Dragon: Allie's War Book Nine (11 page)

Even Chandre.

He’d been spending a hell of a lot of time locked up in private meetings with Tarsi and Balidor, which was part of it.

I knew Wreg was a little offended at being cut out of those meetings. I pointed out that I hadn’t been invited either, but that didn’t seem to reassure Wreg much…or Yumi, for that matter, who also seemed vaguely offended about the same thing.

I knew they all wanted to help Revik figure out whatever was wrong with his light, in terms of the trigger Menlim put there. I also understood why Revik kept that list short. We couldn’t afford to let anyone in who might end up being that mole.

Even so, it was hard not to react when I felt some of our closest friends taking Revik’s secrecy thing personally.
I
knew it wasn’t personal, but it was getting harder and harder to convince anyone else of that. Revik was just paranoid, and cautious…and well, paranoid. But convincing Wreg and Chandre there wasn’t more to it hadn’t been easy.

Now with Feigran talking about inner circle moles, that paranoia would only get worse. Moreover, I could already feel Wreg putting two and two together and wondering if Revik trusted him as much as he’d always assumed.

And yeah, that hurt.

I couldn’t see how it could be helped, though. I knew all of that shit would get worse before it got better, too.

What do you think?
I sent to Revik.

I felt him let out a disbelieving sound.
What do I think? I think there’s a mole, Alyson. We knew that. Now it’s confirmed. It doesn’t change shit.
He paused briefly, then added,
And don’t worry about Wreg.

I nodded, but didn’t really feel it.

Biting my lip again, I glanced back at the virtual horizon, watching the clouds.

You don’t think this is some kind of game, then?
I sent.
With Feigran, I mean.

No. And it would be irrelevant, even if it was,
Revik sent. His thoughts remained hard.
How the fuck could he know those things, Allie, without a mole?

I swear I could hear his accent even through the Barrier. It always tended to get stronger when he was angry or upset about something.

I stayed silent though, listening to him.

…
Even if Terry’s fucking with us,
Revik added.
He still knows things he shouldn’t. He’s given us enough evidence and from a wide enough time span that the implications are pretty hard to dispute. Anyway, it’s irrelevant, like I said. Them leaking the facts to us deliberately doesn’t make those facts not true.

I nodded, my jaw hardening a little more.
What if he got all of that off us? While we were in Dubai?
I pressed.
Is that possible?

Again, I felt Revik shake his head.

No,
he sent.
I didn’t even know some of that stuff back then. Are you saying Menlim or Terry hacked
Balidor
while we were in Dubai? Balidor wasn’t even
in
the Dreng construct, Allie…and if they can hack ‘Dori we’ve got a fuck of a lot bigger problems than a mole.

I pressed my lips together, not answering.

Even so, I looked down at Feigran, wishing I could read him better.

The next time Revik spoke, his thoughts felt subdued.

I’m sorry,
he sent.

I sighed but felt a flicker of relief.

What’s up with you?
I sent.
Seriously. Are you okay?

Not really.
He took a breath; I almost heard that, too. I felt him hesitate somewhere in that breath, right before his thoughts turned harder again.
Did you really send Chan down to the front lines? To that wall, where the humans are detonating suicide bombs?

I paused on that, momentarily confused.

Yeah,
I sent.
So?

I felt a ripple of irritation off his light.
I wish you’d talked to me first.

Sorry,
I began, still taken aback, but recovering enough to realize he was right, that I hadn’t checked with him at all.
I figured she fell under me and ‘Dori now, because of––

Okay. Right. I get it. Can we talk about it later, Allie?

Still reacting a bit, I nodded, using my fingers to comb hair out of my eyes. It was getting really long again. I probably needed to cut it.

It’s fucking sexy,
Revik sent, sending a pulse of heat.

I felt a peace offering in that and smiled. Even so, I rolled my eyes a bit.

I sent,
You are such a guy.

A guy?

The long hair thing.

I felt him shrug, but also back off with his light. His next thoughts came out polite.
I don’t care about that. Cut it, if you want.

I laughed, shaking my head.
Liar.

I’m not lying,
he sent.

I smiled, refocusing my eyes on Feigran.
In terms of talking later, I’ve already asked Wreg and Jon to babysit Lily tonight. I hope that was okay.

Dead silence.

Revik might as well have disappeared; I couldn’t feel him at all.

Revik…
I sighed.

Alyson.
He cut me off.
Of course it’s okay.

His tone said anything but. It also held an open warning.

I understood that warning, too. Forcing a shrug, I gestured in seer––at no one, really, since I was in the cab of the truck alone.

So…
I said, still fighting to keep my reactions to myself.
Should I try to get any more off him? Feigran? Or leave it for now?

I’ll ask ‘Dori. Give us a minute.

Still fighting to keep my expression and light neutral, I just nodded.

I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing in here. I’d felt a pull to come down here, strong enough to get me off the roof in the middle of a job. It felt important. A lot more important that talking in circles about a mole that Feigran couldn’t tell us jack-shit about. I wondered if my radar was off again…then I wondered if Feigran had called me down here himself. Maybe he’d been bored. Who the hell knew with him? After all, he’d already demonstrated his skill in sidestepping rigorously intense security protocols.

Even Barrier containment tanks.

Folding my arms, I replanted my feet, gazing into the virtual horizon while I felt Revik talk to ‘Dori in the observation room. As I did, my eyes drifted down to Feigran’s hands.

They refocused at once.

I found myself looking…really looking…at what Feigran was drawing.

Unfolding my arms, I moved closer, until I was standing directly behind him in the virtual construct. I looked over his shoulder, watching as he continued to fill in details with the charcoal pencil, fleshing out an image he appeared to be about halfway through completing.

“Who is that?” I said.

Feigran looked up at me.

When he didn’t speak right away, I crouched behind him, leaning closer to the image. I stared down at it, taking in the heavy and light black lines.

“Feigran?” I said, pointing. “Who is that?”

“Dragon,” he muttered.

Dragon. That was a first.

He usually drew people I knew.

“Dragon?” I said. “Who is that?”

“The anchor,” Feigran said.

He glanced up and over his shoulder at me. It struck me suddenly, looking at his face and those serious amber eyes, just how close I was to him. Closer than I’d let myself get to his body even in virtual, maybe since we’d taken him captive. I knew he couldn’t hurt me in here, even with the life-simulation controls; moreover, I seriously doubted he would.

Even so, I usually kept my distance.

I don’t know why. Habit maybe.

Or maybe because, as much as I knew this wasn’t Terry, my memories of Feigran’s more sadistic alter ego hadn’t dissipated enough for me to want to get all that close.

“The anchor?” I pursed my lips. “The anchor of what?”

I didn’t move away from where I crouched, and Feigran grinned at me, our faces less than a foot apart. When he didn’t answer in words, I leaned down, tapping the charcoal with my finger.

“And what are these?” I said.

“Bombs,” he said promptly.

“Bombs,” I muttered, still staring at the image.

That answer surprised me less. After all, I’d been dreaming pieces of Feigran’s drawing since I was a kid. Bombs falling on an Asian city…a city that looked a hell of a lot like how I remembered Beijing looking when I’d been there last.

Of course, my dreams had surround-sound, in addition to the horrifying images. In my dreams I heard air raid sirens, screaming, honking horns as people tried to evacuate in a panic…and eventually I heard faraway impact concussions, too.

In the foreground of Feigran’s skyline was an image of what had to be a seer.

He stood at somewhat of an angle, looking backwards towards the two of us.

I could see part of his face as a result, even though Feigran had drawn it partly in shadow. I could see most of his back, too. Unlike the rest of the seers and humans depicted, his light eyes didn’t focus up at the buildings and falling bombs.

Instead, he seemed to be glaring at me.

Truthfully, he looked a little like Revik…but the light signature behind the image, what Feigran had woven into the picture in terms of aleimi, felt nothing like my husband.

His black hair looked matted, mane-like where it twisted windblown around his neck and shoulders. He wore a strange collar, connected to some kind of armored helmet over his face and wrapping around the back of his dark hair; it included what looked like a metal gag, some kind of restraint over his mouth, nose and jaw. I might have thought it was an elaborate sight-restraint collar but for that strange gag covering most of his lower face.

He looked…feral. That was the only word for it.

Like a genetically-designed soldier.

His clothes hung off him, tattered by burns and cuts apart from the organic helmet and two crossing bands that might have been weapons’ harnesses. He wore military-style boots, but those looked half-destroyed, as well. His skin, where it showed, was filthy, coated in smoke…patterned in dark streaks that might have been dirt, cuts, bruises, dried blood.

He didn’t have an ounce of spare flesh on him, but the seer’s muscles stood out under his skin in hard cords. I saw his collar bones in the glimpse of his upper chest that Feigran drew, but also a thick bunch of muscle at his shoulders and along his arms.

The detail kind of blew my mind.

I could almost feel a presence there. Moreover, something about that presence…assuming, again, that I wasn’t reading way too much into this…felt familiar, too.

Familiar enough to make me glance to my right, where I knew a one-way window lived outside the cab of the truck. I couldn’t see the window of course, much less through it, but I knew it was there, behind the virtual projection. I also knew a make-shift security booth stood there, along with the interface with Dante’s machines.

Getting no response from the link I wore or the Barrier, I turned my frown back towards Feigran himself.

“Why is he wearing that?” I asked, pointing at the muzzle-like device. “Feigran? What is that thing over his mouth?”

“He is Dragon,” Feigran said, as if that explained it.

“Yeah. I got that part. What does that mean?”

Feigran blinked, glancing up at me. “He breathes. Life with words…with his tongue. He breathes
life
…in and out, in and out. He wants to be free. He wishes only to be free.”

I settled my weight on my heels, frowning deeper.

Then I slid closer to him, so that we nearly touched. Reaching out, I laid a hand tentatively on the seer’s narrow shoulder. “Help me out here, Feigran,” I said, soft. “What does that mean, to breath life? Is he some kind of weapon?”

Feigran leaned into my hand, resting his head on my chest.