Prophecy (Book One in the Prophecy Series)

by Lea Kirk

  And no cape. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  “They look different from space,” he said.

  “What? The stars?” Now how would he know that?

  He looked at her, his dark eyes twinkling. “Yes. Or so I’m told. I do wonder about it, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Did she ever.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find out.”

  “Are you a resistance leader and a psychic, Moises?”

  He chuckled. “No. My parents instilled in me unusual amounts of common sense.”

  “And courage.”

  Moises tipped his head to one side, almost exactly like Gryf. His look was far away and reminiscent. “Yes, they had uncommon courage.” He blinked, and gave her a smile. “I hope a little of it rubbed off on me.”

  “I think it did.” She patted the rock next to her. “Want to sit?”

  “Only if you’re up for company.”

  A soft snicker escaped her. “I already have company. K’rona’s around here somewhere, standing guard over me while Gryf and Graig play with explosives.”

  Moises grinned. “Then I’d love to sit.” He moved around the rock and sat next to her. They gazed at the stars for a few minutes before he pointed up. “You will go there because you are the Profeta.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Well, that’s less intimidating than saying you’ll go there because you have to meet your in-laws.”

  Ooh, yeah. There was that. She did admire her father-in-law, but Gryf’s mom was an unknown entity. Gryf and Ora had both insisted Charise was a warm, wonderful woman, and Alex hoped she’d get to meet her. “How about you, Moises? Do you see yourself going out there?”

  “I hope so.” The far-away look was back.

  “Traveling in space would be pretty interesting. Boldly going where no man...okay, Earthling, has gone before.” A small spark caught in her heart at the thought. “Do you really think I’ll go out there, Moises?”

  “Alex, my star child, I have no doubt.”

  ~ * ~

  Gryf crouched on the floor of the narrow control corridor aboard the Anferthian slaver. Never had he wanted to come back to this place, yet here he was. And this time not only were Alexandra and Graig with him, but also Dante, Nick and K’rona. Their assignment: to escort the unsuspecting Premiere Warden D’etta off the slaver and into the custody of the Matiran Defense Fleet. Hopefully, without being discovered, and having the Anferthians attempt to lift off from the planet’s surface. It would be preferable not to have to use the explosives to cripple the slaver.

  “Just like old times,” Graig muttered, his eyes moving around the control corridor as though watching for any sign of foul play.

  Betrayal from the dissenters did not concern Gryf as much as Alexandra’s current frame of mind. He couldn’t sense any misgivings from her through their soul link, so perhaps she didn’t remember the last time she was in this room as they made their escape.

  He studied her profile. She had become adept at concealing her thoughts from her face. Graig’s training was above reproach, but had he managed to turn this Terrian healer into a true soldier? All indications pointed to success. This would be her final test.

  He reached up and smoothed his hand over her hair. Are you well?

  Her look turned quizzical. Of course. Why?

  This is the place we hid during our escape.

  Oh. Her eyes roamed the cramped space, then she shook her head. I don’t remember.

  That was good. Gryf gave K’rona the signal to proceed, and the Factoress crept passed him to the closed maintenance hatch. She scratched her fingernails across the floor in front of it, sounding uncannily like a scampering rodent. Twice more she did this, then a noise came from the other side of the hatchway.

  This was it. The moment of truth. He raised his telum and the others followed his lead. The latching mechanism on the hatch whirred, and the door fanned opened. Ita peered through. Relief flashed across her face and she hugged K’rona.

  Gryf reached for Alexandra’s hand, weaving his fingers through hers. Then they followed the Anferthian dissenters into the main part of the ship.

  ~ * ~

  Alex’s eyes moved constantly, taking in every inch of the corridor. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong. She fixed her gaze on the back of Gryf’s head. Of course, there was an equal chance they’d make it through the entire ship to the Premiere Warden’s war room without incident. If they were lucky.

  Prickles of warning ran over her scalp. Something hit her shoulder hard, slamming her to the ground. On her back, she looked up into the aquamarine gaze of her first “oh, shit” moment of the day.

  Haesi’s eyes would be exquisite, if not for the murderous intent in them. The Matiran woman raised a jagged-edged blade of lethal beauty, its hilt the same shade as its wielder’s eyes.

  The blade flashed downward toward Alex’s throat. She shot her hand up to intercept Haesi’s wrist, but before she made contact, the Matiran woman was gone. What?

  Gryf landed on top of her, forcing a whoosh of air between her lips.

  “Stay down,” he ordered.

  “No problem.” Alex turned her head.

  Graig tussled on the floor with the bitch from hell. He’d said he would kill her if the opportunity arose, but would he really?

  Alex pushed against Gryf’s chest with her hands, and he growled. You will stay down, animi. Haesi’s a knife thrower.

  “But….”

  No!

  “Haesi!” Graig tore down the corridor like a maniac. Haesi had broken free, her lithe form disappearing around a corner.

  Gryf’s hands clapped down over Alex’s ears. “Roble!”

  His battlefield command voice rumbled through her like a military jet buzzing a building. Cripes, he could bellow.

  Graig stopped dead in his tracks, his fists balled at his sides. He turned back to face his Captain, air hissing through his teeth.

  “Let her go, Graig. There will be another time.” This time Gryf spoke gently, as a friend.

  Graig’s jaw worked, and he clenched and unclenched his fists half a dozen times before nodding. His gaze flicked to Alex.

  “I’m okay.” She pushed on Gryf’s shoulders. “Get off of me, you big lug.”

  A strange vibration began under her back, and Gryf froze. “The engines are powering up.”

  Alex met Gryf’s gaze. They were about to find out if the dynamite they used would cripple the slaver, or blow it to hell with them inside.

  “A, nat,” K’rona breathed.

  “Everyone down,” Gryf roared.

  The others hit the deck just as the first explosions went off.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The wall scoped open and Alex gripped the edge of the doorway. The slaver now listed to port, its legs apparently useless. She entered a cavernous, circular chamber with the others. It looks more like a royal audience chamber than a war room.

  At the heart of the room stood an immense Anferthian man, watching them with pale-amber eyes. He raised one hand, setting off a multitude of soft clinks as the medals decorating his black uniform bumped against each other.

  “Hold your fire,” he growled at the soldiers lining the wall behind him.

  Alex raised her eyebrows. She risked a glance at Gryf. Premiere Warden D’etta, I presume?

  Gryf gave her a slight nod. His tightly controlled emotions roiled beneath his calm exterior. She couldn’t blame him. The last time Gryf had stood in this room, D’etta had forced him to watch the destruction of the world he was charged to protect.

  The Premier’s thick hair may have once been light brown, but now it was streaked with liberal amounts of grey. He wore it in the traditional tirik, pulled low and over his ears as every other Anferthian male she’d seen did. Only the females exposed their ears. She’d have to ask K’rona why that was sometime.

  D’etta’s eyes narrowed. “I have been expecting you, Senior Captain Helyg.”


  I just bet he has been. How could he not after all the explosives had crippled his ship, making takeoff impossible?

  “Ah, K’rona, my dear. Welcome back to fyhen, sweet niece.” Nice words made completely worthless by the scowl he gave K’rona.

  Swell guy.

  K’rona’s eyes narrowed. “I am not part of your own, Premiere Warden. Your abusive treatment of me turned me against you years ago. You are not worthy of many titles, including Uncle.”

  Rage suffused the Premiere Warden’s face. “You are a disgrace to your family—a traitor! I gave you everything. I even stopped visiting when you took that simpering Mendiko as your lover.” He stopped suddenly, as though remembering he wasn’t alone. Several of his guards stared at him with narrow-eyed disgust. A few had paled to near white.

  Alex’s heart jumped to her throat. Gryf.

  Steady, compa.

  Alex clenched her teeth. But, he molested her. Maybe even raped her.

  Another reason why we are here.

  “Mendiko and I have stood against you for years,” K’rona bit back.

  The slick smile crept back onto D’etta’s face. “Then his execution was necessary. How sad there are no other traitors here to help you now.”

  A full two-thirds of the Anferthian guards turned their weapons on D’etta and his compatriots. Alex also directed her telum at the Premiere Warden, relief coursing through her. The dissenters had managed to infiltrate the Premiere’s personal guard.

  D’etta’s face darkened, and he raised his own fusil in K’rona’s direction. One of the dissenters broadsided him, knocking him to the floor. His fusil discharged, and the shot went wide.

  Pain exploded through Alex, and something warm and wet hit the side of her face.

  Ska. Gryf’s voice echoed in her mind.

  She sank to her knees. I’ve been shot? God, she hurt.

  The Premier rolled to his feet, fusil in hand. He again raised his weapon in K’rona’s direction, but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed over her shoulder, an expression of abject horror on her face.

  Alex touched the trigger of her weapon. The whispered hiss of the projectile seemed at odds with the resulting violent explosion of blood and grey matter. D’etta’s body stiffen then slumped to the floor.

  Gryf had warned her that her first kill would be hard, but it hadn’t been. Shouldn’t she feel some sort of remorse, or be puking her guts out? There was none of that, only the searing pain in her chest. She raised her fingers to the source of her pain, but her hand came away clean and dry. What the hell?

  K’rona grabbed her by the shoulders. “It’s not you.”

  If not her, then why did she hurt so badly? Unless…. Her mouth went bone dry, and she whipped her head around.

  Behind her, Dante and Nicky dragged Gryf away from the fray, blood soaked his shirt from the hole in his chest.

  A scream tore from her soul like a wounded animal, and she scrambled forward. Her feet slipped and she slammed spread-eagle to the floor, air whooshing from her lungs with the force of the impact. She blinked at the trail of blood under her. Gryf’s blood. God, no. Please.

  Graig hauled her up by the back of her shirt and slid her across the smooth surface into Nicky’s arms. Her brother pushed her into a sitting position near Gryf’s head. Dante’s cupped hands glowed bright over the wound, desperation etched into his face. This couldn’t be happening.

  Alex took Gryf’s face between her hands. “No. Not yet, Gryf. It’s not time yet, my heart. My soul.”

  “There’s a medical bay just down the corridor,” K’rona said.

  “No time,” Dante replied. He gave Alex a look of devastation. “He’s almost gone.” Once Gryf was gone, there would be nothing Dante could do to stop her own demise. Not that she cared. Without Gryf, her life would have no purpose.

  Something cold and familiar slithered down her spine, and her eyes were drawn across the room. The shrouded grey figure next to the body of the Premiere Warden watched her. Then it took a step forward.

  A sharp chill settled over her like a mantle, and her chest tightened. No. Not again. If she didn’t come up with something fast, all hope would be lost with the deaths of the Profetae. She refused to do that to their peoples.

  “N-Nicky.” Her teeth chattered together as she grabbed her brother’s arm. So cold. “H-h-hook in with D-Dante, and k-keep Gryf breathing.”

  “What are you planning?” Nicky asked.

  She held her shaking hands above Dante’s. “T-t-to c-catch something.”

  “Sora, the tremors….”

  “B-b-blank-kets, Graig. K-keep me warm.” She would be using every ounce of herself to hold Gryf in this world. Consigning her body to Graig’s keeping was the only way she could focus on saving her husband.

  “There are blankets in medical,” K’rona said. “What else do you need, Healer?”

  The weight of Graig’s hands gripped Alex’s shoulders, as though his strength could keep her anchored in this life. Dante’s voice faded from her hearing. All that mattered was the pale blue light with a crystal white center, rising now from Gryf’s chest. She cupped her hands around his soul, and drew it toward her heart. Once he was in place, she met Dante’s wide eyes. “Two souls in one body doesn’t work well, but I will hold him as long as I can.”

  Understanding flashed across his face, and he nodded. She curved her body inward to protect Gryf’s life force. All her energy focused on the place he occupied next to her own soul. God, please let this work.

  “What is she doing?” K’rona asked.

  “Buying us time.” Dante’s voice was incredulous.

  Gryf.

  Alexandra.

  He was cognizant, thank God. You’re safe for the moment. I’m not letting you get away that easily.

  What happened?

  The Premiere Warden tried to shoot K’rona, and hit you instead.

  Forever has he been a notoriously poor shot. Is K’rona safe?

  Yes. Dante’s going to surgically remove the...oh, cripes, whatever an Anferthian kagi is called. Nicky’s working with him.

  Then we’re in the best hands.

  A wave of hopelessness crashed over her. What if all this was a farce? What if the damage was too extensive and they couldn’t be saved? And if Gryf died, would she slip away with him, or would she have a moment to warn the others? The two of them were about to die together in the most literal way, and she so wasn’t ready for this.

  Animi. Gryf’s voice filled her.

  It can’t be over yet, Gryf. There’s too much left to do. Free the prisoners, rescue the slaves, negotiate with the Anferthians to keep their freaking hands off Earth and Matir. Hot tears slipped out from under her closed eyelids burning their paths over her cheeks.

  Peace, Alexandra. Maybe all we were supposed to do was start the process for others to carry on.

  “Sora.” Graig’s worried voice was at her ear. “Is Gryf still with you?”

  She opened her eyes. She was curled on her side now, a blanket under her and another over. Definitely warmer, but tremors still rocked her. Dante was well into the surgery, and Nicky sat astride her husband’s abdomen, his dark head bowed, eyes closed and glowing hands on Gryf’s rib cage. Beyond them, the dissenters appeared to have subdued D’etta’s men and were watching.

  “He’s here.” She touched her fingertips to her heart. “Safe for the moment.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  She turned so she could see his face. “If we don’t make it, Graig, please don’t give up. Don’t let anyone give up.”

  “I won’t, sora, but this isn’t where it will end.” He sounded so certain, but how could he be sure? “If you could see your face right now, you’d know too. Your eyes are glowing with your Gift, and you have that inflexible set to your jaw when you’re determined to get your way.”

  He didn’t understand. She glanced at the dark figure closing on them. “Death is here. I know you can’t see it, but I can. It’s standin
g at the place where Gryf was shot.”

  Graig glanced across the room then back. “It doesn’t matter. You fight to win, Alex.”

  He’s right. Gryf agreed.

  She looked at Gryf’s body. His face was chalky, and so pale. She reached out and placed her hand on his bicep. If she had any energy to spare, she’d flood him with healing.

  Death moved another step closer. A cold sweat broke out above her lip, and her stomach clenched. It was better to close her eyes and sink into the comfort of Gryf’s presence than to watch it approach.

  Her concentration faltered. She was sinking under a blanket of exhaustion. I’m starting to feel the drain, Gryf. Supporting both their souls was becoming too difficult for her body. How much longer did they have?

  Alexandra, will you do something for me? Gryf asked.

  Anything.

  Sing a song for me.

  Have you lost your ever-loving mind?

  Gryf’s amusement warmed her. Not completely, yet.

  What song?

  Any song. I just want your voice to be the last thing I hear if things don’t go well.

  A moment later, Graig said, “She’s singing.” She’d never heard him speak with such awe.

  “What song?” Dante’s question was followed by a plink of metal against metal. Probably the kagi dropping to the floor.

  “The airship song that the children love.” Graig’s tone was now amused.

  “I’m closing. Nick, he needs a massive regeneration of red and white blood cells stat.”

  “On it,” Nicky replied.

  “Alex, Gryf,” Graig murmured in her ear, and she slit her eyes open. “We’re almost ready. Just hang on a little longer.”

  Her hand slid slowly off Gryf’s bicep, as though it was now lead instead of flesh and blood. She stared at it, limp on the floor, for a couple of heartbeats. It seemed too much effort to put it back. Instead, she continued to sing under her breath.