Betrayal's Shadow

by K H Lemoyne

  “Concerned now, healer? Where were you when I summoned you?”

  Grimm glanced up. “You’re not accountable, but I am?”

  “I am ensuring our safety.” Salvatore leaned forward to position the syringe again.

  Grimm’s hand shot forward to ward off the needle’s contact. “No one here has ever been put into cryo without my governance. We won’t start now.”

  “This does not require your intervention, healer.”

  “I insist.” Grimm planted his fists on the gurney and leaned forward to glare at Salvatore.

  Ansgar shifted on the balls of his feet, prepared to pull Grimm back in case Salvatore decided to swing that syringe at him.

  One of the guards rotated its weapon toward Grimm, and Salvatore gave him a cold stare. “Healer, stand back.”

  Shit. Salvatore could control those robots without voice command.

  Grimm didn’t back down. “Not until I can ensure he’ll be safe.”

  “He’s the risk. His actions put our people in danger. His protection is no longer within your authority.”

  At Salvatore’s threat, Ansgar sidled next to Grimm, blocking a guard’s direct shot. Tsu closed in on the other side and blocked a guard’s access to Turen’s head. They flanked Turen on one side of the gurney, Salvatore and his guard directly opposite. Kamau held position at Turen’s feet, prepared for the guards behind Salvatore.

  One big square of confrontation. How fucked.

  “Salvatore, safeguarding our people shouldn’t require force and threats.” Saladin’s voice was calm despite the tension and hostility boiling in the room.

  Ansgar clenched his hands and released them in preparation for Salvatore’s concurrence or his rejection. The women had some protection in their cryo pods, but the resilient metal hulls and backup systems wouldn’t shield them from the laser weapons’ fire. The robots had no conscience or guilt to rein them in, only Salvatore’s unspoken commands. And that was tenuous right now.

  Grimm’s resolve was easy to read. Salvatore’s determination was also. Neither intended to back down.

  Sera’s loud, deep growl broke the silence.

  A quick elongation of hawk wings obscured Ansgar’s view, the action taking everyone by surprise.

  Salvatore stumbled back from the rapid whirl of feathers and the hawk’s sharp beak. With a shrill cry, the bird launched higher into the air, missing Salvatore’s face by an inch, the shock enough for hands to flail, his silver hair whipping in disarray. A claw tipped the syringe from his grasp, spinning the metal and glass cylinder over Salvatore’s head to shatter on the floor several feet behind him.

  Kamau circled behind Salvatore to deflect a weapon extending from a guard’s chassis to lock on the hawk as it escaped through the lab doors.

  Salvatore spun back and crowded into Kamau’s face. “Your pets have no access here.” The anger in his voice would have been impressive if Kamau had bothered to react.

  Ansgar almost laughed.

  The six foot six, two hundred and eighty pound man crossed his arms and glared back at their leader. “My powers are as viable within these walls as yours. Do not think to press me.”

  With a quick check, Ansgar scoped the guards to make sure Salvatore’s bad temper hadn’t escalated their activity. Whatever silent commands he relayed to them produced instantaneous, dangerous responses. Responses none of the warriors had the ability to countermand. Fortunately, the guards remained still—for now.

  Ansgar’s gaze started back to the gurney when he noticed the fragments of glass and metal sizzling on the stone floor. The pieces had almost dissolved into fluid bubbles.

  What was in that thing, acid?

  The syringe had shattered on the floor at the entrance to one of the cryo aisles—far enough out of sight that most couldn’t witness the result. One of Salvatore’s guards was efficiently vacuuming the remains into a suction tube before others would have the opportunity.

  He turned away from the scene, hoping not to draw Salvatore’s attention, and rested his hip against the gurney, pretending annoyance. Disturbed looks registered on both Grimm’s and Tsu’s faces. He wasn’t the only one to notice the syringe’s decomposition. Like efficient soldiers, they covered the knowledge, their expressions quickly blanked.

  “If Turen is to be placed in stasis, then I will perform the protocol, as I have for every other person in here. The process will follow standard procedure. He will be healthy and not restrained.” Grimm’s voice grew louder, harsher.

  Ansgar held his breath and waited for Salvatore’s response, his hand clenched against the urge to summon his blade.

  The glare Salvatore gave Grimm would have burned a hole through rock. “The restraint stays on.”

  “He’s unconscious. The restraint comes off or he can’t heal.”

  Salvatore clenched his jaw and appeared ready to argue the point, but three more warriors entered the room. A disapproving rumble washed through the crowd, their attitudes already in Grimm’s favor and growing.

  This is turning into a fucking circus. Ansgar shifted, hoping most of the men would hold to the foyer and not visit down the aisles. He looked from the damp spot on the floor, the only evidence left of Salvatore’s intent for Turen’s cryo process, over to Tsu. Years of familiarity offered him insight into the tiny twitch at the corner of Tsu’s right eye. He was furious.

  Well, that makes two of us.

  Ansgar surveyed the room to gauge what percentage of the warriors had arrived at the same deductions and were questioning Turen’s punishment. Emotions battled over the Guardian training for peace. Salvatore’s edge was gone, finally. While they couldn’t afford a showdown here, it was coming soon.

  “Would you get me a series of Level One dosages? Bottom shelf,” Grimm asked Tsu and glanced back to the guard at his side. “Remove the restraining collar.” When the guard didn’t move, Grimm looked pointedly at Salvatore and waited.

  “Remove it,” Saladin reiterated.

  Salvatore said nothing, but his guard moved a long metallic arm and clicked the interface open for the collar. Grimm slid the metal from around Turen’s neck and handed it across to Kamau. Then he withdrew a small knife from a leather slip at his waist.

  The soft whir of the guard’s weapon signaled the lock of sights on Grimm’s head as he cut away the charred bits of Turen’s shirt.

  “Back off.” Ansgar let the snarl slip. One guard retracted a weapon. Salvatore stood silent, arms crossed, backed by two more guards.

  With a side glance to Grimm’s actions, Ansgar froze.

  Shit.

  The burns along Turen’s skin looked bad, but the purple swelling around his ribs and the lump on the side of his head spoke more to what occurred before he and Tsu had arrived at Turen’s cell not half an hour before.

  Turen had been unconscious then, but the scorch marks on the floor and up the wall of the restraining cell indicated a ferocious attack. Several minutes later, Salvatore had unceremoniously transported an unconscious Turen to the cryo lab, before Ansgar could even check his friend.

  “Tell them to take their weapons off Grimm, Salvatore.” Kamau’s deep voice was soft, but menace lay beneath the words. The weapons whirred again, still active but now focused on Turen and not Grimm.

  Tsu placed vials and new syringes at Grimm’s side. Everyone waited as Grimm closed his eyes, laid his hands on Turen’s chest, and focused to repair bones and internal tissue damage. The bone repair was invisible, but the discoloration of Turen’s skin faded from angry purple to a light yellow.

  Grimm opened his eyes and pulled back, moving to unfasten the locks at Turen’s wrists and ankles.

  “He stays in those cuffs,” Salvatore snapped.

  “His body requires circulation, the same process as any other being put in cryo. The cuffs must come off.” Grimm waved at Turen’s body. “Again, still unconscious. You did a remarkable job of containing him.”

  “You will regret your insolence, healer.”


  Grimm frowned at Salvatore. “You may be our leader, Salvatore, but you are not my judge. You have no authority to take action against me just because you find me unpleasant.”

  Ansgar shifted closer to Grimm’s side, and several other warriors made visible signs of readiness at the escalation in hostility. If the situation was severe enough for their most gentle mannered individual to stand up to Salvatore, then the brethren would respect and defend Grimm.

  Salvatore glanced around and his eyes narrowed with unpleasant surprise to find Grimm receive such backing from the group. He tightened his lips. “Finish.”

  Grimm snapped back the wrist cuffs and nodded for Kamau to do the same at the ankles. Then he turned to prepare the first injection.

  Four vials lay nestled in a velvet case with four syringes. Everyone watched Grimm calculate the amount and fill the first syringe. Air bubbles tapped out, he squeezed a small excess to allow for a safer injection and pressed it to Turen’s arm.

  Fluid from a second vial filled a second syringe. Ansgar kept his face impassive. Whatever the hell Tsu and Grimm were playing, he wasn’t about to let on. He’d become more intimately familiar with the cryo induction process than he cared to with Briet’s subterfuge. Aside from Tsu and Grimm, he doubted anyone else would realize there were only three injections needed for the preparation, not the four Tsu produced. Grimm’s administration sequence wasn’t the correct one either. But his faith was with them any day of the week, especially if it countermanded Salvatore’s desire.

  Once Turen was under, bringing him out later wouldn’t be a problem but it would be inconvenient. The fewer people nosing around the cryo tubes the better. Perhaps their option would be easier and provide less exposure for his sister.

  “This should be going faster.” Salvatore placed his fingers on the edge of the gurney and leaned toward Grimm.

  Grimm flicked his finger at the syringe’s needle. “He’ll be taken care of soon enough.” He poised the needle above Turen’s arm as Turen’s body twitched on the gurney.

  Eyes flashing open, Turen swiped at the needle in Grimm’s grip. His fist connected in a hard, loud crunch with Grimm’s jaw. The needle spun through the air as Grimm hit the floor.

  Turen clutched his chest, gasped for air, and folded from sight.

  Salvatore’s fists slammed against the empty gurney. “You let him escape.” Machines whirred again, responding to Salvatore’s emotional escalation, weapons trained on Grimm.

  He rolled up from the floor, rubbing his jaw without a word.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ansgar spat as he blocked one guard. Kamau held off a second, Saladin, and the two other warriors had the third as Tsu confronted the fourth and turned to Salvatore.

  “Make them stand down. Now. The cryo lab cannot have weapons fire. You know that, Salvatore. You will create more disaster than you are trying to circumvent.” The anger in Tsu’s voice caught Salvatore’s attention, and the guards retracted back to a neutral stance.

  Tsu continued, pursuing his edge. “We were all here. Grimm followed your demand to put Turen in stasis. He did not enable his release. He’s on the ground, for heaven’s sake.”

  Salvatore narrowed his eyes with a venomous glare at Grimm and folded from the lab. The guards rolled from the cryo lab one by one, large metallic lost sheep in search of their master.

  Kamau lent a hand to help Grimm up as the remaining warriors moved closer.

  “So how did we end up here?” Grimm slowly rubbed his jaw and glanced around.

  “According to the security tape, several hours ago Turen pounded on his cell door, demanded to talk to Salvatore, and insisted he be released.” Ansgar scowled at Tsu for confirmation, because Tsu had grabbed Ansgar to help Turen.

  Ansgar continued. “Salvatore ignored the request. He wanted a confession, not mediation. When Salvatore finally arrived, the discussion got loud. Turen yelled about rights and respect, that Salvatore was no better than Xavier.”

  “I remember bits about Salvatore not having the authority to mete out his own justice,” added Tsu.

  “Salvatore’s yelling had more to do with Turen being a righteous, lazy, irreverent piece of…” Ansgar waved his hand. “Somewhere around there, things got out of hand. Turen lunged for Salvatore, but he had on the restraining collar. Salvatore leveled one or two bolts at him.”

  An undercurrent of anger and confusion rippled through the group.

  “He already had Turen down and unconscious and didn’t seem about to let up with his electrical charges when we stepped in.”

  Tsu shook his head. “We pulled Salvatore off. If I hadn’t witnessed the beginning on the security monitor, I wouldn’t have believed it. But it’s all recorded.”

  That seed planted, several warriors left for their own confirmation. Ansgar wiped a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

  Saladin and the few remaining men glanced at Grimm. “And Turen?”

  “I’m sure Salvatore will have a meeting to detail a plan for him,” Grimm added dryly.

  Ansgar glanced around the group. “I’ve never seen Turen so angry. He was possessed. He couldn’t stop pushing Salvatore, and the geyser blew.”

  “Obviously something more important than Turen’s righteous, lazy well-being compelled him.” Grimm shrugged.

  Nodding, Kamau shot Grimm a strange look and then cracked a smile. “Yeah, it was the damned irreverence.” Several laughs broke the quiet tension, and the remaining warriors headed from the cryo’s foyer into the corridor. Ansgar lingered with Grimm, Tsu, and Kamau as the hawk flew back down the hall to settle again on Kamau’s shoulder.

  “Now what?” Ansgar asked as Kamau picked a piece of dried jerky from his pocket.

  Grimm rubbed his jaw. “We make sure Salvatore loses interest in putting people in cryo. It’s not something to play with. If, for some reason, I disappear, please search for me. I’m sure he’ll have me restrained and hidden somewhere for my own good.”

  Tsu bowed his head, his expression hidden. “Very irreverent, Grimm.”

  Ansgar snorted out a laugh and then took a breath. “And Turen?”

  Kamau reached to stroke Sera’s shining black fur. “Salvatore won’t stop his vendetta, but to my knowledge Turen’s done nothing. For someone who wanted out so badly, I’m inclined to let him go.”

  ***

  Turen stood inside the back door and listened to the metronomes and clocks, so steady and normal.

  He braced himself, his heart finally beating in a normal rhythm, and recovered from whatever drug Grimm had given him. It had taken him four hours to lay false trails, and not once during that time had he heard Mia’s call again.

  How long he’d been unconscious since her first call he didn’t know, but minutes after his escape, he’d felt her heartbeat, sure and steady, as if she’d been beside him.

  She was alive, and he could feel her in a delicate line tethered to his sanity. He forced himself to slow down and take every precaution in making his way home. He refused to lead Salvatore right to their door because he’d lost control.

  The early morning hour and the moonless night blanketed the bedroom in darkness. Not a glimmer of light illuminated the shadows, but Mia’s scent and a newer one, sweet and delicate, lingered in the air.

  With soft, quiet strides, he moved to the bathroom, pulled the door almost closed and clicked on the light to watch Mia sleep. A thin column of white spilled across the carpet and the bed just shy of the chair beside it.

  He followed the new scent to the small carrier in the big armchair and looked down at his son, wrapped in a small crescent roll of blanket, tiny fists on either side of his head. Leaning over, he pressed his face close to feel the softness of the baby’s face against his cheek. This scent would be an eternal memory. This heartbeat, like Mia’s, he would never forget.

  In that instant, he experienced a connection to Xavier’s rage and despair that he had never anticipated. The knowledge that someone would construct a mechanism to infli
ct harm on a child of his soul fueled an indescribable anger within him. He pulled back to keep the residue of his emotions from waking the peaceful infant and crossed to the opposite side of the bed.

  Releasing the breath he held, he let the essence of the two essential beings in the room fill him. He let them melt into every cell in his body, to fill his soul and restore his spirit. The night’s comforting sounds and the clicks of the myriad clocks and mechanisms pulsed in soft white noise, but still these two heartbeats rang through.

  Hand on the pillow by her face, Mia slept. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her body turned toward their son.

  Turen crawled with gentle movements onto the bed and curled himself around his mate. He burrowed his face in her hair, snuggled an arm about her body, and tucked his knees in behind hers, prepared to lie here until she awoke. Plans and concerns he forced to the recesses of his mind and drank in the warm feel of her against him.

  His head throbbed and his ribs hurt, but he reveled in it. Mia was alive and so was he. Grimm had answered her summons, for he could still sense the healer’s vibration in the room. They were alive and safe. His friends had maneuvered enough distractions for him to escape from Salvatore and the cryo lab. He wasn’t clear on what had transpired, but he’d seen the rigid anger on Salvatore’s face before he folded. With any luck, his comrades wouldn’t suffer in his stead.

  Salvatore was extreme in his self-confidence. He weighed his decisions on the strength of his singular, isolated plans. He relied on no one, trusted in the same. Ego would lead to Salvatore’s downfall, but the same faults had aided Turen in escape.

  He had also confirmed several key things about the strengths of the seasoned Guardian warriors.

  He knew now the men he’d fought beside and considered brothers wouldn’t turn on him lightly.

  There was also much more going on with his brethren than he understood—hidden agendas. Salvatore and the Sanctum had bred this atmosphere. Not one of his people should have had to embrace this darkness, and yet they did. Necessity bred desperation—and secrets. He would trust his life in his brethren’s hands, but without more insight into what was going on, he wouldn’t test those bonds with Mia and his son’s future.