Dark Solar Complete Trilogy: Oleander - Wolfsbane - Maikoa

by D. N. Leo

  As the train’s movement made the tunnel shudder, his mind started to drift. He shook his head, waking himself up, and turned on his wrist unit. Ignoring the flashing red alarm about his condition, he coded a rescue signal, sending it to his friend, Dinah.

  Then he peeled his wrist unit off and shoved it into his pocket. He couldn’t afford to lose it if he got mugged.

  Sitting on the ground, leaning against a dirty wall next to the dumpster, he stared at the tunnel. It looked so familiar. His mind started drifting away. An image flashed in his head. He remembered now.

  Seven years ago, while he was mourning Juliette's death, he wandered into this tunnel and ended up saving the life of a little boy. For reasons unbeknownst to him, his subconscious mind had dragged him back here.

  He saw the shadows of two people walking toward him from the darker end of the tunnel. He had been afraid of this, and now here it was. Every movement he made was painful and cumbersome, so he sat still and waited.

  The two men stepped into the dim light of the tunnel. They said something he couldn’t hear, but he figured they were asking for money. If they reached into his pocket, they would find the wrist unit that carried the top secrets of Eudaiz. He couldn’t afford for that to happen.

  One man grabbed him and started pulling him up from the ground. Taking advantage of the upward momentum, Ciaran pulled his gun and shot the man. As the man in front of him fell to the ground, the second man kicked the gun from his hand. It dropped to the ground and spun away, out of reach.

  Ciaran couldn’t stand up much longer, but he tried to remain as upright as possible. The second man was about to lunge at him. He knew the man wouldn’t go for the gun because in doing so, he would have to turn his back on Ciaran, and he had no idea what other weapon Ciaran might have apart from that gun.

  From the end of the tunnel, a male voice shouted, “Stop!"

  The attacker froze and looked in the direction of the voice. A shadow darted toward them. Ciaran saw his attacker pull a knife.

  Unsure whether the person who was trying to help him was aware of that, Ciaran shouted, “He has a knife!”

  The attacker kicked Ciaran, sending him backward to the ground, as the shadow of his savior charged over and tackled the man.

  Ciaran crawled toward the gun as the sounds of fighting and struggling echoed behind him.

  Then someone grabbed his shoulder. He rolled over on the ground and swung his gun upward.

  “No, no, don’t shoot, Ciaran!”

  In front of Ciaran was a familiar face. "Who are you?"

  "Michael Fraser.”

  His mind started to drift again. He closed his eyes, and his arms seemed to weigh a ton. He dropped them to the ground.

  “Come on, man, it’s me. We have to get out of here.”

  Someone shook his shoulders. He remembered that name now. Michael Fraser—the boy he had saved seven years ago. He muttered, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?"

  “Lindsay had been checking in on me every week. But last week he didn't. He's never missed a check-in. I knew something’s had to be wrong with him—and maybe with you. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here. Come on, these guys are dead. We gotta go."

  “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

  “Not exactly…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t cut off my living allowance. Oh come on, open your eyes. You gotta walk. I ain’t going to carry you!”

  “I misunderstood Lindsay.” He was so tired. Michael said something else, but he couldn’t hear anymore.

  Darkness.

  18

  Dinah descended to the dark alley and released Arik from her wings.

  “This is the one and only time I rely on your wings to travel via the multiverse teleport, Dinah.”

  She smiled. “You might change your mind if you have to choose between me and the public transport. But Ciaran’s in trouble. Using the official system isn’t a good idea.”

  “How do you know it was him? It was an anonymous SOS message.”

  She gazed into the distance and muttered, “Not only it was him, but he was indeed in trouble.”

  In the dark alleyway in front of her was a young human boy, as beautiful as a vampire she had once seen on one of those screens in Xiilok—well, they were beautiful before they became Xiilok zombies.

  The young man crouched next to someone who lay on the ground. The private wrist unit that Ciaran had given her buzzed like a machine gun on automatic discharge. Judging by the map on her screen, the body on the ground was Ciaran.

  “Hey!” she shouted and spread her wings, flying toward the man. “It’s too dark, Arik.”

  He ran on the ground, racing after her, his body glowing like a giant electric candle.

  The young man, startled, fell backward and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t do anything. He just passed out. The others had already beat him up when I got here. I just want to help.”

  “Who are you?” Arik asked.

  “Michael.”

  “Ciaran!” Dinah checked Ciaran’s pulse. It was weak. “He’s totally out of it.”

  Arik grabbed the young man.

  “Come on, let go of me, man. I just want to help Ciaran.”

  “How do you know his name? You take his wallet?”

  Dinah opened Ciaran’s shirt. That was always the first thing Madeline did when Ciaran was out. A large black and purple bruise spread across his chest. Madeline had never told her anything, but she guessed Ciaran had some sort of critical point on his chest.

  From what she knew about Eudaizians, they operated on energy sourced from the tower. Ciaran’s critical point must be on his chest. If he had been attacked there, it would cut off his energy. He had probably underestimated the damage it could cause and thus hadn’t protected it properly. She shook her head. He had learned a big lesson.

  She pulled out her stack of needles and searched for the correct one. From behind her, the young human was still trying to convince Arik that he was on their side. She knew he was, but she didn’t have time to help him now.

  “There.” She tapped her finger lightly on Ciaran’s jugular where she had just given him a little boost to his system. When he was conscious, he would be able to instruct her as to what she should do.

  Soon he stirred and opened his eyes. “Dinah!”

  “There you are! Tell me what to do, Ciaran.”

  “I like your hair.”

  “You don’t have to be polite. It turned white after a fight in Xiilok, and I chopped it short with a hunting knife. Ciaran, I gave you an energy boost, but it won’t last long. Your energy level is alarmingly low.”

  He smiled at her. She didn’t know how he managed that, but he always did. If she had the emotional capability of a human, she would fall for it. “I can sleep it off.”

  “Sleep? Do you mean the condition of body and mind in which the nervous system is inactive and consciousness practically suspended? Is that what you’ve been doing?”

  He chuckled. “Not intentionally. When I first came to Eudaiz, it happened every twenty-four hours if my supernatural power decided not to help. That’s what it’s doing now—refusing to operate my body.”

  She helped Ciaran sit up.

  “See, he’s up. You ask him. See if I hurt him or not,” Michael said.

  “Ciaran, is this brat your son? He killed two guys here!” Arik exclaimed.

  “He isn’t my son, and he isn’t a brat.”

  Michael raced over. “Are you okay? You scared the hell out of me.”

  Ciaran stood up. “You’ve grown up, Michael.” He glanced over at the bodies. “I killed them.”

  “That’s not the story Michael here gave me,” Arik said.

  “They wanted to rob me. I couldn’t let them get the wrist unit. So I shot one, and Michael handled the other one.”

  “It was self-defense. He had a knife. I didn’t have a weapon.”

  “You attacked him when he had a kni
fe, and you had nothing?” Ciaran raised his voice.

  “You did the exact same thing before. Otherwise, I’d have gotten my throat cut, Ciaran.”

  “That was seven years ago…”

  Michael stared at Ciaran. “Seven years, two months, and twenty days.”

  Ciaran lowered his voice. “I meant I attacked a man with a weapon because I knew I could take him down. I’m a trained—”

  “I am a Shotokan karate black belt ninth dan.”

  Arik approached. “Hmmm…so you’re licensed to kill. As far as I know, the ninth dan black belt takes years to achieve. How old are you?”

  “Fifteen.” Michael still locked eyes with Ciaran. “But I was prepared to get my throat cut when I was eight. And someone told me life is worth living, and I can make a difference if I get an education and if I try.”

  “Which part of that isn’t right?” Ciaran asked.

  “I tried. But I need more than the money you throw at me. Every month, Lindsay gave me a different excuse. ‘Oh, Ciaran is busy—he’s in London for a very important meeting. Oh, Ciaran is in Asia this month. Oh yeah, he’s in New York now, but will be in locked-down meetings all week.’”

  “Michael, it might be hard for you to hear, but apart from money, there is nothing else I can guarantee you. The world isn’t about you. I have more important matters to tend to, and people’s lives depend on it.”

  “Right, so you’re saving the world now!”

  “Yes, literally. I refer to your world as Earth,” Dinah said.

  Michael laughed. “She’s funny.” Then he looked at Dinah’s face. “You’re serious! ’Cause I saw you flying with the wings, and he glowed like a candle. So…you guys are aliens? It wasn’t a trick?”

  Arik rolled his eyes.

  Ciaran reeled and leaned against the wall. “I need a place to crash right now.”

  “What does that mean?” Dinah asked.

  “He needs a bed, a hotel. And off the record so we stay under the radar,” Arik said.

  “I can use my credit card. It’s backed by LeBlanc Pharmaceuticals, so it’s unlimited funds. And Lindsay told me my association with the LeBlancs won’t be on record.”

  “That should do,” Arik said.

  Michael approached to help Ciaran walk. Ciaran shrugged him away and strode ahead. Then he leaned against Dinah’s shoulder. Michael turned and looked at Arik, questioning.

  Arik approached him and said, “Can you call the cops and leave information about these dead bodies?”

  “Already done. Anonymous tip.” Michael waved his cell phone then shoved it into his pocket.

  “Thanks. Just so you know, Ciaran isn’t mad at you. But Lindsay is dead, and he feels responsible for it. Kind of like the way he feels responsible for the world and humankind. If you take him as your spiritual father, you’re in for a hard life. But for now, try to limit discussion of Lindsay in your conversation. That’ll help a great deal.”

  19

  Madeline sat on a bench beside the sidewalk, waiting for Jett to come out of his friend’s small medical clinic. After they left Ciaran, Jett had called his associates, and a car picked them up and drove them here.

  She didn’t know this part of New York at all. It was like a different country to her. She wondered how Ciaran was doing and whether he had taken the car she left for him.

  Although her psychic ability wasn’t working, she could still feel every vein in her body nearly bursting with anxiety. She promised herself she would hold tight until Jett had patched up his injuries and left for safety. Then she’d call Ciaran. He’d understand. It wasn’t like they’d never had a fight before.

  After a short while, she gave in to her anxiety and called Ciaran’s wrist unit. A red flag and a text appeared on the screen: “You no longer have a connection with this unit.”

  Her head started to spin. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Madeline!” Jett’s face loomed over hers. “Are you okay?”

  “I… I can’t…” She couldn’t find the words. Tears started to fall, and her body began to shake.

  The screen of the wrist unit stared at her, the red text glaring harshly at her.

  Jett saw the text and muttered some profanity.

  She shuffled through her contact list, but every number she tried to call came back with no connection. The screen of the wrist unit—her only connection with Ciaran, with Eudaiz, and her children—was as blank as her soul at that moment.

  She looked at Jett. “I…I don’t understand. I told him I’d come back.”

  “I’m sorry, Madeline.” Jett pulled her into his arms and let her cry.

  “I want to go home. I need to go home.”

  “I’ll take you. Tell me where.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t know.” She started walking aimlessly. Jett grabbed her elbow and pulled her back.

  “Madeline, you’re scaring me. You’re stronger than this.”

  “That was when I had nothing to lose, Jett. Now I have a family I treasure. People to take care of. If Ciaran doesn’t want me anymore, I want my children.” She pushed him away and kept walking.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To LeBlanc headquarters. I don’t believe they don’t have his number. If he wants to divorce me over this, I at least want access to my children.”

  “Let me take you.”

  She kept walking.

  “Please.”

  She stopped and nodded.

  “Before we head back to LeBlanc headquarters, I want to let you know one thing,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Ciaran was right. I killed Quinn.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Quinn was my target.”

  “Target?”

  “I’m a hit man. Ciaran gave a correct account of what I did.”

  She walked back and forth, trying to digest the information. “Did you kill Diana?”

  “No. I told you I don’t shoot in the back. But my associate did. And I didn’t lie about that. I didn’t kill Diana. She was collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage?”

  “I’m an assassin, Madeline. I kill for a living. The fact that your husband knew precisely what I did suggests that he’s killed before.”

  She slapped him across the face. “Ciaran has never killed for a living. What he does is fundamentally different from what you do.”

  Jett rubbed at his face. “I told you I’m not noble. I don’t do anything for the greater good. But I care about you. This is bigger than you think, and I don’t want you to get tangled up in the middle of it. You are my selfish little problem.”

  “Is Ciaran on your hit list?”

  “No. If he was, he would have been dead by now.”

  “Did you plan all this? Our reunion? The incident in the house?”

  “No, I just got lucky.”

  “I know your hit list must be long and extensive, and you won’t give me any specifics, but is there anyone on it I need to worry about?”

  “They just cut you out of their lives, didn’t they?”

  “Jett!”

  “All right, I’m sorry. No. No one you should be concerned about, and even if there was, there’s nothing you can do about it. I told you…this is a lot bigger than you think.”

  “I have to talk to Ciaran.” She strode ahead.

  “You don’t have a car. Let me take you.”

  “All right.”

  A short while later, they parked across the street from the back entrance of a building three blocks away from the LeBlanc’s New York headquarters.

  “How did you know the CEO parked his car here?”

  “I know his routines. Part of the job I signed up for.” Jett chuckled. “But he’s not on my list, so don’t worry.”

  A man-shaped shadow approached the car park. It was Adam, the new CEO of LeBlanc Pharmaceuticals New York. Madeline approached him.

  “Adam.”

  He turned around. “Oh, there you are. I w
as a bit concerned because your number was disconnected. I didn’t know how to contact you. Don’t worry—I got the message. Everything has been arranged for you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your belongings in the hotel. There’s not much there. Your previous apartment has always been listed with the LeBlanc’s private properties. They’ve just released it back to you.”

  He gave her a large envelope.

  “The keys and everything else are inside. Also, there are some temporary credit cards and some financial arrangements you can change later. Ciaran wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “No, I just got the memo from the executive secretary.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  “No, he contacts us when he needs to. You know how he operates.”

  She was so numb she didn’t know what to say. Adam nodded a goodbye and scurried away.

  She opened the yellow envelope and pulled out a memo of instructions for arrangements to be made for Madeline Roux—her maiden name and not even her Eudaizian origin name. It was the human name she had used before she met Ciaran.

  She felt Jett’s hand on her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

  She turned and looked at him, but no words came out of her mouth. Then she turned around, darted toward a corner of the car park, and was violently sick.

  20

  Arik, Dinah, and Michael stared at Ciaran over a coffee table in the sitting area of the hotel suite.

  “You disassociated with Madeline! I thought you two were inseparable,” Dinah said.

  “On Earth, we call it a divorce, Dinah,” Arik said.

  Ciaran stood. “All right, so I’ve explained to you why Madeline isn’t here. We have work to do. I have some suggestions regarding the primer for Dinah. I need to talk to you about your family, Arik. And I need to send Michael back to school.”

  “But I saved your ass last night!” Michael exclaimed.

  “And I would like you to do it again in the future, so I need you to get more training and grow up a bit more. Then we’ll talk.”

  “That’s just bullying!”