Mystic Flame (Beyond Ontariese 4)

by Cyndi Friberg

  He didn’t offer any more information and she didn’t ask. Once he had her alone in the suite, he’d start the conversation again. They had both retreated from the conflict in their own way. She’d used anger to insulate herself from the pain and he’d used his training to distance himself from the consequences of his actions. It ended tonight. He couldn’t control how she reacted to the information, but she would hear the full story once and for all.

  The clerk had everything ready for them as promised. After a quick stop at the front desk, they made their way to the twenty-seventh floor. She unlocked the door and held it open as he rolled the suitcase inside.

  She flipped on a lamp and whistled, obviously pleased with the accommodations. “Damn,” she whispered. Walking through the main living area, she glanced into the adjoining bedroom before inspecting the spa, which nestled in the far corner against the windows. “So, where are you going to sleep?” She arched her brow in playful challenge as she completed her tour.

  “I’m not here for relaxation. I have to search through the journal entries.” It was as much a self-reminder as a refusal to rise to her bait.

  Taking the suitcase from him, she went into the bedroom and placed it on the stand inside the closet. He lingered in the doorway while she inspected the lavish bathroom, enjoying her obvious excitement.

  “Didn’t you hear each entry before you transmitted it to Lord Drakkin?” She brushed by him and strode across the spacious main room. Opening the draperies, she revealed an unobstructed view of the surrounding buildings.

  “It wasn’t necessary to inspect every entry and I’ve only been responsible for the journal for the past eight cycles.” She turned slightly as she enjoyed the setting, her profile cast in shadow against the light. He knew her skin was as silky as it appeared. Her curvaceous body was just as soft. Tempting, passionate—his. She was a distraction he couldn’t afford. Whether she believed it or not, Malos was up to something. “The incriminating information could have been entered by another apprentice.”

  “If Vee kept this journal since the inception of the Conservatory, there have to be thousands of entries.”

  “Hundreds of thousands. Vee began the journal eleven hundred cycles ago.”

  She turned her back to the window and cocked her head. “How do you expect to go through them all before Malos catches up with us?”

  “I don’t. It’s possible to search the entries using any number of criteria. The trick will be figuring out which questions to ask.” His gaze swept the room. He was less interested in the amenities than his companion. “I’d like to finish our previous conversation before I start working on the journal.”

  Raising her chin, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I obviously misjudged you. You’re forgiven. Now get busy on the journal.”

  He laughed. He knew it was the wrong response, but he couldn’t help himself. She was simply adorable when she was riled. Rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, he glanced away. How could he combat her contrary nature and fifteen cycles of misconception? “I appreciate your willingness to reconsider your position. Still, it might mean a bit more if you’d heard all the facts.”

  “Nothing you can say will bring them back.”

  He sucked in a breath, shocked by her verbal jab. Icy resignation stole through his being. “You’re right. None of it matters anymore.” He pulled the journal out of his pocket and sat at the round table near the windows. He couldn’t force her to listen and he was sick to death of groveling.

  You’re one mean-spirited bitch. Dro Tar chastised herself as she turned back to the windows and stared out at the dancing lights. Evan hadn’t deserved the low blow. Why was she so afraid to hear his side of the story?

  He activated the journal with a terse verbal command and a wayward tingle skittered down her spine. Their shared vision had been an undeniable reminder of how well she responded to his commands and how much he’d meant to her. So why was she forcing him away?

  She shook her head. Her attraction to Evan wasn’t the problem. It was more complicated than that. Part of her wanted to believe he was responsible for the mission’s failure. She needed someone else to blame.

  Guilt and grief swelled from deep inside her, squeezing her stomach and drying her throat. “Director Detrik didn’t want to use me, but no other female operative would agree to go.” Evan didn’t reply, so she turned around. He’d paused the journal and pushed back from the table. “I’d never collaborated with a Mystic before. You intimidated the hell out of me.”

  A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “It was the first mission I’d commanded. I was probably more intimidated than you.”

  “I didn’t want to like you. You were so arrogant.” She crossed to the table and slipped into the chair facing him. “I had far more field experience than you did and still they chose you to lead the team. That really pissed me off.” Their cabin on the smuggler’s ship had been continually monitored, greatly limiting what they could say. “There was so much I wanted to ask, so much I needed to know.”

  “Ask me now. I’ll tell you anything.” His voice wrapped around her with silken temptation, but she couldn’t see past the contacts disguising his eyes.

  She swallowed hard and glanced away. Her curiosity would have to wait. The incident loomed between them like a specter. Until it was vanquished, the rest was moot. “Was there really another ship?”

  “Yes. I take it you never read my addendum to the official record.”

  “I figured you’d just lie to protect yourself, so I didn’t see the point.” She sadly shook her head. “It was more than that. I didn’t want to know.” Her pride groaned with the admission.

  Resting his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward. “I don’t understand. What did you gain by believing I was a coward?”

  Her lips trembled. She pressed them together as memories flooded her mind, Bron’s easy smile, Fitz’s smoldering gaze. Evan scooted his chair around the table and took her hands, cradling them between his warm palms.

  She raised her gaze to his and her determination faltered. “Take off your contacts. I can’t do this if I can’t see your eyes.”

  “I will if you will,” he offered with a hesitant smile.

  After a quick stop in the bathroom to store their contacts in plastic cases, they returned to the living room. Evan sat in the same chair he’d vacated while Dro Tar crossed to the sofa situated against the adjacent wall. His natural lime-green eyes watched her with cautious expectation. She released her tension in a long, low sigh. At least she could see him now.

  “I was in a social alliance with Bron before the mission,” she began. “I didn’t know if they told you that.”

  “I suspected you two had been lovers. I didn’t realize the relationship had ended so recently.”

  “It didn’t actually end.” She drew her legs up before her and wrapped her arms around her knees. “He was furious when I applied for the mission. His only recourse was to apply as well. He knew I’d be paired with a Mystic and he knew I would… He knew sex might be necessary for the role I’d agreed to play.”

  Evan opened his mouth then raised his hands, obviously at a loss for words.

  Cut to the chase. He doesn’t need this much detail. “I was shocked when you zapped off the ship. I lost focus and one of the smugglers grabbed me. Bron charged the bastard and then all hell broke loose.”

  In a blur of graceful movement, Evan was out of his chair and kneeling in front of her. He raised his hand to her face and searched her gaze. Compassion shone in his eyes, making her heart flutter. “I only had an instant to act after I sensed the signal. I tried to warn you but—”

  “Don’t you understand? Bron was protecting me when he was killed. He shouldn’t have had to protect me. I shouldn’t have let you distract me.” She arched away from his touch. His hand lowered to her neck. “I needed to blame you so I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.”

  He sat beside her and gently stroked her arm. “We were traine
d to protect each other. Bron was only doing his job. You can’t blame yourself for his death. The smugglers were responsible.”

  She shook her head. “Bron knew. He looked into my eyes and knew what I felt for you had nothing to do with the mission. I shouldn’t have let you get to me. I should have—”

  Dragging her into his arms, he cut off her words with his mouth. Her body unfolded, resting half on and half off his lap. His lips gentled after a brief moment of demand. He tilted his head and gave her bottom lip a playful nibble. “No one expected the mission to last as long as it did. We had no way of knowing how we would react to each other.” He shifted her against his chest, cradling the back of her head with the bend of his elbow. “We met our objectives. The smugglers were apprehended. Even the crew of the second ship was eventually caught.”

  “How did you escape? For that matter, how were they able to keep you captive? You can teleport.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” He paused for a moment as his thumb traced her lips. “In my youthful arrogance, I overestimated my range. I was lucky to solidify. By the time I thwarted their plans, I was so weak I could hardly move.”

  “How long did it take you to regain your strength?”

  “They fed me little and kept everyone away from me so I couldn’t siphon energy. It was only when they decided to interrogate me that I was able to acquire what I needed.”

  She’d been taught how to offer energy to a Mystic and the process still overwhelmed her. When energy was taken without the donor’s cooperation, the energy was tainted and the donor was often damaged.

  “I managed not to kill them, though I doubt they would have extended me the same courtesy.” He dragged his gaze away from her face and let his hand slip to her shoulder. “The memorial services for Bron and Fitz had already taken place by the time I returned to Ontariese. Director Detrik told me the mission was considered a success, but I couldn’t accept the cost. I was team leader and two men had died on my watch.”

  “I know you renounced your title and asked to be retrained.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to take responsibility for my actions. I don’t pretend to be blameless. If I had warned the team about the ambush instead of trying to be a hero, we might have been able to blast our way out.”

  “Or we might have lost the entire team.”

  “Life is filled with possibilities.” His voice was low and reflective, his gaze fixed on her mouth. “We’re never completely sure the decisions we make are correct. I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes, but I am not a coward.”

  Time itself paused as he raised his gaze to hers. All the bitterness melted away, leaving a vague sense of longing. She missed her friends and ached for the future she might have built with Evan. “It was easier to believe you deserted us than to accept responsibility for Bron’s death.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He sat her on his lap and framed her face with his hands. “Repeat after me—I am not responsible for Bron’s death.”

  “I am not responsible for Bron’s death.”

  “Let’s try another one. Loving Evan did not contribute to the tragedy.”

  She shook her head, her lips parting in a reluctant smile. “I never said I loved you. There’s that Mystic arrogance again.”

  He laid her back across the couch and arched over her. Interlacing their fingers, he drew her arms over her head and settled his mouth on hers. She inhaled his scent, relishing the teasing brush of his lips against hers.

  “I missed you.” He didn’t allow her to reply. Tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue, he warned her of his intention then eased into her mouth. His taste, the silken slide of his tongue against hers, the urgency, no one kissed like Evan.

  Angling her head and curling her tongue around his, she savored the heat and the intimacy. She needed to touch him, to rediscover the wonder of being with him. His warm breath wafted across her moist lips as he pulled back.

  “We can’t do this.” He panted. “I have to figure out why we’re here.”

  “I think this is why we’re here. I think Tal wanted us to work things out.”

  He shook his head, his ravenous gaze moving over her face. “Tal didn’t trigger my vision. He might have sent you after me, hoping we’d reconcile, but the crisis is real.”

  “Show me.” She tightened her fingers around his as he started to get up. “Show me what you saw in the vortex.”

  She wanted his mouth on hers, or better yet, his entire body wrapped around her. Instead, he pressed their foreheads together and told her to close her eyes. As soon as she lowered her lids, color and light burst within her mind. Bending, shifting, like a Mystic kaleidoscope, images flashed through the color in rapid succession. She was about to dismiss the fragments as simple distortions when emotion bombarded her mind. Trepidation squeezed her heart. This was real. Someone was in danger. For just an instant she saw thick-lashed lavender eyes, filled with fear and hopelessness, then the image disappeared into the colors and the vision dissolved.

  “Who is she?” Dro Tar whispered.

  He eased back and met her gaze. “That’s what we have to figure out.”

  * * * * *

  Grat held the palm-size device level with his face and said, “Full spectrum display.” A three-dimensional grid rose from the surface of the scanner. Malos had assured him the scanner would pick up the Mystic’s energy pattern. As long as Dro Tar was still with the Mystic, Grat shouldn’t have any trouble executing his objectives.

  Stone-cold fury washed over him. The mission was familiar. Neutralizing a threat was nothing he hadn’t done before, but he’d left this life behind after he met Dro Tar. Her effervescent personality and undaunted spirit had motivated him to change. He’d sworn he’d never hunt again and he’d meant it.

  He shook away the thought. His intentions no longer mattered. If some faceless Mystic had to lose his life to ensure Gine’s safety, so be it. He’d disable the Mystic, retrieve the journal and return to Ontariese with Dro Tar.

  Then Malos would pay for making him break his vow!

  Malos insisted the only way to avoid detection was to make sure the transport conduit never touched the ground. So he’d dropped Grat into a field adjacent to the airport with all the care of a garbage scow. Stunned and aching from the impact, Grat had walked to the terminal and located one of the yellow vehicles Malos had described. The vehicle then delivered him to the hotel and Grat secured a room.

  First and foremost, Grat had to locate the Mystic. According to Malos, the scanner was accurate but its range was limited. The city’s attractions were congregated in two primary locations, downtown and the Strip. He would organize each into a manageable grid then begin his search.

  If only he had some form of transportation, the search would take a fraction of the time than if he attempted it on foot. A brochure for helicopter tours lay on the nightstand. He shook his head. An aerial search might take him out of scanner range. He needed an automobile and someone capable of operating it while he scanned each building within the grid.

  He picked up the primitive audiocom and punched the button connecting him with the front desk.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I need to arrange transportation to take me about the city.”

  “Tourist information is on the table, sir, and there should be a directory in the nightstand. Dial nine for an outside line.”

  “Though I speak your language, I am unable to comprehend your writing.”

  After an audible sigh the clerk muttered, “The concierge left for the day. I’ll have to roundup someone who can help you.”

  “My time is valuable. Please conclude your rounding up quickly.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “This person will come to my room?”

  “Yes, just give me a few minutes.” Without further interaction, the agitated person ended the call.

  Annoyed by the complication, Grat paced the room. He hated being dependent on others even to this small
degree. Unfortunately, the urgency of this mission hadn’t allowed for detailed planning.

  It took longer than a few minutes, but someone finally knocked on his door. He looked through the tiny magnifying lens to make sure his visitor was an employee then opened the door.

  “The front desk said you needed help calling a cab.” The young man wore black pants and a short sleeved shirt with a graphic Grat had seen displayed in various places throughout the hotel.

  “Is a cab the yellow vehicle that transported me here from the airport?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then that is not what I require. That driver expected compensation for the duration of the ride as well as the distance travels. I need an escort for several hours, perhaps longer.”

  “You want an escort?”

  Grat wasn’t sure why the young man emphasized the word, so he attempted to clarify. “I know no one in this city. I need—”

  “I’ve got you covered.” He walked over to the desk on which one of the audiocoms was located and punched numerous keys with his middle finger. “These guys will take good care of you.” Smiling broadly, he handed the awkward device to Grat.

  “Racing Hearts Escort Service,” a pleasant female voice came across the line. “Your satisfaction is guaranteed.”

  He returned the young man’s smile as he said, “I’d like to arrange for an escort.”

  Chapter Four

  “Any luck?”

  Evan looked up from the journal and folded his hands on the tabletop. Dro Tar reclined in the contoured spa, the bubbling water more or less hiding her nudity from view. An intriguing combination of brown, green and gold, her gently swirling eyes never failed to captivate. She wasn’t trying to distract him. She didn’t have to try. Ever since she’d emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel he’d been unable to concentrate.

  “I’ve tried all the obvious searches. There are only a handful of entries that mention Malos and the information is nothing out of the ordinary.”