Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1)

by Amelia R. Moore

  He would use his words to win this battle. The man’s accent was thick, so Loken altered the translation spell on himself, enabling his ears to temporarily speak and understand all languages. “You what?” he prompted, wanting to keep the sorcerer talking. “Speak your native tongue.”

  When the sorcerer spoke, Loken recognized the language as a dialect of Aeir. He was not fluent in Aeir, but even without the translation spell, he wouldn’t be lost in a conversation.

  “I did not mean to. I was made to. Mercy, Scion Lailoken, son of the mighty Evoir, protectors of Alatheia System. Mercy.”

  With false sympathy in his eyes, even as distaste burned in his gut, Loken beckoned the creature to lower itself, to show subservience to Lailoken of Rellaeria, son of Urien the General.

  “Made to kill these humans?” he asked, letting his skepticism show as he debated where best to strike the creature down with a single blow. Even as he did, he had to wonder what an Aeirnin sorcerer was doing on Earth.

  “No, Scion Lailoken. Made to kill one human. Just one.”

  And, based on the direction the drone had been going, Loken suspected it had been after Ian Nolan. Anger and fear raged inside of Loken, creating a vortex that he was having difficulty escaping—anger at this Aeirnin’s casual disregard for the damage he’d caused...and fear that if he escaped, Loken’s secrets could be exposed. Wait. When had he started caring if humans died? It had to be the mission. He was safeguarding the mission. As much as he disliked Nolan, the man wouldn’t die on Loken’s watch.

  Lailoken did not fail.

  “Mercy, Evoir Scion,” it pleaded.

  Disgust welled inside of him, but he couldn’t say if it was at himself or at the Aeirnin. “Did no one tell you?” Malice slipped through his facade in a full-tooth sneer. “I’m not Evoir.”

  He struck in the blink of an eye, slamming his dagger down and into the head of the kneeling creature. It died instantly, and Loken suspected that somewhere the sorcerer piloting it had died with it.

  Good riddance.

  As he pulled the dagger from its body, Raaum approached with Nolan on her heels. Though obviously displeased, she only asked, “Is it dead?”

  “Yes. As is the sorcerer controlling it.”

  “I’ll call it in,” she said before walking away to do just that.

  Nolan stared at the creature. “Uh, am I drunk or did you just say the word sorcerer with a straight face?”

  Loken ignored the question. “Congratulations. It seems you were the target, Mr. Nolan.”

  Surprisingly, Nolan waved that off. “Wouldn't be the first time.” Ignoring Loken’s disbelieving look, he asked, “So, sorcerer? As in Merlin and magic?”

  What was with this Merlin fellow? Loken dismissed the thought as he turned to examine the creature. Frustratingly, he still couldn’t recognize the species, and without his books he had no way to find out. The library was, perhaps, what he missed most about Rellaeria.

  Not his family. Not at all.

  “Ignoring me still? Wow, you are stubborn.”

  “Pot, meet kettle,” Raaum said as she returned. She looked to Loken. “Time to go. They’re sending in a crew. We can’t be here. Do you need an escort home, Nolan?”

  “No,” he replied, once more distracted by the sight of the creature. “My driver is out front. I’ll just...” He trailed off, frowning.

  As amusing as it was to see the arrogant man rendered speechless, Loken was ready to leave, so he followed Raaum out a back exit.

  Soon, they stood in the chilled autumn air, listening to the sounds of traffic as Loken tried to process what had happened and how a sorcerer from his system had ended up on Earth.

  Raaum broke the silence. “We should talk. I know a restaurant nearby. It’s not far.”

  Wrapped up in his thoughts, he followed without a word, but by the time they reached their destination, he’d calmed down considerably. He was fairly certain that no one else had overheard his conversation with the pilot, and the enemy sorcerer was now dead. The current problem was resolved, and if another arose in connection to it, he’d handle that too.

  The restaurant wasn’t busy, so they got a seat immediately at a semi-secluded booth. When the waitress asked for their drink orders, Loken accepted a sample of the wine special and took a look around. The interior was almost as beautiful as the banquet hall, but the atmosphere was far less formal. Most of the patrons were dressed casually, unlike themselves.

  “Ready to order?”

  He wasn’t hungry but didn’t advertise that. He merely nodded, and after Raaum ordered, he told the waitress, “I’ll have what she’s having,” which seemed to be acceptable.

  Raaum took a sip of water once they were alone. “This is probably my favorite restaurant in the city.”

  Loken didn’t know what to make of that information or of the city. It was far larger than the one he’d landed in, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to explore much of it. Regardless, he didn’t come here to discuss its merits. He came because she’d implied she had something to say. Drumming his fingers on the table, making his boredom quite evident, he drawled, “Are you going to stall until dinner arrives?”

  She didn’t appear bothered. “You know, you were a damn good partner in there. Which seems to be at odds with Agent Bowen’s experience.”

  The appraisal was pleasantly surprising. He knew he did good work, but rarely did anyone acknowledge it. “Yes, because I’ve been starving for your approval.”

  Raaum shrugged, unbothered, and cut to the chase. “Callum asked me to evaluate you, but you already guessed that, didn’t you?”

  He gave her a flat look, pretending to misunderstand. “I do believe he asked you to do more than that,” he replied dryly. Or had she conveniently forgotten the tranquilizer darts? As miffed as he was that she’d gotten the better of him, he felt no lingering sense of betrayal. They hadn’t been allies when she’d turned her gun on him.

  They were hardly allies now.

  “No. Not before you joined. After,” she clarified.

  Loken had suspected she was closely observing him during the mission, but why was she admitting to it? Distrustful, he waited for her to elaborate.

  She buttered a piece of bread. “He asked me to see how you’re doing on a personal level.”

  “I can’t see how that’s anyone’s business.”

  “No?” Raaum asked, raising a brow. “Within a day of joining ALPHA, you reportedly cut off all contact with Nora Foley, your only relationship, and you still spend the majority of your days in solitude in your apartment. You’ve gone out of your way to ensure the agents you’ve met or worked with want nothing more to do with you.”

  The flippant reminder of Nora pierced his heart like the sharpest of blades, but he only smiled as if amused. “How tragic for them,” he mocked. He’d suspected ALPHA had been scrutinizing his every movement, but it irked him to realize how much they'd noticed.

  Her expression was calculating, but he wasn’t worried. He’d been on guard for as long as he could remember, constantly and consistently diligent.

  “I pegged you as a diplomat of some sort at first,” Raaum said casually. “The way you hold yourself, the way you talk. You're a natural among the swells. You're used to handling powerful men...but not subserviently. At least, not usually. You have this calm air about you that tells me you’re accustomed to others looking to you as an authority figure.” She paused, still staring at him with a critical gaze. “Then again, you’re ruthless and clearly well-trained in combat. Like a soldier.”

  Years of learning to hide his reactions—because emotions and reactions were a weakness when others were purposely provoking you—kept his expression coldly neutral.

  She met his eyes. “Should I continue?”

  He smirked and leaned in. “I quiver with anticipation.”

  Except, no. He really didn’t. Trepidation welled in his stomach, but he dammed it behind the same cold wall of indifference he’d begun building as a
lonely youth. Stone by stone he’d forged his defenses against those that sought to belittle him, and he wouldn’t be brought down by a human who hadn’t lived even a fraction of the years he had.

  So, why did it feel as though if he didn’t lash out, if he didn’t smash something to alleviate the buildup, he might be the one to shatter?

  “You’re reckless. Either convinced that you can’t be hurt or indifferent if you are. You’re impatient but not necessarily impulsive until you’re emotionally compromised. When you’re removed from the task at hand, you’re smart—brilliant even—but as soon as your emotions come into play, you jump from calculating to careless.” Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing him even now. “You’ve got charisma in spades. As far as I can tell, you could probably charm almost anyone, but you don’t bother. Maybe you think they’re not worth it, or maybe you’ve convinced yourself if you dislike everyone first, their rejection won’t bother you.”

  Loken took a large sip of water to swallow the lump in his throat, but it did nothing to ease the sensation of being laid bare by a woman he’d only spent a handful of hours with.

  “How am I doing?” she asked, appearing to already know the answer.

  He made a noncommittal noise and settled on saying, “ALPHA should be proud; you’re not awful at this.” How did you get so good at this? He wondered but didn’t ask. Had she been trained, like he had, to work undercover? To work from the shadows so that others might walk in the light?

  “Like I said, this is what I do. I assess.”

  “And you take those assessments to your superiors.” His skin crawled at the idea. “So, what will you tell Agent Callum?”

  “The truth.”

  Loken didn’t react, apprehensive of what that might mean. What would happen to him, he wondered, if they decided that he was no longer a viable agent? If the potential danger he posed and his instability outweighed his value?

  Silence stretched on as the waitress brought them their entrees, and Raaum smiled politely at the woman. “Can I get a refill? Thanks.” She sampled her plate for a moment, waiting until they were alone. “You’re adjusting at your own pace. You’re not the only one who took time to settle in, and if you think you’re the only agent with issues...” She snorted. “When I came to ALPHA, I was a mess, but I had one person that helped make it easier. I think that’s what you need.”

  Loken wanted to turn the conversation back on her, to lash out so that she might cease this topic, but he didn’t. “Oh? And let me guess...that one person should be you?”

  Raaum shrugged. “If you like food and chess, maybe. If you like movies with lots of explosions, not so much.”

  He hadn’t watched a single movie, and he hadn’t a clue what chess was. Unsure if her words were in jest, he didn’t dare accept or decline, lest he make a fool of himself. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, picking up his fork and sampling the dish called lasagna. If he knew more about earthen foods, he might have been able to dissect the flavors that fought for his attention. As he didn’t, he was left simply to enjoy.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Raaum said smugly. “I know my Italian food.”

  He chose to ignore her self-satisfaction and took a second bite. “It isn’t awful,” he conceded. Food was what Loken loved the most about Earth. There were more cultures on Earth than in the Alatheia System, it seemed, and they all had unique ways to prepare meals. As he ate, he debated the wisdom of taking her advice. He certainly didn’t need friends, but if ALPHA was concerned about his solitary personality...that alone was reason enough to reach out.

  Between bites, he eventually said, “If you could suggest some equally satisfying outlets near the compound, I would be most—”

  “Yeah, I know a few. We can visit one Friday. Afterwards, I can teach you chess, a game of strategy. Eloy is awful at it, but maybe you can put up a challenge.”

  Irked at the insinuation that he might lose a game dedicated to strategy, Loken hurriedly said, “Accepted.”

  Only when she smirked did he realize he’d been baited.

  Oh, yes. He rather liked Agent Raaum.

  Chapter 5

  As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Raaum had given him a lot to think about. If ALPHA was concerned about his behavior, that meant his position could be at risk. Oh, he wasn’t overly concerned that they’d revoke his status as an agent. He was concerned for what would come after they did. He was certain he could escape their attempts to contain him, but stuck as he was on Earth, it would be a life on the run. Though he was a skilled shapeshifter, he preferred to live his day to day life in his current form.

  Familiarity, no matter how false, was comforting.

  So, after dwelling on the matter all night, Loken had come to a tentative conclusion; he would attempt to build relationships. Easier said than done. He simply wasn’t well-liked on his home world, and he couldn’t imagine it would be any different here. Having to do it now, when more was at stake than his wounded pride, was far from ideal. The easiest action would be to wait for one of Danika Darcell’s inevitable dinner invitations and—

  No, he had a better idea.

  Come morning, he shifted forms into a black-furred viln, veiled himself, and trotted down the hallway. As a changeling, a natural born shapeshifter, he became each form he took. Thus, his senses—all but his vision—sharpened, enabling him to catch Danika’s scent long before he reached the lab. He traced it to what must have been her apartment door and frowned. She lived on the compound? Or, at least, it seemed that she had a part time residence here.

  He’d intended to spook her in the lab, but this presented a unique opportunity. Eager to see what mischief he could attain, Loken curled up and waited outside her door. He didn’t have to wait long. It opened some minutes later, and Danika nearly walked right into him.

  Startling at the sight of him, the little lizard held in one arm, she paused. “Oh, hello there. So, you’re not normal. Are you one of Lyall’s summoned critters?” As quickly as the excitement had come, it was replaced by an emotion he’d never seen on her face—dejection. “Did he leave you as a message for me like he did for Nora?”

  Oh. His ears pinned at the unexpected reaction, and he mentally scolded himself. What a fantastic way to cultivate a friendship; make them cry.

  “Aw, don’t be upset, boy. It’s not your fault.” Her voice lightened, taking on a soothing tone. “Hm, you sorta look like a wolf. On steroids. Are those legit claws? Not frightening at all. Just an everyday lion-wolf. Okay, so. I know Penny isn’t gonna be cool with you in the lab…” Her voice trailed off while she reached a hand out, as if testing to see his reaction, and laid it atop his head.

  He hadn’t a clue what a wolf was, thus attempting to mimic its body language wasn’t possible. Instead, he tried to look harmless by nuzzling into her outstretched hand, which she seemed to find encouraging. She opened the door to her apartment, and he trotted inside, grinning like a fox in a henhouse.

  On Rellaeria, it would be considered scandalous for a man to be in a lady’s private chambers—lest it be thought they were engaging in a romantic affair. Though it was mostly different on Earth, it still felt mischievous to have deceived his way into her room. All for the greater good, he told himself. He’d imagined returning to his Evoir form upon first startling her, but he’d already missed the opportunity. What to do now…

  “Okay. So. Stay here...and I’ll be back after work. Please don’t eat anything. Okay. Bye!” Danika said hurriedly as she rushed out the door.

  He debated looking around the apartment but decided against it. After teleporting back to his room, he resumed his favored form and walked to the lab—pretending not to notice the look of relief on Danika’s face when he arrived.

  Had she really been concerned he was angry with her?

  “What tortures has Doctor Garza wrought for today?” he asked with a long-suffering sigh, trying to establish that all was the same between them.

  Danika grinned. “Well, it seems that o
ur esteemed overlords have borrowed Penny for the day. I assume for the day, at least. The note doesn't really say how long or what for. It just says ‘Danika, they need me on another project. Please get these questions filled out. Thanks!’” She held up the packet. “Look. She even left spaces for replies. How organized. Okay, question one: how do you know English?”

  She looked at Loken expectantly, and he stared right back, one brow cocked. “Yes?” he asked, pretending not to understand.

  “I don't think these questions are for me.”

  “Well, I'm certainly not answering them.”

  “Aw, come on. Let's get our homework done, and then we can play hookie all day. We can watch movies and eat pie.”

  “Let us pretend, for argument’s sake, that I understood any of that. Why should I answer their questions? What do I have to gain?”

  “Hm.” Danika frowned, taking time to consider his point. “Well, I'm curious about some of these, so how about a trade. You answer one, and then you can ask me a question.”

  Interesting, but he didn't jump at the opportunity. That was not how one negotiated. “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Because you can ask me anything, and I'll answer honestly. You have to answer honestly too, of course.”

  Well, he did have some things he desired to know. The trick would be to get his answers before they got to personal questions on the questionnaire, if there were any. “You’d trust me to?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Danika asked quizzically.

  After a moment, he realized he was staring at her blankly. Recovering quickly, he said, “Very well. You can start.”

  Danika grinned and readied a pen. “Okay, so. How do you know English?”

  “I don’t. My turn.”

  “Woah, wait! You have to elaborate. If I only write that down, I’ll be jobless when she reads this.”

  “Lady Danika,” Loken said, looking quite self-satisfied. “You should take more care when striking a bargain. A question for a question with all answers given truthfully. Was that not the deal?”