Jordan (32 page)

She pouted. “Define
sensible.
”

“Shoes you can—” Jordan grabbed her and yanked her behind a thick hedge. “Security,” he explained before she could ask.

Fear tightening up her chest, she peered between the branches as a vehicle rolled down the road. “Are they searching for us?”

“I don’t know. One guy’s thinking about how his wife found his porn stash last night, and the other is so angry at his boss
that I can’t get a bead on whatever they are supposed to be doing.”

Vivianne held her breath. When the vehicle passed without slowing, she remembered to breathe again and began to step back
toward the sidewalk.

Jordan placed his hand on her shoulder. “Wait. They’ve picked up something on their sensors.”

“Us?”

“Maybe.” He squeezed her shoulder. “They’ve taped a picture of us exiting the
Draco
to their monitor. It’s grainy, probably picked up by a pedestrian camera, but it’s us for sure.”

“Maybe going to the gala isn’t such a hot idea, after all.”

“No. I think you’re right. We need to attend.”

“We’ll need more than clothing to attend the celebration. We’ll need disguises.”

Jordan frowned, and she could tell he was mind-reading the Security team. “You’re assuming we’ll be free that long. They’re
turning around.”

“Do something.”

“Okay. They’ve spotted us.” He sounded calm, distracted. “They’re heading right here.”

Apparently he couldn’t stop them. “So do we run?”

“Let them come to us,” Jordan directed. “I’ll try to make them see two loose hartogs instead of us, but I can’t focus on the
task and run at the same time.”

Vivianne rooted her feet to the ground. It was broad daylight, and they were just standing there. If Jordan slipped, if the
men reported in, they might send squads of guards.

She crossed her fingers.
Don’t see us. Don’t see us. Don’t see us.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” Jordan muttered.

She squeezed her crossed fingers together harder.
Don’t see us. Don’t see us. Don’t see us.

Security was twenty feet away. Then ten. Five. They rolled on by.

Drained, she swayed on her feet, and Jordan reached out to steady her. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted.

“You did… a lot.” He held her shoulders and ran his palms up and down her upper arms.

She’d never seen him look so serious. Almost shaken. “I don’t understand.”

“You fed me power.”

“What?”

“I couldn’t have held the image by myself.”

That made no sense. He didn’t need her to play mind tricks. “You faked the money at the station, and I had nothing to do with
it.”

“That was a tiny piece of paper for just a few seconds. This time, we made imaginary three-dimensional images look real for
over a minute. The construct was so tight, even their sensors didn’t suspect we’d faked them out. Your extra power made the
difference.”

She searched his eyes to see if he was teasing, but he appeared dead serious. Temples throbbing, she rubbed her head. “I thought
you drew power from the Staff.”

“That’s on the physical plane. What you did was on the mental plane.”

“Like telepathy?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t a message. You sent me emotional mental energy.”

Had her wishing been a form of mental energy? Had she really fed it to him? It seemed impossible. But then, why else was she
so suddenly drained? She couldn’t discount his explanation, not after she’d recently seen so many things that she’d previously
thought were impossible.

Her head was spinning. “How’s it possible for me to feed you energy?”

“The Staff has fed me all my life. So I guess it’s possible my DNA has evolved to the point where I can pick up additional
energy from you.” He looped an arm over her shoulder. “I always knew you were special.”

Had he? If the Staff hadn’t forced lust on them… hadn’t forced them to share memories… would she be able to feed him power
from her emotions?

“Jordan, what are the chances that I would have a simpatico power that feeds your own capabilities?”

“It’s possible my Staff altered your DNA,” he said. “That while it caused us to share memories, it somehow taught you to give
off the right energy frequency.”

“Out of all the beings in the universe, how many can feed you mental power?”

“That I know of,” he said, his eyes darkening, “only you.”

Vivianne dropped the subject. For now. But her suspicions were beginning to grow. She shook her head. It was a good thing
Jordan wasn’t reading her mind. No doubt he wouldn’t be pleased to know that she suspected he might have programmed the Staff
to do his bidding. But then again, she hadn’t forgotten how those blue lights had entered her body when she and Jordan had
made love, either. Perhaps neither Jordan nor his Staff had anything to do with her new ability. Perhaps those lights that
had changed Jordan had changed her, too.

Courage is standing up for what you believe, regardless of the odds against you, and against the pressure that tears at your
resistance.

—L
ADY OF THE
L
AKE

T
he elite of Pentar seemed to be celebrating throughout this level, with the most prestigious party taking place at the palace.
The domed ballroom with crystal columns and polished, illuminated marble floors was the perfect backdrop for the festivities,
and the citizens had decked themselves out. Their normal dreary and drab garments had been replaced with ostentatious finery.
Women wore strings of sparkling gemstones twined into their sweeping updos, and the men sported jewel-encrusted shoulder pads
over their suit jackets.

Vivianne had no idea who was paying for the party, but from the golden sculpted decorations to the glitter-scented air that
lent a glow to the room, they’d spared no expense. The fountains startled her. At first she’d assumed the silver-painted statues
were sculpted from polished marble, but as the figures slowly pirouetted, she realized that trained actresses and elaborate
costuming had fooled her eyes.

Jordan stood beside her looking elegant in a black jacket with black-studded shoulder pads that showed off his wide torso,
and a black shirt and black pants. Vivianne had chosen a gold gown that trailed along the floor to hide the ugly flat sandals
Jordan had insisted she wear.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said with an intimate heat in his eyes that warmed her down to her toes as they made their way through
the twenty-foot-high front doors.

“The gown doesn’t look right without heels,” she responded, concerned that someone would notice they were strangers here owing
to her footwear more than any fashion faux pas.

Her role was to deflect attention from Jordan so he could focus on scanning minds. Her plan was for them to dance together,
moving around the room to give him a chance to scout without having to converse. But there was no music.

Once she looked past the brightly hued gowns and sweeping architecture, the Tribe party was really quite dreary. There was
no art, no laughter, no smiles, no joy here.

“So what’s plan B?” she asked.

“What makes you think I have a plan B?” he countered.

“I was hoping.” She realized that just because she almost always had a backup plan didn’t mean that Jordan did. He seemed
to operate on the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants theory. So far it seemed to work for him.

“The buffet line looks long and winds through the crowd,” he observed.

She slid her arm through his, and together they walked toward the drinks and finger foods. Even those didn’t look appetizing.
The display was pedestrian, with apparently no effort made toward making the food look appetizing. Had the government here
wiped out all creativity? Or did these people simply have other values?

A couple ahead of them in the buffet line turned toward them. Vivianne pasted on a smile. “Good evening.”

The woman sized up Vivianne’s gown, her hair, and her makeup with a sniff of disdain. Then, with a regal nod of her peach-tinted
hair, the woman pretended not to hear Vivianne’s greeting. “Looks like they’ve let in the riffraff.”

Her husband shot them an apologetic look.

Vivianne dug an elbow into Jordan’s side. “I told you these weren’t the right shoes and that women pay attention. But did
you listen?”

“I was wrong. Sorry,” Jordan murmured, but she could tell he was distracted.

At least her feet didn’t hurt. Vivianne had attended hundreds of social functions, but she’d never been so on edge. The woman’s
catty comment didn’t faze her, but being in the middle of the enemy elite was daunting. Security was everywhere.

Jordan had done his mind-altering thing to convince the doorman they had an invite. But there were dozens of monitors in the
ceiling, and they might have face recognition software. Or something that detected their alien DNA. Or—

Get a grip. Pretend this is a corporate party or a political function back on Earth.

Most couples were engaging in conversations, and by remaining silent, they would stick out. The socializing was up to her.
She was an expert at small talk. The planet shouldn’t matter.

Vivianne spoke to the couple behind them. “Beautiful night for a party.”

The elderly woman peered through her glasses and frowned. “What’s so beautiful about it?”

There was no weather underground, but Vivianne forced herself to sound happy as she recovered from her slight error. “Aren’t
you excited to be here?”

“I suppose.” But the woman sounded bored and turned to speak with the couple on her other side. There was whispering and several
odd looks thrown at Vivianne.

Fitting in was harder than she’d imagined. Undaunted, Vivianne held her chin high.

From across the room, she caught a man staring at her. Something was strange about one of his eyes. The light caught his iris,
and the hair on the back of her neck rose. He had an artificial eye, which shouldn’t bother her, but for some reason a chill
shot down her spine. She had no idea why she was reacting to his stare and angled to take a better look. He was about halfway
between her height and Jordan’s and dressed in dark purple. He carried himself like royalty, his bearing haughty. She caught
only a glimpse, because the group of fawning women who surrounded him suddenly closed in around the man.

“Jordan, you done?”

He sighed. “There’s a lot of people here.”

She nudged him. “Try to hit the guy over there in royal purple.”

Jordan turned. “Which guy?”

She discreetly glanced to where she’d last seen him. “He’s gone.”

How had he disappeared so fast? And did his vanishing act have anything to do with them?

“Something’s wrong.” Jordan pulled her by the hand and threaded through the crowd to a side door.

A security guard immediately stepped in front of them. Jordan did one of his mental tricks to freeze the man, and they sidestepped
and headed into the street.

The artificial sun had been replaced with artificial moonlight. The air was humid and dank. Jordan merged into a shadow and
kneeled. She thought he needed to tie his shoe. Instead he ripped off the bottom of her gown.

He stood, took her hand again. “Run.”

She hated running when she had no idea what was going on, but she didn’t dare question him, not when he’d used that serious
voice he saved for emergencies. Her pulse pounded as her feet slapped the pavement. While Jordan seemed to know exactly where
he was going and she saw no sign of pursuit, she still felt like a fox with the hounds nipping at her heels.

He zipped down an alley, zagged through an empty playground, and backtracked twice. They sprinted past a shopping center into
a residential area, through several yards, and over a footbridge.

Her lungs burned, but finally he slowed. “We’ve lost them.”

“Did you get what you needed?” she asked between giant gulps of air.

“Maybe.” He steered her onto the sidewalk.

“Care to explain?” She tried to keep the petulance from her voice. She’d never liked being kept in the dark. Without information,
she couldn’t make good decisions, and if she couldn’t make good decisions, she wasn’t in control.

“Trendonis was in that room.” He spoke as if choosing his words with care. As if he didn’t have every reason to hate the man.

She knew better. Jordan controlled his deep emotions by shutting down his anger and hatred of the man who’d destroyed his
world.

“You think Trendonis was the man I saw? The man with the artificial eye…” Sweet stars. “The eye you pecked out when you were
helping Arthur to leave Pendragon?” The years hadn’t been kind to the Trendonis she’d seen destroy Dominus in Jordan’s memories.
Years of cruelty had aged his face, hardened him.

“That was him.” Jordan kept walking through a path along a creek.

“But you didn’t see him. His face looked different from the one I saw in your memories.”

“Trendonis is known for using many names and disguises, but I got just a hint of his thoughts before he closed them off.”