Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga

by E. M. Whittaker

  Aviere chortled when Travis pointed the Desert Eagle at Limere. “Try it, Dalara.”

  “Bullets don’t affect me, agent man. But nice try.”

  Warm fingers turned frigid against Aviere’s arm when Limere’s form vanished. She leaned against the pillows, squeezing her eyes shut as the world turned. Tiny fingers grasped the mattress as she fluttered her eyelids, desiring to ward away sleep until her meeting concluded.

  A coarse hand brushed against her jaw before she registered Travis’ voice.

  “Mye, we can—”

  “Get off me.” Her voice dipped to a muffled tone as she shuddered. “Please.”

  Aviere dipped her head when Travis’ hand hovered in place. “Dalara touched you and you didn’t bitch.”

  “He developed a tolerance, like my friends and Reese. I’m not sure if I should with you.”

  Aviere’s ear twitched when Peters stomped to the chair by Aviere’s bed. “Be stupid not to, considering your handicap’s poisonous to humans.”

  “Oh, Neuro—I wouldn’t mind if you’d dropped dead.” The Poisoner’s bitter words conflicted with the queasiness inside her stomach. She squinted as the room lost focus. “Travis, use the elixir on my thigh. I don’t have long before the medicine knocks me out.”

  “Hopefully you’re released tomorrow,” Travis muttered, honoring her request. “We’re down to three days and I hate lingering deadlines. Forty-six hours is too close.”

  The cool liquid stung and Aviere hissed when she jumped. “Shit!”

  “For a hellcat, you’ve picked up some odd weaknesses,” Peters said snidely. “I can’t fault you for your rare abilities… but unable to regenerate?”

  Aviere gasped as another round of elixir went into her wound. She drew deep breaths and gripped the bed, thrashing when her skin tingled. “Yeah, about that—poison generally kills you. Antibiotics stop it from flooding my organs most of the time.” A muffled cry escaped parted lips when she glowered at Peters. “Sorry.”

  “Maybe I was harsh by pointing a handgun at your skull. God’s cursed you enough for being a shifter.”

  Calloused hands wrestled the blanket from her vice-like grip. “Mye, it’s tough to pour the elixir when you’re closing off the wound.”

  Her leg thrashed as the liquid absorbed into deep skin tissue and blood vessels. Skin reformed and itched as flesh bound together. Aviere closed one eye and still regarded Peters, canines hanging above her lower lip.

  Another dose yielded the same results, but Aviere’s body pitched forward at the pain.

  Peters’ face zoomed inside Aviere’s vision as he seized her shoulders and detained her. Bandages fell from her cheek as forest green liquid smeared against it, rejuvenating scabbed flesh from scrapes and bruises. She closed her eyes and quivered as the elixir kick-started her stunted regeneration.

  Smooth hands gripped her face, and she snarled when she looked in Peters’ hardened eyes.

  “You pay a hefty price, but I can’t blame you. But quit being a hard ass and accept our help, or I'll regret keeping my last bullet.”

  “We're on the same side,” she whispered. “Humans aren’t the only ones dealing with death.”

  “Lyssa’s death was torturous, and I probably shouldn’t have gotten Travis arrested. But I wasn’t thinking right a few hours ago, and I assume you’re the reason I’m sane now.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut until she became lightheaded. “Yesss.”

  “I saw the tapes twice, but never noticed your claws, Mye.” She recoiled when Peters rubbed the elixir against her face again. “Your handicap didn’t appear. But Travis tricked me into letting you escape.”

  “You knew.” She kept her eye shut and raised an eyebrow at Peters. “Don’t sell me stories about Travis’ trickery. I’m sure he warned you about Lowell Sanderson.”

  Rough fingers pushed against her thigh. “I did, Mye. But I didn’t tell Peters because I didn’t realize how he’d react. Of course—I didn’t expect Peters to shoot you, either.”

  The Poisoner drew breath through clenched teeth when Peters dug his fingers against her jawline. “She’s one of those creatures, yet you manipulated me into letting her escape.”

  “Escape’s a subjective term,” Aviere said, voice unsteady as she raised a finger. “I almost succeeded, but—oooo, stop moving.” A heavy hand dropped to her side as Aviere's eyes tried focusing on a solid object. “Christ, stupid room’s spinning.”

  The hand against her thigh touched her flushed forehead. She blinked slowly when Travis talked next to her ear. “Mye, whatever Dalara gave you—it’s good shit. Your eyes are dilated.”

  “Well, that explains things.” When her body re-calibrated, Aviere opened one eye. “Need to—mmm.” Thoughts floated away as the medication and elixir healed her tingling skin. Even Peters’ harsh grip seemed irrelevant compared to the weighted drowsiness. “Vinny. What’re we going to do about Vinny?”

  She licked parched lips and didn’t stop Travis from propping her against the pillows. Aviere struggled with complex thoughts and grunted when her arm laid limp by her leg. A scowl crossed her face when Travis brushed stringy hair behind an ear, but even hissing was a struggle.

  “You’ll rest till tomorrow so we can regroup, Mye.”

  Her body stopped tingling and her head bobbed, heavy from drowsiness. “Nooo. Still unfinished business between you ‘n Peters. Trust… issue.”

  “We fixed it before Peters’ release, Mye. Besides, I guess you were persuasive enough last time.” Travis held her swaying head when it tilted downward. “But you’re in no condition to discuss work or organize anything. Just relax.”

  Lethargic eyes stayed on her partner before casting an eye toward Peters’ direction. “Stay here. No more shootin’. Christ… need to…”

  “I’ll take you to the Tethered Mistress to meet Louis Armandi, Mye. But he wanted to wait until you’re discharged tomorrow.”

  Armandi’s name jolted Aviere and her head rose. “You spoke to the Underboss?”

  “Yeah, he showed up to check on you. Impressed you executed an A rank assassin.” She smiled at Travis’ full-blown grin. “And here I guessed you’d be a liability, Mye.”

  The jovial mood faded, and she kicked the bed. “I am.”

  “We can manage your condition," Travis reassured her. “But an A rank. That’s impressive.”

  “Dumb luck,” Peters quipped. “Mye’s got beginner’s luck. She can’t shoot a handgun.”

  “Mye will start lessons at the shooting range, Peters.”

  “Wait.” Aviere’s words slurred as she talked. “Have—I got somethin’.” She snagged a pillow and propped it against her side. Then she curled up with her blanket and the dizziness stopped. “I get you hate shifters, Peters, but I’m not the person responsible for Lyssa’s death.”

  “I never mentioned my sister’s name, Mye.”

  “Travis talks to himself when he assumes no one’s listening. And actually—you did five minutes ago, Neuro.”

  “Filth like you shouldn’t utter Lyssa’s name.”

  “Humans shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses,” Aviere retorted, yawning mid-sentence. “But Travis felt like you—acted like you, somewhat. But he’s watched me for a couple days. Think he’s noticed I’m not like this killer of yours.”

  Long sniffles came from Peters and Aviere noticed his stooped shoulders and lowered head. “Maybe, but my sister was dismembered, Mye. Bits of her strewed around her goddamn house from a jealous lover. I didn’t know Lyssa consorted with shifters, to be honest. But then, she married Travis, so…”

  Despite her lethargic state, Aviere sensed when Travis reached for the Desert Eagle. She dragged herself up and rested cold fingers on her cotton nightgown as the mage teared.

  It’s tough to—ugh, Travis…

  Travis’ sorrowful eyes found hers for a fleeting second before speaking in a bitter tone.

  “Shawn you found Lyssa, but I’m the one who witnessed her bloody death.
The soulless eyes, the heartbreaking screams… I listen to her serenade every night, wondering why I wake every morning. You made things worse by telling the police I killed her.”

  Bony fingers bunched the colorless nightgown, gasping at the difference in atmosphere and scent. Travis’ sorrow and Peters’ anguish made the cologne and aftershave putrid. Hiding her discomfort, Aviere thought of pleasant fantasies, but came back to her purpose, intertwined with theirs.

  “If Peters framed you, pull the trigger, Travis.”

  “You’re advocating my death after I apologized to you, Mye?!”

  “It wouldn’t count in the Underground.” A breathy whisper replaced her softened tone. “If you framed one of my own, I’d kill you myself. I stopped because of Travis—before I learned what happened. You’re a slithering snake, Neuro. But it’s why humans fascinate me.”

  “Peters is mortal, Mye. I can’t punish Peters for being himself.”

  “Humans are animals, but we’re no better.” Aviere’s finger traced the air, hand spinning in a circular motion. “On one hand, humans are determined and fixate on perfection and order. Neuro fits the mold, but he’s fixated on goals he can’t achieve.”

  “You guys screwed my chances in the FBI! I was up for promotion when this case closed!!” Peters buried his face in his hands, exhaling before glaring at Aviere. “I’m stuck with you two and you’re both homicidal!!”

  “Mages fascinate me the most,” Aviere continued in a sing song voice, laughing at Peters’ cracking sanity. “Limere and Travis—same set of powers, but different. Lim’s experienced, but borders on psychosis when overtaxing his power. Travis uses one technique, but relies on physical attacks and training from his precious academy.”

  “Mye, the medicine’s making you loopy,” Travis said, patting her bobbing head. “We can finish the philosophical talk later.”

  “I’m sorry Lyssa died.”

  Aviere yelped as Travis’ fingers snatched a fistful of hair. “Enough, Mye.”

  “I am!”

  “Let it go.”

  “Look, there’s crazy sons of bitches everywhere. But humans, mages, shifters—we’re all capable. Killing isn't limited to one species.” Sleepy eyes angled downward as her head sagged, interrupted by Travis’ grip. “Stupiiiid medicine, man. Everything’s so sloooow.”

  Aviere giggled and leaned against Travis after he released her hair. After a minute of staring in space, she groaned when Travis helped her lie down.

  “Aviere, what did the doctor prescribe you?”

  “Ah… dunno. I know morphiiine… antibiotics for my thigh… my meds… not sure... what else.” Slushy thoughts evaporated as she cuddled with her pillow. “Why?”

  “I don’t need any more surprises.” The blanket rested underneath her chin. “You’re like foot fungus, Mye. Never wanted to admire you.”

  “Funny. Gunther said the same thing.”

  “I’ll keep watch so we can meet Armandi tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to catch Vinny and have the extra days as vacation.”

  Her hand slid from the blanket and touched Travis’ coat sleeve. “Yeah, okay.”

  Bitten fingernails scratched Aviere's hand before draping her arm across her chest. Aviere stared at Peters' probing gaze, but the short agent remained a fuzzy double. When Peters patted Aviere's uncovered hand, she cringed.

  “Mye, quit fretting. We'll finish everything. I suppose I'll find reasonable accommodations near Travis for you.”

  Aviere's mouth opened in surprise, but instead of acknowledging Peters, she flipped him off before letting sleep claim her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rustling from the corridor woke Aviere from a pleasurable dream and she bolted upright when the door squeaked. Two loud voices carried in from the hallway and Aviere let out a bitter sigh. She reached for her glasses and rubbed bleary eyes, holding onto the male, musky scent drifting through the air.

  Goddammit, whoever woke me during pleasant time with Gunther’s about to get an earful.

  The door creaked as Aviere crammed her spectacles against her nose. When the door parted, Aviere blinked, seeing Maurice shuffle through the doorway. She shifted upright and surveyed the IV hooked to her right wrist, curious about the reddish black liquid pumping into her bloodstream.

  It figures—Raymond would inject serum before discharging me.

  Thudding heartbeats attributed to dizziness, but Aviere fought through blurry vision and registered Maurice’s natural scent, devoid of expensive cologne.

  Maurice, you couldn’t wait five minutes so I’d wake from a magnificent dream. It’s nice to feel the connection, even if Gunther’s missing, for Christ’s sake.

  Aviere met Maurice’s betrayed gaze before returning to the taped dongle, rubbing chilly fingers against exposed skin. “Glad to see you’re all right, Maurice.”

  “You too, baby girl.”

  The steeled, Jamaican accent forced Aviere to face Maurice. “Reese, I didn’t intend—”

  “You didn’t mention being shot yesterday, Aviere.”

  The drab cotton nightgown irritated Aviere’s skin, and she scratched her chest until the pale skin turned scarlet. She loosened the knots behind her neck as she discovered her black duffel bag. When Aviere reached for it, her body revolted and stagnant joints cracked from being used again.

  After unzipping it, Aviere placed a black dress on the bed, pleased she had proper clothing to meet Louis Armandi. A pair of flats accompanied her ensemble, but Aviere huffed at the four puncture holes decorating each black shoe. She sniffed the dress and beamed when familiar detergent reached her nostrils instead of pungent body odor.

  Downy—the perfect fabric softener. I’ll just need a shower before meeting Armandi, then. Luckily, rooms in the ICU have showers with handles inside each room. I shouldn’t know this, but I’m a regular patient.

  “Aviere, I realize you didn’t mean for Vinny to shoot me.”

  The cocktail dress laid by Aviere’s hand as she regarded Maurice’s comment. Memories of the explosions and shootouts remained vivid in Aviere’s mind, but the meeting with Darren soured her expression.

  “You can’t keep shuttin’ me out, Aviere. You and Lim—I get your world’s dangerous ‘n all, but I can’t support you unless—”

  “Maurice, you couldn’t assist me.” Aviere crooked a finger on the middle of her silver-rimmed glasses before pushing her spectacles back and forth along her pointy nose. “Limere was the practical choice. I didn’t like phasing through the Accord’s seats, but Vinny’s men pushed me into a head-on collision. I’d probably have brain hemorrhage if Limere didn’t teleport me to safety. Would you prefer me hooked up to machines to breathe and monitor my heart again?”

  She assumed the explanation would satisfy Maurice, but he folded muscled arms across his chest. “That’s not the point, baby girl. I’m family. I deserve to know what happens since I’m your secondary caregiver. What if Limere went back to old vices, baby girl? It’d fall on my shoulders to tell Ray what happened and perform life-savin’ decisions.”

  Aviere shrugged. “Surprised he hasn’t.”

  “I’m proud Limere didn’t.” A smile widened on Maurice’s face. “I half expected Leonard or Marcus to tell me Limere’s snortin’ coke or hidin’ syringes. But they claim he’s been maintainin’ things since we’ve been here. Think it helps that Joe, Jem, and his girl are houndin’ his ass every five seconds, though. Bet Limere’s too engrossed to consider lightin’ a joint, honestly.”

  “Raymond’s his father, Reese. Limere wouldn’t jeopardize his livelihood again.”

  Aviere beckoned Maurice to her side and rolled her eyes when he stomped on the floor. Cerulean eyes studied Maurice’s angry strides and whitened canines hanging over his lower lip. The classic black buttoned shirt with blue jeans hid Maurice’s injuries, but wrinkles creased the jean material.

  She giggled and pointed to Maurice’s leg. “Didn’t expect wrinkled jeans, Reese.”

  “Stop changing to
pics and justify yourself, baby girl.”

  I don’t need Maurice’s rage before meeting Travis or Armandi. Travis will scold me enough on the ride there.

  “Reese, I thought you were on bed rest until Monday. Lim mentioned it yesterday when he visited.”

  The buttoned shirt spread to display scars on Maurice’s light-colored chest and abdomen. Black-threaded stitches resided in the middle of Maurice’s six-pack abs. Aviere’s gaze remained on pink, swollen flesh before facing the sunlight shining from the ward’s window.

  “You forget the rest of us regenerate fast. Ray wanted me to stick around till Monday, but I’m convinced you’ll concoct another hair-brained scheme and give me a heart attack. Least I got a battle scar to impress sexy chicks. Chicks dig scars, for some reason.”

  “I didn’t mean to involve you, Maurice.” Aviere spoke in a mournful whisper. “You declared you wanted no part, so I—”

  “That doesn’t mean withhold shit from me, Aviere.”

  The Poisoner gasped as Maurice gripped her wrist and ripped the tape from the dongle. The IV was next, falling to the ground after one sharp tug. Aviere wrestled to snatch her arm, but Maurice pressed her palm against the stitches on his chest, wincing as it connected with tender flesh.

  Greasy hair hid Aviere’s expression before she lay a cheek against her icy hand. “Reese, let go.”

  “I didn’t want this.” Disinfectant permeated off Maurice as Aviere felt fingers run through her hair. “I craved escapin’ the Underground after Gunther disappeared, baby girl. The life we lived—what we hid—it’d vanish and everythin’ would return to normal. Then I could provide while Limere went back to college or somethin’.”

  “Stop lying to yourself,” Aviere pleaded. “You know escaping wasn’t an option.”

  “I resent the fact you dragged me into your crusade, Aviere. But I understand why.”

  “No, you don’t.” She squeezed her forehead into her knuckles. “You wouldn’t oppose if you did.”

  “I do. I don’t like your reasons, though.” Dry skin rubbed against her neck. “My brother deserves his exile, baby girl. He walked out. Gun could’ve told us, but chose—”