Wyatt knew what I meant—others could become infected with the Prophet's disease by having sex with someone already infected. For now, the Prophet was likely unaware of that possibility, and we wanted to keep it that way.
"X will be here at midnight," Wyatt said. "We've arranged for interviews to start at ten bells tomorrow morning, so they can get some sleep tonight."
"Good. I'll consider this while we eat," I said. "Do you have records and images of those we'll interview?"
"Most of them, yes," Jayna answered. "Teeg has those ready for you in his study."
"Good—thank you. I'll look at them after dinner."
"Dad wants a conference after dinner, so that would work perfectly."
"Who needs to be there?" Vik asked. He and David had made their way toward us, and now stood beside Mak and Jak, my self-appointed bodyguards.
"Teeg asked for you, too," Wyatt nodded at Vik. "David and Chief Markus, if they want to come. Mak and Jak can guard the door if they want, and Dori, of course," Wyatt grinned at Dori. "The others can stay at the palace or go to the cabin."
I didn't tell Wyatt that Mak and Jak would guard the door whether Teeg wanted it or not, but that could wait for later. Those two took their work seriously.
"Is everyone ready?" I turned to ask my crew.
With no objections, I folded all of us to Teeg's palace.
"There are twenty-seven who witnessed the disappearances of family members or friends," Teeg handed a comp-vid to me.
Dori sat next to me inside Teeg's private study—Vik and David sat nearby, and Wyatt, Jayna and Markus took up a sofa against a wall.
I began flipping through images—of both the missing and their relative or friend who'd watch them evaporate from the planet.
My hand—and my breath—stopped at the ninth one.
Missing was Mae'Sandar Keel. The one who'd seen her vanish was her brother, Miz'Sandar Keel.
"I need to talk to this one, first," I handed the comp-vid back to Teeg. "A lot depends on it."
"Can you expand on that?" Teeg asked. His brow furrowed as he studied the images on the comp-vid. "Says here he's an engineer and technical advisor for the major comp-vid distribution concern here on Campiaa."
"I wouldn't care if he owned the company," I said. "Because that's not all he is—or all his sister is, either."
"Can you explain that?"
I pulled in a deep, steadying breath before telling those in the room what I knew about Miz'Sandar and his sister.
"They're shapeshifters," I let the breath out. "And not just any shapeshifters. They're Or'myr. Does anyone know what that means?"
In less than ten minutes, we had Travis and his father, Drake, in the room with us. They'd brought Drake's father, Dragon, with them, too.
"They're a race of rare dragons, and nearly extinct," Dragon said flatly. "A female to them is the salvation of the race. This will kill them all."
"You'd call them ampithere-wyrm hybrids on Earth," Drake explained to Dori. "Long and serpent-like, with forefeet that serve as arms and hands, for lack of a better term. And wings, of course. The Larentii say they're beautiful when they fly, because they curl and ripple as they sail along."
"Trent will bring the ship in—I think I'll stay and discuss this further with Randl, if that's all right," Travis said.
"Fine by me," I shrugged. "We just—we have to get this one back. As for the Prophet, he doesn't need to know what he has in his possession, either."
"They're a secretive race," Dragon began.
"And that's why I'll be honest and straightforward with Miz'Sandar Keel from the start."
"I'm not sure he has to know everything about the Prophet," Teeg began.
"He needs to know. He can keep secrets, and I think I can ensure that."
"How?"
"Because I'll help," Zaria appeared in our midst. "I have this for him," Zaria held up a box, which likely contained a medallion for Miz'Sandar. "I have one for our Chief of Security, too," she turned and smiled at Markus before floating a second box in his direction.
"Does this mean that Miz'Sandar will be joining my crew?" I asked as Markus snatched the box from midair and had the medallion over his head in record time.
"That's exactly what it means. I doubt you'll find him a burden." Zaria disappeared while I contemplated berth assignments.
"Zanfield." I nodded as I walked past him in the cabin's kitchen. He sat alone at the island, having a glass of wine.
"Commander, want a glass?" Zanfield lifted a yellow/purple eyebrow.
"Sure." I pulled out a barstool and sat while Zanfield retrieved a glass from the cabinet and poured from the bottle he'd selected for himself.
"David says you may be adding to the crew."
"That's true. Don't worry, Zaria says he won't be a burden."
"What will his position be?"
"I think it'll have to be as a special advisor—temporary, of course."
"Ah."
"Zanfield, stop worrying about your job," I said. "It's yours and nobody else's."
"Well, it's difficult not to—since I've never had one before."
"You poor, sad trillionaire," Vik walked into the kitchen and slapped Zanfield on the back.
"With coworkers like you, who needs detractors?" Zanfield sniped good-naturedly.
"Zanfield, I need you to come with me tomorrow morning, to meet with a victim's brother."
"I'll come, but why me?" he asked, pouring more wine in his glass.
"Because he'll recognize you. He won't know any of the rest of us. He still won't trust any of us—not right away, but we have to start somewhere."
"Other than seeing me on the vids, how does that help?" Zanfield asked.
"You're one of his customers—he custom-builds your comp-vids for you, when you order special features," I said. "You just thought those things magically appeared, didn't you?" I teased.
"I thought a bot was doing that," Zanfield considered my words for a moment.
"Some of your quirks are highly specialized," I said. "It requires individual handling, to set up all the exclusive security features you ask for. Once you've reset your passcodes, he no longer has access." I could tell Zanfield was getting worried that his comp-vid security could be compromised.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. He isn't the type to do that, anyway. He's quite secretive himself, so he understands your needs perfectly."
"Perhaps I should hire him," Zanfield began.
"Hold your horses," I held up a hand. "We have to rescue his sister, first, because she's in the Prophet's clutches."
"Oh, no." Zanfield's expression turned grim. "Please say we'll find her before it's too late."
"Zanfield, this is the worst part of your new job," I pointed out. "You wanted to wear the uniform. The bad stuff goes with it, too."
"I'm learning." I watched his shoulders sag.
"Be ready at eight bells tomorrow morning. We'll have our meeting at the local CSD Headquarters."
"All right."
"Zanfield," I said when I rose from my seat.
"What?" He lifted his eyes to me.
"You're a good man to work with," I said as I turned to walk away.
"What are you thinking about?" Dori asked when I slid onto the bed beside her.
"About bait," I sighed and pulled her close. Planting a kiss on her bare shoulder, I considered what Kooper and I intended to do initially, and understood that the stakes had just been ramped up in the Prophet's favor.
"I'm not even going to ask," Dori said, turning in my arms. "Just kiss me and forget about it for a while."
I did.
Chapter 2
CSD Headquarters, Campiaa City
Miz'Sandar Keel
They'd moved up my appointment to speak with CSD authorities about my sister's disappearance.
Outwardly, I was as calm as any of my race should be in the face of danger.
Inwardly, I was terrified for Mae'Sandar. None of the
families knew anything about where the victims were or why they'd been taken. I'd used every asset I had and hacked as many official sites as I could, trying to find that information. There was nothing to be found, other than what was readily available to the public.
Some of that hacking could get me arrested if anyone found out. I worried that this was why my interview time had changed—that the CSD knew and were prepared to arrest me.
I couldn't be imprisoned—not while my sister was missing. I felt helpless, too. If the one responsible for her disappearance were someone I could put my hands on, they'd die a swift death, no matter the consequences to me.
Mae'Sandar had to be alive. I had to find her.
Had. To.
"Mr. Keel, come with me," a receptionist met me at the door of CSD Headquarters. "Your appointment will be held in the basement." She led me toward a trans-vator, and tapped the proper button once we were inside.
The basement. A harder place to escape from, should it become necessary. I was determined not to be arrested, because I had to do whatever I could to find my sister.
"What is this?" I asked, when we departed the trans-vator and entered a cavernous room.
"Normally, it's the exercise facility and shooting range," the woman shrugged. "But we cleared all that out this morning, so your interview could take place."
I went still when several chairs appeared from nothing near the center of the empty floor.
"Everything disappeared the same way, or so I hear," her words were dry. "Good luck, Mr. Keel. Commander Gage will be here momentarily."
I almost called out for her to stay as she boarded the trans-vator. The doors closed and she was gone.
Warily turning back toward the chairs, I found a desk occupying a space behind them, now.
What in the name of the first bloody serpent was going on?
"You know warlocks can accomplish these things, surely?" A man appeared behind the desk, while a chair materialized behind him and he sat. "Come closer, Miz'Sandar Keel. I need to have a very serious discussion with you."
My eyesight is exceptional. From the distance between us, I could see the whiteness of his eyes.
He was blind.
Commander Gage, if this were he, was blind as a night-crawler.
"I don't need them," he shrugged. "My eyes. I see everything anyway."
He'd just pulled the thoughts from my head. My worry increased.
"What—are you?" I asked, refusing to move.
"He's Commander Gage, and my friend." Someone slapped my shoulder as he passed me, making his way toward the waiting chairs.
I froze.
Zanfield Staggs was here. As part of my job, I reconfigured his comp-vids to suit his specifications. Why was he here? He was dressed in an ASD uniform, but that was nothing out of the ordinary—it was one of his favorite costumes.
"It's not a costume," Commander Gage called out. "Zanfield works for me."
"I'm meeting with the CSD," I argued. "Not the ASD."
"Ah, but you want your sister back, don't you?" Zanfield turned to blink at me. "If anybody can do it, Randl Gage can."
Cautiously I stepped forward while Zanfield sat on one of the chairs. There were still six others. One for me, I assumed, but the other five?
"Bekzi," the second man—short and wiry, appeared.
"This is Travis Tetsuya." A third man arrived. He looked Falchani, with the traditional, long, dark braid down his back.
"This is Vik Roth," the fourth man appeared.
"Dori Anderson," the fifth—a woman, appeared.
"Susan Plume," the sixth—another woman—appeared. "Come. Sit. We have plenty to talk about."
I jumped when two more appeared to flank Commander Gage. Both folded four arms across each chest and glared at me as if I were intending to attack everyone here.
Blevakians.
Where the hell did he get them?
"They're my bodyguards," Gage shrugged. "Come on—every moment we waste is a moment we could be looking for Mae'Sandar."
The center chair had been left empty. Drawing in a deep breath, I prepared myself mentally before striding forward and sitting in the designated place.
"Allow me to make introductions," Randl Gage said first. "Everyone, this is Miz'Sandar Keel. His sister is missing and we have to get her back—it's important. Miz'Sandar—this is Mak and this is Jak," he pointed to the Blevakians standing behind him.
"I've already told you the others' names, but that doesn't mean you know everything about them, or me, or what we do, or how we do it. Rest assured, the ASD and CSD are fully aware of our existence, because we work for and with them. Understood?"
"I wish I did," I snorted.
"Except for Travis, there," he indicated the Falchani, "I and the others work aboard BlackWing XIII. Travis captains BlackWing X half the time."
It took a moment for the information to soak into my brain. BlackWing ships.
BlackWing Pirates.
The scourge of the shipping lanes.
Commander Gage laughed.
"That's exactly what you're supposed to think," Travis Tetsuya remarked. "That we're among the worst criminals in either Alliance. Nothing is further from the truth."
"Then what?" I stuttered. I was a master scholar of my race, and I knew nothing of any of this.
"I think what Randl is trying to say is that we're all different, here. You're not alone," Vik said. "To show you, I'll go first."
"What is he talking about?" I asked as Vik rose from his chair and walked to a large, empty space.
When the creature burst into view, enormous, tall, black-scaled and breathing smoke, I scooted my chair back in alarm before my brain informed me that he was High Demon.
One by one, the others changed, too.
A large cat, that Gage told me was an ocelot. A hen, that hopped onto Gage's desk and clucked at me. A dangerous lion snake.
Last of all, the sapphire-blue dragon.
I held my breath as the Falchani turned to his dragon.
"We know what you are, Miz'Sandar," Commander Gage said.
"Nobody knows," I snapped at him.
"That's how I'm different," he said. "Remember when I said I see everything anyway? Someone who calls himself the Prophet has your sister, and he isn't known for his kindness and charitable works. I've only seen him twice, because he hides himself from even the most powerful. We have to find him—and your sister. I know how important she is."
"We want to take you with us—to look for her," Zanfield said. "Don't worry, your job will be secured until you return—Teeg San Gerxon will see to it."
"My father guarantees it," another man appeared. I recognized him, too—Wyatt San Gerxon, the Founder's only son.
"You really do work for the ASD?" I turned back to Commander Gage.
"He does—and the CSD, too, as often as we can convince him to do so," Wyatt held out his hand to me. "Welcome to the BlackWing fleet, Mr. Keel."
I took the offered hand, feeling numb.
Randl
"This cabin belongs to the King of Karathia," Vik informed Miz'Sandar. "He's ah, close with the Founder."
"It's huge," Miz'Sandar studied the steep, snow-covered mountains surrounding the cabin with interest. "Call me Miz—that's how they shorten my name at work."
"Sounds good—if you're hungry, we can probably find you something to eat," Vik said, leading the way onto the porch. "Or tea or coffee."
"When will we leave?" Miz turned to me.
"Tonight. I need to check through some information before we go—to make sure we haven't missed anything. And, I want you to tell me exactly what you saw when your sister disappeared. Even the smallest detail might help."
"All right. I'd take tea, and we can discuss that."
Later, he and I sat in the man cave, having tea with Travis, Chief Markus, Vik and David.
"Mae and I were—going over information," Miz sighed. "One of the records had conflicting information, so Mae and I were try
ing to sort it out. Suddenly, she gasped as if she couldn't draw a breath—then clutched at her throat. She was just—gone, then. From one moment to the next."
"That's scary," David mumbled.
"How does this happen? Do you know?" Miz asked.
"It's not a pretty story," I released a sigh. "The crux of the matter is this—your sister, and all the others who disappeared, have contracted what we call the Prophet's disease. You know about compulsion, correct?"
"What the vampires can do?"
"Yes. Have you heard of obsession?" I could see Miz's eyes unfocusing, as he searched for the information in his mind.
"Only a standard definition," he focused on me again.
"Obsession is something the Sirenali do," Travis explained. "Do you have information regarding that race?"
Again, I watched as he shuffled his mental catalog. "Yes. An extinct race."
"Not so extinct," Travis snorted. "There are a few out there with less than altruistic motives. They can conceal themselves from even the most powerful, and that's how the Prophet is hiding from us. Somehow, too, he has the ability to inject an infective sort of obsession, that can then be passed from one to another. That's what happened to your sister. When Campiaa was attacked, it was the Prophet's doing. He arranged to infect any residents who were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"That fucking parade."
"Yes. Precisely," I agreed. "We were there, fighting them off."
"Did any of your crew become infected?"
It was a logical question.
"We have some help in that area," I said. "That's why I have this for you." I Pulled the medallion Zaria left for him into my hand.
"So, you don't just see things, eh?" Miz studied me as if I'd become a completely new topic for research.
"How do you think the basement at CSD Headquarters got cleared out?" David grinned. "Randl did it in two blinks."
"I was hoping you'd turn, too—it's why we did," Travis said. "That'll have to wait, I suppose."
"Wear this always," I handed the medallion box to him. "Never take it off, even in the shower. I can't explain everything it does, because I don't know. Everybody here has one, though, and there's no way we'd take the thing off."
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