by Elise Faber
A younger sister.
Her family was dead. Her father by the Dalshie. Her mother by Daughtry’s own hands.
She shuddered at the memory. More than half a year and the feel of her flame-covered hands passing easily through her mother’s body still made her sick.
“I know.” There was a moment of quiet, taut with tension. “But I think you’re right,” Cody thought before saying aloud, “Suz ordered a DNA test. But cowgirl, if it’s true—”
Daughtry didn’t need the rest of his words. If the girl was her sister, if she’d been in the hands of their mother, one of the cruelest Dalshie Dee had ever come across, then the damage would be intense.
Unless, of course, her sister had come to take revenge for Daughtry killing her mother.
Well, that would certainly put a damper on sisterly affection.
Dee shook off the past and focused on the present. “I have a sister.”
It was a truth accepted, a fact her magic and heart knew without a doubt, and something she’d always wanted. A family.
But how?
“I think this is a good time for caution,” Cody thought.
Daughtry whipped toward him so fast that his eyes widened. “I have a sister,” she repeated. “Who might be good.”
Not bothering to disguise her own doubts from their bond—how could something good come from something as evil as Elisabeth?—she let Cody’s mind brush softly against hers.
“I don’t doubt you’re right,” he said and laced his fingers with hers. “But this is still the time for caution.”
“I—” She shook her head, felt his words sink in as another truth. Not one she wanted, but a truth nonetheless. “You’re right.”
Footsteps sounded on the tile floor, and they both glanced at the door.
Suz crossed the threshold, made a face at Daughtry sitting up. “You should be lying down, Dee.”
“Might as well be talking to a brick wall, doc,” Cody muttered.
Daughtry rolled her eyes, but sent him a mental hug down the bond. She would be worried about him, too, if he’d overexerted himself as completely as she had.
This healing stuff was tricky.
“No kidding.” Suz’s eyes flashed with amusement before her face went serious. “The girl will be okay, but she’s really banged up. Numerous lacerations, bruises, four broken ribs, and a severely sprained wrist. You managed to heal most of the internal damage, I fixed the rest.”
“Thank you.”
Suz waved away the gratitude. “As if that’s ever necessary.”
She blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the bed. “Now I’m going to do my best to not yell at you for taking it so far because you no doubt saved her life. But, Dee, you need to be careful when you heal. Your body will continue to give until there’s nothing left. You need to understand where your limits are so you don’t cross them.”
“I know,” Daughtry agreed. It was a simple concept and yet the thing she struggled with most. Controlling her magic had always been one of her biggest weaknesses, despite her score on Francis’s chest.
When her powers were really flowing, she’d always had difficulty turning them off.
She made a note to mention that to Francis so she could work on it.
“I think she’ll regain consciousness sometime in the night,” Suz said. “So I’ll stay with her. But Dee?”
Daughtry met the healer’s stare. “Yeah?”
“She can’t be more than eighteen.” Suz’s lips flattened into a grim line and Daughtry’s stomach twisted. “Her bones aren’t even fully mature yet.” There was anger in her friend’s voice, the kind of righteous fury that came from someone blameless being hurt.
Unfortunately, Daughtry had seen too many people hurt to think that the world wouldn’t be cruel to a young girl. The best they could do was mitigate the damage and strive for a happy future.
“I understand.”
Too damned well.
Suz nodded and stood. “Okay. Why don’t you go to your quarters? I’ll call you when she wakes up.”
“I’ll wait here.” This was her sister. She couldn’t leave.
“Cowgirl, I—”
“Dee—”
“No.”
Her refusal led to an argument but Daughtry wouldn’t be budged, and eventually Suz and Cody gave up trying to convince her.
“Fine,” Suz snapped. “Stay, but in bed. I’ll come back the moment she wakes.”
Once Suz had gone, Cody climbed onto the bed and pulled Daughtry into his arms. They didn’t talk, but he held her and periodically forced a granola bar into her stiff fingers, which she dutifully choked down.
Her mind was strangely empty—not anxious, not worried. She knew the girl would awaken, knew that the smooth, bump-free road that had been her and Cody’s existence of the last months was about to be altered.
But something akin to relief also passed through her.
Because this was it. This was the niggling in her consciousness. The thing some part of her had known was coming.
This was the next step.
Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, the door opened with a soft screech.
Gabby’s blond head peeked through. “She’s awake.”
Daughtry was on her feet in an instant, Cody by her side. They walked down the hall and into exam room six.
This was the moment when everything would change.
Daughtry was certain of it.
And this time, she was ready.
Thirty-One
Cautiously, Daughtry pushed into the room.
“Hey,” she said upon finding those bright blue eyes on her.
They were wide but curious, not frightened, as though the girl had reached her inner limit of fear and was now just numbly absorbing the events around her. The notion—so similar to how she’d felt in the past—made Dee’s heart hurt.
“I’m Daughtry,” she said, forcing her voice to be both steady and upbeat, to not show the massive amount of compassion she was feeling for the young girl practically dwarfed in the hospital bed. “But you can call me Dee.”
The girl opened her mouth, started to say something, but then she seemed to notice Cody standing in the doorway. She shrank back into the bed, fingers curled so tightly into the sheets that her bones stood out sharply against her skin.
“I’ll wait out here,” Cody thought.
“Thank you.”
He left, though Daughtry noted he’d purposefully left the door open. The gesture of protectiveness—but still trusting her to be able to handle the situation—warmed her heart and allowed her to shove her horror at the girl’s appearance aside.
The hospital gown her sister wore had slipped down one shoulder, and Daughtry forced herself to look away, to not stare at how terribly gaunt she was. The bones of the girl’s face were angular and protruded, but the thin, stretched look of her skin pulled taut over her collarbones, over the ridges of her sternum—
This wasn’t a growth spurt. This was starvation.
“Hi. I’m—” The girl coughed, swallowed hard. “I’m . . .”
Dee gave her a few moments to speak, but when her sister couldn’t seem to get the words out, she asked, careful to keep her voice gentle, “What’s your name?”
Blue eyes flicked to hers and there was a sadness there, a depth of feeling no teenager should possess. “I-uh . . .” She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “I don’t have a name.”
The blip of Cody’s surprise was as large as her own, but Daughtry thought she managed to keep the magnitude of her response from her face.
“Oh. Well,” she said as though her sister had just told her something as inane as she preferred tulips to roses. “Is there a name you would like to be called?”
The girl tilted her head. Assessing, Dee thought. Assessing if she was serious. Then she relaxed. “I’d like to be called Alex.”
Daughtry smiled. “Alex it is.” She sank down in the chair next to the bed and tried to ig
nore the way the movement made Alex stiffen. This was absolutely heartbreaking. “Did you get something to eat?”
“Yes.” A yawn.
“I should let you get some rest,” Daughtry said and stood back up. Her emotions were raw, exposed, and if she were being honest, she needed some time to get herself together.
Alex hesitated before nodding. “Will you come see me in the morning?”
“Yes.” Blinking to soothe the sting in her eyes, Dee touched Alex’s hand, her heart filled with so many emotions she couldn’t begin to process them.
Compassion and pity. Anger and confusion. But most of all hope.
Hope that whatever had happened to this girl hadn’t scarred her for life.
“Yes, of course I will,” she said. “I think we have lots to catch up on.”
“I know I’m running the risk of sounding like Maury Povich, but you are the sister,” Suz said. “The DNA test came in this morning.”
Daughtry was with Cody, Suz, and Dante, the de facto leader of the Rengalla, in the latter’s office discussing what to do about Alex. It was clear Alex wasn’t Dalshie—she didn’t possess the markings or the disposition, Daughtry’s internal Dalshie radar wasn’t screaming in alarm, and the blood test Suz had run was clear of dark magic.
But Alex had penetrated the shield. Walked straight through magic they’d thought nearly impossible to be breached.
“Okay,” Daughtry said, her mind feeling a lot clearer after getting a few hours of sleep in Cody’s arms. “So I have a sister. She isn’t Dalshie. But she doesn’t quite seem like a normal Rengalla either.”
“No,” Suz agreed. “Alex’s injuries weren’t grave by the time I arrived, but it still took nearly all of my reserves to finish the healing, and that was after you’d used all of yours too, Dee.” The healer frowned. “It was almost as though her body were fighting against the magic.”
Dante, who’d been quiet as Suz and Daughtry relayed everything, finally spoke. “I’m sorry to say”—he glanced at her, and his grey eyes held a touch of sadness—“I know that the girl is your family, but after what happened with Elisabeth, I think we can all agree that this situation bears some caution.”
She’d manipulated them all, affected their thoughts and emotions, while searching for the Orb, purported to be a powerful weapon but one Dee hadn’t figured out how to harness.
So it wasn’t like Daughtry could disagree with Dante. As Cody had said, caution was necessary.
She nodded. “I understand. What do you think we should do?”
Dante straightened one of the haphazard piles of papers on his desk. “I’d like to keep her away from the Colony for the time being. Somewhere safe,” he added at Daughtry’s sound of disapproval. “But separate. At least until we can be certain of her intentions.”
She couldn’t bring herself to disagree with Dante. It was prudent that they protect the Rengalla and Forgotten as a whole. The Colony was the only safe haven against the Dalshie, the only place where the innocents of their society could be protected.
She wouldn’t compromise that.
But where could they go? Because there was no question that Dee would go with Alex. Daughtry had to ensure that the starved, wounded girl was safe—both for the Rengalla and for Alex herself.
Yet, she couldn’t say she didn’t have reservations.
DNA didn’t make people loyal, and the friends she’d made here at the Colony had been more family than her own flesh and blood.
That wasn’t something she was willing to sacrifice.
Cody’s mind gave a tentative brush against hers. “The cabin?” he thought. “I know it doesn’t have the best memories . . . but it’s safe.”
Her heart swelled a little and she smiled at him, at the man who’d proven time and again that he had her back. Talk about family. “Screw the memories. It’s perfect.”
The cabin was several hundred miles north of the Colony, a distance that could be easily traversed by teleportation if they needed help, and isolated enough that they would be away from prying mortal eyes.
She and Cody could erect a small shield as an additional layer of protection— beyond the monitors and alarm that were already in place.
“Do you think Gabby and Mason can manage the shield here?”
“I’m sure.”
Though the shield around the Colony was made of Cody and Daughtry’s Bond Magic, it didn’t require them to constantly feed their powers into it. Once it had been created and the optimal spherical size was in place, the residual power of the Colony kept it strong.
Magical bleed-off—the excess magic every Rengalla produced—was collected and used to foster the shield and everything else within the Colony that needed power.
Gabby and Mason would just have to ensure that the barrier was whole and make any repairs if there was an issue.
“Hey, He-Man?” she thought and watched as his lips curved, amusement coating his side of the bond.
“Yeah?”
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
He turned his eyes on her—molten emerald—and gave her the smirk that had turned her legs to jelly from the first moment she’d met him. “You can tell or rather show me later.” His mind grew serious. “Terrible nineties songs aside, you know I’m coming with you both. And probably John or another LexTal.”
“Can the Colony spare you both?”
Cody shrugged. “We’ll figure out the patrols. But with Dalshie sightings on the decline and no attacks for months, I think we’ll be okay.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Plus, the cabin is close enough that we can be back very quickly if there are any signs of trouble.”
The sound of throat clearing made her jump. She glanced at Suz and Dante with what was no doubt a guilty expression on her face. “We’re doing it again.”
Cody grinned and leaned over the arm of his chair to press a soft kiss to her mouth. “They’re used to it.”
Suz snickered, and Dante raised a brow at her once Cody had settled back into his own seat. “You have an idea?”
“Yes.” Daughtry felt her cheeks flush but dutifully relayed their thoughts about the cabin.
“Okay,” he said once she’d finished. “You and Cody work out the logistics then get back to me.” He glanced at Suz. “For the time being, I’d like Alex to remain in the infirmary. You okay with that?”
Suz nodded. “So long as I don’t fill up, that should be fine.”
“Good.” Dante turned back to his computer, summarily dismissing them.
And good little Rengalla that they were, she, Suz, and Cody filed out.
Thirty-Two
“Ready?” Daughtry asked, watching Alex like she might bolt. They stood outside the shield with John and Cody, waiting on Morgan and Monroe, who were going to teleport them to the cabin.
Alex was watching the production with wide eyes—not nervous per se, but obviously overwhelmed.
Daughtry knew the feeling. The LexTals could be a bit much. Not only were they huge—six plus feet of muscled, alpha male—but they had a way of looking at you, a piercing glance that was able to penetrate all of the B.S. around your soul and see the truth beneath. Uncertainty, fear, and stupidity were often ferreted out.
Whether or not you wanted to share those emotions with the class.
Then there was the obsessive preparation. Packs to be checked and rechecked. Emergency protocols to be discussed.
She’d never been a Girl Scout, but she thought it a little much.
Cody smirked into her mind at that thought. “Can never be too prepared, cowgirl. We’ll get going in a minute.”
But it wasn’t just the LexTals that were overwhelming.
The Rengalla were old money, tradition, and luxury all wrapped in one. If you hadn’t grown up in the Colony, just navigating the corridors could be confusing, let alone being surrounded by gilt wallpaper, marble floor, and bronze sconces.
Pair that with being under a cloud of suspicion?
Daughtry knew it couldn’t have been easy for Alex to put on a brave front. She walked over and touched her sister’s shoulder . . . who stiffened as though Dee had just struck her with a rod instead of a simple pat.
“It’ll be okay,” Dee said, ignoring the reaction.
Alex nodded, but it wasn’t faith on her face. It was the determined expression of someone who had to do something they really, really didn’t want to do.
Daughtry stepped back, putting some physical and emotional distance between them.
While she was a firm believer in following her instincts—and they were telling her that Alex was trustworthy—she carefully constructed a layer of bubble wrap around the part of her heart that so desperately wanted to connect with her sister.
It would happen in time . . . or it might not at all.
In the meantime, they had bigger fish to fry.
The shield peeled back, and Morgan strolled through. “Your chariot is here,” he announced.
John shouldered his pack, and she sensed Cody mentally roll his eyes. “Where’s Monroe?”
Morgan huffed. “One of his students from the self-defense class he’s teaching had an issue. But no need to worry.” He flexed one arm, displaying a seriously nice bicep. “I’ve got enough juice to get you all there.”
“Enough of something,” Cody muttered, shooting her a dark look that was touched with humor.
She blew him a mental kiss. “Your arms are better.”
His chuckle bounced down the bond as he shouldered his pack then helped her secure hers.
They walked toward Morgan. “John and I first. We’ll make sure everything is as it should be.” He glanced over Daughtry’s shoulder to the guard that stood by the opening in the shield. “Watch them.”
“Love you,” she thought. “But know that’s your free pass for the day.”
He winced. “A little too much like an order, cowgirl? It wasn’t even directed at you.”
“I am not a misbehaving puppy to be looked after,” she thought, her words mildly acerbic.