a Touch of Intrigue

by L. j. Charles

  Fred opened the helicopter door, jumped out, and offered me his hand.

  I ignored it, and exited the bird on my own, albeit less than gracefully. And didn’t that suck? An irritating octogenarian that was sprier than me. I pushed the embarrassment aside, and got in his face. “Again. Where are we?”

  “You don’t need to know. Tap made it clear you were to be challenged, and trained hard, fast, and intense. You’re mine until you escape.” His jaw clenched. “I wouldn’t have wagered your guardians on it if there was a chance in hell you’ll be able get home on your own, but if you do, you won’t owe me anything.” And then he grinned. “If you don’t escape in twenty-four hours, you’re mine for the next forty-eight. You’re a raw recruit, Ms. Gray, with no chance of succeeding. But don’t panic. I’ll send someone to bring you in tomorrow.”

  Nasty man. He had no idea who he was dealing with, so I nodded, all smiles. “Pierce explained the details. He also told me you’d expect access to Loyria Gray’s formula.”

  “And renegotiating to keep you on my team for an extended time. Got the tracker out, did you?”

  I bristled, lifted my chin. “Of course. And I won’t be part of your team. Not ever. This is a temporary deal so I can get the information I need to deal with Loyria Gray’s formula. My mother worked some magic with her science, and since Millie can help me figure it out, I want her back.”

  Except that we weren’t at the pentagon, and nowhere near Fred’s secret files where I’d planned to turn my ESP fingers loose. We were in some remote part of Hawaii. Had to be since we were only in the air thirty minutes.

  I was totally screwed. “I should have expected this.” I waved my arm to encompass the dense foliage. “I thought my training would take place in classrooms and obstacle courses, followed by an assignment to test what I’d learned.”

  Fred chuckled, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “This is your playground. Your best chance of escape is to find my base camp.” He climbed back in the chopper, leaned out. “Might want to move out of the way. See you when I see you.”

  I dashed for the tree line, and the last sound I heard before Fred started the engine was his gleeful laughter.

  “Not if I see you first,” I shouted after the departing bird. “Bastard.”

  I yanked my phone out of my pocket. Of course there was no signal. The weight of the .380 against my thigh was reassuring, although there wasn’t anything dangerous inhabiting the islands—except Fred. Feral pigs and goats, maybe. And spiders, insects. They were my biggest concern.

  Time to take inventory. I opened the go-bag Pierce had packed, and the welcome image of his grin when he tossed in a tracking device had me doing a happy dance. Whitney would know where to look for me. Unless Pierce had already routed her to Washington, DC. But if he did, he’d probably come after me himself. No way would he allow Fred to win or wager. Pierce had also included a handful of protein bars, two bottles of water, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I immediately switched it out with the short-sleeved one I had on. Spiders and insects were the most dangerous things out here, and I wanted everything covered, eighty degrees or not. I dug around in the go-bag, searching for a compass, spotted it at the bottom of the bag, and grabbed it.

  Fred had banked to the left when he took off, but that didn’t mean his base camp was west. In fact… I turned in a slow circle, and got no intuitive hits at all. Well, dummy. Close your eyes and use Pierce-vision. After I took several deep breaths, my eyes fluttered closed, seemingly of their own accord. Pausing every quarter turn, I peered deep into the forest.

  Pierce-vision didn’t spot a clear path lined with trail markers, but when it had upped the intensity of my intuitive gifts. I needed to head north. Definitely not the direction Fred had tried to lead me. Way to go, Everly. I adjusted the go-bag on my back and took off, and hummed a ditty to keep myself company for the intense, scrambling, scrabbling, never-ending, first quarter mile or so. And then exhaustion set in.

  I had my favorite Smith&Wesson boot knife, and Pierce had slipped my Boker in a side pocket of the go-bag. But neither of them were close to a machete, which is what I really needed to clear a path. No point whining about what I didn’t have. Strong legs and determination would carry me. And using my head as well as my gifts.

  I’d tugged the sleeves of my shirt over my hands to protect them, and been using my fists to push all manner of leaves and branches out of the way, but maybe it was time to use my fingers.

  I examined the nearest plant for spiders, then skimmed it with my fingertips. Hope flared. Men had hiked through here, and that meant there was a trail of sorts. Now all I had to do was find it. What were those things Pierce had said I needed to learn: survival, evasion, resistance, and escape. I dropped resistance to the bottom of the list since I’d had decent training there. But I had nothing in survival, and very little in evasion. Survival was a no-brainer because failing that negated the other three. It was my starting point, closely followed by evasion, with a definite plan for escape.

  Survival dictated I locate the cleared route Fred’s minions used, and get away from this brutal not-a-trail. Maybe I wasn’t trained to do this, but damn it all, I had ways. Up. Hardly anyone looked up. Left, right, down, and sometimes, behind. I tipped my head back and scanned the treetops. Too heavy for normal sight. I closed my eyes and gazed deep into the branches, to skim the surface of the canopy. And there it was—a break in the heavy layer of leaves.

  I dug into the side pocket of my bag, palmed the compass, and charted my course. You can do this, Everly. It’s a straight shot, diagonally from where you’re standing. And if I’d followed the same path Fred too when he flew off, I’d have been headed deep into the thick of the rainforest. I needed to hustle, or I wouldn’t reach the main trail before the afternoon rain hit. I tossed the compass into my bag. Pierce-vision worked better.

  It took a solid forty-five minutes of hard work before I stumbled onto the trail, and I rewarded myself with a drink of water, and a ten-minute break to absorb the energy in the area.

  The trail was narrow, barely passable, but a huge step up from scrabbling through the underbrush. The big question: was Fred monitoring it for trespassers? I hadn’t spotted any cameras or any other technical equipment, but I couldn’t count on enhanced eyesight alone to keep me safe.

  Pierce had gone ballistic right after he surprised me from behind, so listening needed to be my main focus. But damn it all, neither of us had enhanced hearing…or did we?

  I located the nearest koa tree, leaned against the trunk, and breathed down through my feet, listening. And it came to me, not the sounds I thought I’d hear, but my intuition kicked in big time. This entire exercise had Tynan Pierce written all over it. It didn’t make sense to send me on a tactical mission to retrieve Millie and Harlan by myself. Their survival and Millie’s input to re-creating my mother’s formula were much too critical to leave in my inexperienced, albeit gifted, hands. The pieces had fallen into place. And, damn it all to hell and back, maybe Fred wasn’t evil.

  I immediately shook that idea out of my head. He’d have to prove himself, and that required no thought on my part, just impartial observation. Which meant I’d have to kick my biased first impression out of the way. But right now I had a mission to complete. I brushed my fingers over the diamond in my navel, my constant connection with Pierce, and accepted the truth. This exercise was all about me learning to use and trust my gifts. Huge step. Pierce and I couldn’t be equal partners until I grew into my strengths, and could battle with the bad guys on a peer level. Different training. Same result. Oh, yeah. I could do this.

  With new understanding, and a boatload of gratitude for the time I’d spent with Siofra in the garden, I plunged tendrils of exploratory energy deep into the earth. After a few minutes of intense pranayama, I’d cleared my literal brain, and released my subconscious to do the work. A couple wild pigs were foraging about a mile to my left, someone was ahead, much quieter than the pigs, but not a threat. Yet. I’
d have to evade that blip to get to Fred’s base camp, but if I stayed tuned to my intuition it shouldn’t be that difficult. And the biggie—I’d located my destination. It was approximately twice the distance between the pigs and me. If I guessed the correct distance of the porcine foragers, and the trail remained passable, it would take me less than an hour to get there.

  But I needed to figure in time for recon and to come up with an escape plan that included getting Millie and Harlan back home safely.

  The trick would be keeping my earth connection intact while I used my other senses for mundane tasks like staying alive, eating, drinking, and resting as needed. Should have been easy, but no such luck. I lost track of the person who’d been on the trail ahead of me. A potentially fatal mistake that forced me to stop and reconnect with the earth. I followed the same process, but this time it took longer to find a human life form. Too much confidence, and too little practice.

  Before I started moving again, I tuned in to my sea glass bracelets. Because of the long sleeves, and because they’d become so much a part of me I’d lost awareness of their weight, and hadn’t thought to use them. They originated from years of communing with nature, of being tossed around in the ocean for much longer than I’d been alive. The connection between land and sea was strong, and I had four readily available channels to serve as conduits.

  Pierce was right. This training was brutal. Not in the physically taxing sense of what a Navy SEAL went through, but intuitively I was sweating and exhausted. I’d pushed through the safety barriers of using my gifts, and barely clung to a thin thread of normal sanity.

  Eat, Everly. Drink. Rest and absorb help from the koa. They’re strongly attached to the Universe, and can filter all the energy you need. Don’t lose touch with the sea glass. You have to learn how to do this, or you’ll die. My words were weak, floated in my brain for less than a second before they disappeared into the ethers.

  I was in trouble.

  And it got worse. Time spiraled into warp speed, sucking the life from my bones.

  The empty beauty of the cosmos consumed me.

  Floating,

  White. Black.

  Pure energy.

  No direction. No way out.

  NINETEEN

  IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO PANIC IN pure energy. There isn’t enough “human” to produce adrenaline, but there’s an overwhelming influx of information, so damn much information. My brain, which had lost all resemblance to a human brain, absorbed eons of wisdom, and somehow I found my footing. Found the single strand connecting me with my body. It sparkled, calling to me.

  And so did Makani. “Hello, Granddaughter.”

  She shimmered in pure love. The sea glass answered, singing a sweet song of welcome. And here, in this place out of time, I connected with the love enveloping my grandmother. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Energy is, my dear. This visit has been granted for the sole purpose of attuning your gifts. For the rest of your time on earth others will be dependent on them, often as a matter of survival.”

  It was disconcerting, sensing her words rather than hearing them. But that was part of my lesson. “Listening is the just the beginning. I have to go deeper to hear the truth.”

  Warmth surrounded me in a Makani-hug. “Yes. Truth rarely resides on the surface of a person or situation.” Her laughter bubbled around me. “Which is why your name is so appropriate, Niele. You were born to be curious, to always seek what is hidden.”

  I had that part all but perfected. “Why did you allow Fred to put that implant in me?”

  “A question I cannot answer, because it is for you to discover. It is time for you to return, Granddaughter.”

  And bam. I was clinging to the koa tree, weak-kneed, and starving. Holy crap! That was your grandmother, Everly. Your dead Grandmother.” Oddly, my words were stronger, but my body weaker. The awesome part of what just happened overwhelmed me, zapped my ability to think clearly. I gathered up the loose ends of my mind, and then attempted to string a couple thoughts together about surviving in this wet, unfriendly rainforest.

  This was bigger than holy crap. My entire life had changed in a matter of unworldly minutes. I wasn’t ready. But then no one could ever prepare for something like this.

  Food. That was simple enough for me to handle. I dug in my go-bag for a protein bar, chomped it down in four bites, then downed half a bottle of water. Better, and just in time for the afternoon rainstorm to come barreling in. I could’ve sworn I heard the Universe laugh. Of course it would jumpstart my lesson by knocking out my normal hearing with the loudest thunderstorm of all time. I considered staying where I was, resting and eating another protein bar, but when I checked beneath the surface of the noise surrounding me, it became clear I had to move. And fast.

  I double-checked my go-bag to be sure I’d closed it tightly—thank you, Pierce for packing my stuff in a waterproof bag—because even wrapped protein bars could get soggy in this weather. I drew in a deep breath, connected with the sea glass, sunk a taproot of energy into the deep well of the earth, and stepped onto the trail, leaving my relatively dry shelter under the canopy of the koa tree.

  Within minutes mud coated my hiking boots and the bottoms of my cargo pants, my hair absorbed rainwater like a sponge, and the elastic band I’d used to secure my topknot broke. Splat. A mass of wet hair landed on my shoulders, and proceeded to drip water down the back of my neck. I shivered. Reality: wet body, chilled, still hungry, and still faced with finding Millie and Harlan, and getting them safely home.

  My taproot sent out a warning. Person approaching at ten o’clock. I made tracks away from the trail, dove headfirst under a densely leafed shrub, and held my breath.

  Minutes passed. Whoever it was moved closer. Careful steps, not slogging through mud like I’d been doing. They stayed off the trail, avoiding the mud, and making use of the cover provided by the canopy.

  Lesson learned.

  I reached deeper into my energetic taproot. Didn’t sense a threat. If anything, whoever it was moved with grace and assurance, capable of malice and mayhem, but not now. That might change if whoever it was spotted me, so I wasn’t taking any chances. I burrowed farther into my nest, and waited. I couldn’t possibly get any wetter, but being face-planted under a large bush, added a fresh layer of dirt and partially decomposed plant matter to my clothes. Yuk was an appropriate description.

  Ten minutes later the energy from my taproot calmed. Danger passed? I waited, listening. My sea glass was quiet. I trusted its song and the peace flowing from the earth, and…didn’t hit the trail. Following example, I hugged the edge of the path. The going was tougher, but drier, and definitely less muddy. And the rain was easing.

  I plodded along, staying tuned to the direction of Fred’s base camp. I was homing in on it, so kept the audio image from my taproot connection up front and center, and slowed my pace. A few feet in front of me the trail veered to the right. Away from my destination.

  One breath. Two. Yes, I trusted the low, energetic rumbles of people, buildings, stuff that I couldn’t see or hear with my normal senses. It went against every human instinct I possessed to leave the trail and head into the underbrush again.

  The going was slow, the foliage more aggressive. My shirtsleeves were ripped, my cargoes had dried stiff from the mud, and scraped my legs with every step. Millie and Harlan became a mantra that I chanted to keep focused on my goal.

  And then warning signals shot up the taproot, exploded around me. I hit the ground, grabbed the Smith&Wesson blade from my cargo pocket, and stilled, listening.

  A man passed in front of me, stealthy. Not so much as a leaf fluttered when he walked by. Pierce moved like that, silent and deadly. Resistance was my last choice. That left me with evasion and escape, and I had no choice but to focus on evasion and invasion first. Escape would come later.

  I hunkered in to watch. The sentry passed every twenty minutes. Not much time for recon. Up, Everly, remember to look up. I managed to keep my mouth
closed, and my mind chatter internal. There was a climbable tree about six feet to my right. I started a mental countdown, and then made my move. Hugging the tree with a death grip, I worked my way to a sturdy branch, crawled out, scanned the area.

  There it was! A building, some tents, and directly in front of me a clearing where the chopper lived. I hung onto the branch, closed my eyes, and checked things out with Pierce-vision. It was a well-established compound, had probably been built in my parents’ time. Probably it was how Fred had stayed on top of their activities. I backed toward the tree trunk, stopped. My human hearing had picked up a rustle in the underbrush. New guy had replaced the original sentry well before my twenty minutes was up. So I hung there, legs and arms wrapped around the branch that did a piss poor job of hiding me. And this guy was headed directly under the tree.

  I’d pocketed my blade before I climbed the tree. No way to retrieve it without catching his attention. And though my training with Annie and Whitney had been solid, I hadn’t actually killed anyone with a knife. This wasn’t a good time to test that training. Besides killing one of Fred’s cronies didn’t sit well. He wasn’t threatening me, and probably worked for the government I supported. Nope, knifing the guy wouldn’t be an option, even if I could get to my blade. I could drop on him. Fight.

  He was three feet away. I slowed my breathing. Two feet. I focused on becoming one with the tree, blending with the bark and leaves, and counted his steps. Fifteen should put me in the clear.

  One second per step. Slow, tortuous seconds.

  He paused, looked left, right, down, and…up.

  My heart forgot to beat. This was it. I’d drop on him, have the advantage of speed, and pull out every hand-to-hand trick Whitney and Annie had taught me.

  He kept moving. Didn’t see me, or maybe he wasn’t supposed to. Was letting me get closer part of Fred’s strategy? Did Fred even have a fricking strategy?