Fractured Souls: Darkstar Mercenaries Book 3

by Carven, Anna

  Nythian didn’t know what a popsicle was, but it sounded unpleasant.

  “I’ll start with the bad news,” Zharek said as he multitasked, handing various pieces of equipment to Mareth. “Because of the risk of further transformation, we can’t sedate you, not even partially. Neural immobilizers are out of the question. I can perhaps give you a light analgesic, but that’s about it. I’m afraid, as you humans say, that it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

  “What’s going to hurt like a bitch?” Nythian snarled.

  “This.” Zharek held up a sleek transparent container. It was filled with black liquid metal. “You should know. I’m going to encase her arm in flexible biotic Callidum and stabilize the DNA. It will make it impossible for the transformation to spread any further.”

  Nythian contained the volatile anger that flared up inside him—but only barely. Zharek stiffened, and Nythian could almost sense his fear.

  No, the medic wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  Alexis’s eyes narrowed behind her clear visor. She didn’t like what she was seeing.

  A sound from outside made him turn.

  Footsteps.

  He knew that particular gait.

  Shit.

  “Abbey, what are you doing here?” He turned as Tarak’s mate strode into the room, her green eyes blazing. Kaiin’s Hells, and the boss had just been on the comm with him! “No, no, no. You can’t be in here. Go, now.”

  “You didn’t tell me she was hurt. Tarak didn’t tell me that—”

  “Abbey,” Nythian warned, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Do not make me use force on you. Zharek’s in the middle of something critical.”

  Normally, he would be gentle with the General’s mate, but the situation right now was dangerous. With the Tharian inside her, Alexis was unpredictable, and Tarak had expressly forbidden any of the humans from going near her until they had answers.

  Nythian wasn’t going to be the one to break those orders.

  “Seriously?” Abbey crossed her arms, spoiling for a fight. She looked up at Alexis. “Hey, Alexis. You okay in there? I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. If I’d known…”

  Nythian was on the verge of picking Abbey up and dumping her outside—she would get over the indignity eventually. The human mates of the First Division were treated better than Kordolian nobility most of the time, but really, there was a limit to his benevolence.

  He understood that the human women were very protective of their own, but now was not the time to argue.

  “Abbey,” he growled, “last warning. You can visit to your heart’s content once we have the all-clear.”

  “Sorry.” Her hands flew up. “I didn’t know that you were in the middle of something so important…” To his surprise, the General’s mate folded her arms and quietly contemplated his words. When he’d first encountered the small human phenomenon that was Abbey, Nythian had wondered what the boss saw in her. She was reckless, emotional, and impulsive. She disobeyed instructions on a regular basis. She was almost—almost—as stubborn as Tarak himself.

  But over time, he’d come to understand her a little better.

  And over time, she’d changed, too. Motherhood especially had tempered that reckless nature of hers.

  “Abbey.” Then Alexis spoke, and she was astonishingly calm. “It’ll probably be better if you don’t watch. I know I’ve been acting like a crazy woman these past few days, but I feel different now. Nythian, he’s…” She paused and looked directly at him, her gaze slow and deliberate. “He’s okay.”

  “Oh yeah?” Abbey’s eyebrows rose. “Sure?”

  “Yeah. Definitely.”

  He’s okay. Why in the Nine Hells did that little comment warm his blackened heart?

  Feh. Humans.

  Strange beings.

  Some silent communication passed between the two women, almost as if they were engaging in mindspeech. Nythian had seen humans do this from time to time.

  “Can you two save whatever this is for latter? The nanites are getting cold,” Zharek grumbled.

  Abruptly, Abbey nodded. “Okay.”

  Okay? That was it? Nythian had expected at least a little more resistance.

  Abbey rounded on Nythian. “Look after her, big boy.”

  “Does it look like I’ve just been standing around twiddling my thumbs?”

  “I’m just saying.” Abbey gave him a knowing smile as she waved at Alexis. “Okay, I’m off. Glad to see you’re doing a lot better, Alexis. I’ll come visit as soon as the Powers That Be officially grant me permission. Good luck, Alexis.”

  She disappeared.

  Nythian clenched his teeth. He was tense, edgy, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with.

  He turned to Zharek.

  “As I said before,” he growled in Universal, wanting to make everything better for her. “Explain.”

  Ten

  “Are you ready, Alexis?” Zharek’s voice filtered into her awareness, amplified by the pods that rested in her ears. Her entire head was encased in some sort of monitoring helmet; a soft, pliable thing that extended down her back. Various leads and sticky devices covered her bare torso, feeding information back to Zharek’s machines.

  “Yeah.” She fought to keep her body from trembling but failed. Damn. When would this crazy shivering stop? Somehow, whatever Zharek was infusing into her veins kept her from slipping into hypothermia, but this feeling of weightlessness, of detachment…

  It was rather disturbing.

  Only Nythian’s presence kept her from going completely insane. Right now, he was watching her with a thunderous frown, his broad arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m going to start the procedure now,” Zharek said, his voice cold and detached, as if he’d suddenly gone into some sort of weird trance.

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes as a weird sensation enveloped her right hand. It felt like millions of tiny hot needles were piercing her skin.

  At first, it was just a tickle, but then it started to hurt a little.

  And suddenly, she was in agony.

  “A-ah!” she cried as the pain became almost too much to bear. She writhed and twisted, swearing viciously in her native creole. “Goddamnit, Zharek! You didn’t… tell… me… it was going to be… this fucking painful.” Her voice was a weak echo in her own ears, contained in a tiny pocket of air, suppressed by thick layers of stasis fluid.

  The last time she’d hurt this badly was after the attack on Earth. She’d woken up from microsurgery with the most excruciating pain in her side…

  And then they’d pumped her full of drugs, again and again and again.

  Alexis was almost glad that she was fully conscious for this. She didn’t want to be put under again. Not now.

  That would remind her too much of death.

  Death.

  White-hot pain.

  She screamed…

  And felt the Tharian surface.

  It’s only pain. It can’t kill you. Anuk’s voice was a gentle caress in her mind, so different to before. Her tone was softer, fainter. I am sorry for putting you through this. I did not intend to lose control of the transformation.

  Suddenly, the pain abated. “Wh-what are you exactly, Anuk?”

  “How you doing in there, Alexis?” Zharek’s controlled voice came through her ear-pods.

  Nythian was uncharacteristically silent.

  I am energy. Energy has an imprint, a rhythm, a consciousness. Energy is life. My energy flows through your veins, rearranges the genetic code in your cells, transforms your human flesh into Tharian. I pulsate through the cells and synapses in your brain, flowing through your so-called neurons. This should not happen. It is an illogical improbability. We should not be compatible, but here we are. Life is strange and unexpected, Alexis Carter.

  Alexis focused on the sound of Anuk’s voice. It distracted from the pain somewhat.

  I did not intend to remake you in my image. I am not your enemy, Alexis Carter. My earlier heavy-
handedness, my recklessness, was borne out of desperation, but I do not regret it. I need to get back to Tharos as a matter of urgency. You must help me.

  Something in the Tharian’s tone cut through Alexis’s pain, and for a moment she was able to detach from her own private hell. “You’ve been away for so long,” she said softly. “What’s with the sudden urgency?”

  Things are not as they were before, human. Anuk’s voice grew faint.

  What?

  I am… tired. Exhausted. Existing inside an incompatible being has taken its toll. I never should have bonded with Enki. Soon I will need to sleep. But I feel that… something is wrong on Tharos. Something terrible has happened. I have been away from my people for far too long. Please, help me to return home.

  “I’m going to increase your analgesia,” Zharek said quietly, but Alexis barely heard him.

  She was floating in darkness again, caught up in Anuk’s suffering. The pain returned, devouring her right arm. It felt like her hand was being severed. She gasped, tears leaking from her eyes.

  Then the Tharian’s presence sputtered out. Strange drugs coursed through her system.

  Pain was everywhere.

  Panic rose in her chest.

  She grabbed her arm, digging her fingers into the transformed flesh. She kicked and flailed, tugging at the lines that ran out of her body, trying to pull them out.

  “Stay calm, Alexis. The procedure is going to plan.” Zharek’s words were just a blur in the background. “I am almost finished. You just need to be still for five human seconds. Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

  She heard Nythian swear, but even the deep rumble of his voice wasn’t enough to calm her down. He was saying something to her, but his words failed to register.

  Alexis flailed about. She was suffocating. She just wanted to be out of here.

  Bring me home.

  With wild, powerful strokes, she started to pull herself toward the top of the tank. Her eyes snapped open, just in time to see a silver and black blur scaling the side of the tank with impossible speed.

  Whoosh.

  Stasis liquid swirled around her. A massive pair of hands closed over hers as the pain in her arm intensified, becoming worse than anything she’d experienced in her life. Any moment now, she was going to pass out…

  “Alexis.” Nythian pressed his lips against her ear, and even though he was submerged, his voice reverberated through the thin membrane of the monitoring cap, through the tiny sound pod in her ear, familiar yet distorted, warm, resonant, cutting through her pain like a scalpel. “Relax. It’s over. Zharek’s going to check a few things, then we’re getting you out of here.”

  Suddenly, the pain died away, leaving only a mild burning sensation in her hand. Nythian’s grip was like steel; she couldn’t move an inch. He was pressed up against her, his insane warmth radiating into her body. Suddenly, she no longer felt like a cold half-dead shell.

  “Hold still,” he said, and she melted into his arms, relief flooding through her.

  He was the antidote to her chaos.

  To think that a hard-ass Kordolian warrior could understand her better than any of the psych-heads and trauma algorithms and witness protection specialists that the Agency had surrounded her with after the attack.

  She opened her eyes and turned. She saw his hard features through a pale filter of blue, saw his brilliant crimson eyes soft and unfocused, saw his tender expression.

  The warmth spreading through her grew and grew, becoming a wild, unpredictable thing, obliterating the pain and filling the fractures in her mind.

  The fluid level in the tank started to drop. Zharek was draining it! Lines and tiny devices detached from her body and floated away. She relaxed further, and Nythian released her wrists. His hands slipped down to her waist as their feet touched the bottom of the tank.

  The blue liquid dropped past her head, her shoulders, her chest, her belly, disappearing through tiny pores in the dark floor of the tank. Nythian unpeeled the flexible membrane covering her head and removed the pods from her ears. Her head and face were completely dry, in contrast to her bare skin, which was coated in a layer of viscous blue liquid.

  She quickly started to dry, heat dissipating out of her body, goosebumps rising on her skin.

  Alexis’s eyes were drawn to something dark and strange… her hand.

  “Whoa,” she blurted, transfixed by the obsidian second skin that covered her hand like a black glove, ending just below her wrist. Not a single trace of Tharian blue remained.

  “It’s a flexible, permeable barrier of nanoparticles,” Zharek explained. “All I’ve done is construct another layer of skin over yours, only this one has Callidum particles woven into it.” He sat behind his holo-monitors, his hands flying over the controls. “The cellular transformation that Anuk initiated is reminiscent of a DNA-modifying virus. I still haven’t figured out how she did it, but it seems to spread whenever you lose consciousness or lose neurological control or fall asleep. Ordinarily, I would have suggested that you simply stay awake, but we can’t have that, so I came up with this barrier. Sleep is especially important for human brains. You people lose your minds impressively quickly when you’re deprived of it.”

  “Sleep-dep is a well-known form of torture,” Alexis said mildly, mimicking Zharek’s wisp of a smile. “But maybe I shouldn’t be telling you that.” As a detective, she’d regularly used the technique to get answers out of human traffickers and their associates. It could break even the most hardened thugs.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not selling out your race. Most humans aren’t our enemies, and if we have to interrogate or torture anyone, there are far more effective techniques than that.” Zharek’s mild tone belied the chilling nature of his words. These creatures were so technologically advanced that they could crush humans like bugs if they wanted.

  She started to shiver, and it wasn’t just because of the cold. It was so easy to forget that she still knew very little about these silver-skinned aliens.

  “Zharek,” Nythian growled. “Enough chit-chat. Get us out of here.” They were still pressed against one another, and Alexis suddenly became very conscious of how much skin she was showing.

  Arms, legs, midriff, back…

  She was practically undressed, yet he was still encased in his combat gear, which had dried remarkably quickly. Did the seamless obsidian suit possess special properties?

  Not fair! She was far too exposed. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as he held her a little tighter, his hands firm and protective as they encircled her waist.

  The center of the tank magically split in two, smooth transparent glass sliding apart to form a person-sized opening.

  “Let’s get you into something warm,” Nythian said as he ushered her out of the tank. Alexis’s eyes widened as he barked a command at Zharek’s assistant in Kordolian.

  The assistant—Mareth—was intimidating in his own right. Almost as big as Nythian, he was all muscle and power, more warrior than medic. A pale scar crossed his left eye, giving him a roguish look.

  But he deferred to Nythian immediately, disappearing and emerging seconds later with a dark robe in his hands.

  There was a hierarchy here. Tarak was the boss, but Nythian was clearly able to command these medics.

  Zharek was even a little bit afraid of him.

  She stared at Nythian, then at her arm, experimentally flexing her fingers. Everything worked fine. It just looked like her hand had been dipped in ink. How was she supposed to explain that one away? Tell people it was a weird tattoo?

  “I’ve stabilized all of the, uh, infected cells with Callidum nano-particles,” Zharek explained. “If you want to understand the molecular genetics behind it, I—”

  “It’s okay, Zharek.” Alexis shook her head. “I’m not interested in the details. Bioscience was never my strong point. Please just tell me I’m not going to wake up to any more random surprises.”

  “Nope,” Zharek said. “And enjoy the solitu
de.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, she’s gone to sleep, hasn’t she?”

  “Anuk?” Alexis blinked. “You can tell all that?”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye on the electrical activity in your brain. She’s definitely gone to sleep. Oh, and you can still do the thing,” Zharek said quietly.

  “The thing?”

  “Death-touch. It’s poison, a powerful neurotoxin. The glands are innervated; they respond to mental commands. I’m guessing there’s some sort of technique to it, though. Probably doesn’t come naturally. You’ll need to learn, but in the meantime, be careful. Between Anuk, yourself, and the Silent One, you should be able to figure out how to make it all work.”

  Nythian silently accepted the deep blue robe from Mareth and draped it across her shoulders. Alexis pulled it around her cold bare skin It was thick and sumptuous and deliciously warm, just like him.

  “Well, Alexis, with a bit of training, you will still have the ability to kill with a touch—at least Kordolians, and by extension, humans. I would think that might come in handy in this post-Imperial Universe, no?”

  “Hm. That’s interesting.” Not sounding surprised at all, Nythian rubbed her upper arm, his touch intimate and reassuring. “A useful weapon. You’re a warrior, aren’t you?”

  How did he know? “I’ve had basic combat training.” She shrugged, feeling weirdly self-conscious.

  She never got self-conscious like this.

  “This weapon of yours is only as dangerous as you want it to be,” Nythian said softly. “With time, you’ll learn how to control it.” He leaned in, and she drowned in his warmth, his scent, the roughness of his voice, the dazzling sheen of his skin. “If you have enemies that are out for your blood, you shouldn’t take any advantage for granted, Alexis.”

  Zharek and Mareth faded into the background as Nythian invaded her entire awareness. Her cheeks grew warm, her heartbeat went into overdrive, the spark in her belly became a wild coil of heat. “And if they’re Kordolians like you?” She sounded a little breathless.