We Are Forever (Rishi's Wish Book 2)

by C. M. Martens

  "Still. Still." It was all the doctor said after her original command to be still, her calm tone distracted from her patient's pain by her own concentration.

  Through a tiny camera mounted on forceps, the doctor stared inside Dee's leg. The image was projected on a screen next to a picture of the ultrasound image that told the doctor the precise location of the bullet. These things had been clear to Dee at the onset of the surgery, but with tongs pierced into her leg through a wound reopened by the sharp edge of a scalpel, she didn't care how the doctor finished her procedure, so long as she did it faster.

  A large piece of mattress came free fifteen-minutes in. A part of her brain laughed at the destruction, stifled by a fresh shot of pain. She might have forced a laugh if only to conjure some feeling to dilute the agony, but her laughter would shake her leg, slowing down the doctor's progress. More than anything, Dee was ready for this to be finished.

  Kanchi stepped forward when Dee pulled the mattress apart, but she barely noticed. If her reaction to her torture threatened him, she didn't care. She even thought to push him, do something so he would knock her out. This more natural form of anesthetic might give her peace.

  Another shot of pain had her forget the idea.

  When the ordeal ended, the throb in her leg was nothing compared to having the doctor's instruments inside her. She relaxed into the heaped pillows with closed eyes, willed muscles to unclench, hoped for sleep to pull her from the drama of the day. Another escape attempt would wait a few days.

  She thought to say as much to Kanchi, but the strength to open her eyes, to form a coherent sentence, was beyond her.

  The doctor's assistant pulled bloody lap-pads from under Dee's leg. A particularly jarring jerk forced her eyes open. His sheepish expression was apology enough, but Dee pushed her weight to ease his job, shifting to slide across the bed without falling into the large hole she'd made in its center. A look from the doctor stopped her fast.

  "Give it a few minutes, at least! I've only put butterfly strips across it. You'll heal too fast for proper stitches to be any good, and all your moving around won't help it heal properly.”

  In response, Dee's stomach growled. She'd forgotten her hunger in the wash of adrenaline the surgery forced, but its reminder would not be ignored. When she moved to get up, a firm hand kept her down. "At least wait for me to go before you disregard my help. Breakfast can come to you. Then rest.”

  Dee grinned through her exhaustion. Rest was a great idea. Her body screamed for it, but this time as her stomach cried louder.

  28

  Daniel paced the quiet halls, glad to pull double duty this evening. Anything to distract his attention from the last few days.

  Even Hamal had pulled a task closer to her than Daniel would ever get. Nathan was stationed in the same room as her. His teammate hadn't said so, but Nathan's avoidance of him had said as much. Even Kanchi was more dodgy than usual.

  All because he hadn't been able to hold it together. All because he'd let some emotional bullshit take over his senses.

  That Dee had asked for him sparked more rumors than even Hamal's original involvement. That Daniel had been allowed to respond to her call quieted the teasing he might have received otherwise. No one, including himself, knew what it meant that he'd been allowed to go. Especially now that he seemed banned from her presence. But he hadn’t been pulled from the assignment, hadn’t been sent away.

  You don't care. It's situational curiosity. There are no real feelings here. Your subconscious is bored and messing with you.

  He almost believed it. He had believed it. It would be believed again.

  The halls were too quiet. The sun was up. Some activity should be jostling the stillness. But there was nothing. Just passage after empty passage.

  Daniel continued through the stillness, circling his assigned path with cautious steps and watchful eyes. He was here to secure the house. He was here to protect Dee. Whatever his thoughts did to mess with him, he would do his duty.

  The end of his shift had him marching through still empty halls. The quiet continued as he descended into the belly of the estate where Zibanitu's Soldiers hid. This space was never silent. Any Soldier coming to or fro was forced through here. That not a single Soldier crossed his path slowed his steps, hands twitching over his weapons.

  Turning the last corner to the elevator, Daniel was surprised to see Hamal leaning casually against the closed metal doors.

  The two nodded a greeting, Daniel noting his rivals too-relaxed manner. Daniel itched to ask what happened, but held his tongue.

  Just before the massive doors to the freight elevator opened, Hamal stood straight. The two stepped on, settling in for the wait while the doors finished their opening cycle so they could cue their close.

  "They've kept you on the outskirts."

  It wasn't a question, but Daniel nodded anyway.

  "They said the girl, the one we're here to—guard—asked for you the other night. They said you went to her."

  Daniel didn't like where this was going. "The same they said all this?"

  Hamal ignored him. "I was assigned there today."

  Despite himself, Daniel stood straighter. They'd allowed Hamal to see her?

  He felt Hamal's studious gaze and turned to confront it, forcing a blasé attitude. "Oh? Nathan's been there every day."

  "Yes. But not you. The one she asked for. The one she knows."

  Daniel continued to maintain eye contact, waiting for Hamal to make his point. Daniel was reasonably sure there was no point to make, that the new Soldier was just fishing for information.

  "They shot her today."

  Daniel didn't understand the words. He repeated them in his head, face furrowed in confusion.

  They shot her today.

  The elevator began its descent.

  They shot her today.

  "They shot her? Like, with a bullet?"

  Hamal raised an eyebrow. "What else would they have shot her with?"

  "What did she do?" Daniel's voice was calm. He meant it to be calm. He hadn't meant to lace that calm with threat.

  "She tried to escape. She attacked Nathan and Yestin and a few others closer to the door than I."

  "Did she get out?"

  Hamal paused, surprised by Daniel's question. He studied his teammate before responding. "You think that's a thing she could do?"

  Daniel kept his answer to himself. Any answer he gave would only show that he did, in fact, know the girl. It was still a point he wanted to avoid, especially with Hamal. The rumors would ricochet around the teams regardless of what he might say, so he would say nothing.

  "I was the one who shot her. Kanchi's order, passed from the powers-that-be."

  Daniel's head snapped to Hamal, shock covering his features. This really wasn't a joke. They really had shot her. Hamal had pulled the trigger?

  He knew he was gaping like a fish. His brain couldn't determine what was the most pressing question to ask. He couldn’t align his thoughts to trust he could speak without betraying himself.

  Hamal smiled that self-satisfied grin that had always gotten under Daniel's skin. He clenched his fist to swing but held back when Hamal relaxed against the wall.

  "You do know her. You care about her. I thought they were ribbing you the other day, but it's true." Hamal paused to study Daniel's face. "Who is she?"

  Daniel stared ahead, varying levels of rage and annoyance warring inside him. Pummeling Hamal in the elevator would do nothing but put him in hotter water. Being angry at Hamal would do nothing. Hamal had followed orders like a good Soldier. Daniel's surprise that Hamal's memories hadn't risen up to stop him wasn't Hamal's fault.

  Daniel took a deep breath. "She's alive?"

  Hamal nodded.

  "What did you talk about when you went to see her?"

  Daniel knew simple curiosity fueled the question rather than espionage. Kanchi had been in the room and would know they'd not said one thing. What Kanchi knew, their Mast
er would know.

  Daniel huffed a sarcastic chortle. "Nothing. I think she was scared. There's only a few of us—she doesn't have anyone. She's all alone here."

  He hated the way the tone of his voice changed when he said the words. He hated himself for saying them at all. He was a Soldier. He liked to fight and break things. He had no skill for handling this kind of emotional shit.

  "A few of us? I knew her, didn't I?"

  "Look, man. I don't know what you think you know. I don't know why you're telling me any of this. I was on the detail involved with retrieving her from her home and bringing her out of danger. That was—" Gods, had that been almost a year ago? "—months ago. They put me on the detail to gather her again this time because they thought a familiar face would ease her transition. That's all this is. I don't know what the deal was with you and her."

  Hamal went still. "So, there was a me and her?"

  Daniel clenched his eyes in frustration. "No! I don't know! I just work here, too, you know."

  "But, you know I knew her."

  Nothing he could say would convince Hamal otherwise, so Daniel bit his tongue and waited for the doors to open.

  29

  A hard rap at the door interrupted Dee from the message she was leaving on Mike’s voicemail.

  It’d been weeks since she and her only real friend, her only family, had talked. Playing phone tag, leaving long messages that kept each other up to date on the details of their lives, Dee admitted the lack of actual conversation made her life easier. Still, her guilt over keeping this giant secret from Mike weighed on her as much as the possibility of her untimely death.

  It was just another layer to the mounting stratum that fed her nightmares, so sleep was nothing more than a wish.

  Two new Soldiers were in attendance that morning, bringing the count of those watching her to five. Since her stunt, Kanchi hadn’t left, and the others rotated on staggered schedules, so there was no way she could know when the next shift change would occur.

  As if she would try something so soon after her failure.

  She tried to ignore them, but it was difficult. She’d closed her eyes while talking to Mike’s voicemail to keep her attention on what she was saying. The knock on the door yanked them open, and she wasn’t sure what her goodbye would sound like when Mike got around to listening to it.

  Pretending not to be curious who was at the door, Dee dropped the phone in Kanchi’s open hand and took her seat at the breakfast table. If nothing else, it was nice to be fed on a regular schedule.

  The voices at the door spoke in hushed tones, but Dee managed to catch a few keywords. Rishi and summoned were enough for her to get the gist of what the message contained.

  She continued to eat as if she hadn’t heard, as if her heart-rate hadn’t sped up at the thought of meeting the leader of these insane Beings fixated on ruining any chance she had at a life. The Rishi of this place, Zibanitu, was the one she’d wanted to meet badly enough she’d forced an engagement. Now, his summons conjured only cowardice, and she was reminded of her nagging inner-voice’s claim of just that.

  She took a breath, sat up straighter, refused to bow to this fear. The days she’d sat here, supposedly so she could heal, though her wounds were fine mere hours after the Doctor left, only let her relax into an illusion of comfort. She hated to admit how quickly she’d grown accustomed to her prison. Content with it. Accepting.

  Her breakfast turned chalk in her mouth. Her chewing slowed, eyes fixed on her plate.

  She really was a coward.

  When Kanchi moved across the room to hear the message for himself, she didn’t bother to look up. Another whispered conversation ensued that she didn’t try to listen to.

  Kanchi approached her, his gaze commanding attention.

  She ignored him, instead taking another bite of food, washing it down without chewing with a gulp of coffee. She followed that mouthful with another, then another, until her plate was empty. With each bite, she’d expected Kanchi to interrupt her, to force her to rush off and meet the Rishi who’d summoned her.

  When the last bite scraped from her plate, the last drip of coffee savored, she stood, still not meeting the commander’s eye.

  It was when she turned towards the bedroom that he interrupted. “You’ve been asked to meet Zibanitu.”

  She made no indication that she heard.

  His annoyance pressed against her like a physical weight.

  His next words brought her to a stop.

  “He won’t like waiting.”

  Her shoulders slumped, not in defeat, but annoyance. She’d been here for four days. She’d been shot. She’d healed from being shot. He’d still made her wait. Now, he could wait.

  She turned, hoping her face was masked in that arrogant nonchalance Hamal was so good at. “Oh, you meant he wants to meet me right now. I guess I didn’t understand that part of the message.”

  It was probably not a great idea to act so snippy, but acting like she wasn’t pissing herself brought a juvenile attitude out of her.

  Kanchi’s expression furrowed as if to say, really, you’re giving me attitude.

  She blew out a loud breath and turned away. “I don’t mean to be so—well, such a bitch, but—”

  Her inner-voice raged, cutting off her words. The kill them all shouting in her skull loud enough she didn’t hear Kanchi’s response.

  “…in your position would be a little testy. Still, it is not wise to keep the Rishi waiting.” He eyed her disheveled appearance. “Maybe freshening up would be appropriate.”

  “If he wouldn’t mind waiting.”

  The sleek, modern mansion she’d been unable to gawk at on her hurried arrival was as swanky as a cursory glance had eluded. Now, escorted at a less-rushed pace, she was able to take it in, not sure what it said about the Rishi that his tastes leaned towards the futuristic. She’d expected more antiques, more ancient artifacts that showed the progression of culture through the ages. More proof that the Being was older than time.

  Instead, bright lighting accentuated open floor plans. Paintings morphed from one to another in a digital dance as the group moved through the room, cued to bio-metric monitoring that changed the decor as it responded to alternating patrons, often combined with changed music and illumination levels. Exotic pets roamed glass cages that spanned the length of walls, with ceilings vaulted to house tall trees where fountains, rather than tables, made up the center of seating areas.

  There was plenty to look at. Enough that it kept her mind off of how the Master of this place would react to her behavior. Her insane notion of leaving her room through battle couldn’t have won her points.

  She admitted she’d been ballsy. And stupid.

  So stupid.

  All she’d learned, all she’d grown into, would be for nothing if Zibanitu wasn’t in a generous mood.

  But she wouldn’t cower. It had been one of his people who’d tried to kill her on the plane. It wasn’t for him, for any of them, to be understanding of her, but her who needed to be persuaded that she had any business being here. Persuaded that she could trust their promise of safety that had, so far, failed at every turn.

  After all that had happened, she had every right to try to escape this forced visit.

  -Take control of your life, or they will for you.-

  Her posture was rigid, the chip on her shoulder solid when she was shown into a large rectangular space her mind labeled conference room. A modern white and black table dwarfed the area, while high backed chairs surrounded it in stiff vigilance to the secrets they were privy to.

  She ran her eyes over the Soldiers posted in each corner. Her escorts filed along the wall behind her. They were treating her like she was dangerous. Proving she wasn’t some meek, girlie guest might not have worked in her favor.

  In the stomach-clenching silence, she tapped the Soldiers, disappointed not to see or sense Daniel. Even Nathan or Seth’s presence would make her happy. Some familiar face. She pretended no
t to hope for an appearance from Hamal, pretended not to wonder what a human did among all these super-beings.

  Instead, she postulated the likelihood of fighting her way out. Four Soldiers around the room and seven behind her. She was sure the tight quarters of the space wouldn’t push the odds in her favor.

  She felt the power of the Rishi approach. When Zibanitu came into the room, she barely noticed him, searching behind him instead for the face of his human pet.

  But, only the Rishi, tall and lean, dressed in a suit a few shades lighter than his bronze skin, set off by the pale marbleization of his face and bald head.

  “Thank you for joining me.”

  Zibanitu’s voice was controlled, businesslike without being dismissive, and a slap to her face. She’d had no choice but to be here, brought through the dictum of rules enforced by him and his House. And he’d thanked her?

  She checked her anger. There was little it would get her if she indulged it so soon.

  His gaze lingered on her, a mask of benign contemplation that hid his true thoughts. She met the look briefly before turning her eyes about the room, all the while tapping him to see what information she might gain.

  “Some might consider that rude.”

  She snapped her gaze back to him, the taste of his power cut off. Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth, but the crinkled smile on his face allowed her to breathe. She’d forgotten how easily Asellus and Pollux had caught her breach. So used to doing it to the Soldiers who never noticed, she’d been careless.

  So, so stupid.

  “You’re perfectly healed.” His eyes trailed to her leg. “It is something entirely different to see, rather than be told.” His eyes came back to her face, something in his expression changed that added intensity to the look. “I think we never truly believe a thing until we observe it for ourselves. Don’t you agree?”