Mystic Militia (2 page)

“My superiors were often too focused on progress and not enough on sacrifice. Unfortunately, one does not exist without the other.”

“If you’re asking for test subjects, none of us are interested.” South pushed back from the table and started to stand. She reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. The blue rings in his eyes flashed as he stared at her restraining fingers. “Instigating touch invites physical interaction. Would you like to interact with me physically?”

She released his wrist and lowered her arm. “I can transfer your abilities to a female, which almost guarantees she will conceive. It also multiplies the chances your offspring will inherit your gifts exponentially.” It was a bold exaggeration. In theory, it should work, but she’d yet to prove her hypothesis.

“No one can guarantee conception much less predict which abilities a child will inherit.” He sank back onto his seat, but balanced on the edge of the chair, ready to spring up and bolt from the room. Or attack.

“When you form a mating bond, your nanites make subtle changes in the female’s DNA. This increases the female’s compatibility with your biology thereby increasing the chances of conception. I’ve mapped the segments of your DNA responsible for your abilities and expanded the nanites’ programing to include the migration of that genetic information.”

He stared at her for a long, silent moment, his penetrating gaze searching hers. “If we transfer our abilities to our mates, do we lose them?”

“No.” She risked a smile, hoping to put him at ease. “Your DNA is used as a template, a pattern, for the female’s imprint, but your DNA retains the original coding.”

His gaze narrowed and a muscle above his jaw twitched. Were they all this suspicious or was South more difficult than most?

“If it’s so simple, why has it never been attempted before?”

“I was about to initiate live trials when Varrik went on his sanctimonious rampage.” Thinking about all the momentum she’d lost courtesy of Varrik set her teeth on edge every time. “I had a ship loaded and on its way to Rodymia when everything went sideways.”

South smirked and her palm itched to smack him. She’d always hated those smug little smiles that had far more to do with arrogance than amusement.

“He let all your test subjects out of their cages?
How inconvenient.”
He motioned to the others. “Come on. I’ve heard enough.”

She cut them off at the doorway, blocking the opening with her body. “Even if I can’t pass your abilities on to your mate—which I’m pretty sure I can—at least you will have a mate. Think about it. You will answer to no one and you will be able to hunt.” They looked at each other and she suspected they were debating the choices telepathically. They’d likely been speaking mind-to-mind since they arrived. “I’m offering the fresh start the Ontarians have denied you. Humans are always at war. Mercenaries will never want for work on this planet. It’s less technologically advanced than Ontariese, but your abilities will help you adapt.”

“We’ll be allowed to hunt?” Either East or West asked, but he looked at South for the answer.

Rather than commit,
South
stared at her. “Earth’s government has agreed to this? They won’t consider our mating practices cruel and barbaric?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, emboldened by his interest. “Earth’s government will never know you’re here. I will prepare backgrounds, documents and identification for every person participating in my project.”

“The women will know.” Either East or West spoke again.

Too curious to ignore it any longer, she looked at the speaker and asked, “Are you East or West?”

“I descend from the West. My name is Zacharous.”

She nodded, but his introduction sent her mind spinning off on a tangent. The region from which they descended was like a clan designation or a human surname. She needed to incorporate them when she arranged for their documents. It would help them relate to their new identities.
Zach
Westmoore
or Westbrook.
Yes, Zach Westbrook had a nice respectable ring to it.

Allowing the detail to return to the background, she smiled at Zach and expounded on what she had in mind. “It will be different this time. I won’t deprive you of the hunt, but the ultimate outcome will be recruitment, not captivity. You’ll have more to offer the female than a few months of pleasure. You’ll tempt her into joining your team. She’ll become a valuable member of your community.”

“What do I possess that will ‘tempt’ this human female into submitting to me?” Zach asked.

“Your powers,” South reminded, impatience creeping back into his tone.
“Or at least the possibility of possessing your powers.
We don’t know if she can actually do it.”

“And there’s only one way to find out,” she countered.

“Humans cannot manipulate magic?” East finally broke his silence.

“Some claim they can,” Sevrin told him, “but even they are nothing compared with you.”

“And if a woman wants nothing to do with us even after we’ve ‘tempted’ her with our powers?” South challenged.

Funny he should bring this up. She turned back to him and smiled. “According to my records, you were approved as a sweeper as well as a hunter.”

His brows rose. “Your records are impressive. Why do you know so much about the world below?”

“I’ve made it my business to know.” Her father, the previous Stirate, had been obsessed with the Shadow Assassins. Her uncle was only interested in results, so he left the day-to-day specifics to her. “Now answer the question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath to keep herself from shaking him. The man was exasperating. “Can you manipulate memories or not?”

He crossed his arms over is chest, as if deciding what to tell her. “I have the aptitude. I don’t have the training. I’m able to muddle memories, but not erase them completely as a legitimate sweeper could.”

She shrugged, but her gut suddenly twisted. “If a woman is foolish enough to turn down all we can offer her, would you be able to keep her from remembering our location?”

“I could scramble the images so badly she would never make sense of what she remembered.”

She cringed. That sounded a little too much like insanity. But there was no help for it. All of the “legitimate” sweepers had been taken to the Conservatory and were being guarded by Ontarian Mystics. Recruiting one of them was far too risky. “We’ll only use this as a last resort,” she stressed, uncomfortable with the entire concept.

“Obviously.”
South unfolded his arms and his expression turned thoughtful. “Do you covet our abilities? Is that what this is really about? Are you trying to perfect this migration process on some unsuspecting human before you attempt it on yourself?”

Indignation swelled her chest as guilt echoed through her being. How in the five hells had he guessed her darkest secret, the ambition she barely admitted to herself. “My motivation is irrelevant,” she snapped, resenting his insight. “Does this program appeal to you or not?”

He ambled toward her, their gazes locked. “Nothing about this is irrelevant. The others will never commit without me and I will never offer my trust blindly.” He placed his hand on the doorframe, blocking her escape. “If you want my cooperation, you will answer the question. Is your ultimate goal to possess our abilities?”

Her lips trembled and her nostrils flared. Trust often required compromise and she needed this man to trust her. “Yes.” Emotions surged, flooding her eyes with tears and making her throat burn. Damn him! Frantically blinking, she barely contained the unwanted moisture. She needed his respect not his pity.

Pushing off the wall, he finally smiled and unexpected warmth spread through his gaze. “Then your program
greatly
appeals to me.” He swept his arm toward the table as East and West chuckled. “Let’s talk details.”

Staring out over the tranquility of Mystic Valley, Lor dar Joon drew his anxious energy deeper into his being and surrounded it with calm. The Conservatory was visible in the distance, a graceful haven against the purple-tinted sky. With massive columns and wraparound galleries, the Conservatory was the primary training facility and planetary headquarters of the Ontarian Mystics. Each Mystic spent at least twenty-five solar cycles here, perfecting their skills before venturing out into the world. Lor had completed his training, under the watchful eye of Head Master Tal, and now Lor called the Conservatory home.

He turned from the window with a sigh and meandered across the sunny vestibule. He’d only been waiting a few minutes. Why was he so restless? Being summoned was nothing unusual. Being summoned to the visitor center, however, only happened when the person requiring his presence was not a Mystic. His visitor was likely his father or another annoying relative. That must be why he was so agitated. The House of Joon was filled with charlatans and unscrupulous autocrats. He had no desire to see any of them.

“They’re ready for you now, Master Joon.”

Lor turned his head and smiled at the young man. He was dressed in the dark blue robes of an apprentice. He looked vaguely familiar, yet Lor couldn’t recall his name. “Thank you.” The trainee led him to one of the meeting rooms lining the large reception area. The visitor center was styled with the same ageless grace as the Conservatory, all airy space and natural light. After knocking on the privacy panel, the trainee slid the barrier aside and motioned Lor into the room.

Head Master Tal sat at a round table with two men dressed in military black. Lor acknowledged each with a nod, but he only recognized one.
Varrik, the former Shadow Assassin who had won the heart of Echo dar Aune, one of Tal’s twin daughters.

“Be seated, Lor. And relax. They’re not here to arrest you.” Tal smiled at him, an expression few were privileged to see. With every Mystic on Ontariese looking to Tal for guidance, he tended to be somber and serious. But Tal was more than Head Master to Lor. He was mentor, confidante and father figure. Tal had taken a terrified child, tormented by nightmares and insecurities and shaped him with patience and skill. Were it not for Tal’s unflinching confidence in Lor, he knew he’d be leading a far different life today.

Lor sat and folded his hands on the tabletop, loosely intertwining his fingers. “Why are they here?”

“We need your help.” Varrik sounded grave and looked as unrelenting as Lor remembered. They’d met six lunar cycles before when they’d both been captured by Rodytes. They’d worked together toward a common goal, but Lor didn’t trust him, didn’t trust any of the Shadow Assassins.

Apparently sensing the tension, Tal drew Lor’s attention with a telepathic nudge. “Varrik has been exonerated of all charges and he is now a valuable member of the Ontarian military.”

“As you say, sir.”
Rather than trying to anticipate the nature of Varrik’s need, Lor looked at his mentor and waited for an explanation.

“As you know, the Shadow Assassins were taken to the City of Tears,” Tal began. “In exchange for their pardon, each soldier agreed to complete a five-cycle tour of duty. The majority of the soldiers have adapted well to this new setting, but the hunters and sweepers have been less successful.”

“I know the sweepers were brought here for retraining.” Lor didn’t want to be rude, but Tal had a tendency to ramble. “What became of the hunters?”

“Fifteen of the most powerful have disappeared,” Varrik told him. “They’re all descended from East, West or South.”

“I don’t understand the significance of that.”

The stranger straightened in his chair and placed his fist over his heart. “I am Allenton, descended from the North. Varrik is telling you that all of my men remained loyal.” With blue highlights in his short black hair, a gold tint to his skin, and angular features, his Rodyte heritage would have been apparent even without the faint blue rings in his eyes.

“I didn’t realize there were separations within the Shadow Maze,” he reluctantly admitted. He knew shockingly little about the Shadow Assassins, considering their massive lair had been constructed beneath Fortress Joon. A fact that humiliated Lor every time he thought about it.

“Think of them as a squadron,” Allenton suggested. “They live together, eat together and fight together. And they are extremely loyal to their squad leader.”

“You said these are hunters.” Lor wasn’t usually disrespectful, but he couldn’t suppress his resentment. Echo had been in his arms when Varrik and his “squad” attacked. She’d been taken to their Shadow Maze and subjected to a seduction so powerful she remained under Varrik’s spell to this day. These men were predators, ruthless bullies who preyed on helpless women. “Why should I care if they’ve disappeared?”

“We believe they’ve escaped to Earth and intend to reestablish the sort of life they lived before.” Tal’s tone revealed his annoyance even though his features remained serene. “Your disapproval is obvious. Are you disciplined enough to use that disapproval in a constructive manner or should I send for someone else?”

Lor fought back a smile. Tal always knew how to motivate him. Challenges worked better than lectures. Lor prided himself on his control. “What would you like me to do?”

“Allenton is leader of a newly formed team called the Mystic Militia. Their first official mission will be to apprehend their escaped comrades before anyone on Earth is harmed.”

Resentment surged through Lor. The Shadow Assassins were not
Mystics
. It took twenty solar cycles of intensive training to qualify as a Mystic. How dare
they
… He pinched off his mental tirade. This was not about him or them. It was about the human females the Shadow Assassins intended to hunt.

“What is my role in this Mystic Militia?” He tried not to sound sarcastic and failed. The Overlord could give them a fancy new name, but they were still, and would always be, Shadow Assassins.

“You’re one of the few Mystics who
has
been to Earth,” Allenton replied, even though Lor had been looking at Tal. “We need your expertise on their customs and the idiosyncrasies in their language. Their vernacular is quite confusing. It’s also my understanding that you can alter your appearance at will. This will make passing as human less challenging.” When Lor remained reticent, he added, “I’m also aware of your unconventional training,”

Tal had used a variety of martial arts training to give Lor an outlet for his emotions. He’d excelled at each discipline, so Tal had broadened the curriculum, including weapons and strategy. Once Trey, Tal’s brother and Director of Covert Operations, found out about Lor’s training, the outcome was inevitable. Lor became a highly specialized agent, on call with the City of Tears.

Silence lengthened and tension wrapped itself around the room.

Not easily deterred, Allenton tried again. “I understand that you want nothing to do with Shadow Assassins, but think of their potential victims.”

No one on Earth was equipped to handle the sort of trouble Shadow Assassins could cause. And these weren’t just Shadow Assassins; they were the best of the best. Lor sighed. “What exactly are we up against and what’s your plan?”

“Nazerel of South is our primary target. We have no doubt he’s the ring leader. Once we apprehend him, the others will be more cooperative. Next are
Darrian
of East and Zacharous of West. They are alpha hunters as well, but they will follow Nazerel’s lead.”

“How did they make it to Earth? I wasn’t aware that Shadow Assassins can
Summon
the Storm.”

“To our knowledge, they can’t,” Tal said. “
Which is why we’re convinced they had help.
”

Trepidation gripped his stomach and made his chest feel heavy. It wasn’t hard to guess where this road led. “What sort of help? They couldn’t have bribed someone to open a portal. They have no valuables. So who stands to gain by escorting a group of mercenaries to another planet?”

“There are two obvious possibilities.” Tal’s tone changed, becoming more cautious as he went on, “Your father and the Rodytes.”

“My father can’t
Summon
the Storm. In fact, you killed the only Joon who could.” Technically that was no longer true.
“Other than me, of course.”

Tal glanced away, but not before Lor saw the flicker of regret in his gaze. Many cycles had passed since Tal’s conflict with Lor’s uncle, Dez dar Joon. Obviously the outcome still bothered him. Lor shouldn’t have brought it up.

“No one is accusing you. Your actions and integrity are beyond reproach.” Rather than rehash the past, Tal said, “The House of Joon possess the wealth needed to procure someone who can
Summon
the Storm.”

Lor nodded. He’d stopped defending his father cycles ago. Lilt dar Joon was an amoral tyrant and nothing Lor could do or say would change the fact. “Is this another reason you want me for this mission?”

“Yes.” Allenton didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “For the hunters to set up shop on Earth they need housing, supplies and documentation.”

“Unless they intend to operate entirely off the grid.”
Lor knew it was unlikely, but arguments sprang into his mind, deflecting him from the probable truth of his father’s guilt.

“That’s impractical. Compiling the necessary supplies to go ‘off the grid’ in itself would draw too much attention.” Allenton waved away the option and returned to the original theories. “If your father was the one to make these arrangements, we’re hoping you can uncover his contacts.”

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. My father and I are barely on speaking terms. He certainly doesn’t trust me with his secrets.”

“I understand that,” Allenton persisted. “Even if your father has no involvement in any of this, I believe your skillset will be an asset to my team.”

Lor nodded as his conscience began to whisper.
Joons empowered the Shadow Assassins. If it weren’t for your father, they might have disbanded after the Great Conflict. He helped keep them going, brokered deals and smuggled them supplies. It’s your responsibility as the only honorable Joon to clean up your father’s mess
.

He sighed again and looked at Allenton. “How long have they been gone?”

“The three alpha hunters’ signals blinked out for a few hours three weeks ago. They claimed something had interfered with their tracker chips, but we couldn’t recreate the failure. Then four days ago all fifteen just disappeared.”

“People witnessed this disappearance?”

“No. It happened in the middle of the night. Something jammed the surveillance feed for twenty-three minutes then it just came back online. Everything seemed fine except for the fifteen missing hunters.”

“Why didn’t an alarm sound as soon as the hunters left their beds?”

“The City of Tears isn’t a prison,” Tal reminded. “Their security system is designed for protection not incarceration.”

“Is there any chance they’re still on Ontariese? That actually makes a lot more sense than them heading to an alien planet.”

Tal shook his head. “I convened a Seeker Circle and the outcome was incontrovertible. The portal took them to a poorly maintained building on the outskirts of Las Vegas.”

Lor laughed. He knew the reaction was inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself. “What is it about Las Vegas? Isn’t that where Evan took Vee’s journal?”

Varrik and Allenton shared a confused glance, but Tal smiled. “It’s easy to blend with the population of Las Vegas even if you have come from another planet.”

“Evan’s story had a happy ending.” Lor took a deep breath and accepted the inevitable. “Let’s hope this mission is as successful as his.”

* * * * *

“Why are we doing this again?” Jillian hurried along at Tori’s side, remarkably agile in her sky-high heels.

Tori glanced at her friend and shrugged.
With a low-cut sweeter and even lower-slung jeans
, proudly displaying her sculpted body, Jillian turned heads wherever they went. Tori didn’t mind being overshadowed. She’d never longed for the spotlight like so many in Las Vegas did. She’d much rather stand in the wings and watch the performance, analyzing the reaction of the audience. And her personal life was no different. She preferred intimate dinners to lavish parties, and she’d rather have one true friend than a gaggle of admirers.

“I’m obviously a glutton for punishment.”

Jillian laughed. “There are several members of my cast who would love to take advantage of that.” Jillian was a showgirl and proud of it. Her blonde beauty and mile-long legs had opened doors up and down the Strip. And after years of fan-kicks and shimmies, she’d finally landed a leading role.

“Unfortunately for them, my taste runs toward beefy men with lazar eyes and strong hands, not leather-clad women wielding whips.” Tori tried to let Jillian’s buoyant mood keep her thoughts from spiraling into frustrated worry. The pressures of her life had much louder voices.

“Do you think he’ll have the money this time?” A bit of Jillian’s playfulness faded and compassion warmed her baby-blue eyes. “Did the deadbeat instigate this meeting or did you?”