Heart Quest (31 page)

The days without her had been excruciating. He cared for nothing, had no passion. Even with battle-readiness flooding his veins, he felt empty, not alive, but as if he was one of his own poppets, filled with a certain energy but no emotion. Time and again throughout the day, he checked on the tiny fiber that was their bond.

Until late in the afternoon he noticed it was gone.

Sheer panic struck, blinding him, freezing him to the spot in the door to the guardhouse outer office.

One of his poppets flew toward him, the face transforming into Cyperus Sedge's.

One of his trip wires fell. An
inner
wire. He shuddered. He might be too late.

 

S
he took one slow, deep breath, exhaled equally gradually,
then sucked in air fast and deep and grabbed her Flair and
screamed,
dismissing the dim spell on Greyku's fur.

Other screams as Greyku moved.
I find amulet!

No
—But the kitten ignored her. Trif sensed her speeding around the room. Flexing and leaping so that the painted eyes rippled with horrific strangeness. Trif didn't know how long that would stop the cult.

Only one thing to do. Trif gathered her Flair, flung everything she had into envisioning the past, and as the wave of psi power rushed outward, others were caught in her vision.

The vision of the past—the ancient past of Earth.

The bloodiest one that had haunted her childhood, lingered through her Passages. For once she was glad to see it.

Long lines of men wearing different-colored uniforms, faces twisted in fury and fear, ran at each other, waving swords and holding tubes that shot projectiles—guns. Two armies of soldiers. Huge booms shattered the quiet. Artillery. A clump of men burst into bloody pieces, limbs and heads flying, leaving long arcs of spurting blood.

The scent of death infused the air.

Screams in the here and now ripped from the cultists' throats. A rising screech of horror.

Sounds of people colliding—with each other and bumping against furniture and walls. They gibbered, they swore. Among the cascade of words were some that freed Trif 's head.

 

A
huge wave of Flair exploded through Ilex's link with
Trif. He was caught in an awful vision of bloody fighting. Men screaming, clashing, stabbing with bayonets attached to
guns
. Then the guns erupted with sound and men jerked and fell and died. He groaned and fell himself.

“Guardsman Winterberry, attention!” snapped Sawyr, and the vision loosed its hold on him.

Cold water dashed against his face and broke the spell. He staggered to his feet, shaking his head and flinging the droplets away from face and hair. “My HeartMate is on the black altar!” he shouted.

Sawyr's strong finger tightened over Ilex's biceps. “Trace her to the link. We go!” He glanced around, saw the guard who'd dumped water on Ilex. “Come with us, Bluegum.” The woman stalked to Ilex, grabbed his arm. Her face was pale, lips compressed.

“One of my trip wires…which?” He
had
to think! “Dark,” he rasped.

FamMan, here, here, here!
A strange perspective tilted in his mind, some visual, but a
knowing,
completely controlled and grounded location.
That corner. Hurry!

He knew the place a small warehouse near the docks. “One, we transport. Two teleport.
Now!
”

They landed in a corner. Both Sawyr and Bluegum toppled. Both were steadied by corner walls.

The room was painted black. Flickering candles illuminated three people curled on themselves, whimpering.

The door banged open so hard, it ripped off its hinges and toppled to the floor, trapping one of the females. Piana Juniper moaned.

“Guards!” gasped a man—Cyperus Sedge then: “I will not be taken!” His eyes were more mad than sane. He plunged a dagger into his own chest. Died.

Screams from the other two.

A black velvet hooded robe draped the only one standing, the leader. The cowl shadowed her face. She flung out an arm and sent a sizzling stream of Flair toward Trif.

I
lex flung himself in front of the black altar and took the
Flair against his bespelled chestplate. He swept his blazer from his holster, but the room was full of moving people.

The leader hissed an impotent scream. “I'm not finished with you, Trif Clover,” and ran out the door.

Sawyr boomed a powerful chant that vanquished the dark spells shrouding the room.

“Go!” Trif ordered. It was more of a mental cry, a mere whisper from her voice, but Ilex heard, saw her arm jerk and point at the door opening. “Catch…”

He drank in the sight of her, hesitated.

Go,
she repeated.

“You were right,” he said. He had to tell her. “Right about everything.”

Her eyes went wide.

Guardswoman Bluegum held up Trif 's amulet. “We'll activate this transnow!” She place a panting Greyku in Trif 's arms, wrapped an arm around Trif, flicked her thumbnail against the stone, and they vanished.

Sawyr spellbound the remaining two. “There should be two more.”

Fury shook Ilex. He burned to find the person who'd harmed his HeartMate. A red haze rose before his eyes and he shot from the room and onto the street.

Behind him he heard Sawyr demanding names of the missing.

No one to be seen. He longed for T'Blackthorn's tracking ability, then dismissed the futile wish. The leader would not escape. Ilex extended all his senses, used his own Flair and some from Vertic, to
sense
the murderer.

And he did. The faint stench of incense had him turning to his left, running down the street to a maze of narrow streets near the docks. His feet pounded the cobblestones, and soon scent was the least of his senses in hunting the leader. He should have lost the trail, but his Flair was greater than he'd ever known, preternatural for him. The effect of loving his HeartMate? Would it diminish?

He brushed the stray notion aside as the blood pumped through him, his Flair sang of the hunt. There! A dark movement against the night—a last swirl of robe as the wearer whisked around a corner…bolting.

Why didn't the murderer teleport?

With the next footfall, as he turned the corner and saw the running figure and closed the distance, he knew.

She was pressed against a brick wall, gathering her Flair. That shot of evil psi at him had nearly drained her.

“I'll…pay…you…back…for this,” she panted.

“Wrong, Zinga Turmeric,” Ilex said.

She shuddered at her name.

“Yes, I know you and will hunt you until I find you. All of Celta has turned against you. You will find no refuge.”

“I will triumph!” Her image thinned, wavered, then she vanished.

He sent his Flair questing, but she hadn't 'ported a short distance. Striding to the place where she'd stood, he crouched and set his hand against the ground her bare feet had touched. His body jerked as he felt her vile power. Strong, stronger than he'd expected. Dark slime seemed to coat his hand. He knew her now, but didn't think she'd be found in any of her haunts.

Ilex pulled an evidence-collecting cloth from a pouch of his belt and wiped his hand clean, capturing everything that had been transferred from the killer to him. Even the black magic soaked into the cloth, a great relief. He stood and went back to report to Sawyr.

 

T
he Clover Family descended en masse on MidClass
HealingHall, crowding into Trif 's room. First her mother and father plunged into Intake, her mother loudly demanding Lark Apple—who showed up a moment later. They hovered as Lark examined Trif behind a modesty spell, Healed minor scrapes and scratches, including the long mark down the center of her body that made Trif sick to look at.

Danith D'Ash rushed in too. And the Clovers nodded in approval. She glanced at Trif and her scared expression eased; then she went to Greyku and examined the kitten, who stretched and purred under her stroking hands. “She's all right. Even mentally.” Danith frowned at Trif, turned to Lark. “I think Trif should see a mind-Healer.”

“No!”

“She objects too loudly.” Lark nodded. “I'll schedule her with my cuz.” She brushed back hair from Trif 's face and the gesture was sheer comfort, soothing Flair.

Ilex had soothing Flair too. “Ilex!” Trif cried.

“He's fine.” Danith held Greyku close and from her distracted expression, Trif knew Greyku was describing their experience in minute detail.

“You can tell through your bond,” Lark said gently.

Trif 's mouth trembled. “It hurts to access our bond.”

“What did that man do to you?” boomed her father.

With a desperate look to her mother, Trif said, “Just a…difference of opinion.”

Her father snorted. “I'll see about that.”

Lark said, “I think there are too many people in this room.” She glanced through the half-open doorway. “And too many people in this HealingHall. Trif is cleared to leave. She has no remaining physical hurts, but I'll want a mind-Healer to examine her.”

A whimper came from Trif 's lips. Lark smiled gently. “Tomorrow.” She handed Trif a soft, thin pouch. “A sleep pillow, lavender, hops, and a gentle spell. Its efficacy will minimize over the next eightday, so I suggest you make that appointment with my cuz.”

“We'll make sure she does.” Trif 's mother nodded.

“May I
please
have some clothes?” Trif 's voice was plaintive, but she didn't care. “And I really, really want to spend some time under a hot, cleansing waterfall.”

“I have a good robe for you,” Mitchella said, sweeping in. Narrowing her eyes, she swept a stare around the room. “Leave her to me. I've ordered gliders to take the lot of you back to Clover Compound. Trif will stay behind strong First Family Residence spellshields tonight!”

Reluctantly, her mother and father retreated. When they reached the hall, the raised voices were a cacophony that made Trif 's head ache. She looked up to see Lark studying her with Healer eyes. Then Lark covered Trif 's head with the spread fingers of both hands. A little zing buzzed in her mind and head and the pain was gone. “Good job,” Trif managed.

Lark nodded. “You'll do. I'll make rounds here, I haven't been her for some months, then Holm and I will join you at T'Blackthorn's Residence.”

“And Tinne too,” Trif said, remembering the latest disaster of the Hollys.

With a sober expression, Lark said, “Yes, Holm looks forward to being with his brother, but…”

“This is not a good situation,” Mitchella said, shaking her head. “D'Holly…”

“The Holly Family is truly broken,” Lark whispered.

There were a few breaths of silence. Then Mitchella thrust her arm holding a plush green robe through the modesty spell.

Trif accepted it gratefully and slipped it on. Then Danith gave her Greyku and she held the kitten close. Trif glanced around at the three women—two of whom were powerful in their Flair, all of whom were of the FirstFamilies one way or the other. She licked her lips. “It's not entirely over. The—the leader threatened me and, uh, escaped.”

The other three stiffened; their faces went from sympathetic to fierce.

“You're coming home with me,” Mitchella said. “With Holm and Tinne in the Residence, and ready to act as bodyguards, we'll make sure that you're safe until the killer is caught. Straif should arrive tonight or tomorrow. He'll track down and find that evil one.”

“But my instruments—other things in my apartment. I need them—”

“Surely, you won't need them before morning,” Lark interrupted. “You must rest.” She helped Trif down from the Healing dias.

Danith D'Ash picked up Greyku and shoved the kitten at Trif. “You aren't the only one who had a horrific experience. Take care of your kitten. She needs sleep and comfort too.”

“All right.” Trif grimaced. “Try and break this news to the family gently.”

“I will,” Mitchella said. She nodded to Lark. “It's a blessing that the men will be with us. They'll strengthen the spellshields of the Residence too. See you later, Lark.”

“Blessed be,” Lark murmured.

Mitchella linked arms with Trif and they walked from the room, down a corridor, and out into the cool night, where a glider awaited to take them to T'Blackthorn's.

 

T
he night was long and busy. Time and again the thought
of Trif in danger sped Ilex's heart—and kept him focused.

He spent most of his time scouting out places where Zinga Turmeric might hide. D'Grove and Sedwy Grove had been shocked at the revelation of how Zinga had used Sedwy and her knowledge.

Others looked for the two missing members of the kurchucx—Piana Juniper had revealed their names. One they captured. The other, a son of a GrandLord high in the airship guild and a pilot, had killed a couple of men and stolen a small airship. Neither
Nuada's Sword
's sensors nor the newly arrived Straif Blackthorn had any luck tracking him.

A FirstFamilies Council was called, and Ilex had to take time out from his searches to report every couple of septhours, which had him irritable and fighting impatience. The Nobles seemed to think T'Blackthorn would find Tumeric and she was as good as caught, so they moved on to planning the upcoming rituals. It was enough to make Ilex grind his teeth.

The Council, Sawyr, and the rest of the guards put evidence together against the cult members. Though the trial was set for a few weeks later, with truth testing and the spheres the killers had made of their rituals, Ilex didn't think the trial would take long or the judgment would be in question. The FirstFamilies had already consulted with SupremeJudge Ailim Elder, and determined what punishment would be appropriate for the unusual, horrific crimes. Cyperus Sedge indeed had been the lucky one, escaping into death, though what sort of life he'd live next with such sins on his soul was something for hard thinking.

Ilex finally was able to bow out as the Council was discussing trial procedures. He had something more urgent to do. He knew Trif was safe in every way, but he longed for her. He'd accepted that they had to be together and tried not to think of his past visions. Trif had been adamant that life with him was what she wanted, and they would enjoy every moment together.

No matter that dawn was a septhour away, he wanted to see her and ask her to HeartBond with him.

As he walked down the large hallway of the Guildhall, he heard his name.

“Black Ilex Winterberry,” a husky voice said.

Whipping around, he saw young Vinni T'Vine standing behind him. He'd left the FirstFamilies Council deliberations.

The boy glowed. A rainbow aura shot with gold surrounded him.

“Yes, Vinni?”

“I will not be needed as bait.”

“No. She'll go after Trif and me now.”

“T'Blackthorn has returned to Druida.”

Ilex stiffened. “This is my case. He can help, but I will find—”

“No. It is too late. Events have been set in motion so there are only two outcomes.”

Sheer horror curled in Ilex's gut.

Vinni cocked his head as if listening; different colors came and went in his eyes. Emerald, blue-gray, hazel. “I heard you say to your HeartMate that she was right in wanting to Heart Bond.” The boy prophet's voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. “Do you still believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then give her your HeartGift. Now. It is the only thing that will save you both.”

Vinni opened the door to the council room and went back in.

Blood pounded in Ilex's ears, still rushing with adrenaline, fear for Trif. He believed completely that Vinni's vision was strong and true.

He had to get his HeartGift.

Glad he was already in CityCenter, Ilex went through the three levels of security at the deserted bank vault where he kept his HeartGift. Finally, he was alone in a privacy cubicle, ready to open the large no-time which held the gift for his HeartMate that he'd created during his last Passage so many years before.

He muffed the Couplet opening the safe three times before he steadied his voice and said the rhyme correctly. The door to the box slid up and Ilex was hit with the power of his HeartGift—a blast of lust that doubled him over. All he saw were visions of Trif as she pulled him to her, felt himself slip inside her tight sheath, heard her pant his name as she reached release. He groaned and braced himself against the table, sweat pouring down him, arms shaking, fighting off an embarrassing climax.

When he'd stashed the HeartGift, he'd never thought he'd open it again. He'd intended it to rest in the vault until after his death. Waves of passion, sensuality poured from it. He fumbled for the small scrap of papyrus with a shielding spell on it that he'd put next to the safe. His fingers touched the note, trembled so much it flicked away, and he realized his eyes were shut tight. Forcing his eyelids open, he saw the papyrus, snatched at it, got it, and touched it to the small tray that was the bottom of his gift. The papyrus stuck as it was supposed to; then came sweet relief from the pounding lust.