MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  "I have another name—that Poll certainly doesn't want anyone to know."

  "Who's that?"

  "The woman he loves, who also sells contraband. She got him into the business, actually. Her name is Charla Dare."

  Travis

  "Charla Dare lives here," Kooper pointed to the three-dimensional map of Campiaa City. "It's on the northern side, where the wealthiest of the citizens live."

  "That's a fortress, not a house," Trent said. "How do we get in to take her? Assuming, of course, that she sits there, waiting for our agents to bust in and drag her out. If she doesn't have a tunnel or a warlock to get her out of there, I'll be much surprised."

  Kooper and Randl both looked weary, after spending most of the night and early morning working on this angle of Prophet interference.

  We didn't have solid proof of it, yet, but after consideration, it made terrible, twisted sense.

  It's what other criminals had done in the past—they'd send their spies to infiltrate the ranks of their rivals, to either take them out or take them over.

  It wasn't just the logging business, now, and we should have seen this long ago. I realized we were playing three-dimensional chess with a two-dimensional board. Our view of things hadn't expanded to take in the nuances of the game, and we should have been prepared for that.

  "We need a mister," I said. "We need Wyatt to take us in and set us down in strategic spots, so we can get this done."

  "I'll see if Wyatt's available," Kooper sighed. "I agree—that's our best bet for doing this without risking her getting away. If my guess is correct, she's in deeper with the Big Three than we thought."

  The Big Three. Agent speak for Gramm, Yarro and Linn. They'd rushed in to fill most of the void left behind when Cayetes died. They'd had more than fifteen years to establish themselves as some of the current worst on everybody's list, in or out of the Alliances.

  Trent and I had a theory, that involved piles of Sirenali bones either bought or stolen from Cayetes' stash after his demise.

  Sirenali bones were more valuable than the most priceless jewels—to criminals, anyway. It enabled them to hide from the powerful, as a Sirenali's talent for doing such didn't end with their deaths.

  Zaria was the one who'd pointed out that whatever magic the Sirenali had, it resided in their bones and not their flesh.

  Bones were easier to carry and keep, as they never needed feeding or care. Both Alliances destroyed the bones whenever they were found, so nobody could use them again.

  The difficulty was often finding them in the first place. "They can be hidden in walls or buried in concrete and they'll still do their work."

  I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud until Kooper interrupted his plans to ask me what the hell I was talking about.

  "Nothing," I waved a hand. "I was just thinking about Sirenali bones, and wondering whether Charla has any."

  "We suspect that's true, because we can't get a lock on her inside the house, although all indications say she's there. That's why we have to go in, rather than allow Randl to just Pull her out. He can't get a fix on her, either."

  He did that for me and my crew, remember? Dori's voice filled my mind.

  Yeah. I remember.

  "How many are in the house?" Vik asked. "Any idea?"

  "Word is that she keeps eight bodyguards on duty most of the time," Kooper replied. "That doesn't include servants, groundskeepers or anyone else she employs. The place is massive enough to house all of them."

  "And they could all be armed," David observed.

  "Most likely that's the case. She's bigger than we suspected and so far, has managed to look as if she's legitimately wealthy. She wasn't on Jett's radar until Randl told him."

  "That doesn't sound good," Dori grumbled.

  "Somebody call?" Wyatt appeared in the retreat's library, where our meeting was being held.

  "We need a mister," Kooper said. "Kell is busy elsewhere, so you're the prime suspect."

  Randl

  We had six hours to rest and plan before descending on Charla Dare's residence at nightfall.

  Kooper had already pointed out likely places for Wyatt to drop each pair of agents—I wasn't surprised when Vik and David asked to go in together. Sabrina and Jayna would be paired with Travis and Trent, while Dori and I would go together. Susan, Bekzi and Terrett would form a triangle outside the fortress walls, in case anyone attempted to escape.

  James and Nathan would monitor everyone's movements from Teeg's palace—each of us had a chip embedded in our dark clothing so they could track us, should anything happen to warrant backup.

  Jett had agents on standby, but they'd be hidden farther down the hill, waiting for a signal from us if help were needed.

  My hope was that I'd be able to see what Charla knew. A part of me was terrified I'd find her affected, just as so many others were, and that it would be too late to see anything in her.

  Poll loved her—that was true.

  She'd never had sex with him, however, so he'd been left to grovel in her wake, hoping that she'd change her mind someday. He had to content himself with paid sex in the meantime, and wasn't infected.

  My other worry—that Charla could be one of the Prophet's chosen mutations, and that he could see us coming through her, caused me to warn the others to disguise themselves or have someone else do it.

  I had no desire for the Prophet to target any of us because he knew our faces or names.

  Travis and Trent had changed their last name slightly to work with the ASD, so they wouldn't be connected immediately with the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis and her Falchani mates.

  Tetsuya instead of Tatsuya. Easy enough for the Prophet to make that leap, however. He wasn't stupid—I knew that better than anyone, I think.

  Bel Erland will do it for us, Wyatt replied quickly.

  Thank you, I said. Those two were as close as half-brothers could be. If one asked, the other answered, and if help were needed, it was provided. And, as Wyatt was close in age to Travis and Trent, they were more like brothers to him than uncles.

  They had a large, close-knit family, and while I loved Pap more than anything, he was all the family I had.

  I hoped that Dori wouldn't mind being added to it someday, but we had work to do before that could happen. Meanwhile, I could only watch Wyatt's large family in envy, and wonder what it would be like to have more family members.

  Three hours, Travis sent a mental warning to all of us. With a sigh, I considered that I wouldn't get any sleep between now and then if I didn't lie down right away.

  Two-and-a-half hours later, I wiped sleep from my eyes and rose, wondering if anything could bring me to full wakefulness after such a short period of sleep.

  By the time I made it to the kitchen, fully dressed, there were only a few minutes remaining before Wyatt would transport us to Charla's fortress.

  "Here." Trent shoved a cup of Falchani black in my hands. I couldn't say I liked the stuff, but I'd drank it before.

  I gulped most of the tea, forcing the strong brew down my throat before setting the mug in the sink. "Thanks," I told Trent. "That will certainly keep me awake."

  "Us, too," he agreed before slapping me on the shoulder. "Come on, man, we have damsels to throw in jail."

  Good luck, Wyatt whispered mentally as he dropped Dori and me outside Charla's personal study. There was no light under the door, so I imagined she was elsewhere in the house.

  So far, none of the others had sent mindspeech as to Charla's whereabouts, so I folded Dori and me inside the study to look around. Only a muted solar lamp lit the large room, where a massive, antique wood desk—something seldom seen in either Alliance—took up a great deal of space at the center.

  Beneath the desk lay a priceless, ancient Serendaan carpet. No expense had been spared throughout the house, so crime was quite lucrative for Charla Dare.

  Atop the desk, however, lay a comp-vid.

  Dori snatched the device off the desk and shoved it into a pocke
t of her dark trousers before nodding to me. Nothing else caught our attention in the room, so I folded us back to the hallway outside to continue our search for Charla.

  Travis

  This must be the guest wing, I sent to Sabrina, who walked slightly behind me, as if she were afraid something was about to jump out at her. Bedroom after bedroom, suite after suite, lined a very long hallway inside the massive, multi-storied mansion. While passing an open door, a tree outside, blowing in the wind, cast shadows against a wide window.

  Sabrina smothered a gasp and almost ran into me before she realized it wasn't anything to be afraid of. This was her first real stealth mission, and she wasn't used to it.

  I stopped dead when the voices came—someone was heading toward our hallway, which turned a corner ahead.

  They were coming toward us.

  Quickly, I pulled Sabrina inside the open bedroom door and pressed her against the inside wall next to me. My ranos pistol was in my hand immediately and I sent mindspeech, letting the others know that someone was coming our way on the second floor. I was prepared to either fire my weapon or fold space—whatever it took—as neither of the voices was female.

  These were Charla's guards, doing a routine check of the house unless I missed my guess. The alarm hadn't been raised or they'd be heading our way in silence, rather than talking and laughing.

  Stay safe, Trent sent to Sabrina and me.

  Roger that, I replied.

  Randl

  I smell food—there's a kitchen up here, Dori sent. We'd taken the third floor, where Charla's suite and her private study lay.

  I knew another, large kitchen was on the first floor, but the plans Kooper had given us didn't show a second kitchen anywhere else.

  Charla had done some renovations, altering the original house plans from twenty years ago. Either it was done for her convenience, or for that of her personal guards, so they wouldn't have to go downstairs for a break.

  I held a strong shield about us as we made our way toward the smell of food; we'd be hidden from sight, sound and scent, unless someone accidentally bumped against us.

  Let's see who's in the kitchen, I sent to Dori, who nodded. At least these hallways were well-lit and easily navigated—we'd had dim lighting during most of our trek through the massive third floor.

  The renovated kitchen held six guards; four male, two female, all of whom laughed and talked over a massive amount of food laid out on a wide kitchen island. Once I got a good look at all of them, I pulled Dori close against me.

  All of them were infected.

  All of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charla Dare's Fortress, Campiaa

  Vik

  When we received mindspeech from Randl, telling us that six guards on the third floor were infected, David and I both pulled our weapons. We'd taken the first floor and had skipped past four guards between receiving mindspeech from Travis and Randl.

  Neither of us had Randl's gift of seeing the infection in any humanoid, and it was safer to assume that everyone in the house could be infected, too, Charla included.

  If we found her.

  So far, nobody had.

  Bekzi, have you seen any movement outside? I sent.

  Guards. No others, he replied.

  Where the hell is Charla? David asked.

  She could be a million miles away and we wouldn't know it, I replied.

  Fuck. David didn't mince words.

  Keep looking, Travis' voice was stern. Our guards didn't even bother to stick their head inside the room, he added. We'll move again once they're gone.

  Moving on from the third-floor kitchen, Randl reported.

  Keep us posted, Travis told him.

  We're blinder than Randl in this, I told David. He can see that shit and we can't. This could go badly in too many ways to count.

  You're really smart for a tall guy. I may have to reconsider my opinion of you, David replied.

  Thanks. Coming from you, that means so little, I said.

  Don't start with the short jokes, man.

  Are you implying that I'd stoop so low?

  Oh, it's on, bro.

  Randl

  I smell perfume, Dori said after grabbing my arm to slow me down. We were approaching a door at the end of a corridor, a long way from the kitchen where Charla's guards were eating and talking. Too much perfume, Dori added.

  I didn't consider the weight of her words right then—what I did think was that we'd probably found Charla.

  We need to get past that door, Dori said, nodding to the door in question.

  There were no other doors near it, which indicated that it could be the only entrance to a massive suite.

  Charla's suite.

  We may have found something, I sent, along with a visual of where we were on the third floor.

  Be ready, Travis barked at the others. Proceed, he sent to Dori and me. I folded us inside the suite, never expecting to see what we found there.

  Founder's Palace

  Kooper Griff

  We may have found Charla, Travis sent the update. Randl and Dori are going in now.

  Keep me advised, I said. If you need backup, I didn't finish.

  Randl says that six guards on the third floor are infected. We don't know about the others, but we've encountered more than twenty guards and servants inside the house. So far, we've kept clear of any contact.

  I swore softly. At least six of twenty or more infected with the Prophet's filth. Randl was right—the Prophet did want to infiltrate the criminal element. There was no way to tell what he planned to have them do during Conclave. The Big Three had access to weapons and money—enough to buy off or kill almost anyone they wanted.

  Stay on target, I said. I want Charla, infected or not. We need to know what's going on between her and the Prophet.

  Understood, Travis said.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose after Travis cut off mindspeech. This was giving me a massive headache, and Kell and Opal still hadn't returned from Pyrik, where I'd sent them on a special mission.

  Randl

  That's disgusting.

  Dori didn't mind voicing her distaste at the scene in front of us.

  I knew it wasn't Charla but the Prophet's doppelganger of Charla, who was busy having sex with the real Vrak Falken. Both of them were members of the Prophet's mutants, who could transmit everything they encountered to the Prophet.

  If Dori and I weren't shielded, they would transmit our images to the Prophet, although we were both disguised.

  The Prophet didn't need to know anyone was inside the house whom he hadn't allowed there.

  Where is the real Charla? I sent mindspeech to anyone listening, along with a reluctant vision of what Dori and I were witnessing firsthand. While I couldn't see past years of heavy obsession in the couple fornicating on Charla's bed, I couldn't sense Charla's death, either.

  That troubled me.

  Are you telling me that's not her? Kooper's voice demanded.

  That's not Charla, Director. They're both mutants belonging to the Prophet, I replied. I wanted to swear, too, but held that back.

  Dori jerked beside me at the soft whine coming from against a wall.

  Look, she sent.

  I turned my eyes away from the couple on the bed to find a small, fluffy white dog shivering against the wall.

  Scratches covered the wall at his back as he lay there, obviously in distress.

  What the hell did they do to him? Dori was ready to scratch eyes out, I think.

  Show us, Travis demanded. I sent him the mental image, just as a terrible thought hit me.

  Hold your positions, I said. If things go south, get the hell away from here.

  What are you saying? Travis barked.

  That's Charla's dog, I replied. He's trying to find Charla. Hang on baby, I sent to Dori. We're going through a wall.

  Mer'bali, Pyrik

  Opal

  Kooper's hunch was a good one, but we'd had to twist
the non-interference rules to get what we needed.

  At first, Kooper suspected that Shella Karp could be related to President Lebbon. She was related, although not directly.

  He'd sent us to Pyrik, looking for the answers to his questions—regarding Shella's employment by Lebbon, and why he'd keep her in his employ after learning she was disturbing his staff and creating a terrible working environment.

  We'd eventually tracked down Lebbon's first cousin, Bella Karp. Lebbon and Bella had been having an affair since their teens, and they'd kept it quiet. Not even their legitimate spouses knew, and it was against Pyrik's laws anyway, to have an intimate relationship with such a close relative.

  Shella was Bella's daughter with her legal husband, and Bella asked Lebbon to hire her daughter because Shella was incapable of keeping a job anywhere else. Instead of finding a therapist or someone suitable to calm Shella's frequent tantrums, Bella foisted her daughter onto the one person who'd never fire the woman.

  It no longer mattered, of course, because Shella was dead.

  Kell had placed compulsion on Bella, to learn the full story before taking our information back to Kooper.

  The Prophet had no hand in Shella's infection. Like Randl said, it was transmission by sex and nothing else.

  "Ready to go back?" Kell pulled our bags off the hotel bed.

  "Yes. More than ready," I said. I wanted away from Pyrik—to me, the whole planet was unsettled and half-poisoned. I hadn't felt comfortable during any part of our stay.

  Kell felt the same; he just wasn't complaining about it.

  "I'll buy you dinner someplace nice on Campiaa," he promised.

  He had no idea we'd have to put that plan on hold.

  Charla Dare's Fortress, Campiaa

  Randl

  I held Dori against me while she and I hovered several inches off the floor.

  We'd almost walked into the Prophet's trap. If we'd set our feet on the floor, it would have worked, too.

  He'd laid a displacement spell on the secret room adjoining Charla's suite. There, he'd stuffed all of Charla's servants and guards, while he'd sent his own crew in to take over her business.