Pirate Bound: A Prequel (Telepathic Space Pirates)

by Carysa Locke

  A shadow of his usual arrogant smile crossed his lips. “Your brother will think twice before invading our territory again. If he’s fortunate, he’ll wake up in a few hours with a nasty migraine.” He blinked, wavering where he stood, looking around a little blankly, as if focusing was hard. “If we’re fortunate, he won’t wake up at all.”

  Something inside Sanah contracted. Niall was a selfish, cold bastard, but she’d loved him for all her life. It was hard to let go of that, no matter what he’d done or intended to do.

  “You think you may have killed him?” she asked. There was an odd note in her voice; something wistful or pleading. Strange that she couldn’t identify it.

  “Killed him?” Treon laughed, sounding hollow. He didn’t seem to notice the hand he’d stretched out to touch the wall, supporting himself. “No. He overextended, first with his puppets, and then in fighting me for control of Leanne. Pushing too far can be deadly, in extreme cases.”

  “Treon.” Dem approached his brother cautiously, but Treon didn’t even seem to notice.

  “Like many powerful telepaths,” he said, almost to himself, “Niall overestimates his ability. It is a failing some have.”

  Some? Sanah sent the question to Dem, in complete disbelief that Treon could be so blind to his own flaws.

  Dem didn’t respond because at that moment, his brother’s legs buckled beneath him. He lunged forward to catch him. Treon laughed again, a weak, bitter sound.

  “It appears that even I have my limits,” he said, the words slurring together. “Do not—do not take me to Doc, Dem.”

  “Of course not.” Dem placed his arm around his brother’s shoulders and heaved him up. Sanah could tell he was using both his body and telekinesis to support him.

  The lift opened again, and three young men with the same black-and-red uniform Haggerty wore stepped out. Sanah waved them to one side.

  “I just need rest and quiet,” Treon insisted. Embarrassment and shame leaked past weary misery from him. “And mnemosa—I have a bottle in my quarters.”

  “Of course,” Dem mumured, half carrying him to the lift. Sanah went ahead and held open the doors, even though Dem could have done so with telekinesis.

  Mnemosa?

  It’s a drink. It enhances our abilities. Often, it can be used as a treatment for burnout. But we must be cautious. In extreme cases, it can make matters worse.

  “Damn…inconvenience,” Treon muttered, almost to himself. Dem maneuvered him inside and gave Sanah a nod. She selected G-Deck for her own quarters, not sure where else to go. Dem didn’t correct her.

  As the doors closed, she glimpsed Dem’s dogs bending to pick up the bodies.

  Treon was quiet for the lift ride. So were Sanah and Dem. The doors opened onto a clean—and fortunately empty—hallway moments later.

  I ordered it cleared, Dem said. The only thing worse than Treon at his best is Treon after people have seen him at his worst.

  “Are we taking him…?”

  “His quarters are on G-Deck. As are mine. I placed yours nearby as a matter of convenience, since my dogs were assigned to your protection from the moment you stepped aboard ship.” He paused. “When we’re done here, Cannon wants a word.”

  “I’m not surprised.” But unease filled Sanah as they stopped before a door, and Dem triggered it open.

  Get the green bottle, underneath the bar.

  The bar?

  You’ll see.

  Dem took Treon into the sleeping quarters, and Sanah stepped into the living area. Where she and Nayla had a dining table, Treon had a bar. Otherwise, it looked very similar. Antiques of warm wood, a decorative rug, and even some soft draperies sweeping from the ceiling to the floor separated the kitchenette from the main room.

  She went behind the wooden bar, and found a whole cache of blank green flasks beside the more recognizable containers of alcohol. Grabbing one, she took it in to Dem, who had deposited Treon on an extremely luxurious looking bed. He took it from her and broke the seal, splashing a large amount into a cup.

  He set bottle and cup on a shelf beside the bed. “He can drink it when he wakes,” he said, looking down at his brother with a brooding expression.

  “You aren’t used to taking care of each other?” Sanah hesitantly asked. It was a different dynamic than what she shared with Nayla.

  “We don’t ask each other for help very often.”

  “You shouldn’t have to ask. You’re brothers.”

  He looked at her. “We had a complicated childhood.”

  Yes. Cannon’s story rolled through her head.

  “Come.” Dem jerked his head, and she followed him from the room.

  “One good thing,” she said as he closed the door to his brother’s quarters. “If Niall is as hurt as Treon seems to think, we should be safe for a time.”

  She hoped.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dem politely refused Cannon’s offer of Bennethan rum. He didn’t need anything else interfering with his ability to control his emotions. Sanah seemed to be doing an efficient job of that all on her own.

  “So,” Cannon said as he handed Sanah a glass of the violet hued beverage. They were back in her quarters, sitting around her table, but Cannon had come equipped with the bottle. “Let’s talk about Niall.”

  Dem saw her give the drink a dubious look and hid a smile.

  “Bennethan rum,” he said. “Never had it?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll probably like it. It tastes of fresh koriberries, but has a kick you won’t soon forget.”

  Good, she thought back. I could use a kick.

  She took a generous swallow, and Dem couldn’t stop the grin this time, until he saw the look Cannon was giving him.

  I take it your talk went well? The amused tone set Dem’s teeth on edge. He didn’t bother replying.

  “What do you want to know?” Sanah’s voice was hoarse with the burn of alcohol. She set the glass down in front of her.

  Cannon settled back in his chair in that way he had, suddenly going from annoying childhood friend to implacable pirate king. It was a presence, a demeanor Cannon seemed to switch on and off at will. It didn’t matter that he almost always dressed casually, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his collar open, and his hair loose around his shoulders. The stubble along his jaw had filled in further since yesterday, verging on becoming a full beard. He’d have to find time to shave again soon.

  It would be easier if he’d just let it grow, but Cannon had always hated a beard.

  “Tell me everything,” he said.

  Dem watched Sanah’s fingers tighten around her glass until they whitened. He had to stifle the urge to reach across the table and take her hand.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Sanah’s face was pale, a shadow in her eyes that Dem didn’t like. “I’ve told you everything I can. I didn’t know he could do that, take people over like that.”

  “Interesting phrasing,” said Cannon. “Everything you can. Not everything you know. What are you leaving out?”

  “Cannon—” It was obvious Sanah was hiding something, but Dem couldn’t quite stop himself from intervening on her behalf.

  “No, it’s all right, Dem.” Sanah closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging. “He’s right. I have left something out.” She opened her eyes and looked at Cannon. “I want your word first, that no matter what I tell you, no matter what, Nayla will have a place here, and you’ll do everything in your power to protect her.”

  Cannon leaned forward. “I thought I’d made it clear, but apparently not. You and your sister are safe here. There is nothing you could tell me that will change that. You can feel the truth behind my words, Sanah.”

  She nodded jerkily, looking down into her drink. “Yes, but you haven’t heard what I have to say, not yet.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Niall works for Veritas. It’s an underground group of Talented who work behind the scenes in many powerful places. Government.
Scientific research. Banking.”

  “Yes, so we’ve gathered.”

  “They view you as a rogue element, a threat not only to them and everything they’ve built, but also to society as a whole. A decade ago, my parents worked for them as researchers. My father was a biochemist, like me. My mother was a medical doctor.”

  Cannon remained quiet, listening.

  Sanah seemed to need fortification to continue because she lifted her glass and took another drink. Dem thought he might suspect where she was going, and he felt himself go cold.

  “They worked, in the last few years of their lives, primarily on one agent. E-7. Nayla was only six years old. Her Talent was uncontrollable, and so rare that no one knew anything about it.” She took a deep breath. “It was a nightmare. Nayla’s gift twisted her own body in torturous ways, constantly. My parents were developing E-7 as a way to suppress Talent, but it wasn’t working right. The virus kept attacking a specific gene all Talented women have. There was an accidental exposure in the lab—my mother contracted the virus and had to be quarantined.” She looked down at her hands, and then visibly forced herself to look up, to meet Cannon’s eyes. “She died three days later. Two months after that, my father…he killed himself.” She swallowed heavily. “I was eighteen years old, and I’d spent four years working as my father’s lab assistant. I knew the virus better than anyone else. My sister still needed help. I tried to finish my parents’ work, but I failed. All I managed to do was make E-7 even more aggressive. I ended the project.”

  Silence. Dem and Cannon both stared at her. She looked from Cannon to Dem, and again visibly swallowed.

  A distant quiet began to overtake Dem. A stillness he knew well, and needed to fight. He did not want to see Sanah as a threat. The memory of his mother’s death rose up, and his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

  Dem. Cannon sounded worried.

  I’m fine.

  Are you?

  He could hear Cannon speaking to Sanah, but he couldn’t focus beyond holding back the sweep of cold threatening to overtake his emotions.

  “You believe E-7 is Matera-D.”

  “I do.” Sanah didn't look at Dem. “I think Niall gave it to Veritas.”

  “And helped them distribute it to us.”

  “Yes.”

  Cannon reached across the table and took Sanah’s hand in his own.

  “You aren’t the only empath in this room. How long have you known?”

  “I’ve suspected since you first told me of Matera-D. Agents that attack the Talented genome are extremely rare. One that focused so specifically on the female population? It can’t be a coincidence.” She hesitated. “I—I know nothing can ever make up for what I’ve done, but no one knows that virus better than I do. If you’ll let me, I’d like to work with your scientists, try to reverse the damage to your women who survived.”

  Dem stood up from the table without consciously deciding to move. Sanah reached for him, and he teleported to the far side of the room, as far from her as he could get. It was a secret few knew, his ability to teleport. Only the strongest telekinetics were capable, and it was something Dem himself saved for the most extreme circumstances.

  This counted.

  Dem? Cannon said his name carefully. Sanah stood at the table, her face white with shock, her eyes wide and filled with regret and pain. Dem looked away.

  I need a moment.

  He braced himself against the far wall, fighting every instinct inside that told him Sanah needed to die. He remembered his mother, her pain, how she’d faded to nothing before his eyes. Sanah had a hand in that. He didn’t feel angry. He felt nothing. Emptiness. That was much more dangerous than anger.

  Cannon and Sanah continued talking, but their words washed over him with no meaning. He made no sense of them; he was consumed by the imperative to end a threat to his people.

  To end Sanah.

  He didn’t want to do it. For the first time in his life, Dem fought himself, fought against his own nature.

  Sanah is not a threat.

  At first, he thought the voice was his own. It wasn’t.

  She helped create the virus, he told Cannon.

  Not as a weapon. You can thank her brother for that. Cannon paused. The same brother who just attacked and tried to kill her.

  Dem began counting his breaths. His Talent, focused on Sanah only a moment ago, shifted. He’d sensed Niall’s mind. He could find it again; his Hunter Talent could track it. He looked up. Cannon had put himself in front of Sanah, and Dem felt a wash of emotion he couldn’t name. It seemed to fill his chest and left him shaky.

  That’s gratitude, Cannon told him. And relief.

  Yes, relief. Because if he was still feeling emotion, the Killer had lost. He was in control. He wouldn’t kill Sanah. Yet, whispered a corner of his mind. He chose to ignore it.

  Cannon turned back to Sanah, and enough awareness had bled back into Dem that he could now follow their conversation.

  “About your brother,” Cannon said. “He tried to kill you today.”

  “I know.”

  “He killed members of my crew. It’s only by the miracle of your sister’s Talent that one of them was brought back. Speaking of which, we’ve managed to keep that quiet. No small feat on a ship full of telepaths.” He paused. “I’m reiterating these things to drive the point home, that Niall is a threat, not just to you and Nayla, but to this entire crew. Perhaps even to our entire people. There is only one way in which we deal with threats.”

  “You mean to kill him.”

  “Yes. You need to be prepared for that.”

  Sanah stared at him for a long time. Dem waited, poised for her answer.

  “I am.” Her voice was soft, her head bowed.

  “I hope so.” Cannon shook his head. “Because I’m certain he’ll try again. It seems he’s quite determined, and unfortunately, he’s very powerful.”

  “He is. How can we relax when he can do this, take control of people we might otherwise trust?”

  “We’re working on keeping him out. Even an extremely powerful telepath can only control people with weaker Talent, or none at all, and then only for a short time. Proximity will play a role as well. We’ll be jumping away soon, putting some distance between us. But chances are, he’ll track you again. So, we’re taking measures.”

  “Measures?”

  Cannon looked over at Dem, looked him up and down.

  I’m fine.

  This time, I almost believe that.

  “Perhaps you’d like to explain,” Cannon said out loud.

  No, he really wouldn’t.

  He debated how to tell her, but in the end, he had to be honest.

  “I’m going to take a Viking, and find him,” he said evenly. “It’s what I do, tracking people. Hunting them. And killing them.”

  She stared at him. “You’re going to kill my brother?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Sanah—” Cannon started to say.

  “I get it; I really do. He’s not going to stop. If he keeps trying, more people could die, and he might eventually succeed. That’s not acceptable. I do get it.” She gave Dem a pained look. “But why does it have to be you? Out of everyone on this ship, why you?”

  Because he wanted to do it. Because if he didn’t, his instincts might choose to focus back on Sanah. “It’s my duty.”

  “Duty? You’re a pirate!”

  “I explained to you that everyone has a place on this ship. Mine is protecting the people on it.”

  “Sanah.” She looked over when Cannon said her name, her eyes suspiciously wet. “The simple truth is Dem is the only one on board who has a real chance of succeeding.”

  “But, why? He isn’t as strong a telepath as Niall, or his brother Treon, and look what battling Niall did to him!”

  “Because I have a unique blend of gifts. My mother was a telepath and a telekinetic, true, but my father was half Hunter, half Killer. I have the unique ability to psychically
track someone. That is the Hunter half. The other, the Killer, you already know. In a way, I am exactly what your brother wanted to make your sister into. I can kill with a thought.”

  “Please understand why I don’t want you to do this.” She looked at Cannon. “Can’t you send someone else, another of these…Killers?”

  Everything inside of Dem rebelled. Niall was his kill, no one else’s.

  Cannon shook his head. “They are extremely rare. Dem is the only one of his kind currently aboard Nemesis.”

  “But Treon is powerful. When he recovers—”

  “Treon is my half brother,” said Dem, “a straight telepath. He is not like me. In truth, no one is. Hunters and Killers do not often mix, and my father had but one child.”

  She stood up slowly, looking from Cannon to Dem, and then back. “So, if he succeeds in this task, he kills my brother. And if he fails, he…” She couldn’t finish.

  “If he fails, he probably dies, yes.” Cannon looked grave. “I’m sorry; I do wish I could send someone else. Very much. But I can’t.”

  Or I kill you, Dem thought, but kept it to himself. The urge was still there. He didn’t think it would go away unless he fulfilled it by killing someone else responsible. Niall.

  Sanah looked stricken.

  Something strange and unfamiliar rose within Dem, an uncomfortable feeling. He’d never felt sorry for a kill before. He didn’t now. But some part of him he’d never guessed at ached inside.

  Cannon stood up. “Well, I, ah, have a ship to see to.”

  You’re in control, right? Cannon asked Dem on a tight thread. Because if we are going to have any chance of undoing the damage the virus left us with, Sanah is our best hope.

  I am. Dem paused. Thank you. He didn’t have to say for what. Cannon had deliberately redirected his instincts to Niall. They both knew it.

  You’re welcome.

  “I’ll just show myself out,” the pirate king said. Be fucking careful, Dem.

  Sanah didn’t acknowledge Cannon leaving. She didn’t look over at Dem, either, once they were alone. She stood with a hand covering half her face, and he wondered if she was trying not to cry. Another man might have tried to comfort her. Dem didn’t trust himself to touch her yet. With nothing left to say, he followed Cannon out the door.