Mystic

by Cheryl Brooks

  Sula wouldn’t have thought a man his age would have such astonishing reflexes and agility—another of Zolo’s genetic modifications, perhaps?—but the dart was thrown at Aidan with pinpoint accuracy, landing squarely in the deltoid muscle, precisely where any good nurse would’ve given an injection.

  Sula’s bloodcurdling scream could’ve been heard in the outer office, but Aidan barely reacted, except to pull the dart from his flesh and lay it carefully on the professor’s desk.

  “I may be doomed, but so are you,” he said. “You see, we’re recording this interview, which is being broadcast live everywhere on this planet and beyond. Soon, there won’t be anywhere for you to hide. No one will help you for fear of being painted with the same tainted brush.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” Dalb said with a smug smile. “We control the media here.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Aidan said.

  Aidan might’ve remained calm, but Sula was about to come unglued as memories of the carnage on Ecos flashed through her mind, chief among them the image of Raj as he took his last breath. “I’ve seen how quickly that disease can spread. You would risk everyone on this campus just to kill one man?”

  Dalb let out a derisive snort. “Do you really think us incapable of controlling a disease we created? Everyone in this building has been inoculated. They don’t realize it, of course, but”—he broke off with a careless shrug—“it is, however, quite true. This room can easily be irradiated to remove any traces of the virus.” He spared Aidan a dismissive glance. “Just as the dust that you will soon become can be vacuumed up and thrown out with the rest of the trash.”

  Sula had heard enough. If she’d been armed, Dalb would’ve died where he stood.

  Aidan, however, remained unmoved. He even smiled. “Ah, but you see, I know something you don’t. I have seen you behind bars, suffering a lonely, ignominious death. Regardless of what happens to anyone else here today, you will not go free.”

  “You have seen?” Dalb leaned forward and slapped his palms on the desktop. “Nonsense.”

  “My prescient ability is quite reliable, I assure you.” Aidan’s calm demeanor never wavered. “I saw your death the moment we shook hands.”

  Dalb’s expression didn’t change, but as before, his trembling hands betrayed him. “Again, that is utter nonsense.”

  Aidan’s lip curled with disdain. “You’re a professor of anthropology. Therefore, you must know something about Mordrials.”

  “But—but you’re Zetithian,” Dalb sputtered.

  Aidan arched a brow. “So? Even Zetithians are known to have visions. How do you think I found Sula in the mountains of Rhylos just as she fell into a cave—a cave filled with artifacts that will prove that an intelligent civilization once thrived there? I found that cave once. I can find it again.”

  “No, you won’t.” Dalb squared his shoulders, seeming to have regained some of his composure. “You’ll be dead.”

  “You know something? I believe you’re wrong.” For a man who had just been exposed to the most dreaded disease imaginable, Aidan seemed freakishly composed. “You see, in seeing other people’s futures, I’ve had glimpses of my own influence. I don’t think your poisoned dart did anything more than annoy me.”

  Sula wasn’t so sure. “Aidan…” She took a deep breath, hoping to steady her voice. “You know there’s no cure once you’ve contracted the disease.”

  “Unless I’m already immune.”

  “Immune? How?”

  “Think back. Your contraceptive didn’t bother me after that first time—even though I wasn’t entirely successful at avoiding contact with your bodily fluids—which leads me to suspect I wasn’t reacting to any type of medication.” He smiled at her. “As you may recall, I scratched you with a fang. When I tasted your blood, I became imprinted with your essence.” His brow rose, signaling the most important detail—one that she was already anticipating and praying was true. “And acquired your immunity to the plague.”

  Although momentarily heartened, Sula remained doubtful. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Oh, but I do. Do you remember when I told Abuti that I knew she would survive because I’d seen her when she was older?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Sula said, although she was still puzzled. “But what does that have to do with you? How could that possibly mean you wouldn’t die from the plague?”

  “Because what I didn’t tell you was that she was walking along a grassy pathway with crowds of people on either side. Nor did I tell you she was being escorted by my brother Aldrik, and most important, she was wearing a sari—the type that would be worn by a member of a wedding party.” His smile stretched into a dazzling, fang-revealing grin. “Now, with those two as attendants, whose wedding do you suppose that would be?”

  “Ours?” Once again, she cursed her voice for devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

  He nodded. “I believe so.”

  “But how can you be sure?” she asked. “What if I married someone else?”

  “Sometimes, I have to extrapolate the true meaning from what I’ve seen.” He shrugged. “I’m not always right about the implications. I mean, it’s possible that Abuti will marry Aldrik, although I don’t think Norludians and Zetithians are genetically compatible. And even that doesn’t explain why she would be wearing a sari. No, this time, I’m quite certain I got it right.”

  Still puzzled, Sula couldn’t help but frown. Dalb might’ve been in another universe at that moment for all he mattered. “But you said Abuti would be older. Does that mean we won’t get married for years and years?”

  This time, he laughed—a rich, joyous sound Sula knew she would never tire of hearing. “As you may recall, I never said how much older she would be when I saw her future.”

  “A touching story,” Dalb said with a menacing smirk. “However, neither of you will be growing older.”

  Sula’s gaze landed on the pistol the professor now held in his hand.

  “I should’ve used this to begin with,” Dalb said. “Not as fitting, perhaps, but certainly more effective.”

  Aidan never batted an eyelash. “Just as I should have done this”—he swept his arm forward—“to begin with.”

  The wind Aidan created knocked Dalb off his feet and slammed him into the wall behind the desk. The ancient shield hanging on the wall fell and hit him on the shoulder as he fired the weapon: a laser pistol that burned a hole in the wall above the outer door.

  “You know, you could get thrown in jail just for owning one of those,” Aidan remarked.

  The door flew open, and Dalb’s assistant came dashing through it with Curly, Abuti, and Giklor hot on her heels. As snobbish as she’d been before, she was terrified now. “Shut up, Professor! Don’t say another word. This conversation is being broadcast on every network in the city!”

  Aidan brushed an infinitesimal bit of lint from his sleeve. “Better make that the quadrant.”

  “But they were scanned for weapons or recording devices before they entered.” Dalb might’ve appeared momentarily dazed, but not so much that he couldn’t aim the pistol at Aidan again. “Doesn’t matter. You’re both going to die anyway.”

  “Not today.” Aidan summoned the wind once again, and the massive desk rose from the floor and crashed into the professor, pinning him to the wall and knocking the pistol from his hand.

  Sula ran for the gun as the desk settled back to the floor. Snatching it up, she aimed the weapon at Dalb, although considering his condition, holding him at gunpoint was probably unnecessary.

  Gasping for air, Dalb could only say, “How?”

  “Like I said, I’m also Mordrial,” Aidan said with a wink at Sula.

  “B-but the broadcast…” Dalb sputtered. “Surely, you can’t do that telepathically!”

  “You didn’t scan me,” Qinta said as she material
ized in the far corner, holding up a comlink. Grinning, she added, “You know something? I enjoyed that so much, I’m thinking of pursuing a career in cinematography.”

  Meanwhile, Giklor was hovering over Dalb’s rather inert body. “My dear sir, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Giklor of the planet Zerka. Should you require healing, I am at your service.”

  Dalb merely moaned in reply. He was finally beaten, and he obviously knew it.

  Aidan shook his head in disgust. “You’ll do anything to get your tongue down someone’s throat, won’t you, Giklor?”

  “Healing is what we do,” the Zerkan said with a shrug. “I thought you understood.”

  “I understand completely,” Aidan said. “I just think he deserves a little pain for what he’s done.”

  “Very true.” Casting a contemptuous glare at Dalb, Giklor said, “I withdraw the offer.”

  Dalb’s assistant began inching her way toward the door, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, Curly in particular.

  “Don’t you even think about going anywhere near a computer,” Curly snapped, waving his pistol. “No wiping memory banks or any crap like that.”

  Qinta’s comlink chimed. “It’s a text from Val,” she said after a glance at the screen. “Says not to worry, he’s got the files. He also says it looks like the plague outbreak on Ecos was limited to one relatively small area. Most of the natives remain unharmed. Apparently, they were afraid to push the project forward without knowing what happened to Sula.”

  Aidan burst out laughing. “Way to go, Val! Told you he’d dig up the dirt.”

  Sula pressed her fingers to her lips. Whether she could explain it or not, her vision of Ecos had indeed been a true one.

  “Son of a bitch!” Curly growled. “Do you mean to tell me that after all the hours we’ve spent staring at five hundred years’ worth of university payrolls, he finally gets it at the last second?”

  “Val always did have a flair for the dramatic,” Aidan said. “And he does his best work when he’s left alone.” He tipped his head to one side in such an endearing manner, Sula couldn’t help but sigh. “Makes me wonder if he doesn’t do it that way on purpose.”

  “I for one could do with a little less drama,” Curly said. “I damn near had a heart attack when I heard laser fire.” He glared at Qinta. “You might’ve warned me.”

  “What? And blow my cover? No way!” With an impish grin, she added, “Besides, one must be willing to make sacrifices for one’s art.”

  Curly holstered his pistol. “Yeah, well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t sacrifice me for your art.”

  Qinta stared at him as though not quite believing what he’d said. “I never had you pegged for being such a wuss.”

  “I am not a wuss,” Curly insisted. “But when three of my friends are behind a closed door and I hear laser fire—knowing that none of them were even armed with squirt guns—I get a little antsy.”

  “He’s an old softie like all the rest of us,” Aidan said. “He’ll never admit it, of course. He’s a lot like Jack that way. Heart of gold, but prickly as hell.”

  Sula smiled. “I prefer my mate to be less prickly and more of an old softie.” She peered up at him, somehow suppressing the urge to check his conjunctiva to see if it was turning yellow. “You’re sure you feel okay? No symptoms of the plague?”

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  She was momentarily reassured until another aspect of the past few minutes reared its head. “You’ve kept your abilities secret for your whole life. Now you’ve told the entire quadrant about them. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  “Not really,” he said. “People can ask me to tell their future all they like. I just don’t have to tell them everything.”

  “Like whether Abuti was wearing a sari, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Stuff like that.”

  “Hold on,” Abuti said. “What’s this sari thing you’re talking about? We Norludians don’t ever wear anything.”

  “A sari is a traditional dress worn by the women of India,” Aidan replied. “They’re very beautiful.”

  If anything, Abuti appeared to be even more appalled than ever. “A dress? You expect me to wear a freakin’ dress?”

  “You don’t have to,” Sula said. “But if you want to be one of my bridesmaids, you probably should.” Sula couldn’t imagine her parents’ reaction to having a Norludian in the ceremony, especially one who was essentially naked.

  Abuti’s bulbous eyes protruded even more than usual. “I can’t be a bridesmaid if I don’t wear a dress?”

  Sula shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, crap.” Abuti slapped the floor with a flippered foot and began popping her fingertips on her arms, nearly dropping a comstone in the process.

  “If you’ll recall, Aidan has already seen you wearing a sari,” Sula reminded her. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen the way he saw it.”

  Aidan took her hand and kissed the palm. “My, such faith you have in me.”

  “Faith? Of course I have faith in you. When have you ever let me down?”

  “We’ve only known one another for a few weeks, but I think it’s safe to say I’ve never done that. Not even when we were flying together.”

  “And I doubt you ever will.” Sula flung her arms around his neck and pulled him close. As their lips met, soft and sensuous quickly became passionate and erotic, sending waves of desire flowing through her veins.

  A groan from Dalb, who still lay crumpled on the floor, interrupted one of the best kisses of Sula’s life.

  This better be good…

  Aidan aimed a scathing glance at the professor. “Something just occurred to me. I don’t know why this university should get a grant when I already know an outstanding anthropologist who is perfectly capable of conducting a study of the Zetithian survivors.”

  Despite her momentary elation at the prospect, Sula frowned. “There’s just one problem. I never finished my degree.”

  Aidan cast her protests aside with a wave of his hand, creating a stiff breeze that nearly knocked Qinta off her feet. “Doesn’t matter. Although by the time the police have finished going through the evidence Val found, there might not be any faculty left to teach you anyway.”

  Sula looked up as several uniformed officers entered the room. After hauling Dalb to his feet, they handcuffed him and read him his rights. His bleached-blond assistant received similar treatment, after which they were both taken from the room. “You may be right about that,” she said.

  “I think you should get an honorary degree at the very least,” Qinta said. “Especially after finding that cave and all.”

  Giklor broke off his inspection of the spear that had fallen along with the shield. “I believe that would be considered archaeology rather than anthropology. But perhaps you should be granted two degrees.”

  Sula shook her head. “I really can’t see that happening. A degree in anthropology is quite enough for me.”

  Qinta tapped Aidan’s shoulder. “Um, by the way, Aidan. Was I part of that wedding vision?”

  “I didn’t see you,” Aidan replied. “But that doesn’t mean you weren’t there.”

  Abuti waved her arms. “Okay, okay. I’ll wear the damn dress. But no shoes! I have to draw the line somewhere.”

  Sula pointed at her own feet. “What about a jeweled anklet? Something like these sandals?”

  “Maybe.” Abuti’s lower lip turned inside out in a gesture Sula recognized as indicative of extreme doubt. “It’s just that I’ve never had anything touching my skin. Don’t know how the rest of you can stand it.”

  “I have often wondered that myself,” Giklor said. “Seems unnecessarily cumbersome.”

  “Until you’ve spent the winter on Nerik,” Aidan said. “Trust me, even you two would
want to bundle up there.”

  “I have never been to Nerik,” Giklor said. “However, having heard that, I believe I’ll pass.”

  “You might like southern India,” Sula said. “It never gets cold there.” She eyed Giklor’s pale, translucent skin with misgiving. “Although it might be too hot for you during the summer.”

  “I will certainly come to the wedding, regardless of the climate,” Giklor declared. “I take it the ceremony will be on your homeworld?”

  Sula sighed. “You’re getting ahead of us. Aidan and I are not yet engaged.”

  “I can fix that.” Aidan got down on one knee and clasped her hands in his. “My darling Sula, you are already my mate and the mother of our children. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  She gazed into his glowing feline eyes. Even without his wings, he still looked like an angel. Her green-eyed, golden-haired, pointy-eared angel. “You know I will. You’ve seen enough of the future to know that.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. I think I need to hear you say it.”

  Cupping his face in her palms, she kissed him again. “Before I give you my answer, I would like to know one thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “Will our children be able to fly?”

  For more Cat Star Legacy,

  check out book one in the series

  Maverick

  On sale now

  Being irresistible to every species in the galaxy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be…

  Read on for an excerpt from Maverick, the first book in the Cat Star Legacy series by Cheryl Brooks