Zealot (25 page)

“‘They’? Who do you mean?” Chandar often backed herself into a corner when she felt threatened. The dining area was nearly circular, so she pressed her back against the outer wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

Moving up beside Danvier, Indigo touched his shoulder. “Chandar, you look terrified. If you need a minute, we’ll back off.” Though the option was offered to Chandar, it was also a warning for Danvier.

“I’m sorry, songbird.” He took a step back, his breath escaping in a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m only upset because I don’t understand.” Her voice was shrill, eyes wide and tear bright. “Why would our mother kill our father?”

“He was trying to protect us, trying to prevent what happened to you.” His tone grew choked and raw as he spoke the last phrase. “But he failed. We all failed and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Emotions swirled around them, pulsing between the two harbingers like blasts of energy. “She’s had enough.” Indigo squeezed his arm to emphasize the point.

“I can’t—” Chandar cried out sharply and pressed her head between her hands. “What is…” She swayed and Indigo rushed forward, steadying her.

“Take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

Chandar’s only reply was a forlorn moan. Her entire body began to tremble and her knees buckled. Danvier caught her half a second before she hit the deck. He didn’t seem nearly as terrified as Indigo felt, so she asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Without looking up from his sister’s pale face, Danvier explained, “She’s having a vision.”

* * * * *

“See anything you like?”

Zilor turned his head as the scantily clad blonde sidled up on his right. A tightly cinched corset of blood-red synth-leather confined her waist and pushed her breasts well into view, while the matching lace thong did little to conceal her other assets. Fingerless gloves and platform boots added to her overblown persona. Was she one of the house Mistresses or just another customer?

“I’m not here to play,” he stressed. “I have business with Lady M. The hostess told me to wait.”

The female scoffed and gestured in the general direction of the front door. “Holly’s a bitch. She’s intentionally wasting your time. Lady M hasn’t been in for a couple of days now. No one is sure when she’ll be back.”

Raising a hand to the back of his neck Zilor rubbed at the tension gathering there as he debated his options. He stood on a railed gallery, slightly elevated to offer better views of the main floor of Club Norax. His companion was definitely an employee. “Were you here the other day when they brought in the harbinger?” He intentionally left the question vague to test the accuracy of her reply.

“That poor girl.” The blonde shook her head, clearly distressed by the memory. “I’ve been roughed up a time or two. It’s almost inevitable in places like this. But what they did to the harbinger was inexcusable.”

Zilor thought of Chandar’s delicate form bruised and battered by her sadistic captors then let the resulting anger shape his expression. “I’m looking for the bastard who hurt her. Do you have any idea where I can find him?”

The blonde paused for a jittery look around before responding. “Akim’s protected by the crown. No one screws with him.”

“I’m not afraid of Quinton Keire. Can you at least point me in the right direction?”

She grew even more agitated, nervously licking her lips. “You just missed him. He was in here last night.”

Zilor muttered a curse under his breath.

“He left with Lynn, but I doubt he’s still there. He’s not a hang around for brunch sort of customer.”

At the very least, he could talk to Lynn and see if Akim said anything that might indicate his current location. “Where can I find Lynn?”

“Akim’s one of her regulars.” The blonde shook her head hard enough to send her curls swishing across her bare shoulders. “She won’t tell you anything.”

“I’d still like to speak with her. Where’d they go last night?”

One of her shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “Her crib is a few blocks from here, Wanderlust complex, flat 6.”

Milanni stood in the trees surrounding Vinton Tandori’s cabin and scanned for barriers both energy-based and mystic. She held her pulse pistol in front of her with both hands, unwilling to relax until she had a clearer picture of the situation. Jamestown was roughly fifteen miles northwest of Boulder, Colorado. A sleepy little town nestled in pine-tree-covered mountains. Her small shuttle circled above the tranquil setting, undetectable to human technology. Rodytes, however, could spot the small craft if they knew how to interpret the distortion created by the modulating shields. But Tandori Tribe had been moldering on Earth for generations, so she was relatively certain their technology would be antiquated.

Drawing air in slowly through her nose, she waited for the atmospheric analysis to scroll across the right side of her vision. Any chemical traces or aberrant energy particles would be detected by her olfactory sensors. That was the beauty of integrated tech. Rather than risking the body rejecting a bunch of intrusive devises, recent advancements allowed them to harness biological systems and expand their original purpose. Now she could “smell” bombs and identify toxins. She could analyze the movement of soundwaves to “hear” the exact location of an object or person. And she could “see” perfectly in the dark thanks to the nanites attached to her retinas that could morph from rods into cones and vice versa.

A dense energy field surrounded the cabin, primitive but effective. The easiest way to disable it was to find the power source and— For no apparent reason, the barrier just disappeared. Then the front door opened, and a large yellow dog came lumbering out into the grassy clearing in front of the cabin. Its floppy ears shifted and its black nose twitched as it scented the air. Milanni couldn’t help but notice the similarity to her own actions. The creature was analyzing its environment, likely sensing that something wasn’t quite right. The dog cocked its head then growled.

She tucked her pulse pistol into the back of her pants and pulled her blouse down over the weapon. The dog had just provided her with an opening. She couldn’t bring herself to kill it. Still, she had no intention of being mauled by an over-protective pet, so she kept her weapon close.

Walking toward the cabin with long, purposeful strides, she soon drew the dog’s attention. It barked, growled, then barked some more. The blinds concealing the front window swayed as Milanni went down to one knee and extended her hand toward the watchful dog.

“Good, doggie. Give me a sniff. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Right now
. The dog sniffed her hand then growled, yet its tail was wagging. The irrational thing must be male.

The front door opened and a tall, dark-haired man stood framed by the threshold. His hair was long, flowing well past his shoulders, unusual, but not suspicious. In faded jeans and a flannel shirt, he looked ordinary, possibly human. But why was he wearing sunglasses? The sky was overcast and hazy.

“This is private property,” he insisted. “You need to leave.”

Oh, he was the friendly sort. Wonderful. She stood and brushed off her jeans. The dog continued to sniff her, letting out an occasional whine. “I have a message for Vinton Tandori.”

“Don’t know who that is.” His head snapped left then right, causing his long hair to sway. “How’d you get here?”

There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, so this was likely her target. “Haven sent me.” She paused, allowing him to absorb the significance of the statement. “May I come inside? Your sister said the information is important.”

He hesitated a moment longer then backed off the dog with a firm command and motioned Milanni toward the doorway.

“My ship is circling your cabin,” she answered his earlier question once they were alone inside the cabin.

After closing the door, he removed his sunglasses and set them on a table by the door. “But how did you get from the ship to the ground. If you’d landed, my sensor grid would have detected the disturbance.” Suspicion ignited his
phitons,
forming distinct purple circles around his pupils.

His tech was obviously outdated and so was he if he didn’t even know about bio-streaming. The process had been in development for almost a decade before it was released. Was he completely isolated from other Rodytes? “I think you’re due for some upgrades.” She softened the observation with a friendly smile. She’d dressed casually in jeans and a semi-frilly blouse, suspecting that he’d respond better to Milanni than Lady M. She wasn’t willing to change her hair or hide her tattoos for anyone, so her appearance always retained a rebellious edge. “I can pass on the message if you like.”

He didn’t offer her a drink or ask her to sit down. Apparently, he’d been playing hermit for a little too long or no one had ever taught him about common courtesy.

“Who are you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze as piercing as his tone.

“The name’s Milanni, though I’m sure that means nothing to you. I’m Haven’s primary contact on Earth. She’s the one who told me how to find this place.”

“Why?” He shook his head, setting his hair to motion again. “I’ve got rebels stealing my women and an entire generation that no longer wants to play by the rules. I’m in no position to help Haven with anything.”

Of course he’d presume that Haven needed help. Typical male arrogance. Rather than explain his mistake, she pulled the message out of her back pocket and handed it to him.

Vinton shook out the folded paper then read the message. “How do I know this came from Haven? You could have emailed it to yourself.”

“Who else knows where you live?”

He crumpled up the paper and tossed it toward the fireplace. It bounced off the stone hearth and slid under the couch.
What an asshole.

“Tell Haven I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what she can do.”

Milanni accepted the response with a stiff nod. He obviously didn’t trust her, but she refused to come all this way for a pointless conversation. “Did you hear about Javin?” If she presented her suspicions as facts, perhaps he’d confirm or refute them.

“What about him?” Vinton’s sculpted features remained utterly expressionless.

Damn.
“Never mind.” She averted her gaze and put on her best little-girl-lost face. “If it wasn’t in the message, Haven might not be ready to share.”

He took an aggressive step forward, snapping her attention back to him. “As it happens I know about Javin. But now I’m wondering if you do? I think you’re fishing for information.”

She shrugged but refused to retreat. “If you say so.”

“Tell me what happened to Javin.” His autocratic tone demanded a response.

Her only options were to run for the door or ride out the bluff, and Milanni hated to retreat. “He passed beyond.”

“How? When? If you’re really Haven’s confidant, surely you know the details.”

The cool pressure of her pulse pistol at the small of her back helped her maintain her composure. If he grew any more aggressive, she’d knock him on his ass and leave. She moved her hands to her hips as she stared into his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re being so rude. I was asked to deliver the message and I have. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you answer my questions.” His
phitons
flashed and he held out his hands, fingers splayed. Visible currents of energy swirled around his fingers. The rotation sped, creating hypnotic streaks of light.

She turned, not curious enough to stick around and find out where the lightshow led. Her hand had just reached the door handle when a crackling cloud enveloped her entire body. The rapid swirling pressed inward, making her limbs feel weighted and stiff.

“Who sent you? Why are you really here?” he demanded. “Is someone paying you for information about Tandori Tribe?”

Exasperated by his accusations—even if they were more or less true—she allowed the pressure to mold her arms to her sides then used the rotation to spin herself back around. “Haven sent me to deliver the massage. You’ve lived alone so long, it’s made you paranoid.”

The rotation sped. She could barely breathe much less move. The crazy bastard was trying to kill her and all she’d done was ask a question. Her heartbeat raced and static filled her ears. If she didn’t do something, he’d crush her chest or rupture her heart. With a strength born of desperation, she reached behind her and grasped for the gun. Moving was painful and incredibly difficult, but she found the hem of her blouse and slipped her hand beneath. Her fingers curved around the pistol’s grip and she eased the weapon out of her pants.

He stared at her in an emotionless trance as the pressure continued to build. She took a deep breath then snapped her arm forward and fired the pulse pistol. The energy stream arced across the room and connected firmly with the center of his chest. Vinton screamed, pain contorting his features as his body flew backward and slammed into the stripped log wall. His head struck a peg securing one of the logs and his skull gave way with a sickening crunch.

“Oh shit.” The swirling energy abated, leaving Milanni stunned and shaking near the door. Vinton stared straight ahead, his eyes wide and staring. She didn’t need to cross the room to know she’d killed him. His blank expression and glassy eyes told her everything she needed to know. “Shit!” she cursed with more conviction. This was not how she’d intended their meeting to end.

She swept the room with her augmented eyes as well as her subdermal sensors. She hadn’t touched anything, so there should be nothing to connect her with the…accident? Murder? She hadn’t set out to harm him, but that didn’t change the fact that he was dead.

The dog sat at Vinton’s feet whining pathetically. Was there any way the creature could further complicate the situation? She raised the gun again, aiming it at the canine. The dog’s head snapped toward her and the animal bared its teeth, growling with real menace for the first time. Rather than kill the thing, Milanni activated the emergency extract signal on her control band and her ship bio-streamed her to safety.

She materialized on the ship and collapsed into the nearest seat. How had this gone so horribly wrong? She’d hoped to maximize an unexpected opportunity. Was that a crime punishable by death?

Suddenly her eyes rounded and her heart lurched inside her chest. The message! The paper likely bore her fingerprints and it had slid under the couch. She activated the main viewscreen and stared down at the secluded cabin. Did she dare risk another visit? Not the way this day had gone. Her shipboard weapons could easily decimate the cabin, which would dispose of Vinton’s body while concealing the circumstance of his death. It was a much better option.

Except for the dog.

“Unbelievable.” She groaned and dropped her head back against the seat. Was she really weak enough to risk her freedom, perhaps jeopardize her life, for someone else’s pet?

Determination surged through her, forcing back the softer emotions. Vinton’s death was an accident, but his body alone could confirm the presence of aliens on Earth. The cabin had to be destroyed. There was no way around it.

The dog’s kind face and trusting brown eyes appeared in her mind, a torturous reminder of what she was about to do. She moved to the main control console and activated weapons system. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, frustrated by her own weakness. Then she launched a concentrated energy pulse and watched the cabin explode.

* * * * *

The “heart” of the pleasure dome consisted of four well-lit, well-maintained streets. Once Zilor left the bustling commercial district, however, the underbelly of Outpost LA revealed itself in inescapable vividness. The streets were filthy and cluttered with debris. Most alleyways were impassible. Many of the buildings were entirely derelict or had been taken over by drug addicts and vagrants. His hand hovered over his flexblade as his com-bots directed him toward his destination. If he’d realized he’d be visiting this part of the outpost, he would have worn his armor.

The Wanderlust housing complex wasn’t hard to find. It was one of many such clusters of buildings in the outer areas of the pleasure dome. His com-bots guided him to flat 6 and he looked for a way to signal the occupant or occupants that they had a visitor. There was no scanner or even a doorbell, so he raised his fist to knock.

A muffled cry halted his knuckles inches away from the door. He leaned in and listened for another sound. If Lynn was with a customer, he’d need to wait or return another day. The probability of her knowing Akim’s whereabouts was slim, but he tried not to leave anything to chance. Several more cries and a rhythmic thumping hinted that they were nearly finished.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. What if Akim was still with her? Tension rippled through Zilor’s body. Akim had eluded them at every turn. He could not be allowed to escape again.

Zilor drew his flexblade and transformed it into a stout yet short sword perfect for close-quarters fighting. The complex was butted up against the dome, so any sort of projectile was too risky. After whispering a silent prayer to the Devine Maker, he backed up a few steps then slammed his shoulder into the door. The doorframe splintered and he stumbled forward into the studio apartment.

A large bed dominated the limited space and the couple on the bed sprang apart like guilty teenagers. Zilor ignored the female as the male scampered off the far side of the bed and frantically reached for his pants. With dark hair and gold-toned skin, he was likely Rodyte, but Zilor wasn’t able to determine more until the idiot turned around.