by Dana Lyons
Simon had removed Givens’ body. She and Quinn caught up with Rhys and Lazar. “Where do you plan to incarcerate him?” she asked.
“In one of our bathrooms, if I have to.” He pushed Lazar ahead of him. “Maybe I’ll put him in Hilde’s straight-jacket.”
Rhys’s Noble sense of justice was inflamed with waves of anger. But she knew his Noble sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow him to hurt Lazar.
“When we get on the flight tonight, he goes with us. If I have to claim crimes against humanity, this guy’s going home. Someone with a higher pay grade than me can decide the extent of his criminality.”
They locked Lazar in one of their bathrooms and spent the afternoon putting together their reports. One was to Pantheon, with a scathing condemnation for overtime mandates beyond Lazar’s recommendations, and highlighting the collateral damage Pantheon policy caused to their own bottom line.
“Pantheon lost,” she said, “about twenty-billion dollars in Draco Demon, and their lead geneticist. Perhaps now their suffering bottom line will shout louder than the greedy whispers of profit sharing.”
Simon called them to the medical lab. They gathered around the autopsy table; Givens’ body was badly charred and his wings were missing. He looked neither dragon nor human.
“He was in perfect physical health,” Simon said. “But the stress of too much time as dragon fractured his mind. As Givens said, Lazar made him tough, but a higher power made him fragile.”
They contemplated in silence the individual meaning those words held for them. “We are not Draco Demon nor dragon,” Dreya stated. “We are Nobility. Exceptional humans.”
Simon’s nostrils flared and his lips twisted.
She understood. He still harbored the fear that Givens’ fate awaited them all. He wants to be human again. Human was easy. Human was the old way, fraught with weakness and corruption. “Did you see any abnormalities in his brain?”
“No. The only fragile part was his psyche,” Simon added, exhaling with finality. “I’ll prepare him for burial and see you at your place before the flight.”
With only a couple hours before departure, Dreya showered and put on her travel clothes. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to arrive back on Earth with her men. The question was, would Simon return with them?
Rhys and Quinn came out from their rooms, showered and dressed. Rhys put ‘fireplace’ back on the Infinity screen. “Seemed appropriate.”
She took the couch and they flanked her. Having their shoulders bracing her on both sides was comforting. In unspoken agreement, her men were always there for her.
“He’ll come,” Rhys said.
“I’d bet on it,” Quinn agreed.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen to us,” she lamented. “I mean—”
“Don’t worry. We’ll work everything out,” Rhys said. “With a bird brain and a dumb dog backing you, what’s to worry about?”
Quinn leaned out to address his brother. “Speak for yourself.”
“I did; but I didn’t want to leave you out,” Rhys retorted.
A half-hearted smile threatened to break her dismal mood. “You two crack me up.”
The Infinity screen announced, Time for departure.
She rose and collected her bag. Rhys and Quinn waited for her by the door. “Don’t worry,” Quinn urged.
They rode up to Level 1 and walked into the lounge with its seductive lines and sleek decor. They turned in their ID cards and had their names checked off the travel list. Dreya lingered. With barely a few minutes left to board, a voice shouted out, “Don’t close that door.”
Simon!
He came marching up with Lazar in handcuffs. “Sorry I’m running late. I delivered all the bodies to the airlock and thought the Doc should attend. I decided to put Hilde and David in the same bag, so they’ll be together forever.”
A quick silence throbbed with sadness; Dreya glanced at Lazar. He was clueless.
Simon gave his and Lazar’s ID cards to the intake person. “Sheriff Sinclair and prisoner, Dr. Anthony Lazar. I believe you have special accommodations for the Doc.”
Dreya exhaled a sigh of relief. She should have known Simon would want to see the bodies of the dead taken care of. She should have known he would come and bring Lazar. All were signs of Nobility. That he was sensitive enough to put Hilde and David together didn’t surprise her either.
“Good to see you,” she said. His face was open and fresh. She could tell he didn’t mind leaving Draco Station. Her hope was he meant to stay with them.
“I decided to come along, seeing as how we all have so much in common.” He nudged Lazar in the ribs, who remained unusually quiet. “Come on,” he said. “I have a place for you.”
* * *
Days Later
Dreya, Rhys, Quinn, and Simon relaxed in her cabin before transferring to the RocketX tomorrow and returning to Earth.
“I’ll be happy to get off this bucket,” Simon said.
“How long since you were on Earth?” Rhys asked.
“Two years. It’ll be good to be on solid ground again.”
Her men had become companionable since Simon joined them. Due to limited space, they each kept to their own small bunks at night. The sense of separation was mitigated by being contained in such a small environment. Nobility was slowly bringing them closer, in spite of not mating … yet.
She cleared her throat and drew their eyes. “Yes. Back on Earth. I have to admit I never want to space travel again. Leave me at home next time.”
“Well, we found our answers,” Rhys said. He leaned against the wall, staring down at his shoes, reminding her of the first time she saw him.
Quinn added, “Some of us got more answers than we expected.”
She sensed his inner wolf wanted to pace in the small quarters. She cocked an eyebrow at Simon. “And you?” He had come to a temporary peace with Nobility, keeping his anger down to a simmer since Lazar went into the holding cell.
“I have answers to questions I didn’t want to ask,” he grumbled.
Well, she thought, at least he isn’t punching thin air. “I’ve been thinking about the questions and answers, and how we fit in the puzzle. According to Lazar, we must expect constant evolution within our DNA.”
She glanced around, gauging their individual reactions. Varying levels of resistance mixed with rising levels of interest. “I’ve seen the changes in myself … in the drift of my thoughts and the emotions that rise in me. I saw much of the same reflected in the three of you, in the way you responded to Givens.”
Simon grumbled. “You don’t need Nobility to see Nate got a raw deal. We’re just a few strands of DNA away from a raw deal ourselves.”
Telepathy wasn’t needed. Fear and anger bubbled in his voice. “So, Nobility is a daily fight for you.”
“Yeah.” He nodded emphatically and began a heated rant. “I have trouble with Nobility. I have trouble with this secret because I don’t want to go back to Draco Station. I have trouble with not being human, even if I am exceptional. I have trouble with not knowing—”
His words came to a sudden stop as he clamped his lips tight. She reached for his hand and gave a squeeze. “I know. But you have family now who are with you through these … troubles.”
She exhaled deeply and rolled her shoulders back. “I saw Nobility in Givens. To him, his disgust with his actions took from him the right to live—a noble concept.”
The sight of Givens flying into the lights would be with her forever. “In the face of life threatening adversity, he displayed a high moral code and disciplined character … strength, dignity, integrity … Nobility seeking out human expression—even in a dragon. Prior to Nobility, I can’t say I would have been as noble in a similar situation.”
Rhys pushed off the wall and took a seat. “My empathy for Givens weighed heavily against my recognition of his criminal status. It was a difficult moment for me. I have to wonder how this will integrate with wo
rk.”
“I have the same concerns,” she said. “But I believe Nate has shown us the way. Because of him, I’m no longer fighting Nobility. At first I rolled with our situation because I had no choice. But now … now, I accept, I embrace my Nobility. I am, in fact, eager to see where Nobility takes me. But I want all of you there at my side.”
She saw three attentive faces, as though they sensed where she was going. “We are a part of each other. Splitting up, for now, is out of the question. Do you agree?”
Rhys and Quinn quickly nodded. Simon took his time, but finally gave a grudging assent.
“We’ve been living in my one bedroom apartment. The situation was barely tenable before. I’d like us to move out of the city and into the country where you’ll have space to run and fly and express yourselves in a safe environment.”
Quinn perked up; Rhys shook his shoulders. Simon saw their expressions and again contributed a slow nod of acceptance.
“I take that as a yes vote.”
“How else is this gonna come down?” Simon asked. “What about work?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “We can’t tell anyone, but managing the secret could get … awkward, particularly at the FBI. As it is, us living together will raise eyebrows.”
Rhys told Simon, “You and her boss, Jarvis, should get along. You both have a nose for secrets.”
“He sounds like a problem.”
“We have a lot of problems, but we take on one at a time,” she said. “First thing, we get to Earth and get Lazar into custody.”
* * *
Dreya stared out the observation window as the RocketX made its approach to home. The blue majesty of Earth was stunning against the twinkling background of space.
She glanced about. Anxiety rode with them. She couldn’t forget that as genetically modified humans, they were technically illegal on Earth. No one wanted to return to Draco Station. What they were must remain their secret.
“Are there deep thoughts to go with that deep expression?” Simon asked. He slipped into the seat next to her. She warmed at the sight of him. She was learning he ran like still waters, quiet, but intense. Soon Rhys and Quinn joined them. Silence littered with unspoken questions surrounded them as they watched Earth come closer.
The intercom announced, “Prepare for landing.” They strapped into their seats. She closed her eyes.
Please help me figure this out.
“Huh,” she grunted, realizing she prayed, something she never did before Nobility. As soon as they were landed and docked, they went down to the baggage hold where Lazar was kept in a special container for live cargo.
Simon said, “As Sheriff Sinclair, I hand over to the FBI one Dr. Anthony Lazar.” He keyed in the code, the electronic lock popped back and the door slid opened.
The cell was empty. On the bed, Lazar’s clothes were neatly folded. On top, a hand scribbled note.
You keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.
Best, Anthony
* * *
The next morning Dreya walked into Assistant Director Jarvis’ office with Rhys, Quinn, and Simon. “Sir, this is Sheriff Sinclair.”
Jarvis rose. “Sinclair.” They shook hands and the moment for formality passed. Everyone sat. With an air of expectation, she braced for a barrage of questions.
“I have received your reports,” he said.
She resisted hiking an eyebrow and waited, letting him speak his mind at his own pace.
“Your reports were received and passed across my desk—sealed, I might add, and on to—” He waved a hand. “You know, up there.”
He shifted in his seat before continuing. Dreya perceived Simon to her left and Rhys on her right. Quinn was out of range at the end, but their emotions were discernible, smothering her in various degrees of anxiety. She battened down the path into her mind, an endeavor she had been practicing.
“I understand the three of you, and Sheriff Sinclair apprehended all the suspects. There were several suicides among—”
She held her breath, wondering how much he knew, how much he would say.
He cleared his throat. “Suicides among what were referred to as, how did they put it—” He scrabbled through papers on his desktop till he found what he wanted. “Ah, here it is—indigenous persons unable to travel to Earth.” He dropped the page. “Yep.” He smacked his lips, gave a moment of pause, and added, “Whatever that means.”
The words ‘indigenous inhabitants unable to travel to Earth’ made Dreya’s heart slam against her ribs. She desperately wanted to look down, but Jarvis leveled a piercing inspection her way over the top of his bifocals.
She kept her face steady, not giving him anything. In a span of seconds, her eyes zoomed in on the tiny expressive muscles of his face. Instant comprehension dropped her stomach through the floor, for his minute uncontrollable responses told her—
He knows a lot more than he admits.
While computing the possible ramifications of him knowing about them, she held on to a thin smile.
“You recall,” he said, “I issued you an ultimatum at the beginning of the Libby Stanton case.”
“Yes, sir. You promised me a partner on the backside of hell. I believe I just had that assignment, sir.”
His inspection of her over the top of his glasses lingered. “Perhaps you did,” he said. “And do understand, this issue remains to be resolved in an official capacity at some point. But I have another case for you. I realize you’ve been away and just returned—”
He paused, leaving space for the great unspoken to flop like a landed fish. “However, in your absence, a serial killer is operating in the District. The Behavioral Analysis Unit is on a case in Arizona, so I’m assigning this to you.”
He pointed to a murder board out in the common room. “Everything you need is out there. Take that into your office with your team, and don’t bother me until you have this bastard.” He looked down in dismissal.
Stunned, she blurted, “But, what about—” She saw Rhys and Quinn jerk in their seats.
Jarvis glanced up as if surprised they were still in his office. “Lazar? What about Lazar? The powers that be—you remember them? They’re taking over the case; Lazar is no longer your concern.”
Her Noble eyes watched his face while her brain registered what his subtle reactions meant. Next to her, an eruption poured forth.
“But—” Rhys started.
“He—” Simon shouted, half standing.
“What—” Quinn blurted.
She kept her eyes on Jarvis.
“No buts. You have no jurisdiction and no standing, do you?”
Quinn twisted about in his chair so she thought he was going to jump up. “Lazar is—”
Jarvis’ cold glare shut Quinn down and the steam for his interjection faded along with his words. Jarvis lastly turned his intestine curdling gaze onto Simon. “Do you have any questions?”
Simon jacked one eyebrow and shook his head.
“Then go.” Jarvis pointed to the board. “You have your orders. Love, you and Rhys work this case. Use Kingston and—” He stopped and drilled Simon with a long, pointed gaze. “Use Kingston and Sheriff Sinclair as consultants.”
Dreya shot to her feet and made for the door, motioning Rhys, Quinn, and Simon to move. She wanted out of Jarvis’ office so she could process what her eyes discovered. As she reached the threshold, Jarvis spoke.
“Love. Stay behind. Close the door.”
The boys tossed her a quick glance before proceeding out to the murder board. She closed the door and turned.
“Am I to understand you have no complaint about having not just one but three partners?” he asked, pushing back in his chair.
She pressed her lips together to keep from stammering. “I find our techniques … synergistic.”
He tilted his head and gazed past her to Rhys, Quinn, and Simon clustered around the murder board. “You go from refusing a partner to riding with a posse. I’m only going to ask th
is once, understand? Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“Sir? Such as what?”
“Is there anything inappropriate going on between you and your new partners?”
She covered her relief with a show of indignation, pulling her chin back. “If you mean sexual—no sir. We’re just a good team. There’s no sex. Nothing else to tell.”
The truth being there was no sex … yet. As far as qualifying for inappropriate …
Nobility is definitely inappropriate.
All in all, what she spoke was a necessary lie, no more or less than Jarvis asked. Still, her palms sweated; she resisted wiping them on her pants.
Damn. Nobility won’t even let me tell a good lie in self-defense.
She kept her lips clamped together.
After a moment of concentration, Jarvis coughed. “Is that all you have to say?”
Again, her eyes read the micro expressions flitting across his face, telling her not all was as it seemed. She licked her lips, and said, “Yes.”
“Hmm,” he grunted. “In spite of the secret stinking up my office, I’m processing the paperwork for Kingston and Sinclair.” He took off his glasses and set them on the desk.
“Personally, I don’t care about your secrets, Dreya. What I care about is you and your synergistic team catching this killer, however the four of you do it, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, her heart hammering over his words. She spun on her heel and reached for the door. When her hand touched the knob, he said—
“Keep your sunglasses on, Love.”
THE END
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About the Author
Dana Lyons was voted one of 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading in 2015 and 2016. She is multi-published with full length novels and novellas in ebook and print. She has also co-authored with USAToday/NYT Best Seller Margo Bond Collins.