Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) (16 page)

He ran from the room.

Max rolled the bike into the dusty garage and lowered the rollup door. At last, he had a moment for himself. The knot on his forehead throbbed. He needed to sleep, but he was afraid to. Hunters could get the drop on them if he did.

He sat on the bike, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and wished for his old life back. Remembering the ora in his pocket, he removed it and held it in his open palm. He marveled at how the light passed through its translucent shape. To his surprise, it felt cool.

Running a finger over it, he thought he could hear an ethereal voice sing to him. What it was saying he couldn’t make out, but he swore it was calling. There was one word in particular it repeated until he finally deciphered what it was.

Max
. It was calling his name.

He dropped the crystal and it struck the cement with a musical ring. He froze, afraid it was going to bite him. But, the object lay motionless.

I’m losing my mucking mind
.

He snatched a rag from the tool bench and used it to pick up the ora. After sealing it in a tin can, he hid it under the workbench. Out of sight and out of mind.

Flipping off the light as he left the garage, the voice beckoned again. This time, he wasn’t around to hear it.

Max walked in and went straight to the bedroom. He knocked on the frame, but she didn’t answer. Lifting the curtain, he discovered her asleep on the bedroll. While she lightly snored, he changed out of the Hi-8 clothes and put on an old pair of pants and a faded undershirt. The girl didn’t move. Even on a dirty mattress with cruddy garments tossed about, she looked angelic.

Pushing a pile of clothes off the bed, he laid beside her. She snuggled up to him and he adjusted to accommodate her weight. She wiggled and ended up with her head on his belly. He unwillingly drifted off with his hand gently caressing her hair.

Mending broken ties

Zoe was never one to dream — not since that day when her life descended into endless despair. Yet, somehow she was now dreaming of better times.

From the depths of repression, her hidden desires were becoming reality. What she experienced latched to her sanity and refused to free her back to the realm of the living. If it wasn’t for a detached and persistent urge pleading with her to wake up, she might have stayed where happiness existed, even if that joy was a phantom of a thing long since lost.

She woke to see Patti sitting beside her on a soft bed inside a warm bedroom. In the older woman’s hand was a glowing amber ora. Acting on impulse, Zoe pushed the awful thing away.

“Relax,” the old woman whispered, more comforting in tone than was her style. “I was using it to heal you.”

Moaning, Zoe sat up. Her bare torso was wet from a recently broke fever. Examining her side, she touched a shriveled scar where earlier there had been a nasty gash.

The thought of that abhorrent thing being used on her formed revulsion in the pit of her throat. “Why?”

Patti accepted the contempt, as if caught doing something wrong. “I know how you hate these things, but it was the only way to save your life.”

“I would’ve healed just fine on my own,” she contended, wiping sweat off her brow. “You know that.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. The cut was too bad and you lost a lot of blood. Girlie, you’re not invincible anymore.”

She hated when Patti was right. Even in her younger days, a wound that bad would have still killed her. Whatever was in her genome that gave her unnatural restorative abilities, it could only work small miracles.

She averted eye contact. “I guess I owe you one.”

Unconsciously, Patti brushed a lock of wet hair from Zoe’s forehead. “This reminds me of when he first brought you to me. You were so small, and so sick.”

“I don’t want to talk about the past.”

Patti got up, walked over to the bench seat under the bay window, and sat down. She held her hands in her lap. “By the way... you’re welcome.”

“You could’ve used that thing earlier and saved us a lot of problems.”

“I don’t keep it with me anymore. This was the first time I’ve used it in years.”

Zoe looked at the room. It was tastefully furnished and unobtrusive. Nothing about it reflected what she believed were the sensibilities of the woman sitting under the window. “Where are we?”

“My home.”

It was with the slight reflection of home that she remembered Max. He was alone and without her to protect him.

“Where’s Max?” she shouted, making an effort to stand up. The world spun.

Patti rushed over and helped her sit back on the bed. “I have Tank out there looking for him and the girl. He knows most of Max’s hideaways. It won’t be long.”

“I need to help.”

“No, stay put. You’re of no use to him right now. Don’t worry. We have it covered.”

“I got to help.”

She tried to stand again, but the old woman was more forceful the second time. “Damn it. Will you listen to me for once? Rest. I swear you’re so much like him. He doesn’t listen to me either.”

“Well, can you blame him?”

At her wit’s end, she spoke with authority, “We don’t have time for this. I have a clean shirt set out for you. When you’re ready, come and find me.”

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Zoe accepted the anger as an indictment of her heartless conduct. Patti Luma could be many things, but she always protected those she loved. It wasn’t her fault she was bad at relationships. It was her nature.

Zoe pulled the comforter up to cover her chilled body. It didn’t take long for it to bring warmth. While she rested, the lingering scent of sandalwood and wild rose perfume on the fabric brought out childhood recollections of nights spent in the old woman’s arms.

She pulled the comforter closer and drifted asleep.

The respite was reinvigorating, but also short-lived. The unmistakable crash of brutality jolted her. She launched up in the bed. Motionless and quiet, she listened for another muffled sound to tickle her ears. The next time she heard it, she knew exactly what it was. Snatching the clean shirt from the dresser, she ran off to investigate.

The sounds could have come from anywhere. She went down more than three stories of the brownstone, all the way to the basement before discovering its source. The closer she got, the clearer the noises became and she could discern three distinct people talking.

“Did he have it on him?”

“No.”

“Do you always treat your guests this way?”

There was a thud of a blunt object striking flesh, followed by another.

“Enough!” The excited female was Patti. “You got my boy in trouble. If anything, and I mean anything, happens to him, I’m going to kill you.”

“Go ahead and give it your best shot. I’ve had worse.” The other person was Emil.

There was a slap, indicating she didn’t care for his attitude. “Give it to me and I’ll let you go.”

Zoe crept down the stairs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you have it. Tell me where it is.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re one of them!” He was apprehensive. Someone pulled, or maybe shoved, a weighted chair across the floor. He protested in Romanian.

Zoe rushed in just as Patti raised her glowing crystal to the General’s face. Tied to a wooden chair, he looked like how she felt earlier. Scar was not far from his employer’s side. His knuckles bled from the abuse he had just heaped on the captive.

“You’ll answer me by God, one way or another.”

“Stay away from me, you freak!”

“What’s going on here?” Zoe demanded.

Patti recoiled. “Stay out of this.”

“No.”

“God damn it. He’s the reason Max is out there alone. I have to do this.”

“Please, not like this.”

“What would you have me do? Let Max die, just to save this bastard?”

“Give me a chance. You don’t have to use that — thing.”

Patti threw her arms up and walked to the door. “Make it quick or I do it my way.”

She snapped her fingers and Scar followed her out of the cramped room. Zoe loosened Emil’s bindings.

He strained to move as he rubbed the raw marks on his wrists. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Max and Marta.”

“You were right.”

“About what?”

“I didn’t receive a warm welcome.”

She laughed. “Oh, she was just playing with you. If she really hated you, she would’ve had you talking by now.”

He stood and stretched his tight leg muscles. “I talk to you or she’ll come back in here, is that how this works?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have my mission.”

“To hell with your mission. I’m sick and tired of lies.”

“You don’t understand, Zoe.”

“Help me to.”

He pressed his palms on his temples to relieve the headache. “The Vanguard is broken. We lost. The war is over.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes... I do.”

“What? Are you actually giving up? You’re the
Hi’duck
—“

“Haiduc,” he corrected her.

“Whatever. You’re the legend — the one person who has kept the Alliance on their toes for more than twenty years, laughing in the face of death every step of the way.”

He could tell she was stroking his ego, but he also heard the playful sarcasm in the words. He laughed outright. “Tell me, do you know what the Spire really is?”

“It’s a communication array. That’s all we’ve been able to figure out.”

“Three years ago, we intercepted a coded Alliance communiqué. It talked about the Spire and a timetable for its completion. The Council thought nothing of it. I disagreed. Something struck me as strange, so I dug for more intel.”

“What did you find?”

“The truth. If Zolaris activates that thing, anything linked with it will fall under their control. Not just people, but war machines, too. If that happens, we lose for good.”

“Why haven’t we heard about this?”

“Why would you? The Council didn’t sanction my mission.”

“If what you’re saying is true, how will they use it to control people?”

“The crystal implants those idiots up there are getting, that’s how.”

“That still doesn’t make sense. Humans can’t use the crystals.”

“Yes, but we’re not talking about humans using them. Just look at what your friend Patti was going to do to me. Trancing is a one-way street.”

Zoe understood the science behind trancing. It was a difficult process even under the best of circumstances. To do one concurrently on a global scale would be impossible. If the General was right about the starbursts, then with that simple advantage, it could be possible. “¡
Dios mío
!”

“Yeah,” he added. “The end. Imagine a world with no privacy... no secrets... no free will.”

“What was your plan for stopping them? You didn’t come here without one.”

He didn’t want to say.

“Tell me.”

“The red ora — I was going to use it against them.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t have been able to. Humans can’t use them, remember.”

“I’m not talking about
me
using it. I found someone else who can.”

The truth hit her. “Marta.”

“Yes.”

“It’s her crystal?”

He hesitated. “No.”

“It still wouldn’t work. It only obeys one master — ever.”

“The
ever
part is not true. An ora can react to someone of the same bloodline. Her mother was a Zolarian.”

“Do the Zolarians know about Marta?”

“If they had, they would’ve killed her long ago. Neeres did a good job hiding her.”

“How did you know where to find her?”

Emil scratched his chin whiskers. There was no avoiding the truth. “The ora guided me.”

“I mucking knew it; you’ve been tranced.”

“No, I have not,” he yelled with his fists clenched. He relaxed his posture. “Please, believe me — I am not under a trance.”

She ran fingers through her long peppered hair, a nervous trait she indulged while in deep contemplation. “How can I trust you? You know what they’re capable of. Look at what they did to Adi.”

Adi’s name hit him. He could hear her ghost demanding, how could you let this happen, Haiduc? You killed me.

He flinched, trying to silence the guilt.

“You’re not telling me everything.”

“I knew Marta’s mother. We met during the war.” He paused. “We were lovers.”

She saw where he was going with the revelation. “Marta is your daughter?”

He nodded. “After I
acquired
the ora, I had urges... impulses. I’ve been following breadcrumbs ever since, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle in place.”

“You were going to use your daughter.”

He didn’t dignify her speculation, because he couldn’t deny it. After everything he had done, he wasn’t sure how he felt about his own child.

“Where’s the crystal?”

“I lost it during the firefight. It could be back in their hands by now.”

“I was wrong to trust you.”

She left, unable to stomach being near him. If Patti decided to extract the information she wanted, Zoe would not have intervened again.

The mistress of the manor sat at a mahogany desk, sipping whiskey from an expensive glass.

Her study was a shelter, a reflection of her tastes. Every knick-knack had a specific order. If a visitor were to begin at the oldest piece, one could trace a pattern that told a story of Patti’s life in pantomime detail.

In front of a mahogany mantel was a chaise lounger of burgundy velour, aligned precisely for best heat conduction from the hearth.

Zoe walked in, but she didn’t swivel to face her. Putting the glass to her mouth for a sip, she watched the flames crackle in the fireplace. “Well?”

Chacon relayed everything told to her by Emil, including her own personal feelings about the past day’s events. Patti showed no emotions as she nursed the drink. Once the sordid affair was recounted, she rotated the chair, making it click and clack.

“That’s one heck of a story.”

Expecting more out of her, Zoe waited, but the old woman didn’t say anything else. “Is that all you got?”

“Pretty much. What else do you want me to say?”

“Is it true what he told me?”