Dixon (Stratham Shifters Book 6)

by Sarah J. Stone

  He gritted his teeth. “The Jurors say that there are no survivors,” he managed. “But I have hope. I'm just going to shower. I want to be ready to go just in case.”

  “Of course,” she said, and he realized how early it was.

  “Why are you awake?”

  “Haven't slept yet,” she admitted. “I didn't want to leave Devon.”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel said. “Is he all right?”

  “He's fine,” Laura replied. “But he's so rarely in pain that I don't like to leave him when he is.”

  “I understand,” Nathaniel answered. “He gave Sienna quite the scare. She was worried.”

  “She need not be,” Laura replied. “He has years, at least.”

  “Oh,” Nathaniel paused. “You have certainty? Or hope?”

  “Certainty, if statistics are any measure,” Laura shrugged, and then realized what she was saying. “I'm sorry. You have no certainty.”

  Nathaniel paused. “We keep hope. As I must do now.”

  She shook her head. “Of course. I'm sorry. I'm going to get some sleep. But if you need anything…”

  She met his eyes, and he was reminded of the passion that he shared with her the night before. It was so easy with her; there was no need for complicated conversation. They seemed to be mirror images of each other, knowing what the other was going through before words were even spoken.

  For one brief moment, he had a flash of what his potential future could be like. His life could be like this: effortless in matters of the heart, no distance, no confusion, and no explanations.

  He had always envied what Desmond and Mariah had and how they operated. There was a home to come to – not two distinct planets to visit. There was a shared language and shared knowledge; not panic every time they saw each other. They had time off together to do as they pleased, and no one wondered when they spent hours talking.

  He had been staring in her eyes for a few seconds before he realized that. He pulled back, shaking himself. “Sorry. I will,” he promised her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” she shrugged. “That's what friends are for.”

  “Right. Friends,” he said as she headed off. Was that was happening?

  He headed into his room with a daze, showering so quickly he wasn't even sure he remembered it. He was simply going through the motions, his ears perked for the sound of a video call. He was hoping against hope that Eliza would just call and tell him it was all a bad dream.

  But the call didn't come.

  He somehow made it to Desmond's chambers early. Only Christa sat there, clearly fresh off a mission. She smiled as Nathaniel came in. She was like a big sister to him, always one step ahead, always ready to share stories of Desmond's looks of terror.

  “How are you?” she said. “I heard.”

  He sighed. “I’m barely holding it together.”

  “Everything will be fine,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, although he knew it was a lie.

  The door opened, and Sienna entered. Nathaniel, out of habit, pinged her vitals. She turned her head toward him, her eyes wide as she got a quick flash of his memory of the morning’s events.

  “I will check,” she said at once.

  “No!” He squeezed her hands as she came to him. “You'll make yourself sick, little one.”

  “But I can–”

  The door opened again, distracting both of them. Standing beside Desmond, tall and as alive as the day he left, Dorian looked upon the Tiros with a smile.

  “Well,” he said with the body language of an overjoyed grandfather, “I am so happy to meet all of you. Desmond has told me about you all.”

  “It's a unique opportunity.” Christa got up, her hand out to greet her Maestro's Maestro. “We may have crossed paths once or twice, but never like this. Welcome back from the other side.”

  “If that's what they are calling it now,” Dorian responded. “It frankly seems as if I never left. Except for the fact that everyone seems older. And you must be Nathaniel, the legendary warrior.”

  “I am Nathaniel,” the younger Maestro said. “I don't know about legendary, though.”

  “Yes,” Sienna shot out. “In my textbook, all the time.”

  “This is Sienna.” Desmond gave her a smile as Dorian turned to her. “My current Tiro.”

  “Hello,” Dorian said. He was impressed by her strength; he could already feel it before they touched. But he could also feel the fault in her stars, the acridid genes raging. “I hear you are going to be the one to save us all.”

  Sienna blushed, shaking her head. “No,” she answered. “I think not.”

  “We'll see about that,” Dorian answered. “But for now, shall we eat?”

  “That is Nathaniel's favorite activity,” Desmond answered, trying to distract Nathaniel from the horrors of the morning.

  But despite the reunion, Nathaniel did not feel like he was distracted. He was vaguely listening to them catch up, to the stories of their past, and to the laughter. But none of it calmed his heart. He checked his com-link every few minutes; he tried to hold his own ground in terms of the conversation. It was clear he was distracted, though, and Dorian soon brought it up.

  “I was once in a similar situation,” he said to Nathaniel, who jumped.

  “I'm sorry?” Nathaniel asked.

  “As you are in now. It wasn't with a foreign queen,” Dorian took a deep breath, “but it was one I cared deeply about: my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Nathaniel said in shock. “Was he also a witch?”

  “He was trained early on,” Dorian said. “But this life was not for him. He left the Academy at eighteen with another witch. It wasn't a dishonorable discharge, for you know that choosing to leave if one's heart isn't in it is acceptable. The space station he was on was attacked by rebel pilots.”

  “I never knew that,” Desmond said, watching his former Maestro. “Was he all right?”

  “He was,” Dorian answered, giving Nathaniel hope. “He returned a month later, having had to hitchhike his way across the galaxy. That month was the hardest month I had ever lived, but I had hope. Hope for the future, and it was what got me through.”

  “He left with another witch?” Sienna perked up beside Nathaniel. “He was in love?”

  “He was,” Dorian said. “Last I heard, he had three children and was very happy. It's hard to imagine another life outside the Academy, but I'm glad that he had one at all.”

  “I didn't know it was an…outlook?” Sienna's language failed her, but both her Maestros understood that she meant possibility.

  “It's not,” they both replied, and Sienna jumped at their unison.

  “I wasn't thinking of it,” she said, looking down at her plate. She knew that she shouldn't even speak of such things. But given their examples, it was hard not to at least dream. The memory of Devon's kiss was all too real for her.

  Chapter 12

  “How are you enjoying school?”

  Sienna looked up in joy as they finished the meal. Although Dorian's voice was strongly accented, it appeared he had some grip on the Jeffroian language.

  “Challenging,” she answered. “But I enjoy it.”

  “Sienna,” Desmond said, as he took the dishes to the sink. “You can answer in Basic, please.” He turned to Dorian. “My apologies, Maestro. It's a struggle already.”

  “Of course,” Dorian replied, the smile of an indulgent grandparent recognizing the rules that his adult children set out for their own protégés. “Your Basic is quite good, though I heard you didn't speak it at all when you came.”

  “I learned.” Sienna traced the pattern on the table cloth. “But I still prefer…otherwise.”

  “Do you know I didn't speak any Basic when I came here?” Christa gave her a smile. “My Maestro raised me multilingual, so it took me a lot longer to have a solid grip on anything. As a pilot, it's worked out well, for I never seem to
be in the same language belt twice.”

  “Your Maestro…” Sienna's eyes darted to Desmond, and then she remembered. She reached out to Christa – who was surprised by her force – in order to see her former Maestro.

  She saw a smiling woman who was middle aged, with long, brown hair and a kind smile. Graceful and tall, the woman looked over her shoulder, as if seeing something pleasant.

  “That's Diana,” Christa said softly as she felt Sienna's mind touch her.

  “Sienna, that's not nice,” Nathaniel gave her a little smack on the arm. “You ask before you invade people's thoughts.”

  “It's okay,” Christa replied. “We're all connected.”

  “How?” Sienna asked, unable to imagine the sadness of losing a Maestro. She purposely blocked Christa's emotions from reaching her, not wanting to feel such a thing.

  “They were on a quest,” Desmond spoke quietly, and Sienna turned toward him. “It should have been Christa who died. She was the one in the path of the spear. But Diana chose to move forward instead.”

  Sienna squeaked, the sadness of it overtaking her. She lay her head on Nathaniel's shoulder, who put a distracted arm around her.

  “It's okay,” Christa tried to reassure her. “Really. I am living in the way that she wanted, and she would have been happy to know that Desmond helped me accomplish that.”

  “Well,” Desmond made a face, “not happy exactly. Diana and I never saw eye to eye.”

  “Which is why she may have been all the prouder that I actually made it to the tests at all,” Christa teased him, and Desmond laughed.

  “That may be true,” he said.

  Sienna's head suddenly came up, her magic dancing on her fingers. Nathaniel reacted immediately, concerned that she was reacting to something. But the faraway look in her eyes told him she was sensing that something was happening as she listened far beyond their room.

  “Eliza,” she said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Eliza is here,” she said, and he slid his chair back, bolting to his feet.

  “Where? How?”

  “I…” She was using magic that she shouldn't be, pushing further than she normally did. Desmond tensed, watching them both. From the look on their faces, he wasn't sure which one would fall. “Hangar.”

  Nathaniel said nothing. Everyone standing around the room knew what was happening with Eliza. The fact that Sienna could sense it from that far away was astonishing to everyone but her Maestros. They knew her power was unprecedented, and they also knew when she was using power that she shouldn't be.

  “Go,” Desmond said as they all stood up. Nathaniel bolted, and Desmond turned to her.

  “Is she alive?” Desmond asked her.

  Sienna nodded in surprise. “Of course,” she said. “Is it possible to feel a dead being?”

  “For most it is not, little one. For you, though, who knows?”

  “I want…” Sienna stood up. “I want to go with him. I want to know.”

  Desmond paused for a moment, but then decided there was no harm. The others in tow, they headed down to the hangar, not knowing what to expect. Desmond half wondered whether they would find a Jeffroian ship full of corpses. He had seen the details of the explosion, and he had seen the aftermath of such attacks. Even if someone did manage to get out, it wouldn't be pretty.

  To his surprise, the ship that was in the hangar was in perfect condition. He recognized it as the royal transport ship which was kept running at all times in order to evacuate the queen if there was ever a threat. After hundreds of years of implementing this policy, it appeared that it was finally in use.

  The doors were closed as Nathaniel skidded into the hangar. His heart was thudding in his chest as he moved forward, sending out a ping.

  Sure enough, Eliza's life force beat from inside. But the doors remained closed and sealed, and he feared something was very wrong.

  “Desmond,” Nathaniel reverted to his teenage years, fearful and unsure as Desmond came up behind him, “be prepared. “

  “You think there's a threat inside?” Desmond summoned his magic. The others around them did the same, ready to attack anything that came out of the doors. It was a strange sense of Deja vu, for they had just done it with Dorian's ship.

  “I don't know,” Nathaniel admitted. “I don't know. I just want–”

  Suddenly, the doors began to open. They creaked, and Nathaniel sensed that the ship had been damaged. He noticed a dent on one side and that one of the tires was blown. It must have been a rough landing, which wouldn't be uncommon if they had just escaped a threat.

  He held his breath, praying to the Creator. Please, he begged to a god he didn't usually believe in. Please, let her be all right.

  His prayer was timed with the first of the Jeffroian guards coming down the platform. Because this was a royal ship, the witches bowed to their knees. Nathaniel's eyes remained fixed on the platform, praying.

  And there, in all her majestic glory, was Eliza. She was dressed as if she was greeting the people, with jewels and a crown on her head. She stood, her outfit of pure white blowing slightly in the breeze from the open door.

  Nathaniel let out such a breath of relief that he almost fell to the ground. She looked around, and he could see she was trying to stay calm.

  He rose, trying not to rush into her arms and sweep her up, as much as he wanted to. “Your highness,” he called out. Her eyes locked onto his, and she felt a strong sense of relief. “We thought you were dead.”

  “We very nearly were,” she answered, regal as ever. “But it appears we escaped just in time. We seek sanctuary.”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel said, approaching. His hands were trembling, and he fought to keep his face neutral. As soon as he was close to her, he lowered his voice. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Eliza answered. “But many of my people are dead. Nathaniel…”

  “I know,” he said softly. “I know. It's okay. You're safe now, and we'll figure it out. We will retaliate.”

  “And we will rebuild,” she replied. “Retaliation does not sound very witchlike, but we'll take it if you are offering.”

  “For you, my queen,” he said, “anything.”

  He turned then, because he knew that he would kiss her if he stared at her one moment longer. Everyone was staring at them, and it was getting obvious.

  Sienna couldn't contain herself and ran forward, throwing her arms around Eliza.

  “You're not dead!” she cried.

  “No,” Eliza managed to chuckle. “Look at you! You've grown nearly a foot. How are you, Sienna?”

  “I am well,” Sienna answered, and Nathaniel cleared his throat. “I am mostly well.”

  “That is good to hear,” Eliza smiled. “Perhaps you can tell me how you have been. Nathaniel, some room?”

  “Your grace,” he answered as he led her toward Desmond. “I'm going to get the queen settled, and then I can sort through this. Perhaps you could teach my class?”

  Desmond raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, but Nathaniel's eyes were pleading. “Yes. What am I teaching?”

  “Strategy, textbook,” Nathaniel answered, not even bothering to give Desmond the full information before he swept Eliza out of the room. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome.” Desmond rolled his eyes, glancing at Dorian. “My Tiros,” he said sarcastically.

  “I see that,” Dorian smiled. “I shall leave you to it, then. The Jurors have summoned me, and I imagine there is much to talk about.”

  “I'll catch up with you after,” Desmond called after him as he turned to Christa. He was about to say something smart when his former Tiro interrupted him.

  “When did the attack on the Jeffroian palace happen?”

  “Um, sometime in the night,” Desmond replied. “Why?”

  “It's barely morning,” Christa answered. “I've flown that route to Jeffro a thousand times. Unless our information is wrong, there is no way they made it here that fast.”


  Desmond paused. “What are you saying? Do you think they left before the attack?”

  “That is possible,” Christa answered. “We do sometimes receive news long after such attacks, or have the time stamp wrong. But if we haven't received bad news?”

  “What are you suggesting, Christa?”

  “Two things,” she said. “Either they left before the attack occurred, which is unlikely, given that there is blast damage to the ship. Or–”

  He picked up her train of thought right away. “Or they are dead and returned.”

  “We haven't figured out what's happened with the Ronan,” she answered, “but it seems similar.”

  Desmond took a deep breath. “Sienna would have sensed if her life force was different. She's so strong, Christa; there's not a thing that gets by her.”

  “I know,” Christa answered. “But we don't fully understand what's happening. So what if that is the case?”

  Desmond looked in the direction that Nathaniel and Eliza had gone off to, thinking. “Don't breathe a word of this to either of them,” he said. “Especially Nathaniel. Not until we have a better idea of what is happening and why.”

  “You don't think he has a right to know?” Christa answered.

  “What good would that do?” Desmond replied. “If this return is temporary, and their time is limited, it would only taint it. I don't want that for him. I know that what they are doing is wrong, Christa, and that I have been the catalyst for that. But we can't suggest that to him, not yet.”

  “Have you considered that it's the same possibility for Dorian then?” she answered, and he sighed.

  “I have. I don't know what magic is at play here, but it is a gift, and it may not last forever.”

  Christa was silent a long moment. “I'll teach the class,” she said, and Desmond turned to her.

  “What? No, I–”

  “Desmond, if Diana walked through those doors right now,” she bit her lip, trying not to show her emotions, “I would not be scheduling anything else in my day. To have a Maestro back after losing them…I can't even imagine. I can't let myself imagine. Please don't take it for granted. ”

  He gently put a hand on her back. Diana's death rocked her so hard he wasn't sure that he would ever see her smile. It was only Reynolds' choice to leave their order that had created a sense of shared grief between them, and over that they bonded.