what you tell me. Not even to Jaz.”
Shallamar padded over and lay down at Kasim’s feet. Itohan will make sure Tallis keeps silent. You are safe to talk.
Kasim tipped his bottle and took several long, deep swallows. Then he sat back, looked down at the bottle in his hands, and started talking before he lost his nerve.
He spoke about the abduction, imprisonment, and torture in the same clinical way he’d described it in his debrief. At least to begin with. But as the conversation progressed, Kasim found himself describing feelings and sensations. He talked about his sense of powerlessness, the fear of being tied down and vulnerable. And the pain. The seemingly endless bouts of agony that stripped him down to nothing.
Breaking Ice (The Jendari Book 2) Page 9