Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  Justin passed it to Mira then pulled his gun out of a holster beneath his jacket.

  “Need back-up, Superman?” Ian was on his knees beside Mira again.

  “No, just take care of her until I get back.” Foster pushed through the underbrush, heading toward the wall of the ravine and was soon lost from sight in the greenery.

  “My pleasure,” Ian called after him.

  Mira opened her eyes after her brief moment of meditation, feeling better, more centered. “Ian, if they catch us, they get the box. The most important thing is to keep it away from them. We should hide it here, lead them away from it and return for it later with more back-up.”

  “And if it does have a transmitter it’ll lead these guys right to it.”

  Mira pursed her lips, thinking. “No. I’m not sure how they found us, but I don’t think they’re following a transmitter.” She extended the box toward him. “Hide it. Bury it under the dead leaves behind that log over there.” She handed him the bloodied piece of his T-shirt from her temple. “Tie this around the branch so we can find it again.”

  He frowned doubtfully at the box and the rag. “You sure about this?”

  She nodded, grimacing at the shooting pain that went up her neck from the motion. “Yeah. It feels right. It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Justin doesn’t need to know. That way if we’re caught and questioned there’s nothing for him to conceal. Besides, as a Protector he’ll think he’s strong enough to keep both us and the box safe, but I’d rather not take a chance. I want to go to KOTE first, then return for the box.”

  Ian nodded. “Your call.” He went over to the fallen tree branch and began digging in the leaves behind it.

  Mira closed her eyes and fingered the cut on her temple. Suddenly a pair of shots rang out, echoing sharply in the wooded valley. She jumped.

  Ian jerked around and stood up, scanning the hillside. “Maybe we should hide a little better than right out here in the open. Stay here. I’ll scout ahead for a place.”

  Before Mira could answer, he disappeared in the opposite direction from where Justin had gone. She grabbed hold of the tree trunk she was leaning against and started to pull herself to her feet, but a wave of dizziness overcame her and she stopped after she got to her knees.

  Sounds of snapping branches came from the other side of the Lexus. Mira froze, waiting to see whether Justin or one of Brody’s men would break through the bushes. Her heart pounded. She felt powerless and ashamed of the fear that coursed through her.

  Justin’s head and shoulders broke through the tangle of forest growth near the crashed car. “It’s all right,” he called. “We’re safe for now.”

  Relief flowed through Mira. The knot of tension in her gut released. She sat back on her heels.

  “Where’s Black?” Foster rounded the crumpled fender of the car. Before Mira could answer, Ian, too, re-emerged from the woods with a rattle of branches. “What’s up?”

  Justin frowned. “I thought I told you to stay with Mira and protect her.”

  “I was finding a path out, besides I don’t really take orders well. That’s what got me kicked out of the Marines.”

  Foster gave a scoffing snort.

  “So, did you shoot the bad guys or what?”

  “I took care of them, but more will be coming. We need to keep moving.”

  Crouching by Mira’s side, Ian put an arm around her back. “You up for a hike?”

  “Guess I have to be.”

  Justin strode over and swooped Mira up in his arms. “I’ll carry her.”

  Mira felt like a doll, pressed against his chest, her legs draped over his arm. She caught a glimpse of Ian’s narrow-eyed scowl over Justin’s broad shoulder before the Protector charged into the underbrush, leading the way to safety.

  * * * *

  The Center for Human Wellbeing Retreat outside of Indianapolis

  Raymond Brody rubbed his eyes with one hand. They felt swollen and red. He’d better Visine the hell out of them before he faced his congregation today. He needed to exude healthy, joyous exuberance when he greeted the current retreat group. Newcomers to the facility were the lifeblood of the Center for Human Wellbeing—new money and new minds to mold. Ray’s magnetic personality was key. He had to make every appearance count.

  “You’re on in ten, boss.” The unexpected voice from the intercom made him jump.

  “Thanks, Janice.” He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out his bottle and took a long drink. The chalky sweet taste of Pepto-Bismol coated his tongue and soothed his throat as it slithered down to his boiling stomach. It might take the edge off … a little.

  Ray’s hands shook as he screwed the cap back on the bottle. Damn, the bitch! How could he not have detected her as one of them? She must have been under some kind of cloaking spell. It was the only way a Keeper could have come so close to him without his senses raising the alarm. Recognizing other Terrans was a gift he’d inherited from his father.

  The box. Anger and fear raged through him, as the reality that it was missing crashed down on him yet again. He tried to imagine facing his father and explaining the loss.

  “I’m such a fuckup!” He rose abruptly, sending his chair rolling away from the desk; then swept his hand across the surface sending a stack of files flying, their pages fluttering to the floor. Photos of individuals of all ages, sexes and races, along with their financial and personal information lay scattered across the desk and floor.

  Ray leaned both hands on the desk and bowed his head. His father had entrusted him with this huge responsibility—the only important thing he’d ever asked Ray to do for him—and he’d failed before the box had been in his hands for five minutes. No matter how hard he tried, he always screwed up. He wasn’t a man in his father’s eyes and never would be.

  “No!” Ray drew himself upright. “Not this time.” He walked over to the full-length mirror on the wall, straightened his tie and brushed creases out of his jacket. He stared at the tired eyes in his lined face. Perhaps he could pull off the image of the careworn leader facing insurmountable obstacles in a tragic world. Maybe it would be even more effective than the confident, benevolent father figure.

  He brushed back his hair with one hand and flashed a smile at his reflection, teeth gleaming in the dim light of the opulent office. “This time everything’s going to turn out right.”

  He pointed at himself in the mirror. “You will get the box back then you’ll keep it safe. You’ll present both the box and thousands of devoted followers to Father when he asks for them. You will be a success.”

  Chapter Six

  Ian trudged behind Justin Foster wishing he had the super power of deadly laser eyes. He was pretty sure the hate waves he was beaming at the Protector could cleave him in two with just a little laser power. The man’s back and shoulders were so fucking broad, all Ian could see of Mira was her feet and calves on one side and a hank of glossy black hair tumbling down on the other.

  A branch snapped back as Foster passed, whipping toward Ian’s face. He ducked sideways and it stung the side of his jaw instead of blinding him. “Fucker,” he muttered low.

  He shifted his shoulders and felt the box resting at the small of his back inside the lining of the vajo’s coat. He hoped the hole he’d made up near the armpit didn’t split all the way down the seam and allow the box to fall out, but actually thought it was pretty safe. The coat provided a good traveling pouch with no one but Ian the wiser. He was sweating like hell in the damn thing, but that couldn’t be helped

  Ian wasn’t sure why he was convinced he needed to keep the box with him, but it had something to do with using it as a bargaining tool if it became necessary. A guy never knew what the day might bring and what tools he might need at his disposal.

  “So, where are we going, G.I. Joe? Do you have a plan or are we just wandering here?” Ian said to the Protector’s back.

  “It�
��s not safe to go up to the road or to that town we passed. I tried to call headquarters after I took care of Brody’s men, but my cell wouldn’t get service,” Foster said. “Do you have a phone?”

  Ian fished awkwardly in his pocket as he walked and pulled it out. “Battery’s dead.”

  Foster nodded. “Well, maybe there’s a house nearby where we can use the phone and Mira can rest.”

  “I’m all right, really. I could probably walk now.” Mira’s voice sounded drowsy and weak.

  Ian looked at her small feet. She wore low-heeled, conservative shoes—great for the office, bad for tramping through the wilderness. His gaze traveled up the curve of her ankle and calf and he wished he could draw her feet and legs. It wasn’t that he had a fetish. He just liked the petite delicacy of her limbs. He could picture the flowing lines they would make on paper.

  Foster stopped dead and Ian almost plowed into him.

  He knocked the Protector’s arm deliberately as he pushed past him to see what had caught his attention. A little way ahead, trees and bushes almost hid a small building. The boards of the place were weathered gray and blended in with the forest. It looked long-since abandoned. “No phones there,” Ian commented.

  “It looks deserted,” Foster agreed. “I’ll go check it out. Stay here.” He set Mira down on her feet.

  She swayed a little. Ian was quick to take her arm and steady her as Foster strode away.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered. “It was just a little knock on the head.”

  “You might have a concussion.”

  “It’s mostly my neck.” She reached up and cupped the back of her neck.

  Ian moved her hand away and replaced it with his own, stroking his fingers up her vertebrae carefully as if he knew what he was checking for. He liked the feel of her warm neck under his hand.

  “Ow! Right there.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “Hey, how come neither of you had any injuries?”

  “I did. I’m just not whining about them like some people.” Ian pointed to his arm. “It’s all bruised up from banging against the door.”

  Mira laughed.

  “You think I’m kidding? My arm’s in agony. Otherwise I’d be the one carrying you through the woods like Tarzan over there.”

  They both watched Foster a moment, threading his way stealthily through the trees to peer through the windows of the old building. After a moment, he raised a hand to signal them over.

  “Come on. I’ll help you hobble.” Ian slipped his arm, which really was sore, around Mira’s waist and guided her through the trees and snagging brambles. He liked the way her waist fit in the crook of his arm, would’ve like it even better if he wasn’t wearing the bulky coat and could feel her soft body pressed firmly against his.

  The building was a primitive square that must once have served as a hunting cabin. Inside were two sets of wooden bunks along either wall but no bedding. There was a Formica-topped table and several chairs with metal frames and cracked vinyl seats. The hearth of the small stone fireplace was filled with old ashes and a bird nest that had fallen from inside the chimney. Near the fireplace was a couch leaking stuffing from several rips in the upholstery.

  Ian walked Mira across the room to the decrepit couch. Despite her protests of feeling fine, she was leaning on him quite heavily.

  She took one look at the couch. “Oh no. I’m not sitting on that. There are probably mice living in it.”

  “Aren’t you one of those ‘love Mother Earth’ girls?” Ian said. “Thought you’d enjoy communing with wildlife.”

  “But not sleeping with them.”

  He snorted. “Sissy.” He kicked the couch to show her it was safe and a couple of mice scrambled out of the largest tear in the fabric and sprinted away.

  Mira shrieked and Ian jumped back.

  “Shh!” cautioned Foster, who was checking his cell to see if he had reception yet. “Keep it down.”

  Mira looked at Ian and grinned as if they were school kids being reprimanded by the teacher.

  He smiled back, unable to stop his lips from curving up whenever she looked at him like that. Her smile made his stomach feel warm and good, as if he’d just had a satisfying meal, which reminded him he was actually hungry again.

  Foster took off his jacket and placed it over the least ripped cushion of the sagging couch. “You can sit on this.”

  Ian wanted to offer Mira his coat, but couldn’t with the secret he had hidden in the lining. Instead he went to see if there was running water in the small kitchen. There wasn’t, but he found some dusty bottles of water in one of the cupboards and carried them over to the others.

  Foster caught the bottle of water Ian tossed him.

  He handed one to Mira then straddled one of the kitchen chairs, twisting off the cap of his bottle and drinking half of it in a few swigs.

  Foster flipped his phone shut then walked around examining the room as if figuring out how to fortify the place against attack.

  “Whaddya think, Captain, are we safe?”

  “For now.” Foster dropped down on the other end of the couch with a sigh. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  Human after all, Ian thought, or at least kind of. “So tell me more about your, ah, species,” he said aloud. “Seems more like a cult than another race to me.”

  “Terrans may look human, but we are different,” Foster said.

  “Like how?”

  “Mostly special abilities,” Mira explained, her voice strained from pain and exhaustion. “Keepers of the four elements are different clans with unique abilities. My friend Cathie, for example, can control water and has a special affinity to all the creatures which live in it. A fire Keeper has power over flames and everything combustible, etcetera. As I told you, my family’s special ability is spirituality. We’re mostly concerned with healing psychic damage.”

  “There’s also longevity,” Foster said, leaning back against the mouse-couch. “We age differently than humans.”

  Ian crossed his arms on the back of the chair he was straddling and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Foster fixed steely eyes on Ian. “How old do you think Mira is?”

  Ian felt like he’d been busted, like this guy knew he had a damn crush on the woman. “It’s rude to guess a lady’s age. Besides, if you get it wrong she’ll be pissed off.”

  “She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties, right?” Foster continued.

  Ian shrugged and looked at Mira.

  She frowned at Justin then turned to Ian, her expression blank. “I’m eighty-eight,” she said quietly.

  The little cabin was completely silent. Ian could hear mouse claws scrabbling in one of the walls. “Uh-huh,” he finally said.

  “No. Really,” she told him. “Our life span is longer than mortals and the aging process much slower. Toward the end of our lives we begin to ‘catch up’, but until then, there are a number of years when we don’t appear to age at all. We have to reinvent our identities periodically.”

  Ian was caught between complete disbelief and horror that he was hot for a woman old enough to be his grandma or even his great-grandma. “Huh,” he finally managed to say. “Like vampires.”

  “Without the blood.” Mira flashed him a smile. “Or, you know, being undead.”

  “Can you be killed like a normal person?” Ian looked at her bloody temple. “Do you heal extra fast?”

  “We get injured, catch diseases and die like humans, but our resistance is stronger and ability to heal faster.” Mira leaned forward. “We are the same, Ian. The differences are minimal—a few extra powers, that’s all.”

  “That’s a lot,” Foster said. “Humans aren’t just weaker. They don’t think the way we do. It’s a mistake to believe we’re the same.”

  “No fraternizing with humans then,” Ian said, his unrealistic hope of the possibility of a slight chance of maybe hooking up with Mira vanishing with a sad pop. Not that he’
d really thought anything was going to happen between them.

  “I’m really not up to debating human/Terran relations right now,” Mira said. “What are we going to do next?”

  “It’s only a matter of time before the police find the crash scene. They’ll be looking for survivors, which could be a problem for us. We don’t have time for questioning. And of course, there are the rest of Brody’s men. We didn’t exactly cover our trail through the woods.” Foster stood up and paced to the window. “We need to call KOTE, get a car, and get back on the road.”

  “I can get you wheels,” Ian said. “If you point me in the direction of town.” He pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out.

  Foster shook his head. “No. I’ll go. I can move faster and deal with anything that might come up.” He didn’t add that he believed Ian might take off and never come back, but the idea hovered in the air between them.

  “Oh, right, ‘cause you’re the hero. I forgot,” Ian drawled, placing the unlit cigarette between his lips. “We’ll just wait right here then until you come fetch us.”

  Foster ignored him. “Mira, before I go is there anything else you can remember about Brody’s operation that might be useful? Anything you learned or suspect? What kind of control does he have over his followers? What’s the ratio of humans to Destroyers and do the humans understand who they’re working for or are they just temporary hires?”

  Mira shook her head. “There seemed to be more humans than Terrans working for him. I only sensed a few Destroyers. And despite his father’s talents, Ray doesn’t exhibit any special abilities beyond an innate magnetism that attracts people to him and makes them compliant to his will. Sorry, I can’t be more helpful. I just didn’t see anything worth telling. I wish I could’ve made that transfer to the retreat center and found out what he’s up to there.”

  Foster nodded. “All right then. I’ll get moving and be back as soon as I can. Are you going to be all right?”