City Of Tears

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* * * * *

This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (menage).

Saebin, can you hear me? It’s time to wake up.

Relentless pounding compressed Saebin’s skull, making the voice almost impossible to discern. She struggled within the darkness, twisting uselessly. Muddled. Numb. Why did she feel so strange?

Concentrate! I haven’t much time. The portal’s about to close.

Focusing on the voice decreased the pain.
Who are you? How do you know my name?
No, that wasn’t right. She knew this voice, but Krystabel was dead.

You must listen carefully. I’ve released the full scope of your Mystic power, but you must not let them figure out what I’ve done. Hide within the suit
. Do not
let them realize you’re in control. Do you understand?

Fragmented images flashed within her mind. The Center consumed by flames, Dr. Hydran’s lifeless eyes, and D-159 — the emotionless assassin into which she’d been transformed.

Am I dead?

No, but they’re only keeping you alive so they can figure out how your implants work
. The intoxicating smell of flowers teased her nose and curled through her head.
You must escape before they
 — The scent grew stronger, cloying and sweet.
I have … to go.

Blazing pain sliced into Saebin’s brain and shot down her spine. She screamed, jerking away from the source of the agony.

“You told me she was in stasis!” A deep male voice intensified the pain.

“She
is
in stasis. I tried to disengage her main sensor ring, and it triggered some sort of discharge.”

Dread doused the fire sizzling across Saebin’s nerve endings. Why was her handler here? The Center had been liberated. Dr. Hydran was dead.

Saebin forced her body to relax.
Assess the situation, inventory your surroundings
. The rhythmic beeping of sensors cut through the roaring in her ears. She was restrained face down on a flat surface, likely a treatment table.

“Is she conscious or not?” the man snapped.

“Her brain waves have intensified, but she’s had mental spikes before. It was a sensor anomaly, nothing more.” Her handler had been at Hydran’s side as Saebin was tortured and trained, methodically subdued until only D-159 remained. “Damn it. Something
is
going on. Her heartbeat is erratic.”

Saebin concentrated on her breathing. Escape. She must escape.

“If she’s stockpiled enough energy to bring herself out of stasis, we need Lyrik now.”

“Are you sure?” Her handler moved closer to the table, her voice hushed and urgent. “You’ve only seen a hint of her true potential. Do you want your son exposed to —”

“He’s immune to Mystic energy and all the abilities it generates.” He paused. Saebin detected a soft click, then three staccato beeps. “Lyrik, report to Lab A in Detention Center Three. And move your ass, boy — this is important.” Three slightly lower beeps ended the transmission. “Besides, the Rodytes arrive tomorrow. We need Lyrik otherwise occupied.”

“I’ll have a medical team monitor her stats until your son arrives. She can’t be allowed to see me. There’s no telling how she’d react.”

“Are you going to decrease the sedative or just wait and see what happens?”

“The levels I’ve been pumping into her would have killed any normal person. I can’t believe she’d just wake up on her own.”

Ignoring the pain ricocheting through her body, Saebin opened her eyes. Her handler was not going to slink away into the shadows. And neither was this man. She gathered Mystic energy, visualizing her next move as the pressure built. Her skin tingled. Her heartbeat raced.

“Get out!” her handler screamed.

Saebin launched an energy pulse and pushed to her hands and knees. Her stiff muscles protested with violent spasms. Her handler was half a step behind the other man as they bolted for the door. No! Closing her hand into a tight fist, Saebin discharged an energy stream. It fell short, sizzling against the floor in a useless shower of sparks.

Alarms shrilled, and lights flashed. Saebin leapt down from the table, groaning as her knees buckled. Why was she so weak? How long had she been in stasis?

A flurry of activity drew her attention to the transparent panels across the lab. Five armed guards rushed down the corridor. Pushing back to her feet, she rolled her shoulders and flexed her hands. Her knuckle conduits had been capped. No wonder the shot missed her handler. Aiming at the floor, she forced energy out the thin tube implanted in her middle knuckle. The stream was tiny at first, then pressure built up behind the blockage and burst out, drilling a hole in the floor.

After clearing her other knuckle, she turned her attention to the doorway. What sort of leader ran for cover while his men rushed forward to fight? The man spoke with authority, yet his actions revealed his cowardice.

The doors parted, and two men advanced, one crouching as the other aimed his weapon over the first man’s head. Nice formation. Saebin dropped them both with a pulse of energy.

“Shit!”

She heard the curse from somewhere beyond the doorway as the unconscious guards were dragged out of the way. Her vision blurred, and static hissed along her sensory inputs. Widening her stance, she dragged air into her burning lungs. A couple knuckle shots and two black-out bursts shouldn’t have drained her this badly.

The guards tried a new formation. One man crouched while two stood behind him. Not very creative, but it would have been effective on an ordinary enemy. She shook her head, and they fell into an untidy heap, only one getting off a shot.

“You’re making quite a mess.”

A tall, blond man stepped over the fallen men and joined her in the lab. She aimed her right hand at the middle of his chest, her eyes narrowed and assessing. Supple, dark brown pants hugged his lean hips before disappearing into black boots. A bright green shirt perfectly matched the emerald flash of his eyes. She swallowed hard as her gaze moved over his striking features. Her breathing hitched, and her nipples hardened before her armor sent a calming pulse to counteract his effect on her anatomy.

You are D-159, an emotionless warrior. You cannot notice the breadth of his shoulders or the intensity of his gaze.

This had to be Lyrik. Only someone immune to Mystic energy would possess such a swagger. He’d just watched five of his comrades fall! If she weren’t so depleted, she’d test the strength of his immunity. Instead she raised her other hand and widened her eyes as if she’d just sent a pulse his way.

“State your objective.” She kept her voice even and mechanical.

“I’m not the one attacking people, sweet cheeks. What has you so pissed off?” She wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. He was stalking her, his gaze ever watchful.

Her energy level was building slowly. She could feel strength returning to her legs. Still, she needed time and information before she made her next move. Reinforcing her role with a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. “What is my objective?”

Careful to keep his exasperation from showing, Lyrik groaned inwardly. “Your objective is to answer my questions.”

“That is not a proper objective. You are not a proper handler.”

Ding, ding, ding, give the woman a prize!

She stood stiff and defiant, her fist pointed at the middle of his chest. Her long, tawny hair had been cut in dramatic layers, concealing the neurostimulators implanted beneath her scalp. The unusual hairstyle accented the delicate purity of her face. Wide blue eyes dominated her other features, the color gently swirling with a mixture of hues. How could someone so lethal appear so innocent? Matte-black body armor encased every curve and hollow of her tall, long-limbed form. Eight similar suits had been brought back from Earth after the destruction of Operation Hydra, but she wore the only suit still functioning.

He crossed his arms over his chest. She’d been in stasis for over a cycle. He had no idea why the medical team had chosen today to bring her out. His briefing had been rudimentary at best. She was out of control. He was to get her into one of the interrogation rooms. Security was to monitor them closely and destroy her at the first sign of aggression. Apparently, the mysteries of her implants were no longer enough to protect her life.

“Do you know where you are?” He tried to sound casual, as if she weren’t pointing a lethal weapon at his heart.

“My location is irrelevant until I understand my objective.” She narrowed her gaze and pressed her lips into a grim line.

All of the other inhabitants of ward D were dead. Their implants had malfunctioned, or they had gone mad and taken their own lives. Could she sense their absence? The research team suspected they shared a sort of common consciousness.

Enough speculation. He had to get her out of this lab. “What are proper objectives for …” Shit, he’d forgotten her numerical name. “State your designation.” He hardened his voice, using the tone he reserved for insubordinate ensigns.

“My designation is D-159.”

“What is a proper objective for D-159?”

“Search and destroy, search and rescue, or assassination.”

Charming resume
. Shame rolled in on the heels of his smartass thought. She hadn’t done this to herself; she’d never had a choice in any of it. He sighed, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Saebin. Her name was Saebin. She was a victim just like all the other occupants of the Center — and victims needed to be rescued.

“Your objective is search and rescue.”

“Objective accepted.” A vacant look came into her eyes. The rotation slowed, allowing him to distinguish each individual color — cerulean, vibrant azure, and sparkling silver. He’d never seen eyes so cold, yet so beautiful. That sort of summed up the whole package. “Routine launched; provide data.”

Okay, Commander, start providing data
. This was as close as they’d come to a conversation, and her life depended on his creativity.

“Initiate an internal scan and report your energy levels.” Her Mystic fit had to have taken its toll.

“D-159 is in need of sustenance.”

“You will come with me.” He turned toward the open doorway, releasing a ragged sigh when she lowered her hand. As soon as she stepped into the corridor, she shot out the surveillance panel. He marched her down the corridor. She blasted each panel they passed. Pausing outside the interrogation room, he scowled at her. “You will not disable the surveillance in this room.”

“The primary objective supersedes all others. A real handler would know that.”

“What is the primary objective?”

“Survival.”

How could he argue with that?

They moved into the small, austere room, and she shot out three of the transmitters. She missed the camera hidden behind the recessed light fixture, but that feed only led to the control booth — until security could tap into it.

“Feel better?” He shook his head and ignored the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite her dislike for surveillance, she hadn’t threatened him in any way. “Sit down. You will conserve your energy for the coming assignment. There will be no more outbursts. Do you understand?”

“Affirmative.” She pulled out one of the two alloy chairs and folded her hands on the table. Her gaze focused on his face, and cunning flashed for a moment before she looked away. Lyrik recoiled.
Make sure she’s not playing you. She’s got the training of a soldier and the wiles of a woman. That’s one dangerous combination.

He tapped an area on the control band strapped to his forearm, and ankle restraints snapped into place. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“Where is my handler?” There was a hint of animosity in her tone.

“There’s been an accident.” He really didn’t want the responsibility, but he saw no alternative. “I’m your handler now. D-159, acknowledge my authority.”

“I heard her voice,” she challenged. “I know she’s here. Where is —”

“Acknowledge my authority,
now
.”

She raised her chin and gazed beyond him, her face expressionless again. “You are my handler. How shall I address you?”

“Sir.”

“I await your command, sir.”

Now that sounded downright sarcastic. What was she up to?

“My command is simple. Eat, drink, and cause no more harm.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lyrik paused in the corridor and rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension gathering at the base of his neck. The first time he’d seen Saebin had been on a vidfile. She had been battling Vee, the most powerful Mystic on Ontariese, and she’d kicked his ass. After rendering Vee unconscious, she’d gone into a prolonged seizure. Lyrik had been sure no one could have survived it, but here she was, ready to battle again.

Taking the corridor to his left, he entered the control booth and activated the vidscreen. Good, it was still functioning. He forwarded the information to security and glanced back at Saebin. She sat in exactly the same position she’d been in when he left. Was there a woman locked inside the implants, or had Saebin been lost long ago?

Heaving a ragged sigh, he tapped in the code for his father’s private office. Overlord Cyrus came on screen. Gray-streaked brown hair framed his weathered face. His features were rugged and commanding. A close cropped beard framed his thin-lipped mouth.

“Is she still alive?” Cyrus asked without preamble.

“So far.”

“I heard she shot out surveillance to the room.”

“She has a thing about being watched apparently. Security is monitoring my audiocom, but that’s the best we can do for now. She’s calm and relatively cooperative. I was about to send for a meal tray.”

“Is it safe to send in a staffer?” Cyrus sounded wary. It took a lot to intimidate his father. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? “I can’t believe what that slip of a girl did to my men.”

“Are you alone, sir?”

One of Cyrus’s eyebrows arched dramatically. “Are you going to reprimand me?”

They balanced a fine line. As father and son they enjoyed an easy rapport, but Overlord Cyrus demanded respect, whether or not he’d earned it.

“Your entire staff watched the vidfile of what she did back on Earth.” Lyrik kept his tone even, his expression composed. “She was put into stasis during a battle. You should have expected aggression when she was released.”