"I have no idea why he wishes to see you, but one does not refuse a request from a right hand of the Mighty." Gavin's mumbled words confused me, but I didn't turn in his direction. No, my eyes stayed on the visitor. Had my mind worked a little better in my confusion, I might have wondered how it was he'd known to visit me. The term the Mighty might have piqued my interest, too, but all that took a back seat to what was in front of me.
"Trajan Gibson," the tall man held out a hand. I didn't know whether to close my mouth or take the offered hand, first. It didn't matter—Trajan closed the distance and took my fingers in his. My mouth snapped shut shortly after.
* * *
"I had a better vision," Rabis said. Ashe turned sharply. He'd gotten mindspeech from his grandfather shortly after he'd returned to SouthStar with Trajan. They'd gone out briefly for supplies but hadn't stayed long—Ashe felt it was too dangerous.
"Better how?" Ashe asked.
"I saw her for more than a few Earth seconds, this time. She seems frightened. In danger, too, but very, very close. If I were to estimate, I'd say within a day or two."
"Really?" Ashe felt real hope for the first time in decades. "Will she—still need help?"
"Yes," Rabis' eyes had gone dark with prophecy. "More so now than ever. You must take a great deal of care and make sure she is not upset."
* * *
"I had to drop the Mighty's name. Gavin didn't want me to see you," Trajan led me through the Queen's arboretum later, my hand tucked firmly on his arm. I'd barely spoken—all I could do was stare. This time, I found my voice.
"He doesn't want anybody to see me," I sighed.
"Look, I sort of figured this out, Ashe gave me the talent," Trajan grinned. His grin was worth a lot to me—nobody had smiled at me in a while. "What I can't figure out," he added, "is why Gavin's being such an ass."
"Being an ass is his raison d'etre," I pointed out.
"You know, I've heard that before. From other people. Ashe seems to like him, though."
"I have no idea why."
"Look, I hear this is your day off. Why don't you come home with me? Bill can feed us lunch."
"Lunch?" My responses could certainly use help, I decided.
"Yeah. You know—food?"
"I'm vegetarian," I said.
"I think we can still find something for you. Bill's pretty good at that."
"I want to come," I said. I did. If Trajan asked, I think I'd be willing to go anywhere.
"Good enough. Gavin said to send mindspeech when I was done talking to you. He didn't say where we had to talk, did he?" Trajan was grinning again. Yeah, I was smiling right back at him.
Did I say I couldn't read Trajan? I couldn't. That didn't matter in the least to me. I'd taken one look at his face and that was it. He could fold space, too. Easily. And where he took me, I can't begin to describe properly.
"Gishi fruit trees. Miles of 'em," Trajan said, as I stared at an enormous grove of trees.
"This is where the ice cream comes from," I whispered in awe. I couldn't see the end of the trees—they disappeared beyond my gaze in a greenish-gray mist.
"The ice cream comes from EastStar. They have the patent, but I know the owners," Trajan said, running a gentle hand over my shoulders. His hands were large with a few calluses from hard work, the nails trimmed neatly.
"You get ice cream whenever you want?"
"Yeah. They always send enough to keep us until the next harvest," he said.
"I only got to eat it once, and it was heaven in a cup," I said.
"It is," Trajan agreed. "Come on, I'll take you to the house and introduce you to Bill. Ashe may come in, too. I want to show him what I found." Did I know he was going to lean down and kiss my forehead? No. Did I mind? Hell, no.
The house turned out to be a palace. Nearly as big as the palace on Le-Ath Veronis, I found I liked it better. Shining white walls, blue domes trimmed in gold, it was something from a fairy tale. One I wouldn't mind living in.
"Bill Jennings," Bill introduced himself. Yes, I stared. I knew him. Or at least knew of him.
"Bill Jennings, Director of the Joint NSA and Homeland Security Department? That Bill Jennings?" I squeaked.
"How did you know?" Bill was curious and surprisingly not upset that I knew his face.
"I'm from Texas," I gave him my best Texas accent and held out my hand.
"Really?" Trajan settled onto a barstool standing next to the largest kitchen island I'd ever seen in my life. "I'm from Texas, too. If my brother hadn't told me to come take a look at you," he shook his head in confusion.
"Trace is your brother." Yes, I'd seen Trace. Had only done a quick read on him—there hadn't been much time to devote to him and the others at NorthStar.
"I almost blew him off," Trajan grinned. "Man, look what I would have missed." He pulled me onto the barstool next to his, while Bill served potato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Bill then sat down with us to eat as we talked.
I'll admit I was comfortable with Trajan and Bill, as we ate and talked about nothing in particular. Yes, I knew Trajan had to be werewolf—Trace was. I'd seen that when I'd read him. William Winkler, whom I'd only seen once in passing, was also a werewolf.
"I know werewolves don't know every other werewolf," I said, touching Trajan's hand lightly. "But do you know Winkler?"
"I was his Second," Trajan grinned. "We talk now and then. He still gets a little pissy because I ended up here and left him behind."
"You didn't have anything to do with that, and you know it," Bill pointed his spoon at Trajan.
"Guess not." Trajan grinned again.
"Trajan?" I heard the voice. No scent came with it, though, telling me that the voice's owner was shielded.
"In here, boss," Trajan called out. The man who walked into the kitchen had me gaping again. If I'd thought I was attracted to Trajan, this one nearly blew me away. Sure, Trajan might be considered slightly more handsome, but this one—this one had a gravitational pull greater than Avendor's sun. What came out of his mouth next made sure I'd never feel the same about him (or Trajan) again.
"Trajan!" he shouted. "What the hell? Get her the fuck out of here. Of all the times to bring a woman into this house! Get out! Get her the hell out!"
Trajan folded me away from SouthStar so fast it left me dizzy and feeling ill. Did he stay on Le-Ath Veronis and attempt to explain? Not on your life.
* * *
"According to her records, Kalia Sollo is barely thirty-eight turns and looks younger," Lendill observed. "She prefers to be called Kay. Her marriage certificate shows she was nineteen when she married Cull Sollo. Only we all know that wasn't his name. I wonder if she knows that. I wonder, too, who he really was."
"I'm certain she knew it was an alias. I believe she could tell us all about him and who he was before, along with why the most sought after assassin in both Alliances is hunting her," Norian growled.
Norian was obsessed with Kalia Sollo ever since she'd mentioned Iversti Foculis' name. So many names might be connected to that one, and all of them were wanted criminals who operated inside both Alliances.
Norian had also seen images of the scars on Kalia's torso—the symbols carved into her flesh were well-known to him. Countless victims had borne those marks when Norian viewed their remains. He was puzzled that Kalia bore Iversti's marks and still lived; all the others were dead.
The news of the assassin's death was almost a cause for joy in his opinion; she'd admitted to Lendill that Iversti was dead. Rezil, Iversti's brother, however, was very much alive—he'd heard rumblings that Rezil had been seen twice, but managed to avoid capture both times. Norian's fingers twitched at the idea that Rezil's appearance and Kalia Sollo's move from Campiaa to Avendor were connected.
"We need to question her again—longer this time," Norian muttered. "I want Jayd to come with us, too. He owes me a favor for tracking that rogue High Demon three years ago, and I need his Guli's skills for this. When I show images of criminals to this one," he tapped Kalia's image on his comp-vid, "Jayd can tell me when she's lying. We'll ask if she was ever involved with crime, too, and that'll give us an excuse to arrest her."
"You may have a fight on your hands, Keef," Lendill pointed out. "Franklin has taken to her; calls her his sister. You may have a war when Merrill and Kiarra get back. You don't need a war with the Saa Thalarr, boss."
"Then we'll take her before they get back. I'm not afraid of one of their healers."
"I'm not worried about a healer, unless it's Karzac," Lendill muttered. "But I do worry about the healer's parents."
"Look, she may be able to lead us to some of the worst we've dealt with recently," Norian snapped. "Admit it; we've heard rumors that Rezil has worked for Cayetes upon occasion. You want Hordace Cayetes, don't you?"
"You know I do. I just don't want to hear from Reah if we do this the wrong way."
"Let me worry about that," Norian said and pulled a Ranos pistol and holster from a desk drawer. "Let me worry about that."
* * *
Kay's Journal
I wanted to weep and snap at Lendill Schaff as I walked past him and into the cell reserved for questioning prisoners. He'd been standing there, his arms crossed smugly over his chest while I was ushered unwillingly into the Campiaa City CSD Headquarters. Trace and Franklin insisted on coming along, but they'd been ordered to stay in an uncomfortable waiting room near the entrance while I was taken into the bowels of the building.
Frank and Trace had argued with Lendill when he showed up at NorthStar, demanding to ask more questions. He'd brought a pistol and two agents with him, Frank and Trace lost the argument and here I was, back on Campiaa as they shoved me inside an interrogation room and shut the door. Norian Keef, Director of the ASD, had come to stand beside Vice-Director Schaff while I'd been led inside the room and told to sit.
They'd leave me alone for a while, watch me on hidden vid-cameras and give me enough time to crumble, I'm sure. I almost did; I was as shaky as I could possibly be while the younger, more frightened part of myself wanted to scream and cry. Those thoughts were shoved down—there was no dignity and certainly no purpose in either of those things—Norian Keef and Lendill Schaff would never be moved by anything as mundane as sympathy for a frightened woman.
The scenario that was sure to follow went this way; I'd refuse to tell them anything and they'd lock me up. Simple. Direct. There might never be freedom for me again. I had to come to terms with that. Taking a moment to silently curse whomever or whatever had placed me in this situation, I jerked upright in the less than comfortable chair I sat on when Norian Keef and a man I didn't recognize walked into the room and shut the door.
"You likely know who I am," Norian grinned nastily at me. "But you won't know this one, I think," he nodded toward his companion who was taller, better looking and held a power in his aura lines I hadn't seen before. The man had dark hair, darker eyes and reeked of something frightening. "This is King Jaydevik Rath, of Kifirin," Norian announced. "Do you know what a Guli is?"
"No." My voice was shakier than I wanted it to be.
"A Guli is a truthspeaker," Norian said. "He will know if what you say is the truth or a lie. So please, be honest," he almost laughed. "We will show you a series of vid-images, and you will tell us if you recognize each of them with a yes or no answer," Norian got down to business, clicking a remote to bring a screen on the wall to life. The first image I didn't recognize and I almost breathed a sigh of relief.
"No," I said.
"Truth," Jayd said flatly.
We went through six images that I didn't know before Kabe Nind's image appeared. Clasping my hands tightly in my lap, I whispered my answer, "Yes."
"How do you know him?" Norian hissed.
"I only saw him a few times," I muttered.
"What was he doing? Did you see him committing any crimes or talking about crimes he'd done?"
"He never said anything like that to me," I said.
"Truth," Jayd said.
The next image was Raphel Stoweff. "You know him, too. I saw you wince," Norian accused.
"Yes."
"Did he ever talk of his crimes?"
"Not to me."
"Truth."
Six more images came, all of whom I'd seen before. Whenever Norian asked whether I'd ever talked with them concerning their crimes, the answer was always no, and each time Jayd pronounced my words as truth. The final one made me cringe. Hordace Cayetes' face appeared.
"You know him as well, I can see it," Norian pointed a finger at me. I wanted to shudder and weep. Hordace's image was impotent, and still it managed to frighten me nearly senseless. He couldn't reach through the screen and snatch me back—I knew that. It didn't keep a part of me from wanting to scream in fear and anger anyway.
"How do you know Hordace Cayetes?" Norian was on his feet, vibrating with anger and excitement. "Tell me!"
What was I supposed to do? If they'd let me out of there, I had a way out of all of this. I could tell Norian Keef enough to keep him happy, and if he let me go back with Frank and Trace, a container of pills was available and waiting. They couldn't keep digging—I wouldn't let them.