“Should I call 911?” Kaj’s dark eyes lacked their usual scorn, reflecting concern instead. “It is the local code to summon assistance.” Yanking out his comm device, he glanced at Zohar for approval.
“Do it.”
Kaj complied. They all heard a woman’s loud response: “Hello, do you need police, fire, or medical?”
Kaj’s startled glance met theirs. “My friend is sick.”
“How sick? What are his symptoms?”
“He is lying on the floor, clutching his stomach.”
“I will dispatch medical and police.” She noted their address. “Did he ingest something?”
“We ate the same things for morning repast, but he drank some fruit juice.”
“What kind of juice?”
Kaj’s brow furrowed. “It is orange colored.”
“Is he allergic to citrus, maybe?”
“Not that I know.”
“I’ll relay your info to the paramedics. They should be there within minutes.”
“Thank you.” Kaj rang off and loped to the front window to watch for their arrival.
Zohar took Yaron aside. “Will the doctors detect anything different in Dal’s physiology?”
“No, sire.” Yaron spoke in a subdued tone, his face somber. “We are as human as the earthlings in terms of our anatomy.”
“Security will be a problem.” Zohar surveyed his fallen teammate, whose unhealthy pallor made his heart wrench.
He didn’t want to lose another man, not after Rayne. Dal was one of their strongest fighters. That he could fall so quickly concerned him, not only because of the possible causes but also because his loss would reduce their numbers even further. His fingers curled. Dal had to survive.
“I can stay with him.” Borius hovered nearby, wearing an anxious expression.
Hadn’t he been the one who’d brought Dal the fruity beverage? Borius had been the last person to talk to Rayne, too. And he’d been at the scene of the ambush where Lord Magnor had disappeared.
“I think it best if Yaron supervises his care as team medic.” Zohar’s commanding tone dissuaded any arguments. He turned to the bearded man who still knelt by Dal’s side. “Make sure he gets the best treatment.”
Yaron punched his fist to his chest. “As you wish, sire.”
Kaj, waiting by the door to let in the emergency personnel, interrupted. “Yaron, did Dal polarize himself this morning?”
“I believe so. As did I,” Yaron said, reminding Zohar he had neglected to perform that duty.
“Then you will both be protected while Dal receives aid off premises.” Zohar straightened his spine. “As soon as he is out of danger, transport him to the ship. Kaj, you will accompany me to the Protector as planned. You can take a second shuttle back down to patrol the ley lines. See if your sensor sweeps pick up anything unusual. I will give the data crystals to Paz.”
“Yes, my liege.” Kaj bowed.
“Do not bow to me. I am not your king.”
“Aye, Captain.” Kaj gave him a broad grin, a rare occurrence for the young man stung from a failed love affair.
Zohar ached inside for his fallen comrade. It fell to him to give orders, so he steeled himself against his emotions. It would be a disservice to his men if he lost focus. He’d already done so, forgetting to polarize himself that morning. He shouldn’t rely on Nira’s immunity, especially with another trip to the village on his list.
By the faith, he hoped he hadn’t done her wrong by allowing her to go off alone. If anything bad happened, it would be his fault. He would call her later to make sure she was all right. Besides, he needed to tell her about Dal.
Outside sirens whined, brakes squealed, and doors slammed. Kaj threw open the front door. Men in uniform jumpsuits grabbed equipment from a shiny red vehicle and advanced toward them.
He hoped no one noticed the poles outside the house. Kaj had set them up to appear decorative, like garden accessories. When active, they’d sound an alarm for human intruders in addition to acting as protection against vector shifts. He’d shut down the perimeter before Nira left.
After the medics took Dal away on a stretcher, with Yaron going along posing as his brother, Zohar rallied his troops.
“Borius, forget tracking Rayne’s movements.” He faced his two remaining crew in the living room. “I want you to take Yaron’s job and use the computer to search the ley lines. Locating the jammer is still our priority. Once Dal is in the clear, Yaron can join the hunt.”
“What about Dal’s assignment?” Kaj flicked a lock of wheat brown hair off his forehead.
Dal was supposed to track the supplier of energy weapons to the Trolleks. Zohar would have to handle that task himself.
“I will begin inquiries. That is not as important as deactivating the jamming device.” Zohar’s lips thinned. “We still have to pinpoint the Trolleks’ entry points, determine how they maintain the rifts, and shut them down.”
He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked, and looking for the traitor who sold weapons to their enemy would do just that. It might lead to the person who’d sent an assassin after him, but he could deal with that problem later.
Zohar retreated to his room and obtained a sample of Nira’s hair from her comb for a DNA test. He felt traitorous doing it but she had been in the kitchen earlier. That gave her the perfect opportunity to put poison into the juice carton. The same could be said for the rest of them, but there was also the matter of how she’d escaped from Algie and the Grand Marshal.
He should wait until the doctors made a diagnosis on Dal before jumping to conclusions, but he had other reasons for checking on his team as well. If his enemies wished to terminate him, what better route than to corrupt one of his most trusted circle?
Maybe that tainted juice had been meant for him. So what if it killed his colleagues too? The assassin wouldn’t care.
His blood ran cold. Bad enough that the Trolleks would stop at nothing to obstruct his mission, but to have to deal with political insurgents at the same time strained his patience.
Action had always proved a balm for his problems. From a sack in his closet, he withdrew the set of electrodes that had become part of his routine. Anticipated pain made him bare his teeth. It would cleanse his mind, and prepare him for the difficult path ahead.
After stripping off his clothes, he fastened the nodes on his upper arms and thighs, leaving the final one for his forehead. When he’d pulled that strap tight enough to crimp his skin, he grasped the switch in his hand. Applying the mouth guard was the last step.
Zohar lay flat on the carpet, sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, and pushed the button. A jolt of energy snapped through him, contracting his muscles in painful spasms as his body’s electrical resistance responded to the charge.
His teeth clamped down on the mouthpiece. Nerve endings fired. Focusing on a singular object on the wall as he’d been taught, he endured the agony until the prescribed interval passed. It was the price he had to pay to be a Drift Lord. The polarization would last twenty-four hours, protecting him against the Trollek touch.
He sat up, his limbs trembling, and ripped off the electrodes. “For duty and country,” he pledged for the umpteenth time, thumping his fist on his chest.
When his legs steadied enough for him to stand, he rose and dressed quickly.
Zohar piloted the shuttle to the Protector while Kaj rode in the copilot’s seat. Their Class IV Fomian gunship, cloaked from planetary sensors, maintained a high orbit. Paz greeted them with a wide grin in the hangar bay.
After a brief exchange of news, Kaj headed off to begin his assignment. Zohar retired to his cabin and dialed Primer Pedar on his private comm channel. As Regent, Pedar ruled in Zohar’s stead.
“Rageesh, I am glad to hear from you.” The white-haired man’s eyes shone with relief on the video monitor. “When my man failed to check in, I feared something bad had happened.”
Zohar tilted his head. “You mean Lord Magnor? So you really did
send him to keep an eye on me?”
He cursed the time lag that delayed communications while he waited for a reply. Paz was working on a secret project in his spare time, hinting it would boost the relay system and allow for real-time dialogue. For various reasons, he had to guard his research, even from his friends.
“I felt the Tsuran swordsman would benefit your team,” Pedar said at last. “Things are not going well here. It seemed wise to send you extra protection while you fend off the Trolleks.”
“Tell me, old friend, what has gotten you so disturbed?”
“Demonstrations have become increasingly violent. A common thread exists among the dissenting factions these days.”
“Oh?” Zohar sat up straight.
“I believe the malcontents are being herded under one leadership. We have our agents out, and they confirm the attacks are better coordinated.”
Zohar knew the downturn in the economy had made people angry, but rebels had been stirring up trouble ever since his father’s death. They called for a republic and an end to the empire. Zohar had half a mind to join them until they started harming innocents in the name of their cause.
“What are you doing about it?” he asked his regent.
Primer Pedar gave a weary sigh. “Our enforcers are working overtime, but we are headed for civil war unless you come home. Sire, you are the only person who can sway public opinion.”
He snorted. “I am the last person my people want. Father made sure of that. Our royal line is despised. Why should I be any different than him?”
“As captain of the Drift Lords, you have proven your worth. You are stronger than our former king, more resistant to outside influences. You must come home and assert your birthright.” Pedar’s voice softened. “The people will love you as I do when they see what kind of man you are. Zohar, please have more faith in yourself.”
“I cannot leave yet. The Trolleks are jamming our cors particle detectors so we are unable to locate their rifts. We have no idea how many gateways they have activated. Meanwhile, they are confounding humans and infiltrating society to the extent of which we have yet to learn.”
“Your team has met their challenge before.”
“Not on this scale, and our problems have only just begun. Since the rifts will not shut down via their natural cycle, the dimensional drift is widening. Already there are tears in the space-time fabric.
“So far this has resulted in spontaneous spatial shifts here on Earth. Further shifts could potentially expand to other worlds, other dimensions. If this process continues, a great cataclysm will result, and reality as we know it will cease.”
Primer Pedar chuckled. “You have always been a doomsayer. It cannot be your mother’s genes. Alythira was a ray of sunshine in our eyes.”
His heart squeezed. He’d barely known his mother before she died, just enough to remember her laughter and the songs she sang to him at bedtime. The king, not yet crowned emperor, had mourned her loss deeply, distancing himself from his son as though Zohar increased his pain.
Zohar had hoped his father’s mood would brighten once he remarried, although he disliked the woman Ivar chose for his new bride. Yetta’s smile seemed too cloying, and her eyes were chips of ice. As it turned out, his instincts were correct.
“My duty remains here.” He firmed his lips, aware that if he shirked his role on Earth, the repercussions would destroy all they held dear. “Once we have forced the evil beasts back to their domain and sealed their gateways, then you and I can continue this discussion on Karrell. Until then, I rely on you to maintain control.”
“As you wish, sire.” The old man signed off with a heavy sigh.
Shifting restlessly, Zohar made another call to a childhood friend who now worked in State Security. After they exchanged pleasantries, he stated his purpose.
“It pains me to ask you this, but I need a discreet background check on the members of my team. Examine their recent contacts, see if anything in their lives raises suspicion. You know, like large credit deposits, unpaid debts, illicit affairs, that sort of thing.”
“You want me to dig for dirt?” Tog’s voice rose with disbelief. He knew the stringent requirements for acceptance into the Drift Lords’ cadre.
“One of them may have succumbed to blackmail. An assassin has targeted me, and Rayne was killed in my place.” Zohar described the circumstances.
“How do you know this Lord Magnor is on the level? Just because the Primer sent him doesn’t mean you should trust him.”
“It is irrelevant; he is lost to us.” Zohar told Tog about the ambush.
“Nonetheless, I’ll put out feelers for him as well. Anything else?”
Rubbing his neck, he instructed Tog to follow through on Dal’s assignment. Tog would know whom to contact about missing military grade armaments.
Feeling a sense of accomplishment, he hung up on Tog, then made a quick call to Yaron. Dal’s condition had stabilized, so at least one thing was going in their favor. However, the doctor wanted to admit him until his toxicology results came back.
Zohar switched his unit off, stood, and stretched. Calling Nira was on his mind, too, but first he needed to consult with Paz.
Paz was on the bridge deck monitoring the propulsion systems when his captain strode through the hatchway. He turned his stubbled face toward Zohar and threw him a two-fingered salute.
Zohar’s shoulders sagged as he greeted their communications specialist. “Paz, I appreciate you manning the stations while the rest of us run ourselves ragged dirtside.”
“No problem, as long as you let me join the fight when the time comes, sire.” Paz regarded him with a twisted smile. “I found something on a quick analysis of that data crystal from Drift World.”
“What is it?” His pulse accelerated.
Paz pointed to a display at the science station. “See this? Nira’s blood shows an anomaly. I’m not sure what it means yet. The Trolleks tagged her file.”
Zohar compressed his mouth. He felt unfaithful, doing tests behind Nira’s back. “Do any of the other samples show similar results?”
Paz’s eyes darkened. “Some of them are marked, but I need to study them further. You should have Yaron take a look. He has better training in the science modules than I do.”
“Yaron is busy. We had a situation. Dal is down.” He explained what happened.
Paz shook his head. “First Rayne, then Magnor, and now Dal. I don’t like the implications.”
“Neither do I.” He handed over Nira’s hair sample and the additional data crystals then rattled off his instructions. “Report to me when you have more definitive answers. Our first priority is still to send the Trolleks back home and seal the rifts, but Nira’s connection might hold the key.”
With the redhead on his mind, he commandeered a shuttle and programmed his destination for the park at Turkey Lake.
Chapter Eighteen
Nira drove northeast from Orlando on I-4 while mulling over the conversation with her sisters. Vastly relieved they hadn’t rejected her after learning she’d been adopted, she swallowed. If anything bad happened to those girls… She cut off the thought as pressure built behind her eyeballs.
Hopefully Kristy and Diane would listen to her advice and leave town. She’d done her part in warning them. Now she could concentrate on finding Grace.
Glancing at the empty passenger seat, she felt a pang of regret that Zohar hadn’t come along. She could use his company. Relying on him had become second nature in such a short time that she didn’t want to think about what it meant.
All she knew was that she missed him, and they had only been apart for several hours. Did he feel the same way about her? Did he miss her conversation? Her companionship? Or did he merely view her as a means to an end?
She hadn’t really believed he’d let her roam far on her own. The Trolleks might still pursue her. How could he leave her unprotected? Sure, she had the ring, but how quickly could his men arrive in case of trouble?
<
br /> Stow it, Nira. It’s up to you, now. You’ll do just fine on your own.
Turning off the highway at exit 114, she followed her GPS directions onto Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Beltway and then onto County Road 4139. The narrow two-lane route reminded her of old Florida with its hilly terrain and wooded slopes. Driving alone on roads like this always made her nervous. What if her car got a flat tire? She didn’t have a mechanic’s bone in her body, and who knew how long it would take the auto club to come?
Gripping the wheel, she glanced in the rearview mirror. An old Subaru bumped along behind her. From its rattling noise and faded paint, that car was likely to break down before hers.
Hoping for the best, she reviewed what she knew about Cassadaga. A man named George Colby founded the settlement in the late nineteenth century. During his early adult life, he communicated with spirits and traveled around conducting seances. Then his spirit guide told him to go to Florida and file a homestead claim on a patch of government land.
Eventually he deeded the territory to the Southern Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp Meeting Association. That was the town’s formal title, and it was listed in the National Register of Historic Places.
She passed a sign indicating a congested area ahead. Expecting to come to a bustling town center, Nira gaped in surprise when five commercial buildings framed the main intersection.
This was it?
The sparse traffic made her speculate about the inhabitants. Did they prefer to be as invisible as the ghosts they summoned? Evidently so, because she didn’t see many people out and about.
Probably it got more crowded on weekends, when visitors arrived. Regardless, Nira hoped consulting a medium wouldn’t be a problem. She wanted to learn about her origins and maybe find someone who could read runes. Tarot cards, runes, tea leaves─all were methods of divination. There must be someone here who could help.
Pressing on the brakes, she eyed the village bookstore and the Cassadaga Hotel. The former might be the best place to start. She might find texts on runic inscriptions different than the ones in the UCF library.
The Subaru squealed to a halt behind her. Was that occupant another desperate soul seeking a reading? Or perhaps a mourner who sought to communicate with a dead loved one?
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