by Dee, Bonnie
“Safe. No worries, Terran, it’s secure.”
He assessed her with a long look and stepped out into the twilight. She locked the door behind her and hefted her purse on one shoulder, then slid in behind him as they moved toward her Bronco. When she was safely ensconced inside, he slammed the door and moved quickly around the front of the truck, folding himself into the passenger seat and buckling in.
They backed out of the driveway and scooted down the residential street. Brenna looked in the rearview mirror, wondering if it would be the last time she ever saw her house again.
Panic clutched at her chest. She’d never asked for this … privilege. Why couldn’t her mother have held the position? Then it would be passed on to one of her grandchildren. Instead, the situation was hers to handle. She would succeed or fail on her own.
“How did you find me?”
“KOTE has probably always known the location of the Warden; they just chose not to share it with me, and obviously didn’t feel the need to call upon you. I found you through my best friend, who’s pretty well connected. I’m not sure how she found out.”
“What is this KOTE, and why would they keep me a secret? Heck, why would they even know who I am? We’ve been buried deep for a long, long time.”
Callahan shifted in his seat, stretching his long legs and getting comfortable in the tight confines of the truck. “Keepers of the Environment. Though they obviously haven’t been doing much of that lately. They’re basically the ruling body of Terrans, and have been incorporated as a nonprofit environmental organization since the turn of the century. An Air Keeper by the name of Carlyle Winthrop heads it up now. You’ve probably seen him on television.”
Brenna heard more than a trace of bitterness in his tone, and it surprised her a little. He was right about one thing; she had seen Winthrop on the tube, usually with the starlet of the month draped on his arm. She opened her mouth to ask what in the heck an Air Keeper was, when he continued.
“As for you, they’re perfectly happy in leaving things as they are. We’ve been living with our heads in the damned sand for decades, maybe even centuries. After Loma Prieta I thought they’d do something. But no, they just keep on keepin’ on. I couldn’t—won’t—stand by anymore and watch them destroy the earth and humans through sheer apathy. And even though no one really knows what the Sorhineth is anymore, a friend suggested I start with tracking it down.”
Well, that was one hell of a speech. Brenna studied him discreetly, a bit discomfited by his words. Although his tone had remained even, color flagged his cheekbones. He was obviously upset, and while she could certainly understand why, something didn’t jibe.
“Well, I’ve certainly never even heard of KOTE, even though Carlyle Winthrop is a news hog. I wanted to ask you about something you said earlier. What’s an Air Keeper?”
“Air Keepers are Terrans whose signature element is Air; they own their environment and can control it at their disposal.”
Brenna hummed noncommittally and turned his words over in her head. They were so in deep shit. She knew next to nothing, and his little rant had thrown her for a loop. He wasn’t what her family had led her to believe. “You’ll have to fill me in on all this ‘Keeper’ stuff as we drive, so I know who and what I’m dealing with.”
She was tempted to let it go, but something still struck her…
“If KOTE’s inaction bugs you so much, why didn’t you do something before?”
He waited a long moment before answering, as if pondering her shift back to their original subject, and when he did, his voice was tired. “Because until a few months ago I was just like them.”
* * * *
Donovan realized he had to be up front with Brenna if he was going to convince her to return to San Francisco with him willingly, but saying the words aloud pained him more than he’d imagined. It was hard to admit you hadn’t given a damn until devastation unfolded in your own backyard.
He’d hardened his heart to everything after World War Two, having seen too much, experienced too much, for anything to faze him anymore. But Loma Prieta had changed that, given him back a measure of humanity he thought he’d lost in France.
For her to understand what she was getting into, he had to tell her the rest. But first…
“How did the Destroyer know to find you?”
“I don’t know, but it’s weird they’d be searching for the Sorhineth within hours of your arrival, isn’t it?”
Donovan cocked his head and looked at her. She was beautiful in an understated way, with classic features artfully emphasized by careful make-up. Highlighted blonde hair was held back in a chignon, leaving her face open to his inspection. His first glance back at her house hadn’t done her justice. Her overall “look” was accentuated by casual yet elegant clothes … form-fitting tan slacks and blazer and a tailored eggplant blouse. He smirked. If it weren’t for Jenalee, he wouldn’t know eggplant from fuchsia, but spending almost ninety years, off and on, with a singer who reveled in the finer things had definitely broadened his palette.
Regardless of how Brenna looked, she exuded a quiet strength and competence he recognized in male and female warriors the world over. And her question deserved an answer, even if he didn’t have one.
He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, the adrenaline leaking out of his system like a balloon. He shouldn’t be this fatigued. He’d seen and done things that would make most men wet their damned pants, but this trip, and the concept behind it, had taken more out of him than he’d imagined possible.
“Weird … the Destroyer and I arrived almost of the heels of each other? Yes, definitely. I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. While I know, instinctively, that a Destroyer was in your house, I’ve never dealt with them personally, at least not to my knowledge.”
Brenna merged onto the freeway seamlessly, windshield wipers pushing away fat flakes of snow as they plopped on the glass. He wasn’t so wasted that he couldn’t appreciate her driving skills.
“Then it appears we’ve got a lot to figure out from each other, because it sounds like we’re in the same boat. Gram passed some of her knowledge down to me through my Mom before she died, but I can’t even read the Sorhineth. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“Then let’s hope I can.”
*
Brenna punched the accelerator and wove between the thickening Friday afternoon traffic slowed by the storm, her attention flickering between the traffic ahead of her and the side mirror. As much as she disliked everything Donovan Callahan stood for, his protestations notwithstanding, she still had a job to do. “Sedan following us, two cars back. You can look, windows are smoked.”
Callahan twisted in his seat, glanced out the rear window, then faced forward again.
“Any chance you can you lose him?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Even in this weather and traffic?”
They were approaching a traditional Boston bottleneck … the approach to the Central Artery and the stop-and-go construction that always seemed to be in mid-phase. If she was going to do something, now was the time.
“Especially in this traffic. If he ain’t local, there’s no way he can tail me, and even if he is, this snow will make it much harder.” It sounded like bragging, but she’d been driving these streets for almost ten years. It didn’t hurt that her oldest brother Terry was a cop and had taught her more than most defensive driving courses ever could. Of all the training she’d struggled through, driving was what she’d been best at, the thing she felt most comfortable with.
Zipping in between smaller cars, she waited until the sedan was in the middle lane, then flipped the truck into four-wheel drive, rumbled over the freeway shoulder, and gunned down the median past gaping construction workers before thunking back onto the freeway ahead of the pack. Thank God for Ford’s new on-the-fly drive train. There was no way in hell a sedan would be able to get into the median with its low clearance, and as she’d said, the snow made it an even bigger
deterrent.
Disengaging the four-wheel drive, she floored the accelerator, flying down the sparsely populated lanes and onto the elevated freeway, leaving their pursuer far behind.
“Damn, woman, that was slick.” Callahan grinned at her unabashedly. It was the first time she’d seen anything but consternation or a carefully blank expression on his face, and it made her heart beat faster than their little expedition into the grass.
“Aim to please.” She smiled back without thinking, adrenaline spiking through her body.
“So, where exactly are we going?”
“Where do you go when you want a book?”
He looked at her blankly.
“The library, of course!”
Chapter Two
Donovan breathed in the scent of books and knowledge, truly comfortable for the first time since he’d boarded his flight. He might have spent his formative years on the battlefields with Patton, in the trenches with the Legion, and as a mercenary in Cambodia, but he hadn’t totally ignored his brain. His checkered past had led to a degree in International Affairs quite nicely. Not that he’d used it, but it had come in handy once or twice when he was guarding some of his more high-profile clients.
Brenna walked beside him, heels clicking on the parquet floor. She surprised him, this Warden. She’d shown no hesitation in losing their pursuer, using offensive driving moves which rivaled his men’s—in the middle of a snowstorm, no less—and now strode through the library as if she owned it.
When they reached the checkout desk he understood why.
“Dr. Kennedy, you’re back.” The teenaged male clerk greeted her with an infatuated grin.
“Hey, Art. My family will be rolling through in a few minutes. Shoot them back to the reference room, all right?”
“You got it.” Art eyeballed Donovan in a decidedly unfriendly fashion, undoubtedly seeing him as competition. After this afternoon, Donovan wondered if he wasn’t right, at least a little bit. Where Brenna had been pretty in an arresting way before, now she was downright commanding, and her surety was a total turn-on.
If it weren’t for the circumstances, he’d consider pursuing her. He and Jenalee had never had a binding relationship, especially not lately, and each dabbled as they wished. Never mind the fact she played the field far more often than he these days. It hadn’t bothered him then and didn’t now. Neither of them had ever wanted more, and it sustained their friendship. Hell, Jenalee was his best friend, even if they’d diverged more often than agreed lately. She always had been, probably always would be.
Many thought it strange that someone with his past had formed such an attachment to someone as gloriously feminine as Jenalee, but when you spent as much time with men as he had, seen the downright ugly shit he’d lived through, reveling in the sweet scents, soft bodies and totally different minds of the female of the species made perfect sense. It was also an amazingly good way to forget, and he’d excelled in it for the last fifteen years.
They entered a cavernous room centered by a long oak conference table. Books crowded every conceivable space. They weren’t the bestsellers lining the shelves out in the main room, but rather tomes which showed their age and importance in every wrinkle of the leather, every crease in the spine. There was so much mortal knowledge here it sent a shiver up Donovan’s spine. This was power.
“All this is yours?”
She turned and smiled, and it was the first genuine emotion he’d seen from her. It lit the room. “In a way. I’ve been the head librarian here for two years, but worked the stacks through high school and college.”
“Let me guess, Harvard?”
“Naw, too snooty. Boston College.”
Donovan laughed, and it echoed, picking up energy as his life force melded with the ancient authority of the words in the room. Ah yes, this was power at its finest and it coursed through his body, centering on his talisman of choice, the key fob. He could stay here twenty-four hours a day and never tire of the rush.
“How did you do that?” Brenna whispered.
“Not sure, but damned if it didn’t feel good.”
Another voice interrupted them. “Brenna, you in here?”
“Hey, Terry, c’mon in.”
Donovan turned and saw a hulking cop, blue uniform bulging at the shoulders and arms. He felt an instant kinship with the man, recognizing a fellow warrior in his stance and bearing. After meeting Tommy, it made him wonder if Brenna was the only human-sized person in her family.
His question was answered as Tommy, construction worker Troy and cardiovascular surgeon Tim entered, just moments apart, all equally large. Since all were still in uniform, it was easy to identify them even without Brenna’s introduction. When her parents entered the room and took their seats, their odd little circle was complete. The men favored their father, Brenna her stylish but simply dressed mother, and the love between the whole unit was obvious. It reminded Donovan of his own family, but without all the siblings.
And in that moment, he missed his mother and father so much it was almost a physical ache. He would have gone to them for counsel on this whole situation, his recent change of heart, everything. But they were in the Amazon on their latest crusade to save the rain forests, and completely out of touch. They probably had no idea Hurricane Hugo or Loma Prieta had even happened … they would have been home in a flash if they had.
“So, Brenna girl.” Kennedy senior—Michael—took control of the meeting and scattered Donovan’s morose thoughts into the wind. “What’s this all about?” He threw a pointed look at Donovan.
“Allow me to introduce you to Donovan Callahan. He’s come from…” She paused and looked at him quizzically. “I don’t rightly know.”
“San Francisco,” he supplied with a tight smile.
“San Francisco. He’s here for the Sorhineth.”
Total silence met her statement, and Donovan felt six pairs of eyes boring into him, measuring him. None of those gazes were overly friendly.
He looked at each face in turn, making eye contact, making no pains to hide the aura of power he usually subdued so as not to frighten humans.
“Ah, at long last, a Terran.” The declaration came from Maggie, the matriarch. Her voice was pleased, but wary, as if she’d been waiting for—and dreading—this moment.
Donovan cleared his throat. He hadn’t dealt with many humans who understood who and what he was. “Do all of you have the sight?”
Michael answered, his tone bland. “All but me.”
“Not quite,” Maggie cut in. “The boys and I can tell what you are, but Brenna is the only one with full Warden perception. It was passed down from my mother, as was the family name.”
“Enough niceties,” Tommy cut in. “We all know he’s Terran. Brenna, tell them about your house. About the Destroyer.”
Maggie’s admonition on his manners was overlaid by four male voices demanding an explanation.
Donovan quieted the melee by casting a silence spell. It wasn’t his forte, but it worked. When he was certain they got his point, he lifted the enchantment.
They all stared at him, mouths agape. Brenna recovered first, and with admirable aplomb.
“A Destroyer ‘visited’ my house, obviously looking for the Sorhineth. Trashed it pretty good, and then Callahan showed up.”
“Are you all right?” asked Tim, his doctor’s instincts obviously kicking in.
“Yeah. He was long gone by the time I got home, but someone followed us from the house.”
“What?” Tommy bolted upright, fury and fear slamming off him in waves.
The man was definitely protective of his sister, even more so than the others. While Donovan could appreciate the emotion, he didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with it right now.
“It’s cool, I lost him back at the Central Artery.”
Tommy settled back into his seat, but still glowered.
“So it’s begun,” Maggie said quietly.
“Mom?” Brenna asked.<
br />
“You’ll need more than the Sorhineth for this journey, for this trial. You’ll need this.” Maggie pulled a slim book out of her handbag and slid it across the table.
Donovan felt a curious sensation against his hip, and dipped his hand into his slacks pocket. The key fob gifted to him by the old Terran buzzed against his palm, sensual, warm, and curiously comforting. Even though he could recognize, in his conscious mind, that the journal Maggie had handed over was important, his talisman reinforced it, acknowledged it. He wondered what in the hell the old Terran had given him.
Brenna picked the book up and ran her fingertips over the cloth cover. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Aye,” Michael replied. “Your mother found it earlier today, in a box pushed into a corner of the attic. A box all of us mysteriously overlooked for years.”
Donovan’s thoughts raced as he withdrew his hand and ran it through his hair. A time capsule spell? He vaguely remembered one of his friends in the City mentioning something about it, but that’s where his recollection stopped. At the time, it hadn’t seemed important. Now, given the timing and the curious reaction of an inanimate object? He didn’t believe in coincidences. “What is it?”
“A diary of sorts, something even my mother had never seen. But she knew about it, told us stories,” answered Maggie. “I felt it pulling at me the second I went upstairs. To be honest, I have no idea what I even went up there for.”
Donovan tried to picture the cultured woman sitting across from him crawling through a dusty attic of her own volition. “It was bespelled, I’m sure,” he offered, “for you to feel it calling to you today, of all days.”
Michael grunted in agreement while Maggie simply looked at him with her daughter’s clear blue eyes and a shrewd soul all her own.
“How is it you’ve come to us, Terran?” The question was from the cop, Terry, and given the human’s occupation, was something he could understand being asked.
“Something needs to be done to restore balance. It’s not just the environment, but the geopolitical undertones, as well. Tiananmen Square should have never happened and don’t even get me started on the Valdez. That was one of the biggest fuck-ups I’ve ever seen. Loma Prieta was it for me. I need the Sorhineth to figure out what to do, and have a trusted source in the City that’ll help us decipher it.”