MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  "Zaria killed a rogue god?" Randl was interested immediately.

  "After saving my life by disconnecting my fate from his."

  "You may have to tell me this tale in full, sometime."

  "If I don't, perhaps Zaria will. There may be written records in the Larentii Archives, too, but Nefrigar has never offered them to anyone."

  "I'm sure there are many such records," Randl conceded, closing his eyes again to soak up the sun's warmth.

  "I agree. The Larentii are a wise race, and there are things that most of us don't need to know. Have you ever seen Zaria as the winged Larentii she is?"

  "No. Is it amazing?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you imagine a race that knows the truth in every political argument, every court case, every war and every planet's history?" A smile curved Randl's mouth as he enjoyed the day at the top of Avii Castle.

  "Some of that, you and I can see," I pointed out to him.

  "True. Not that I want to know all of it," he said. "It's just good to know there are accurate records somewhere."

  "I agree," I said, leaning back on the bench and closing my eyes. "What a beautiful day," I whispered. His soft snore almost made me giggle.

  Randl

  Quin let me sleep for nearly an hour, allowing me to wake on my own. I hadn't intended to take a nap, but I didn't regret it, either.

  Dori had gone shopping with Susan, Sabrina and a few others, so there wasn't anything to feel guilty about except lost time.

  It wasn't until later that I received mindspeech from Kooper Griff, asking me to meet him at Lissa's palace. Unusual news, he'd said, without expanding on that.

  I folded space immediately.

  Blood was everywhere, including the ceiling of a family dining room. "Only the baby survived, because she was asleep at the time," Kooper flipped through more images on his comp-vid while I studied them.

  A large family dining room was depicted in every image, where nine members of the entire family of ten—a husband, three wives and five children, looked as if they'd waged war against one another before killing each other or themselves. That last part would be the most difficult to determine—without my help.

  "Where is the baby now?" I asked after tapping the comp-vid to view the next set of images.

  "In protective custody—it's routine," Kooper shrugged.

  "How old?"

  "Six months, as they measure time on Lordinus."

  "Any unusual behavior?"

  "None noted," Kooper narrowed his eyes as he studied me. "You suspect something, don't you?"

  "I think the Prophet is expanding his talents in some way," I said. "Can you get me into the crime scene?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Keep your shields up, Director Griff, if you intend to stay with me."

  The dining room looked much like the images I'd seen, except the bodies had been removed and some of the evidence collected and taken away for further examination. Tables, chairs, walls, everything else remained, still covered in a family's blood.

  It wasn't wise to touch anything, but I didn't need to—the stink of the Prophet was everywhere in the room.

  "He targeted them, somehow," I turned to Kooper. "I'd suggest you have everyone watched who came into the room without protective gear."

  "That didn't happen—our forensics teams follow strict guidelines so the scene won't be contaminated," Kooper said.

  "Keep an eye on them anyway, and keep me informed, if you don't mind," I said. "I'm very interested in how this turns out."

  "Why target this family?" Kooper asked. "Can you get anything on that?"

  "No idea," I said. "Do you have images you can provide to Quin and me—from before this happened?"

  "I'll put something together," Kooper agreed. "This confuses me. There's nothing in this family's records to indicate why they were made a target."

  "Maybe something will turn up in the information," I said, grimacing at the bloody handprint left by the next-youngest child on the carved, wooden dining table. That child was six, according to the records Kooper shared earlier.

  "I don't really know what to put in the official records, if this is the Prophet's work," Kooper grimaced. "Practically an entire family," he added, shaking his head.

  "We've already seen that he has no sympathy—only ambition, as far as his own goals and desires go," I said. In my mind, this was just as horrifying and more than similar to driving crowds of people into deep holes filled with concrete, so they'd drown.

  At least those people hadn't turned on one another at the end, so this was a relatively new twist. "I assume the food was removed for analysis?" I asked.

  "Yes. To ensure it wasn't anything they'd eaten to cause this. At least there were no servants involved—the wives took care of the house and cooking chores. The husband owned an accounting firm, with several large banks as clients. You can see for yourself that they were fairly well off." Kooper swept out a hand, encompassing the well-appointed dining room and an adjoining kitchen. The floors were covered in natural stone, the furniture natural wood, countertops natural granite. All signs of being among the wealthier of Lordinus' residents.

  "I assume they've gone through the rest of the house?"

  "Yes. That's how they found the baby. Somebody here triggered the alarm system, or we wouldn't have found this for another day or so."

  "All right. I'm done here for now," I said. "Can you take me to the baby, so I can look at her?"

  "Let's go," Kooper said and folded us to the facility where the baby was now sequestered and cared for by suited and protected caregivers.

  I stared at the wailing infant for several seconds, as a caregiver, covered in what the baby saw as a terrifying, gloved suit, attempted to feed her.

  "There's nothing," I shook my head. "Not even a hint of taint. Tell them to take the suits off and hold the baby, instead of trying to scare her to death dressed like that."

  "Are you sure?"

  "As sure as I'm breathing."

  "There's no need for the protective gear," Kooper tapped the button on the wall communicator and spoke to the attendant. "I have it on good authority that you're scaring the baby dressed like that."

  The caregiver nodded and removed the headgear, revealing a woman beneath. She nodded toward us as we stood at the observation window outside. Once the rest of the suit came off and the baby was lifted in a warm embrace, she quieted and fed.

  "I'll get those records and images you requested to you in an hour," Kooper said. "This—defies logic." With one last look and a shake of his head at the baby, who'd come away from a bloodbath unscathed, he folded both of us back to Lissa's palace.

  Kooper sent the same information to Quin and me, so we sat at a table in Master Librarian Gurnil's Library, going over it together before dinner.

  Dori and the others had returned from their shopping trip; Dena and a few others were showing them the massive bowl at the center of Avii Castle, so Quin and I could work.

  "There's really nothing," Quin sighed, setting her comp-vid on the table.

  "I agree," I told her. "There's nothing here, except a normal family. I can see a slight rivalry between the wives and children, but nothing out of the ordinary."

  "It's too bad there aren't any recent images," Quin said. "We might have a better feel for it."

  "Do you think we should ask to see the bodies?"

  "It may be the only way," she nodded. "If you'll keep us shielded. I don't want any part of the Prophet or his sick fantasies."

  I felt the same, I just refused to say it. The Prophet, in my mind, was more than sick. He was twisted—a mutation that should never have been birthed.

  Did he know that about himself? Was he making the rest of us pay for things we couldn't control regarding his existence?

  I turned back to the thought of his parentage—who his mother and father might be. I still had the gold coin he'd handled, but information I'd gotten regarding my mother's memory within it had been unnerving to
me.

  I was reluctant to test its knowledge again for that very reason. Still, I was curious how the Prophet had ended up with the thing—was it theft, or had my mother spent it for food or other necessities, before it fell into the Prophet's hands?

  "So many questions," I breathed, setting my comp-vid down.

  "I'll go with you—to see the bodies," Quin's voice was soft. "I won't rest until we know whether they can still tell us anything."

  "I'll send mindspeech to Kooper."

  "We're going tomorrow morning, to see the bodies," Quin told Justis as we sat around the long dining table in the royal suite that evening.

  "You'll be safe?" Justis lifted a dark eyebrow at Quin.

  "I'll be shielding us," I said. "Nothing will harm her."

  "Good." Justis thanked the servant who set a plate of food in front of him. The rest of us waited until the table was served and Justis lifted his fork.

  Miz, sitting next to Chief Markus, was enthralled to be at the Avii King's table. He was fascinated by the massive, red wings Justis folded at his back, and by Quin's red wings, banded at feathers' ends by gold, copper and silver.

  "Is there room for another?" Zaria appeared, making Quin smile.

  A place was set quickly, and Zaria settled on her chair to eat with us. Mak and Jak, still somewhat miffed that I'd gone to the Queen's palace and then to Lordinus without them, framed Dori and me at the table, faces drawn in similar frowns.

  You can go with me tomorrow, I promised them in mindspeech. Both visibly relaxed.

  Ever since I'd given them money to pay off family debts on Blevakia, and then set their current wages at a fair rate for bodyguards, they'd become even more fierce about protecting me. I had the feeling that if I hadn't done it, Zanfield would have quietly paid their debts anonymously.

  Zanfield had never really had family. His parents had farmed him out to nannies and tutors when he was young and later, when they'd died in a kidnapping gone awry, he'd inherited their wealth and increased it many times over, while learning to protect himself and his empire.

  Zanfield, as eccentric as everyone knew him to be, was also smarter than anyone suspected.

  Much smarter. And, as a member of XIII's crew, was now happier than he'd ever been in his life. Secretly, he was giving away his earnings as a member of the crew to charities formed to help the Prophet's victims.

  Now that he knew what the Prophet was capable of doing.

  Zanfield, watching Justis and Quin initially, now included Zaria in his intense scrutiny. He knew Zaria had provided the medallion he wore. He was very curious about it—and her.

  Vik and David sat together, next to Zanfield. Vik had considered staying at his mother's palace, before choosing to come to Avii Castle with the rest of us. He owed his continued-if-altered existence to Zaria and Quin.

  At least his mother knew he was alive; I'd watched her watching him in our meeting earlier in the day.

  Gerrett, Susan and Charla sat together at one end of the table; Susan and Gerrett had taken Charla under their wing—physically and figuratively. Charla was fine with Susan—as long as Susan looked humanoid.

  Gerrett, though—I caught him winking at Zaria.

  I knew her before she was Zaria, he informed me in mindspeech. No other explanation was offered, and I didn't ask. Perhaps he'd tell me her name from before—someday. Unless I was badly mistaken, though, I figured Zaria had saved him, too.

  He was a slave to others, Zaria said. Gerrett is his own person, now, as it should have always been. He loves to cook, because he was starved. He is a brother to Terrett, one of Quin's mates, and to Morrett, your friend. I recently gave him the gift of speech, although he rarely uses it.

  Gerrett and his brothers had been mute most of their lives, after having their tongues removed at a very young age. So many things are complicated, aren't they? I responded in mindspeech.

  More than you know, she replied.

  Her words had an ominous ring to them; I had to force myself not to ask further questions. The fear of what I'd learn was too great.

  "Leaving tomorrow, then?" Justis' question broke the silence.

  "Early," Dori answered. She sat beside me, carefully collecting salad onto a fork before eating it.

  I could see easily that Justis was grateful Quin wouldn't be pulled too far into this mission. He had doubts and misgivings about our willingness to search so aggressively for the Prophet, and worried we wouldn't survive.

  He hadn't seen a bloody dining room where a family had turned on itself and killed one another, for reasons only known to the Prophet.

  V'dar. Yes, I could use the Prophet's name, but it troubled me too much—to put a name and a face together. As if it made him better than he would ever be. He'd had a mother. And a father. What would they think of their son, now?

  My father loved me and was proud of what I'd become. I hoped I wouldn't disappoint him before all this was over. He, like Justis, worried about my survival.

  As did I.

  The Prophet wanted me more than anything, I figured. In order to preserve future lives, I considered that I could be forced to give him what he wanted.

  He should be prepared for the fight that would come his way if that happened, because I refused to go down easily.

  "Dinner is excellent," Susan pointed her compliment in Quin's direction. Quin smiled and gave credit to the palace kitchen. Time to focus on the meal and leave my thoughts behind.

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Sabrina

  I saw him for the first time—Roff, the Queen's winged vampire mate. He was beautiful—as beautiful as any male could be who wore folded wings at his back.

  No feathers for this one, however—his wings looked to be made of the softest, pale-brown leather—like a bat's. They didn't hamper him in any way; he'd become used to them and paid them no mind as he sat with us at dinner.

  His clothes were fashioned to fit around his wings, too, in clever ways that left them unhindered if he chose to fly.

  I found myself wondering what that could be like. Travis and Trent flew as dragons, but this one didn't have to change to do so. To me, that was more efficient. Something about Roff pulled at me, too, and I couldn't explain that.

  "Is something wrong?" Lissa asked softly as I forced my eyes away from Roff.

  "I—just felt like I knew Roff—I can't explain it better than that," I shrugged at her. "No offense to either of you," I added.

  Lissa's smile was swift and welcome, as was Roff's. "Perhaps you did, child," Roff made a reply. "In a former life."

  People said that all the time. Why did I feel this held more weight—more importance? I sighed. "Dinner is lovely," I remarked, changing the subject. Travis, sitting to my right, reached out to rub my back gently.

  Lissa

  She is lovely, isn't she? I still feel a kinship, although in most ways we are separated by a wide gulf, Roff sent mindspeech.

  Not only had Zaria said Sabrina was once Giff, Roff's first-born, but Breanne had confirmed it, too.

  I hope she never discovers the full tale of her former life, Roff added. It could bring so much harm.

  I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen, I told him. She needs a full life this time—not only for herself, but for my boys, too.

  Life—and fate—are strange, are they not?

  I remember when I first met you, I replied.

  I bless that day every day, he smiled at me.

  Have you told Toff?

  Perhaps later, Roff said. He may not be able to hold himself back if he knows his older sister has been reborn. He is grateful enough that Giff's child was reborn to him.

  He certainly loves his son, I agreed with a smile.

  We all do.

  Avii Castle

  Randl

  "How bad was it?" Dori asked as she and I sat on the balcony outside our borrowed suite. She wanted to know about the crime scene I'd visited with Kooper while she was shopping with the others.
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  "Bad," I said, pulling her into my arms and resting my cheek against the top of her head. "Had the Prophet's stink all over it."

  "You physically smelled it?" She pulled away, blue eyes searching mine for confirmation.

  "No, baby," I pulled her against me again. "The psychic scent, I suppose, for lack of a better term."

  "So, you're going to see the bodies in the morning?"

  "Yes."

  "Just be careful."

  "I will."

  She didn't ask or offer to go with me—she didn't want to see dead, bloodied children any more than I did. I was going out of necessity; I'd tell her later what I discovered about them, if she wanted to know.

  "Will you make love to me?" She mumbled against my chest.

  "You don't have to ask, my heart," I whispered. Pulling away, I swung her easily into my arms and carried her toward the bed.

  Travis

  Trent and I had discussed the trip to view bodies; he and I felt it was important that one of us go with Randl and Quin.

  Sabrina didn't voice her concern that I was the one going; she didn't have to. It was in the worried, downward pull at the corners of her mouth.

  "We'll be shielded," I reminded her. "Several times over, in case there's anything lurking in those bodies. Kooper has them quarantined, and nobody's touched them without protective gear."

  "So much has changed since the Prophet made his presence known," Sabrina turned away from me and hugged herself. "Nobody examines bodies without first gearing up as if they're going into the worst contagion known to the Alliances."

  "Because it may well be that," I soothed. "This is our job, baby. You know that."

  "I think I'll work on better ways to shield and protect first responders," she turned back to me, her worried eyes gazing into mine.

  "Come here, you," I pulled her against me. "That sounds like a perfect idea," I added, kissing her temple. "If my baby is on the job, we won't have anything to worry about."

  "Flatterer," she smacked my ass before stepping away. "I need my comp-vid," she mumbled, looking around the suite she, Trent and I shared at Mom's palace. "I'll make some preliminary drawings," she added. Plans were already forming in her head, I could tell.