by Zara Zenia
Even over the vid screen, I could hear the pain and fear in my brother's voice well enough for it to pierce my heart.
"That's how we ended up with the genetic scanners."
"The scanners confirmed—"
"What good is technology that only confirms what we already know? Besides, the Countess ruined them for us, so now I have to rely on just my own instincts again, Gardax. And I just don’t know—"
"You will know, Lortnam, trust me," Gardax said.
I looked down at my hands, unable to argue with him. To me, that confirmation meant everything. I had to wonder if Akrawn could get it fixed. If he did and I used one on of the scanners on Kelly Fillmore, would they match us? Would I trust them if they did?
But Akrawn had said he was now working from scratch and it could take years to perfect them. And it wouldn't matter how suitable the match was on paper, because I wasn't looking for a simple match anymore. I wanted to love her and I wanted, even if it took time and there was only the vaguest hope, for her to love me too.
I swallowed and gathered my courage then looked back at Gardax. "I met someone. I asked her on a date and I have no idea in Trilyn's name what I'm doing."
Confusion flooded Gardax's face followed by disbelief then pure delight of a kind I hadn't seen since we were children.
"I guess you didn't need our help at all," he whispered.
"Except for the part where I said I don't know what I'm doing!" I leaned forward bracing my elbows against the desk and lowering my head into my hands. "She won't dine with me in the palace."
Gardax's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
"It frightens her. Which is odd because she didn't mention it before I brought her aboard."
"She's in your palace?" Gardax leaned back in his chair, staring down at me in shock.
"Gardax focus! She's not here anymore." And how I wished that weren't true. The faint scent of her perfume had all but faded from the air refreshers. Her refusal to return to my palace meant I wouldn't smell it here again unless I somehow changed her mind about my home and me.
"Okay." He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Tell me what you know about her. It will help."
"Help what?" I asked.
"Oh for— if she's not going to eat from your kitchen, you have to find a place she likes that's safe. So what do you know about her?"
I closed my eyes, replaying every moment of my time with Kelly. There had been a look of panic in her eyes when I mentioned my palace, a slight hesitance that might have been a refusal. Shame on me for not noticing it.
"She's unconventional. She doesn't enjoy taking risks, but she will if she thinks it will benefit her. And she was dressed more casually than the other reporters."
"That's a lot to notice, how long did you spend with her?"
"Not long enough."
A smile crept over Gardax's lips. "That is a very good answer. A beautiful answer. That means wherever you take her, she might realize how much you wanted to see her again."
"Asking her to have dinner with me didn't do that?"
"I know you. I know how you get. The answer is no." He laughed softly. "I can see why you were distracted enough to miss our call. You really like her."
Was that the word for the sensation I felt when I looked at Kelly Fillmore? The mixture of hope and fear, attraction and trepidation?
"What if Akrawn can get the scanners fixed? They may not confirm her," I said as much in warning to myself as to him.
"Akrawn is brilliant and he has help from the AIs, he’ll get them fixed," Gardax said.
No, I couldn't take it. What kind of bizarre fortune had smiled on me that Kelly had agreed to the date at all, I didn't know. I wasn't fool enough to hope its light would stretch that far.
"Speak your mind, Lortnam," Gardax said. "The others aren't here."
I swallowed, bidding the words to come, but at first they would not. Confession was never a language Gardax and I shared. Our entire lives, when there were words I couldn't speak to anyone else, I could speak them to Jinurak. But he wasn't here, and I could no more force a reconciliation for my worrying than he had been able to for his fear. For now, my twin wasn't there to help me.
"I can't shake the feeling that if my first match is a failure there will not be another for me. Please, I already know," I said, raising a hand to interrupt the platitudes before they left his mouth. "There's no reason to believe it will happen that way for me."
Gardax nodded. "If you knew upfront this woman wasn't your match, but you still had the chance to have dinner with her, would you?"
That answer, I had no trouble providing. "As many times as she would agree to."
Kelly Fillmore was unlike any Human woman I had ever met. Something about her pulled me to reveal myself to her in ways I never had before. It made me want to know her in a way I'd never cared to know anyone. She was clever. She was beautiful. More than that, she saw through me. I hadn't admitted to anyone but my brothers that I felt responsible for the Corbin brothers.
"Then put the broken scanners and the mission aside for a night, Lortnam. They will all still be there when you get back to your rooms. Just have a meal with her and be yourself."
I snorted. "Being myself is what got me into this. You would have stayed in that room. So would Manzar."
"We would have been wrong and gotten a lot of people killed in the process," he said. "Maybe even ourselves. And would it have won her respect?"
"More like her contempt."
"Then she's wiser than many of her species and you are farther ahead than you think." Gardax folded his hands in front of him. "Now, you have what you need?"
The shift in the High Prince's tone and body language let me know the personal part of our meeting was over. I grabbed my pad from the table and called up the most recent information on the Corbin brothers and their attack. I glanced over it briefly, frowning.
"Jacob Corbin is still in custody," I said. "That's his real name, but the documentation wherever they've been staying must not be. The Baltimore Police Department don’t have any leads on the brothers or any of their living relatives. And there's no record of them living here or anywhere until three years ago."
Gardax furrowed his brow. "Everyone comes from somewhere."
"But not everyone wants their origins known. It's just as likely Corbin is a carefully crafted alias."
"You saw these two. Do you believe they were capable of that without help?"
I leaned back in my chair. "The papers perhaps. All one would need is to know the right palms to grease here. But the detonator is different. The younger brother I doubt could have done it. The older brother, I can't say for sure, except it was the most sophisticated technology I've seen on this planet and he wasn't the least bit intimidated by it."
"And you disarmed it in seconds the first time you saw it?" Gardax said, confusion and disbelief evident in his voice.
I rolled my eyes. "I was only able to disarm it... because I recognized it."
"What do you mean?"
I swiped my fingers across my pad, calling up a blank space to draw a crude rendering of the device. When I finished, I turned the pad to the console screen.
"I've seen this technology somewhere before."
Gardax's face shifted slowly as his eyes combed over my drawing, making him look weary. He rubbed his eyes, but it did nothing to bring the sharpness back to them. It was as if I'd hit him with the weight of a mountain.
"So Jacob Corbin appeared out of nowhere just as we did and had technology he had to have been trained on that's somehow connected to us."
"Those can't be coincidences," I said, leaning back as the same weight settled over me. How many more Corbin brothers were out there? How many more explosives beyond their technology?
"I should contact Father," Gardax said. "If more negotiations with President Darling are required, it's best if he leads them."
Shaking my head, I turned off my pad and set it aside. "Negotiations with t
he Union won't help if the citizens turn against us. This has to be stopped before it spreads even further, Gardax."
"What would you have me do, Lortnam? I can't let you and the others go off chasing vigilantes."
"Terrorists," I corrected.
"Until another innocent Human is killed in the crossfire," he said. "Then they're freedom fighters, we're invaders, and this turns into another war."
I lowered my head. "You're right. But you can't have Father come back here."
"Why?"
"Because, he is the King, he’s needed there. In fact, you and Amy should probably go back to Trilyn, especially if there is to be war. You’ve got the future to consider, Gardax. Your wife and child."
"Do you think our family or our people feel any differently about you and the others?" Again, the pain tinged his voice. "If the situation on Earth is dangerous, the mission may have to be aba—"
"No!" Damn it, how were we even discussing this? "The situation isn't that far gone yet."
"You can't be asking me to wait until it is. Again! Manzar practically had to take on all of New New Orleans on his own! He let it get out of hand! If I had known then—"
"I'm asking you to give me time to reach out to the Humans," I said. "To let them know that our full resources are at their disposal. Several times if I have to."
Gardax's expression hardened, but I could tell from the look in his eyes he was considering my proposal. For him to call an end to the mission was unthinkable, and he had to have known it. Only four brothers had found their mates. Akrawn’s near death had nearly caused Father to pull us out just a few months ago. He’d worked so hard to make things acceptable for us to stay, how could Gardax even consider leaving now or calling Father back in? Even if I could accept a life alone in my supposed fortress, I would never wish that fate on the rest of my brothers. I would never wish it on my twin.
"Tread carefully, Lortnam," he finally said. "Over reach here could turn the government against us, and that could be just as fatal as losing the citizens. And whatever violence happens, make sure a Human starts it."
I nodded grimly and said, “I will, Gardax. You and Amy be careful as well. These terrorists may not have targeted your city yet, but they still could. Please, stay safe.”
“We will.” Gardax nodded and signed off.
I sighed. Gardax had his Amy to sooth his soul. I had only my dark office and my servants in the hall anxiously waiting for me to call for dinner and relieve them of their duties for the night.
But for once, I had something to look forward to. A smile came to my lips as I saw Kelly in my mind. Her rich brown hair, her silvery eyes, her smooth tanned skin. If I was only to have one night with this woman, it may have to last me the rest of my life.
I grabbed the pad again, pulling up dozens of restaurants in the area and several a short trip in my transport away. After dark, I sent the staff to bed without having ever called for my dinner.
Chapter 8
Kelly
It took an entire bottle of red wine— which I wasn’t nearly classy enough to know the name of —to calm down after my impromptu meeting with Prince Lortnam. I had his transport drop me off two miles from my apartment in the path of a serviceable liquor store. If the afternoon had gone the way I planned, I would have been back at the very nice hotel Nora Morse was paying for. But I couldn't risk the name of the hotel getting back the Prince because I was checked in under my own name. Mistake number one. I had no way of knowing how many this case could take before it and my cover were screwed beyond repair, but I suspected it wasn't many.
Only lack of a corkscrew and the threat of a ticket if I got caught kept me from cracking the bottle open on the walk back to steady my nerves.
Trust one of Mei’s brilliant schemes to work better than either of us had expected. I hadn’t seen any sign of high-tech dungeons in the Prince’s fortress during my short time there, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. And if I wanted to stay out of them, I needed to stay out of that fortress and as far away from Prince Lortnam and his frosty blue eyes as possible.
When I got back to my apartment, I plopped down on the couch and pulled up my banking app. Nora’s retainer check had cleared, but it plus my fee for the day’s work wouldn’t give me quite enough for a plane ticket to Tokyo. Which left me two choices: beg Mei to loan me the difference or get Nora’s okay to go on that date with the Prince.
It was at that point I decided it was better to finish the bottle than confront my problems. But this was a whopper not even a generous buzz and the evening news could sort. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Mei for money and a place to stay, too. Even though I knew she would have given both, and just about anything else I asked for, in a heartbeat. My brain hung on the decision to call Nora like a decade old virus riddled desk top.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had dodged a major bullet in the fortress that afternoon. If the security team had scanned my fingerprints. If one of his aides had checked my non-existent press credentials. If someone had asked to see my driver’s license, revealing that my last name was Grant, not Fillmore. There were half a dozen ways I could have ended up the Prince’s permanent guest that day. I wasn’t a big enough dumbass to think I would be that lucky twice.
He could still bust me during dinner. In his culture, handcuffs might go great sandwiched between an entree and dessert course.
Kelly get a grip and make the freaking call. It’s just one bad date. You’ve had a metric shit ton of those. And after that your ass will be on a thirteen-hour flight to anywhere but fucking here.
I checked the time. Nine forty-five. There was a slight chance a woman like Nora was already asleep, but I couldn’t wait until morning. If the Prince called with a restaurant suggestion, it might look like I was backing out if I didn’t have a yes or no right away.
Taking a breath to steady myself, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Nora’s number.
She answered on the second ring.
"You have news for me, Kelly?" she asked.
I blinked. When exactly had I become Kelly instead of Ms. Grant?
"I made a successful first contact, Ms. Morse," I said, barely resisting the urge to stress the formal address. Who am I kidding? I stressed the hell out of it.
"What did you find out? I suppose it’s too much to hope he just came out and admitted to the whole thing."
I snorted. "I’m good, Ms. Morse, but not that good. He did give me reason to believe your suspicions—"
"Our suspicions, Kelly," she said.
"Right. Our suspicions were likely accurate. There’s more to the story than the press is letting on. He admitted that there were fewer attackers in the building than reported, but he denies that he had anything to do with it. He seemed offended when I asked."
"You actually asked him?! Just blurted it out?"
"I did, Ms. Morse." Here we go. I kept my voice flat and even. I knew this game. "At the time, I was playing an intrepid reporter, one who absolutely would have asked a gotcha question like that simply to see how the Prince would react."
This was the crappiest part of every case, being questioned by the client. Nobody really knows what a private investigator does, but everyone has seen dozens of them on television. Adding to the misconception were television PIs who acted like cops and vice versa. Sometimes they had to be talked through it step-by-step. Like children.
"Oh. Well, what does it mean that he got offended?"
I sighed. And back to our regularly scheduled programming. "Absolutely nothing. An honest man would be genuinely offended, a liar would pretend to be. It's more important that he didn't throw me out the second I asked. That would have been a major sign of guilt."
"So all you've learned is he might be a good liar," Nora said. "I knew that without spending any money. The Trilyn are all liars. They came here under false pretenses. Trading technology for wives. As if that weren't just a pretty name for a hostile takeover! And I've seen that Lortnam on television. He'
s a walking cave man. I wouldn't put it past him to stage the whole thing just to up his chances of finding a woman. They've got to be getting desperate."
I sank my teeth into my lip so hard I was afraid I might draw blood. Part of me wanted to defend the Prince. Nobody made our governments sell us out. If the Trilyn were going to be crucified on the hill of sexism, quite a few Human men had to go with them. But sexism and misogyny hadn't blown up the cars in that parking lot.
However, there was another reason I couldn't argue with Nora's assessment. It wasn't far from the truth. If the Prince calling a full-day press junket when he would have rather had his fingernails pulled out than talk to reporters was exhibit A. His impassioned plea to me near the end of the interview was exhibit B and Nora didn't even know about that. I didn't think the Corbin brothers were the only reason behind it, but desperate was the perfect word to describe the Trilyn.
When I didn't join in Nora's rant, she fell silent. I let it hang for a beat before I continued.
"In fact, I learned the Prince is a pretty rotten liar," I said. "Spending a whole day repeating the same lie over and over again pushed him to his limits."
"How can you know that?" she asked.
I closed my eyes. My wine buzz was too far in the rearview mirror for this level of questioning from a client.
"Because I'm good at my job, Ms. Morse."
"You may be good at reading Human men, but how many Trilyn have you done casework on?"
"There are only seven concentrations of them on the entire planet, Ms. Morse," I said. "I don't think there's anyone on the planet who has done much casework on them. And yes, that includes me."
Nora sighed in naked frustration. "So what's the next step? Are you going to interview him again?"
I closed my eyes and swallowed. The rant set off warning alarms in my head, but the shortfall in my bank account was a stronger motivator.