Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1)

by Amelia R. Moore

  The stars are so different here, he mused as he looked to the sky. Homesickness caught him in its grip, choking him.

  Loken slowed his pace when the faint scent of smoke hit his nose and brought him back to the present. He paused, prompting Eloy to do the same. That he did so without question was a point in his favor; it would seem he wasn't a complete idiot.

  Knowing it wouldn’t be wise to bypass what appeared to be an encampment without ensuring it was empty, he debated how best to investigate it. Leaving enemies at their back could prove fatal, and nothing should be left unscrutinized on a recon mission.

  Without a word, he veiled himself, turning invisible and making Eloy jerk in surprise. Either he hadn’t been debriefed on Loken and his abilities or he hadn’t believed it. Regardless, he crept towards the scent of fire. What he found was a hole in the ground filled with smoldering embers. He knew this trick and had used it often when hiding behind enemy lines. Building a concealed fire below ground helped hide the smoke and light it produced. Other than its embers, however, there were no signs of people. He searched the immediate area (including a scan of the trees), found nothing, and returned to Eloy.

  Dropping the veil, he gave a breathless laugh when Eloy jumped again. With a devious smirk, he said, “All clear.”

  Eloy muttered something about heart attacks, and they continued on route.

  By Loken’s estimation they were well over halfway to the suspected base of operations when a mechanical click hit his ears. By now, he’d heard enough guns to know what it was, and knew there was no time to ensure Eloy was aware of their enemies. He drew his daggers from his voidspace, summoned two self-simulacrums, and honed in on the direction of the gun.

  Sending his simulacrums in various directions triggered the stalking gunman, giving away his position as he rained bullets upon the doppelgangers. Loken teleported behind him and slit his throat without hesitation. Then, with his back to a tree, Loken searched for the next target amid the sporadic spray of bullets.

  He hissed as one grazed his shoulder, burning like fire. Fury gave him focus, and under the cover of night, he risked teleportation once more. At this point, he didn’t care if anyone saw him do it. He wanted these men dead. Appearing beside the next shooter, he sliced him across the throat before turning and surveying the scene. He realized that he was near Eloy, and the gunmen had surrounded them. They were trying to corral them Loken realized, because although the simulacrums had kept them preoccupied for a short time, they’d been dispelled by bullets.

  Clenching his daggers, Loken picked his next target when a voice called out, “Drop it or they shoot him!”

  Loken turned to the man who’d spoken. Nothing about him stood out apart from his long beard, but his tone implied that he had the authority to tell the other gunmen what to do. Excellent. Loken flicked his gaze towards where Eloy had been disarmed and was being restrained by two men. Was Loken supposed to care? Was he supposed to value this man’s life over his own and over the mission? They’d just met, and it wasn’t as if Eloy hadn’t been aware of the risk this mission posed.

  Eyes now locked on Long Beard, Loken said, “Do it. I don’t care.”

  Silence answered him.

  That callous reply apparently hadn’t been expected, judging by their looks of shock and, in Eloy’s case, abject horror. Loken itched to act while his enemies were stunned, but if he got Eloy killed, he supposed ALPHA would be rather cross with him.

  “You are agents, are you not?” Long Beard asked.

  Paranoia swept through Loken at the question. If he and Eloy had been expected, then someone had betrayed them. Now, how best to handle the situation… Loken smiled. “It seems we’ve been outwitted, and I don’t enjoy the feeling. Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  “Or I could have you both killed now.”

  Despite the words, Long Beard did no such thing, telling Loken he hadn’t yet made up his mind. Loken seized that hesitation; he’d talked himself out of worse situations.

  Their first mistake was listening to him because once he got a foe to listen, he could swindle them out of most anything.

  “But what use are two dead agents?” Loken let the implications of the emphasis sink in. “My superiors will likely be suspicious if only I survive…” He trailed off, as if forming the narrative then and there. “But we were caught unaware. You see, I scarcely managed to escape with my life, and their fallen agent will have fought valiantly, of course, but was overcome.” Loken smirked. “And then, once they’ve accepted the story, you will have a spy within the ranks of an organization that’s harassing you.”

  “You rat!” Eloy snarled, unwittingly playing his part.

  Loken dismissed the obvious insult with a wave of his hand.

  Long Beard considered him. “I like you.”

  Loken smirked and gave a little bow. As he did, he replaced himself with a doppelganger and, now veiled, he began to sneak up on the group.

  “But,” Long Beard said, eyes unknowingly locked on the simulacrum. “How can we trust you?”

  With a devious laugh, Loken brought a dagger to Long Beard’s throat. “You’d be a fool to. Now, be a good boy and tell your men to lower their weapons.” When the man hesitated, clearly in shock, Loken pressed harder, drawing blood.

  “Do what he says!” Long Beard snarled.

  As soon as he was free, Eloy collected his crossbow and moved to Loken’s side. He looked far from pleased, but all he said was, “Backup is on its way.”

  Loken wanted to scowl. They had, after all, failed this mission. It wasn’t their fault, but Loken loathed failure. This wasn’t how he planned his debut with ALPHA, but he’d done the best he could.

  (Not good enough. Never good enough).

  He kept a dagger to the man’s throat until reinforcements arrived. As soon as he was relieved of his prisoner, he banished his daggers to his voidspace and teleported back to the compound without regard for who was watching.

  Recklessness was his new master.

  He assumed, based on experience from his home world, that he would need to give a report on the mission, but he didn’t rush off to do so. Loken figured that he had at least until the others returned, so upon teleporting directly to his room, he collapsed into bed. Lacking the will to do anything else, he stayed there, dwelling on how the mission’s failure could have been avoided and wondering how they could have been compromised in the first place. Paranoia once more swept through him, tendrils of anxiety gripping his heart. What if the mission was meant to be a failure? Would they risk another agent just to test him?

  Loken was accustomed to being alone, but it had been ages since he felt the burden of it so heavily. Back home—(not your home)—he’d had the support of his mother when he most needed it. Though he’d hesitate to say he’d ever had friends, he had those whom he occasionally enjoyed the company of. Here, he had no one, and there wasn’t even a library to hide away in. He only had these four walls and a collection of books he’d finished reading.

  His mind turned to Sanjay when it had nothing left to ponder. What was his not-brother up to? Had he been told the truth of Loken’s heritage? Had his parents confessed to the charade? Had they apologized to Sanjay for the farce? If so, did Sanjay hate him even more? If they met again, would he care to get Loken’s side of the story? Or would he cut Loken down without a second thought?

  Sanjay was a force on the battlefield, and to have that rage focused on him... Loken wasn’t surprised by the terror that thought invoked; it seemed the most likely outcome. He was, after all, a traitor to his King and his family. They’d slain villains and monsters side-by-side for centuries without mercy. Why should Loken expect to be shown any?

  Sanjay isn’t here, he reminded himself.

  Not yet, that inner voice taunted.

  It was only a matter of time...or was it? Worldwalking, traversing the hidden pathways between worlds, even within the same system, was dangerous work. Locating the naturally existin
g paths was difficult enough, but one never knew where the paths would take them until they attempted the journey. His father had beaten him for traversing one as a youngling. This time, however, Loken had gone a step beyond; he’d created a rift between systems. His entire family likely thought him dead, and if that were true, then no one was hunting him.

  It was as comforting as it was agonizing, the realization that he would never see Rellaeria again. He longed for home as much as he hated it, and the contradictory emotions warred inside of him until the unstable mixture boiled over.

  Loken centered himself with a deep breath, and when that didn’t work, he closed his eyes and focused on his maedir. It hummed silently against his senses, lulling in its familiarity, and flowed intricately over his skin like liquid armor. A constant presence, it was infused in every cell of his being, connecting him to the world around him. Even now, stripped of his scion status, cut-off from everyone he’d ever known, he had his magic. He may no longer be a warrior of Rellaeria, a scion of the Evoir, but he was still one of the greatest sorcerers the Evoir had produced in millennia.

  He would endure.

  (Is this enduring?)

  Tearing himself from his melancholy, Loken headed to the compound’s gym. Then, after ensuring the area was clear, he settled into an open space. Pulling his daggers from his voidspace, he settled into a routine workout. He’d practiced these moves thousands of times, memorizing the movements and motions of attacking long before he’d ever been in a real battle. Twisting about, he thrust one dagger upwards in a killing blow.

  “Higher,” his mother had commanded, completing her movement until their blades met in slow motion.

  Loken’s brows furrowed, eagerly soaking in the instruction. Then, when prompted, he repeated the motion with her adjustments at full speed.

  “Excellent.” Pride lit her voice, enhancing its warmth. “Now, again.”

  In the present, Loken executed the move repeatedly before moving onto the next, and he kept at it for hours. By the time he returned to his apartment, he was sweaty and drained but still unable to sleep. Too tired to resist, he filled the bedroom with an illusion of his mother’s gardens, so real to his every sense that he could smell the floral scents on the imagined breeze and could hear the rush of the extravagant fountain.

  Loken slept through the night, enveloped in the comforts of the well crafted lie.

  For a fleeting moment, when he woke, he thought he was home. That it had all been a nightmare. Everything from the ill-planned excursion to Draferia to being soloed out for retribution for—

  He banished the illusion with an unintelligible sound born of pent-up frustration, buried his face in his hands, and breathed.

  Judging by the light pouring in through the bedroom window, he’d managed to sleep through the night. It was the first time he’d done so since Mrs. Naiara had been assaulted. Thinking of her only fed the ever present shame in his soul that grew like an unchecked weed, but he couldn’t face her. Hopefully, when she received the first payment from him, she’d understand his silence wasn’t meant to be disrespectful.

  Loken abruptly sat up when a knock came at his apartment door. Casting glamour over himself, to hide his unkempt appearance, he strode to the door, assuming Callum had finally sent someone to summon him for his debriefing. He was in no way expecting the petite woman he found.

  Her hazel eyes widened upon seeing him, as if she hadn’t really expected him to answer the door. Wavy, fawn brown hair was messily pulled back, leaving a few locks of hair dangling down the sides of her face. She didn’t wear a lab coat or a uniform, and she looked as out of place here, in this professional atmosphere, as she would among his mother’s handmaidens. In one hand she held what appeared to be a pie tin. Tucked in the crook of the other arm was the magical construct Loken had left inside Nora’s bathroom. Seeing that this woman was somehow connected to Nora put Loken in a foul mood.

  “Uh, hello,” she said, thrusting the pie towards him. “This is for you.”

  Loken made no move to take it and eyed her distrustfully. “Why...?” Did Nora and this woman think his forgiveness was so fickle that it could be bought?

  “Well, Nora said you like pie…”

  “No, you infuriating woman,” he snapped. “I meant why are you here?” If she was here to apologize for Nora, she would find herself a victim of Loken’s dagger-tongue. He detested when others meddled in his personal affairs.

  “Same answer really. Oh, and—” She gestured awkwardly to the lizard in her arm. “—I wanted to bring Smaug back to you. I hope it’s okay that I named him. And, yeah, I know he isn’t a dragon, but he totally set the curtains on fire the other day. Well, three days in a row. I’m not a complete Tolkien nerd by the way. Just part-time.”

  Admitting that he hadn’t caught half of what she said seemed unwise. “I haven’t a care for what you name it.” Why should he? It was a magical construct. He had half a mind to dispel it right now, just to see if the woman would be horrified, but he didn’t. He’d save that arrow as a last resort, should he truly desire to scare her away. “And I do not require him ‘back’ as you say.”

  The woman looked relieved. “Phew. Okay, cool. So I can keep him? No shared-custody arrangement?”

  “...What?”

  “No ‘every other weekend’ sort of deal?”

  “I feel like we’re not actually communicating.”

  She grinned at that. “I’m Danika Darcell. I work with Nora sometimes. Well, sorta. I don’t do the whole biochemist thing.”

  “So what do you do?” he asked cruelly, tone implying that it probably wasn’t much.

  “Bake a mean pie?”

  “I fail to see what’s appealing about an enraged pie, were such a thing even possible.”

  She laughed, and he despised being laughed at. Without a word, he cast a spell on the pie, making it come to life in her hands. It wiggled and growled, and she startled so badly she almost dropped it.

  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed, looking apprehensively at the pie and then to Loken. “Oh! Was that you?” Excitement claimed her expression. “Ha! I get it! A mean pie! Hell, yeah! I can work with that type of humor. Me and you are gonna knock ‘em dead on April Fool’s day.”

  Loken hadn’t quite expected that reaction.

  “I’ll start drafting ideas because I’m super excited. I can’t promise they won’t kick us out of here afterwards, but it’ll be worth it. We’ll liven this place up, Merlin. Of course, then we’ll be homeless, but homeless and college students go together like peanut butter and jelly.”

  At least he knew what peanut butter was. “My name isn’t Merlin. It’s Agent Locke. Now, tell me why I shouldn’t enchant the pie to chase you off.”

  Danika’s eyes widened. “First off, hard pass on that. I don’t do cardio, and running is like the king of cardio. Second, you can do that?”

  This woman had absolutely no filter, and Loken wasn’t entirely certain it was a flaw.

  “Shit, I gotta go, but this is for you. Wasn’t sure what flavor you’d like, so I decided chocolate mousse. Who doesn’t like chocolate? If you don’t like chocolate, I don’t know if we can be friends. Prankster-in-arms or not.”

  He glared at her insinuation that he should care about her or her friendship, but she ignored him, leaned into his apartment, and set the pie on the table to the left of the doorway.

  “Enjoy!” she called out as she left, Smaug still held in one arm.

  Loken stood in the threshold for a moment and stared after her, not entirely certain what had just transpired.

  By the time Callum sent for him, he’d decided that chocolate mousse was his new favorite type of pie. Earth had far too many desserts, and he’d discovered his sweet tooth within a week of his stay. It was unfortunate that Nora knew his weakness, but he told himself that accepting a pie from one of her friends was not the same as accepting an apology, as one hadn’t been offered.

  Callum listened attentively as Loken delivered h
is report. After some deliberation, he’d decided not to mention his ability to teleport. It had been dark, and with his proclivity for making copies of himself, Eloy couldn’t have been certain of what he saw, if he saw anything.

  “Agent Bowen said you seemed willing to sacrifice his life when things went south.”

  “Then, Agent Bowen also mentioned it was merely a ploy to distract the target?”

  Callum’s expression was unreadable. “He did. He said you were very convincing.”

  Loken bristled at the perceived implication. “Is that a crime?”

  “Not at all.” He handed a file to Loken. “Your next assignment.”

  Having expected to be disciplined for his failure, Loken was surprised, but he didn’t show it. “Understood. And the mission is?”

  “We want you to work together with another agent to locate this man.”

  Loken opened the file to examine the photo. The name above it read Shane Arndt. “What’s ALPHA’s interest in him?”

  “Twelve hours ago that agent went missing. His tracker was disabled and attempts to contact him were unsuccessful. Eight hours ago we received a ransom note for him. That’s in the file as well.”

  After skimming the provided details, Loken said, “Fascinating, but I don’t need to know more. I can locate him if you have a personal artifact of his. Something of emotional attachment.”

  Callum raised his brows. “That wasn’t listed in your provided skill set.”

  It wasn’t quite an accusation, but Loken treaded carefully. “I did inform you I’m a spell caster. This is a spell. A rather simple one.” Moderately simple.

  “Alright. I’ll have his partner, Agent Colmenero, bring you something of his.”

  “Once the spell reveals his location, I’ll leave immediately.”

  “You and Agent Colmenero will leave immediately,” Callum corrected him. “This isn’t a solo mission.”