Riane shook her head and crossed her long legs. “I doubt seriously there are any coincidences to this situation. We just don’t know what’s going on yet.”
Nick moved to sit down next to her. His thick dark brows were drawn into a troubled frown. “But how did you meet my mother?”
“That’s where it gets complicated.”
He snorted. “You mean it’s not already?”
“Just wait. She was posing as a twenty-first-century woman named Charlotte Holt—”
“Her name was Carolyn Wyatt.”
Riane shook her head. “Hate to tell you this, Nick, but that was probably just one of a number of aliases.” She leaned back on her elbows. “At the time, Charlotte was rooming with an artist named Jessica Kelly. My team and I suspected a time-traveling art thief was going to attempt to kill Jess.”
“Why?” He propped his head on his fist and studied her, his green gaze brooding.
“According to historical records, twenty-first-century officials believed Jess was murdered, but her body was never found. Because her paintings are worth millions of galactors in our time, we suspected a thief had Jumped back to the twenty-first century, meaning to kill her and steal her work to sell for a tidy profit back home. We wanted to prevent that.”
Nick frowned, trying to work through the sequence of events. “But wouldn’t that cause a paradox?”
“No. All officials ever found was a whole lot of blood, which implied we might be able to step in and save her. If we could prevent her murder, we could take her back to our own time to live out the rest of her life. Which as Temporal Enforcement agents, we’re legally obligated to do, since it was a temporal crime.”
Nick nodded slowly. “Okay, I think I’ve got that.”
“Except we’d completely misread the situation. The thief was actually a Xeran assassin, and his real target was your mother. He attacked Jess in an attempt to force her to tell him where Charlotte was.”
Nick blinked. “Why was he after my mother?”
“Because she knew where alien refugees called the Sela were hiding.”
“Wait—aliens? Sela? What the hell is a Sela?”
“Fuzzy little six-legged creatures. I’ve got an image on file.” Another three-dimensional picture appeared, this one of a big-eyed, vaguely feline creature with too many legs and glossy dark fur.
Nick stared at it, dark brows lifting. “And my mother was involved with those things? Why?”
“That’s a really good question. Apparently, the Xerans invaded the Sela’s home planet about a year ago, our time. The Xer being religious lunatics, they decided the Sela were abominations and attempted to exterminate them. For reasons we still don’t understand, some of the Sela escaped back into Earth’s history, where they passed themselves off as human.”
“How the hell did they do that?”
“Apparently the Sela have pretty impressive psychic abilities. Among other things, they can create very convincing illusions.”
“Okay, but what was my mother’s connection with them?” His eyes narrowed in calculation. “And why do I get the distinct feeling they’re the missing piece in all this that I’ve never been able to figure out?”
Riane hesitated. “Well, according to Jess—who had a vision about all this—Charlotte was a member of a Xeran team that went back in time hunting the Selan ship. They found it, but when your mother encountered one of the Sela, she decided she didn’t want to kill them. Her fellow Xerans had other ideas, so a firefight ensued. Charlotte ended up wiping out her whole team.”
“Why would she kill her own people?”
Riane lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Apparently, Charlotte liked the Sela a lot more than her fellow Xerans.”
Nick snorted. “I can believe that.”
“Charlotte went on the run with the Sela, so the Xerans declared her a heretic and sent an assassin after her. To evade him, she started Jumping through time, trying to keep the killer from finding her furry friends.”
“So what was she doing with this artist?”
“That’s another really good question. Apparently the Sela had instructed her to implant Jessica with a blend of Xeran and Selan DNA, which gave Jess psychic powers similar to the Sela’s.”
Nick stared. “But why?”
“Jess says it was all part of some kind of test the Sela were administrating.”
“Who were they testing?”
“Us.”
“Again, why?”
“Who the hell knows? They’re aliens. They don’t think like we do, and they’re not inclined to explain themselves.”
Nick grimaced in frustration. “None of this makes any freaking sense.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does—to the Sela.” Riane stretched out beside him and crossed her ankles. “Trouble is, we’re not Sela.”
“Wonder why the Xerans are so hot to kill them?”
“The Xerans don’t like anybody they consider a threat, and the Sela have some pretty interesting abilities. And they have something the Xerans want. It’s a Selan artifact called the T’Lir. I saw it when we intervened in the last big confrontation between the Xerans and the Sela. It looked like a cheap little snow globe, complete with a really kitschy Santa inside. Yet it can amplify psychic abilities to godlike levels.”
He stared at her. “Why would an advanced alien species create a psychic amplifier that looks like a Santa snow globe?”
“Apparently, they can make it look like anything they damn well want to. It was on display in a coffee shop the Sela were running, in the middle of a collection of other snow globes.”
His eyes widened. “Camouflage.”
“Exactly. Worked, too. The Xerans looked right at it and had no idea what it was. After we kicked the Xerans’ collective ass, your mother and the surviving Sela Jumped who knows where, taking the snow globe with them. They’ve probably turned it into something else by now.”
Nick’s gaze shot to his armband, eyes widening. “My Stone!”
“Yep.”
“Damn,” he said slowly, “if you’re right, all of this finally makes sense. Sort of. They’ve been trying to kill me all this time over the . . . What did you call it?”
“The T’Lir.”
“So what do you suggest I do about all this?”
She gave him a long, steady look. “It’s your rock.”
“That’s a big help.”
“Hey, I’m not the one with”—Riane waggled her fingers in a spell-casting gesture—“powers.”
“But you do know more about the Sela than I do.” His eyes narrowed. “And that gives me an idea.”
• 20 •
Frieka lay on the bed in Riane’s quarters. The bunk smelled like her, that clean, distinctively Warfem scent he associated with home and happiness.
Sitting beside Baran and Jane, watching a little girl with a cloud of red curls race in merry circles. The sweet waterfall of her giggles.
“Giddyup, Frieka!” The thump of tiny heels against his ribs as she tried to ride him like a pony. He could barely feel her weight.
The wolf heard a soft moaning sound of pain, and knew it came from his own throat.
Dona had betrayed his baby. How could she sit there, scratching him between the ears, knowing she’d left his child trapped in the past? How could she curse Ivar Terje as a traitor while committing treason herself?
How could she look him in the eye and say in that crushed voice, “It wasn’t me”?
She’d sounded so damned truthful. Her heartbeat hadn’t jumped. His sensors swore she was telling the truth. Or what she believed to be the truth.
Could she be telling the truth? Or had she just invented a way to fool sensors so well, you couldn’t tell she’d done it?
“Outpost,” Frieka said aloud. “Run the recording of Dona taking Riane’s suit.”
He lay his head on his paws and watched the recording through once, then again. Then yet again.
Something wasn’t right. It nagg
ed at him like a flea-bite, an itch of wrongness. Frieka watched the recording through again. His head jerked off his paws. “Outpost, pause recording!”
The image stopped. Frieka hopped off the bed and moved closer. “Zoom in on the device in Dona’s hand.”
The image instantly popped into a close-up of the thin controller. The wolf reared onto his hind legs and balanced there, studying it. “Yeah, that’s a personal code breaker, all right.”
He’d found his nagging flea.
Frieka had watched Dona hack high-security computer systems as easily as a child getting cookies from a vendser. “Why the hell would Dona Astryr need a code breaker?”
Answer: she wouldn’t. Which meant she was right. The recording couldn’t be genuine.
Why hadn’t the Chief realized that?
The answer to that was equally obvious: the Chief didn’t trust his own judgment. He was so obsessed with Dona, he assumed any doubts were the product of hormones instead of rationality.
Unfortunately, the only way to get evidence of Dona’s innocence was to hack into the Outpost comp and discover how it had been diddled. Frieka normally would ask for help from one of the other Enforcers, but Corydon was right: there was at least one mole on the Outpost. And if Frieka accidently enlisted that traitor’s help, it would be the last thing he ever did.
Which would be no help at all to either Dona or Riane.
So he could afford to tell no one what he intended. Yet hacking a computer without backup was a good way to end up dead if you triggered a lethal virus, Trojan, or data bomb.
Still, if he could find out where Riane had been sent, the risk would be worth it.
Riane stared at Nick in horror. “You’re nuts.”
“Riane, I’ve already told you about this.” He rose restlessly from the bed and began to pace. “I’ve done telepathic links any number of times to learn all kinds of techniques. And it never hurt anybody. It’s not going to hurt you either.”
“Nick, all those people knew how to do what you needed to learn.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, frowning at him. “But what you need to learn now is how to use your powers to find the Sela. And I have no frigging idea.”
“But you’ve met the Sela.” He turned and spread his hands. “I could use your memories to track them down.”
“You want a memory? I can give you that now.” She ordered her comp to generate another trid image of a Sela, which obligingly popped into midair. “There. No brain scan necessary.”
Nick cocked his head and considered the image. “You know, those things remind me of Japanese cartoons. All fuzz and outsized eyes.” Then he shook his head. “But no, a picture’s not going to do it. I need concrete sense details like scent, sound, touch. What being in the presence of a Sela is really like. Then I’ll be able to lock on and find them.”
“But, Nick, what if something goes wrong? I don’t particularly want my brain hacked.” She hesitated before finally voicing her deepest fear. “Of course, you could make me cooperate . . .”
He gave her a long, cold stare. “Oh, that was just insulting.”
“Yeah.” She scrubbed her hands over her face, feeling a little ashamed of herself. “My mother would have called it a cheap shot.”
“Yes, but I guess it’s understandable.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to release a knot of tension gathered there. “Look, I need to find these people, or aliens, or whatever the hell they are. I need to find out if they’re really the source of my abilities, and if they are, how I can use my powers more effectively. I might even be able to send you back home with that knowledge. Maybe I could finally stop the damned Xerans.”
Who needed telepathy when he knew exactly which buttons to push? She shot him a resentful glare. “I’m just not comfortable having anyone poke around in my brain.”
“I have no intention of ‘poking’ around. I’m not interested in anything but finding out about the Sela and the T’lir.”
Despite the simmering paranoia he’d managed to kick up, Riane knew he was telling the truth. “Give me time, Nick.”
He looked at her a long, steady moment, then rose to his feet. “You’ve got it.” Stalking to the door, he pulled it open. “If you need me, I’ll be in the parking lot.”
As the door closed behind him, Riane threw herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The thought of allowing anyone—even Nick—into her mind made her stomach twist into an aching knot. Especially given that even he didn’t fully understand his own powers.
What if something went wrong? She’d be completely vulnerable, with no way of defending herself.
Every Enforcer knew what could happen if you hacked the wrong computer. Twenty-third-century viruses were designed specifically with cyborgs in mind, and they could cause a lot more damage than software crashes. They could stop your heart, send your own nanobots to attack your organs, trigger massive seizures, paralyze breathing . . . The list was endless and ugly.
No, she didn’t want to give Nick access to her brain. Even though she knew he had no interest in killing her, something could still go wrong. She could fight a virus, but she couldn’t fight his kind of power.
Shoulder propped against one of the pillars supporting the overhang, Nick stared out across the parking lot. The sun was coming up across the trees, spilling golden light through the low, pink-tinged clouds. The air smelled of spring, and birds were singing.
Nick felt as if Riane had kicked him square in the stomach. Which just illustrated how stupid he’d been. She’d become his obsession when he was a boy, and he’d never outgrown it. Then she’d actually shown up and become his lover, with the kind of uncomplicated passion every man dreamed of.
In retrospect, it was obvious he’d unconsciously hoped she’d return his feelings.
Idiot.
The fact was, she’d never trusted him. With her body, yes, but not with her heart.
Nick took a deep breath and blew it out, letting his shoulders slump. It was time to face the fact that she was going to leave. She’d made it clear he didn’t belong in her world, and she couldn’t stay in his.
And even if she decided to allow him to link with her, that wasn’t going to change.
The motel room door swung open. Riane stared out at him, her expression grim, her face dead pale. “Let’s do it.”
Nick’s brows flew up. “I thought you needed to think about it.”
“I did.” She grimaced. “Until I heard my own thoughts and realized how cowardly they sounded. Frieka would have given me holy hell and a nip on the ass.”
So it wasn’t that she’d suddenly discovered she trusted him—her pride just wouldn’t let her back down from a situation she considered dangerous. “We wouldn’t want you to be cowardly.”
Riane frowned at him. “What’s your problem? You look like you’ve bitten into a sourfruit.”
“Nothing.” He strode toward her and caught the door over her head. “Let’s do it.”
She glowered into his eyes and backed into the room. “I repeat: What in the Seven Hells is your problem?”
Nick stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. “You wouldn’t even be alive right now if I hadn’t used these powers you’re so worried about to save your ass. So come off it!”
“Look, I know you saved me during that fight. But—”
“I’m not talking about that damned fight. I’m talking about sixteen fucking years ago!”
She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Sixteen . . . ?”
“When you were twelve years old and the Xeran kidnapped you.” He bared his teeth in something not even vaguely close to a smile. “Who do you think told Frieka where you were? You think he followed your fucking scent through the air?”
“You . . . traveled through time?” Riane blinked at him, obviously taken aback.
“No, I had a damned vision! I was fourteen, and Mom had died two days before, and I was sitting there trying to work up the guts to kill myself. So the
Stone sent me a vision. Of you.”
Her dark eyes went wide. “Me?”
“You. It told me you were going to die unless I saved you. It showed me the whole thing. You, tied down in front of that obscene damned sculpture, and that sick fuck Xeran telling you he was going to rape you. A twelve-year-old girl!” It made him sick to think about it, even all these years later.
All the blood drained from her face. “You saw that?”
“Oh, I sure as hell did. I didn’t have the power to save you myself, so the Stone told me to reach out to your daddy. Only I couldn’t get through to him, so I touched your wolf instead. I told him where you were, and he led Baran to you.”
“That’s how you knew my father’s name.” Riane’s voice sounded uncharacteristically faint. “You saw us all.”
“Exactly. And you want to hear something funny? All this time, I knew I’d see you again. I could feel it, and I never doubted. I had no idea you were three hundred years in the future, but if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Because I knew the Stone would bring us together. What I didn’t realize was that you’d see me as some Xeran half-breed you don’t trust.”
She winced. “It’s not about you being Xeran, Nick. I know you’re not running some kind of scam on me for the Victor.”
“Oh, yeah, you know that. But don’t fool yourself—it’s still about me being Xeran.”
A flush of pure anger spilled across her high cheekbones. Her eyes narrowed, glittering at him like a pair of dark gems. A dangerous flicker of red sparked in their pupils, revealing her growing fury. “So what are you saying—I’m some kind of racist?”
“Oh, not consciously. But you grew up hearing about how they tortured your father until he had to hunt them down for what they’d done to him. And then one of them damn near killed you, solely because you were Baran Arvid’s child. When you grew up, Xerans were always the enemy. Bouncing through time, killing innocent women.” His anger began to wind down into weary resignation. “I guess it’s no wonder you don’t trust anybody with Xeran DNA.”
“I’m not a bigot.” She lowered her head and glared at him. Her face flushed, and the red in her eyes grew into a bright blaze. “You want this mind link of yours? Fine. Do it. Get it fucking over with and send me home!”
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