Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1)

by Amelia R. Moore

  Come back? Loken didn’t like the sound of that and narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I go back to university in May. I have to turn in a paper about what I learned during my experience this semester. After, I’ll be staying for two summer classes. Trying to cram in as much as I can.”

  Danika was leaving. Apparently, Loken’s face wasn’t as stoic as he’d intended because she gave him an apologetic look.

  “I know. It blows. I’ll show you how to use FaceTime so we can chat every night, but let’s not worry about that now. We have almost an entire month left.”

  She was right, but her impending absence was suddenly overshadowed by self-reflection on his immediate reaction to it. Until now, he hadn’t considered how much time they spent together. Had he come to be dependent on this woman? When exactly had he allowed that to happen? The overwhelming urge to pull back, to shut himself away, was hard to combat. There was safety in solitude...but there was also an undeniable loneliness.

  “I can teleport to you anywhere,” he said before he could talk himself out of telling her at last. “It won't be a problem.”

  Danika blinked and then, without missing a beat, said, “And you put up with my driving skills why?”

  Loken chortled at that.

  “Geez. You must have a death wish.”

  A cold wave of anxiety washed through him, killing the light-hearted moment. Immediately and irrationally afraid she somehow knew one of his secret shames, he only remembered to breathe when she changed the subject.

  “Okay, so. Let’s continue the vocab list from last week. Show me all the family signs I taught you.”

  Silently, Loken did as she bid. When he finished, she clapped, and they moved onto the next group of words, feelings. Soon, she promised, she’d show him how to string them together to form simple sentences.

  Loken whipped a dagger, piercing the red center of the target at the end of the room. It had been two weeks since the last mission, and Loken still hadn’t been informed of the results of the interrogation. Adding to the insult was the fact that he hadn’t heard from Raaum either.

  Vexation refreshed, he threw his second dagger and buried it beside the first. Though he’d heard footsteps approach, he didn’t bother seeing who it was. He wasn’t in the mood for company, and maybe if he ignored them, they'd realize they were unwanted.

  “Nice aim,” Eloy commented.

  Loken fetched his daggers with a noncommittal grunt rather than re-summon them to his hand.

  “Keeping your skills sharp or venting?”

  “Must it be one or the other?” Loken retorted, taking aim once more. Just as he was about to throw it, Eloy made a thoughtful sound, and Loken paused. “If you’ve something to say, say it.”

  “It’s more of a question,” Eloy replied. “You familiar with a crossbow? Or even just a regular bow?”

  “Familiar with, yes.” Loken was not highly proficient with either, but they’d been part of his weapons training.

  Eloy grinned deviously. “How about some friendly competition?”

  Loken liked his chances. “Do tell.”

  “I try your daggers, you try a crossbow. Closest to the bullseye wins.”

  Loken considered it. “And when I win?”

  “If you win, I’ll tell you what to do to earn Re—Raaum’s forgiveness faster.” Eloy grinned. “If I win, you have to join us for dinner after our next group mission.”

  He noticed the slip-up on Raaum's name but said nothing on it. There was a more pressing matter. “Why?” Loken couldn’t contain his bewilderment.

  “Because that’s what I want. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now?” Eloy held out his hand expectantly.

  Unable to see the downside, Loken handed him a dagger—with slight reluctance. Not only had his daggers been a gift from his mother for his coming-of-age—made of a durable, slate blue metal unique to Vasku—they were etched with magical runes to keep them sharp and strong.

  He stepped back, giving Eloy room to work. The other man must have had some experience with throwing daggers because he held it, testing its weight in his hand for a moment.

  “Are you going to throw it or caress it?” Loken drawled, hoping to break his concentration.

  “Hm,” Eloy replied, eyeing the target in the distance. Then, he threw it.

  A near bullseye.

  Loken was reluctantly impressed. It took skill to properly assess an unfamiliar dagger enough to throw it with accuracy.

  The second dagger hit even closer to the middle of the target. Looking smug, Eloy walked to the weapons wall, plucked a crossbow off of it, and loaded it.

  Once it was in his arms, Loken assessed it. Though different in style from those on Rellaeria, it was similar enough. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used one. It occurred to him that he could cheat, and that, in another time and place, others would expect him to do so. So he didn’t. He took aim, fired, reloaded, and fired again.

  Eloy flashed him a grin as they retrieved the cross bolts and daggers. “Not bad.”

  “Patronize me, and I’ll put a cross bolt through your foot.” The threat slipped out before he could stop it, and he held his breath, worried he'd overstepped.

  “With that aim? Not worried,” Eloy retorted, unbothered.

  Loken snorted and banished his daggers to his voidspace before turning to leave.

  “Hope you like pasta and wine.”

  Loken shrugged, though secretly he wasn't bothered that he'd lost, and he refused to wonder why that was.

  “Hey, Locke!” Eloy called after him. “If you want Raaum to forgive you faster, try apologizing. She likes you. She doesn’t like many agents.”

  Conflicted and unable to understand why Eloy would offer advice (simple though it was) for free, Loken teleported out of the room.

  “You just create Einstein-Rosen bridges?” Penny asked skeptically, her fork frozen half way to her mouth.

  “As I said, it’s not a common skill.”

  “I don’t buy it. How would you even stabilize that?”

  “I thought we were on break,” Danika groaned, dramatically collapsing on the table. “I’m implementing a new rule: no work at the lunch table.”

  “No work!” Zree parroted.

  “Lord Toucan has spoken!” Danika proclaimed, banging her fist like a gavel on the table. Then, she picked up a piece of mango and gave it to Zree with a coo of praise.

  Smaug watched them all suspiciously as he chomped down on a salad.

  Loken scoffed but didn’t argue, choosing instead to poke at his reheated spaghetti. Danika had cooked dinner last night and sent him home with a heart-decorated container of leftovers. Like usual.

  Not for the first time, he wondered if letting such odd things become routine was wise. Then, he took a bite of the delicious pasta and decided to put off the debate for another day.

  The sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall caught his attention, and he stared at the doorway long before the man arrived. It was an agent Loken had seen once or twice before.

  The young man eyed the aracari and lizard in bewilderment for a moment before recovering. “Agent Locke? Agent Callum needs you in his office.”

  “Now?” Penny asked, discontent.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Doctor,” Penny automatically corrected.

  “Doctor,” the man amended. “It’s urgent.”

  A mission? One could only hope. Loken ate three more bites of pasta, bid the women good day, and headed to Callum’s office.

  Whatever it was must have been urgent because Callum wasted no time when he arrived. “I need you to take Agent Raaum to this location. Nolan reported a robbery at this facility. It’s important we act swiftly.”

  Loken raised a brow and studied the photo. “What was taken?” What could Nolan be in possession of that ALPHA felt the need to get involved?

  “That’s what you’ll be determining, among other things. Her
e’s her location.”

  Eager to get answers, Loken left immediately. He teleported to Raaum—not asking her what she was doing out of the country, in a blizzard no less—and brought them to the facility. It was in upstate New York, in a remote location, so whoever had robbed the facility had clearly been targeting it.

  What must have been the security team on site approached them as soon as they arrived, and a dark-skinned woman introduced herself as Tandie Faraji. Two larger men flanked her and didn’t offer their names.

  “I have the men who were on duty during the theft inside,” she said, her tone as business-like as her immaculate attire. “You have the full cooperation of my people and access to the security footage.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to them first,” Raaum said. “Can you send someone to escort Agent Locke to the crime scene?” Her next words were directed at him. “I’ll join you in a moment. See what you can find out.”

  He wasn't skilled in psychometry, so he wasn’t certain what she hoped he could accomplish. However, he didn’t refuse the task. He’d rather assess the crime scene than talk to the witnesses.

  As Raaum disappeared into the main building with Tandie, Loken followed his escort to one of the warehouses. The property was vast, and he wondered how long it had taken them to realize they’d been robbed. Or did they have wards? What was it called on Earth...a security system?

  “Here it is.”

  Loken stared at the gaping hole in the side of the metal warehouse and decided that the likelihood of it going unnoticed was slim to none. It looked as if a Fire Kyant had burned his way inside with vigor.

  “What was stolen?” he asked, now intrigued.

  “That’s for Mr. Nolan to say,” the man replied.

  Really? Loken turned to him menacingly but paused when a familiar sensation washed over him—that of being watched. He tensed and reached out with his magic, but he found no sentient beings (apart from himself and the guard) within a hundred yards. Impossible. He was a seasoned spy; he trusted his instincts.

  Movement.

  Loken turned and studied the thing lingering in the distance. It had a bipedal posture, but it was made entirely of metal and over fifteen feet tall.

  And it reeked of magic.

  Another drone. That’s what his magic was telling him. Loken didn’t believe in coincidence, but he’d killed the last pilot that he’d met.

  So, what was going on?

  “Who are you?” he murmured as the security man beside him drew his gun. No doubt this was the thief, returning to the scene of the crime to make Loken’s job easier.

  How kind of him.

  “Get backup,” he commanded his companion, drawing his daggers. He didn’t require backup, but he wanted this human out of the line of fire. Luckily, the man retreated, yelling into a device as he rushed off.

  The machine remained where it was, studying Loken as he studied it. When it didn’t move, he slowly began to close the distance between them. He felt as if he were stalking a great rern, each step cautious and calculated not to send the beast into a frenzy.

  Step.

  It stood motionless.

  Step.

  It remained still.

  The closer Loken got, the quicker he could strike a devastating blow. “Who hides behind this metal beast?” Loken taunted when he was within twenty feet, testing to see if the pilot intended to pretend the drone was unmanned.

  “Did you come alone, little magician? Where is your ally?” the machine replied with a man’s voice—a voice Loken couldn’t place. That was disappointing. He also knew of no sorcerer in the universe that would call another magic-wielder a magician. That left him with the conclusion that this pilot was human.

  When had humans learned to harness magic? To his knowledge, there were no sorcerers left in this solar system.

  No matter. “Don’t worry,” Loken crooned. “This little magician is more than enough for you.”

  Satisfied that he was sufficiently close, he dashed forward, eyes locked on his target.

  When he was within ten feet of the metal beast, ready to strike, magic snapped closed around him like a snare. The breath rushed from his lungs, chest constricted.

  Fool! He’d willingly walked into a trap!

  Hot fire seared every cell in his body. He reacted instinctively, dropping his daggers as his magic struggled under the weight of the assault. It felt like some gargantuan creature was trying to swallow him, and he was doing all he could to keep its jaws from snapping closed.

  Through the haze of pain, he heard the mechanical joints of the metal beast move, and he risked breaking his concentration to dodge. Something cut him across the chest as he did, but the pain was negligible compared to the assault on his magic.

  “What are you, little magician? ALPHA’s newest pet.”

  Lailoken of Rellaeria was no one's pet. Gathering every shred of magic at his disposal, he released it all at once. Finally, he broke the spell, shedding the coils that had attempted to restrain him.

  All he could taste was blood, but he paid it no mind. Loken wiped his mouth, snatched up his daggers, and advanced. Enraged at the assault, he snarled, “You dare?”

  The machine rushed at him, but Loken wasn't deterred. He was going to cut this machine to pieces for the insult against him.

  A blast of energy knocked the drone backwards, and Loken turned to see another machine was the culprit—similar to the other save for its smaller stature.

  “Get back!” Nolan shouted.

  Loken didn’t bother trying to locate the inventor or heed his warning. Fueled by rage, the channels of his maedir still burning from the assault, he focused on the metallic drone and let loose a torrent of unfiltered, unchecked magic.

  The machine exploded.

  “Shit,” Raaum swore, uncharacteristically.

  Loken smirked despite his aching muscles and stinging abdomen, sinking to his knees and watching it burn with unbridled satisfaction.

  “Agent Locke.”

  A hand gripped his shoulder. He usually would have pulled away from the unexpected contact, but he ignored it—too focused on watching the insult to his pride burn.

  “Locke. Lyall.”

  Loken snapped his gaze towards Raaum, and self-awareness crashed into him like a meteor. He surged to his feet and faced her. Over her shoulder he could see Ian Nolan watching, but Raaum snapped her fingers to get his attention once more.

  “Lyall. We need to go. Now,” her tone was low but no less dire. “Take us to my apartment.”

  Nearly tethered by his desire to see the drone burn, it took great effort to pull himself away. Finally, he took her offered hand and teleported them to her apartment in Chicago.

  “Stay there,” Raaum said as soon as they arrived.

  Loken wanted to ask why she hadn't remained behind to finish the mission, but she was already gone. Come to think of it, why had she pulled him off of the mission? His muscles ached and his abdomen burned, but he felt fine.

  She returned with a small, white box. “Lift your shirt.”

  Ah. The wound across his stomach. “It's fine.”

  “Wow. Now I have confirmation that all men across the galaxy instinctively refuse medical treatment,” she said with open irritation. “Lift your shirt.”

  He did so, deciding it would take longer to argue. Regrettably, the shirt was ruined, so he discarded it. He really should have put on his Evoir armor, but he'd been so focused on not spooking the pilot that he hadn't considered it.

  Raaum inspected the wound. “I'm going to clean it with soap and water. I’d add some antiseptic, but I don't know how you’ll react to it.”

  Loken wasn't concerned. “It'll heal in less than an hour.”

  “Follow me.”

  Clearly, she wasn’t listening to him, but he indulged her concern and did as she said. If only because he wanted to avoid invoking her wrath once more, he tended to the wound under her watchful eye.

  “Going to tell me what happened b
ack there?”

  He supposed he had little choice. “Another drone,” Loken said as he examined the wound in the mirror. It was deep but already healing. Raaum seemed pacified when he finished cleaning the blood from his skin.

  “Cliché as it might be, but I don’t believe in coincidences,” she said.

  Loken had to agree, but he had no idea what the dead Aeirnin had to do with this pilot. An ally? What respectable Aeirnin sorcerer would travel all the way to Earth to make allies?

  “Are they getting stronger? The last one didn't almost cut you in half.”

  Loken made a dismissive sound. “Neither did this one.”

  Raaum gave him an unimpressed look into the mirror but changed the subject. “Do you need more time to recuperate? I need to debrief Agent Callum and request another team be sent out.”

  “I’m ready to go if you are.” Apart from aching muscles and fatigue—likely from the attack on his maedir—he felt fine.

  At Raaum’s word, he took them back to the compound, but he did not follow her to Callum’s office.

  Since his original evaluation, he’d revealed countless abilities he’d intentionally concealed, and he knew that were this Rellaeria, disciplinary action would be taken.

  They don’t own you. You’re here of your own volition.

  Despite that fact, he didn’t tempt fate. He teleported straight to Danika’s apartment after dropping Raaum off (and retrieving a shirt from his apartment). For now, he wanted to avoid Callum and the inevitable interrogation, and to do so he needed to be anywhere but his apartment.

  They spent so much time together that Danika didn't question him when he showed up for dinner and a movie. She merely invited him in and put him to work chopping fruits and vegetables.

  By the next morning his unease was no better. He hadn’t a clue what Raaum had told Callum, so when footsteps echoed from down the hall, Loken took no chances. He shifted into an eastern screech owl and took residence on Danika’s shoulder, opposite of Zree.

  The agent that peered into the doorway—the same that had come to collect him the previous day—didn't bat an eye at the addition of one more exotic animal. “Have you seen Agent Locke?”