Swerve (15 page)

Romia watched as the once-adversary-now-turned-comrade moved gracefully across the floor. His steps were as fluid as a ballet dancer's. His muscles twitched only slightly with each difficult movement; he was beautiful. She watched in awe, breathless and quiet as he, silently and without flaw, climbed the rope to the top of the rafters. He then quickly ran across the beam to the open window, through which he descended without a sound. Suddenly, and within only seconds, it seemed, he entered the bar door behind her. Creeping up to her quickly, he grabbed her tightly around the waist, lifting her from her feet. Before thinking, or reacting by defending the playful attack with a vicious response, which should have been her reaction, she found herself giggling.

Instead of fighting him, she gave into laughter, kicking her feet high over her head as he swung her around, making airplane sounds. Suddenly, she remembered that he too was the enemy. Not since they'd landed her in this strange place, and moved into this farmhouse in the countryside, had she one civil conversation with anyone about anything important or relevant to her life. “Stop, Royale. This isn't funny,” she growled, unable to make her voice as menacing as she had hoped. It was unlike her to be this giddy, and she choked on the sound of her own mirth.

“I know. This is work,” he retorted, letting her go at the high point of the swing. She yelped but landed on her feet like a cat, crouched and ready for the fight that came immediately.

Sparring with Royale was like fighting a mirror. He sensed her every move, as if reading her mind; sometimes attacking her with the move she had only in her mind planned for him. He struck her. Only now, instead of drawing blood, he lightly tapped her face. “Point!” he yelled out.

Growling, Romia's frustration grew and so did her speed. She began new combinations, ones she'd only just created within the moment.

His eyes widened and he backed away slightly, blocking awkwardly.

Finally, upon an opening, she tagged him with the heel of her foot to his chin. Royale fell backward in the hay. “Point,” she purred, breathing heavily with her hands on her hips in a bragger stance.

Blindingly fast, Royale recovered, kicking her feet out from under her, sending her flying forward into his lap.

The moment was long, close, and increasingly comfortable, more comfortable than Romia would have ever imagined it to be. It was intimate, and demanding of a kiss. Their lips closed in.

Her brain forced her eyes to close, but before they shut, before she was left to only enjoy the sensation of his full mouth on hers, or more, “Get off me,” Royale yelped, pushing her backward and jumping to his feet.

Romia, flustered and still a little confused by the moment, hesitated for an instant before moving her hair out of her face. “How do you do that?” she asked, immediately regaining the moment.

“What?” he asked, wiping his face with a handy towel. “Use a towel? It's easy, you just go like this.” He covered his face with the towel again, scrubbing vigorously.

“No, stupid.” Romia chuckled, shaking her head. “How do you move like that? Like me?”

Royale lowered the towel, catching her up in his gaze. “Your moves are not so unique.”

“Yes, they are. I make them up as I do them. So how—”

“Well…” he said, allowing the sentence to hang while his green eyes sparkled like a pool of water, just as her mother's used to, only hers were pools of blue. His crooked smile was familiar and unnerving. She shook her head, turning away from what was now turning into a painful exchange. “Apparently they aren't,” he answered, tossing the towel at her.

“Nasty! I don't want this. It's full of sweat! Your sweat!” she yelled, throwing it back and hopping to her feet. “I'm gonna go grab a shower, and, um, you should too. You smell really bad,” she smarted off before playfully swinging on him one more time and walking past. He ducked her easily.

Walking toward the door, her hips swayed uncontrollably. She could feel them moving, but was unable to stop the movement. She knew he was watching, but she couldn't stop the flirtatious show her body insisted on performing. Without looking back at him, she headed out of the barn and back to the big house.

“Hey!” he called to her. She turned. “You ever wonder…” He paused. “You ever wonder what Maxwell is really up to?”

Romia's heart tightened along with her stomach. She had been fighting for weeks the doubt and lack of trust toward Maxwell Huntington, but now it all flooded back. “No,” she lied. “He said he's trying to find my father, to help him. I have to believe it. Not every procedure is by the book I'm used to reading. The more I thought about it, the more I could see the possibilities of it being true, the things he says. You can't choose your parents, and maybe it was for my own good they cut me loose and let me grow up to be a cop.”

“Aw,” Royale responded, almost sounding disappointed. “Well, I do. I mean, I've been working with him for a long time. But still, sometimes I wonder.”

“How long?”

“Well, since he…” Royale's eyes went to the sky as if contemplating a word. “Acquired me. Adopted me,” he corrected.

“He's your father?” Romia asked.

Royale's head went back in laughter. “Well, no. I mean, yes. I mean, I was sixteen when he adopted me. It's not like I didn't know he is not my father.”

“Where were you living?”

“I was in a convent in France. I lived there for as long as I remember. The nuns said my mother birthed me as a baby and ran off in the night.”

“Well, birthing a
baby
would be how she did it all right.” Romia chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. Royale always made her laugh, even when he wasn't intending to. She felt silly and carefree. It was unusual for her, yet easy to give into.

“Funny,
cherie
, but no, it's serious. I do not know my mother or my father. But Maxwell came and got me and he's been the only father I know. But…”

“But sometimes you doubt him?”

“And you never doubted your mother? It seems to me she was worth doubting.”

“She died when I was young. Or at least I thought she did. She was wonderful and beautiful and…”

Royale grinned broadly, holding open the door for her to enter the large foyer. “And apparently someone worth doubting,” Royale added. “So what do you think about your father being the Phoenix who everyone is looking for?”

“I don't want talk about this,” Romia said, growing instantly uncomfortable.

Inside the house, there were no obvious indications of spy activity, but Romia was more than certain everything and everyone was under observation. Perhaps that was the normal way of spies: to be covert, even with each other. Or maybe Romia was just being paranoid. She'd never given much thought to underworld activity until now. Sometimes Keliegh would speculate about such things, sounding as obtuse as those who believed in life on other planets. Yet here she was, as if on the moon. If only he could see her now.

She was learning faster than she could ever imagine learning anything and even in just this short month she'd picked up many fighting skills and mesmerizing talents, along with a working knowledge of Arabic and French. Maxwell spoke Arabic all the time and, despite her inability to speak it back, she seemed to understand him well.

Royale
?

It was if he'd been speaking to her his entire life. She always understood him and, lately, had been able to speak back to him in his native language, which amazed both of them.

In addition to fighting skills, Romia had become exposed to kinetics, the mind's natural ability to enhance rates of chemical reactions within the body. At first, these abilities appeared to be supernatural. When Romia witnessed Jerry—the undead man—and his ability to conduct electricity to the point of shorting out a fuse box, she was impressed. And then there was Royale and his telekinetic ability to move small objects with his mind, and his slightly inept pyrokinetic ability to start small fires. He claimed to be mastering the latter, but all Romia had seen was one mishap after the other.

The woman, Olga, turned out to be quite the talented one. She was an expert forger and voiceover whiz. She could emulate any female voice she heard more than once. “When did you have occasion to imitate Tommy like that?” Romia asked upon hearing her first impression. Olga just laughed sarcastically and then repeated Romia's words in her own voice. Romia knew not to ask any more of the strange woman. She was a master magician as well, rivaling David Copperfield and bordering on the abilities of Houdini. She was a queen at sleight of hand. Romia was eager to learn a few of those tricks, as she remembered her mother's ability with cards and coins.

Memories of her mother were slightly painful now, knowing the lies she'd lived. All the years living in that foster home, wondering why God had allowed her to be abandoned that way, only now to find out God had nothing to do with it.

Upon entering the house, Olga spoke to Royale in German. He answered in the same dialect, to which they both laughed. Romia hated not understanding all the foreign languages this group of people spoke. She distinguished at least three—Arabic, French, and German. She would have to speak with Maxwell about lessons in German next.

So far being here in the countryside of Buren had been grand. Although they were living quite covertly, they were living above suspicion. No one around them seemed concerned about their comings and goings, and Romia hadn't asked what their covers were.

In a way, it seemed rather entertaining to be spies. Everything bad that had happened last month seemed to have gone away, as if it had never occurred. Romia half expected to have the three goons from the tavern show up, explaining that incident too was part of the façade she was now living. But she knew in her heart that all of that was real. Mike was dead and she had committed murder, albeit in self-defense. She was a fugitive. She knew that. She knew she'd have to one day return to face justice.

Justice? Did she even know what that was anymore?

About a year before, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire

Her dark eyes were wild and dancing. Her raven hair flew in the wind that her speed had created. He wasn't sure he knew her yet; there was something very familiar about her.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Akimbo, on such short notice,” she said, stepping forward to shake his hand. He stood from where he sat behind his desk. She stopped in her tracks before reaching his desk, just long enough for him to look deep into her eyes, long enough for him to recognize her behind those dark-colored contacts. She lunged forward, stopping her face from colliding into his by only inches.

“You're in danger,” she said, sounding breathless, as if having flown in from wherever she was from. Her voice was low and she spoke in clear English, no accent.

“Who are you?”

She didn't smile, but continued to speak. “You need to hide. You must hide.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He reached for the phone, but she stopped him by placing her hand over his. He took note of her soft hand. Again their eyes met. He was mesmerized. Just gazing into them calmed his spirit. There was only one other woman on earth who had affected him this way. She was the only woman he ever loved.

“Capri?” he whispered.

She looked around and then back at him. “Yes, Malik.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Too many times. I've been dead too many times. But always it has been my love for one of you that has brought me back.”

“Your love?”

“Yes…and now I've come to warn you.”

“Of what?”

“He's going to kill you.”

“Me?”

“You, me…Stone.”

“Stone? Stone is dead.”

“He's not dead. Don't say that. Besides, if he were dead, we'd all be dead.”

Malik pondered the truth to those words. Surely, Stone's nemesis and archrival would find them first, torture them, and gain access to Stone. But surely Stone, wherever he was, was undetectable at this point.
Why would he upset his cushy life by coming out in the open? He escaped the repercussion, of being the son of a mastermind like the Pheonix years ago and never looked back,
Malik thought, realizing then that he felt a little resentment. Even after all that had happened with his father's organization, Stone didn't show one ounce of care.

“I'm through with all the killing,” Stone had said, spinning his shot glass around between his palms.

“But killing isn't through with you. It will always be in your blood.”

“If I kill again, it will be for a purpose of my own making. It will be for a purpose I understand.”

“If they find that you are alive, they will hunt you down. You can't run from your destiny.”

“No one will ever find me, unless you expose me.” Stone grabbed the front of his jacket as if he were about to tear him limb from limb.

Despite what had happened so many years ago that day in that hotel room, Stone had refused to accept betrayal from Malik.

The silence between them grew thick. Malik remembered the feeling he felt at that moment. If Stone killed him, he'd in the afterlife haunt him forever or at least until he returned the favor, but if Stone let him live it would only prove their friendship now and forever.

Stone released his collar. “You are truly my brother,” he said then.

Malik didn't answer. He didn't need to. Since finding out Stone had survived that day, Malik had kept this fact a secret. Perhaps the Phoenix knew, but if so, that secret died with him, as no one had found Stone and probably never would.

“I'm married,” Stone said then.

Malik smiled. “Really?”

“Yes.” Stone grinned and Malik could have sworn he saw a blush run across his cheeks.

“You love her more than anything.”

“More than anything, or anyone.”

“Anyone…”

“More than anyone,” he repeated. Malik sensed then that Stone knew somehow about Capri sleeping with Stix.

Stix had tried to kill him many years ago and although he failed, he was unaware of that and moved on into Stone's life as if he had succeeded. He'd moved into Capri's bed and claimed what should have been Stone's as far as leadership in the family. Everyone in the loop alluded to the assumption that Stix had betrayed the Phoenix in order to curry favor with the government. The thought was that he had been captured, and in return for mercy, he gave up the hiding place of his gifted father and exceptionally enabled family, turning them over to science, torture, and other inhumane treatment in the quest for understanding the paranormal.

“We are not paranormal,” Stone would tell them when some would question their place in the universe. “We are normal. We just use our minds in different ways. True, we are exploited but, in the end, we are housed, clothed, fed, and in a strange way…loved.” It was true, the Phoenix did love them. He even loved Stix. It was Stix who had no love for them.

Malik wasn't sure if Stone knew about Capri's pregnancy, but either way he knew it was futile to try to convince him that the child was not Stix's, especially knowing that the child's paternity had not been officially determined. Yes, Capri had sworn to him that the baby in her womb belonged to Stone and that Stix had forced her to bed down with him, but in reality there was no way he could confirm the truth, considering she continued to allow Stix to visit her bed. Malik didn't even know for sure if Capri had given birth to the baby. The last he had seen her, he dropped her at the convent, pregnant. The next he heard, some six years later, was that she was dead.

Capri was a hard woman to trust. But now, she was dead—or so he thought. So why even bring her up to Stone as he talked about his new life? There was nothing left but to move on. It was much later he found out she had not died. By then, he too, had moved on.

“That's wonderful, my friend,” Malik had said, patting his shoulder. “Live long and prosper as they say.”

“The dead always do.” Stone laughed.

Malik thought about that secret meeting from over twenty years ago.

“The government has long been satisfied with the amount of blood they've collected from our family. They have become bored with us, Capri. They're tired of looking for Stone. The Phoenix is dead. We're all dead. You should stay dead and get a life,” Malik said, sitting back in his chair now, breaking the spell of her eyes.

Now he folded his hands across his chest to make sure they were unavailable to her. He didn't want to chance her touching him again. It had been years since he'd seen her, but it was as if it were yesterday with what he felt growing inside.

Love and hate. Capri made the line so thin.

After his meeting with Stone in Europe all those years ago, he moved to the US. He'd moved to New Hampshire. At that time, he still thought Capri was dead. He hadn't seen Stone again, and Stix…Stix often crossed his mind. The thought of Stix kept his life in motion. Maybe it was his personality, but he couldn't live with the same calm that others apparently could. He had a heightened sense of the impending. He knew soon he'd have to allow that ability to die down if he were to ever have peace. For at that time it was forever with him. Back then, he was still uneasy about life in the US. Back then, he still feared for his life sometimes and all strangers made him leery. He was on the run and he'd not grown comfortable with his life.

Malik had just taken the position at the company where he stayed and now worked as a high-level manager in IT. Back then, he wasn't making the money he was making now. When he saw Capri that day, he couldn't believe his eyes at first, but then, with Capri, anything was possible. Was it happenstance running into her? No, he didn't believe it. For, with Capri, could anything really be an accident? All this time he had thought she was dead and now here she was.

Back then, there were so many things to ask her, to talk about. He took her to his apartment so that they could enjoy the reacquainting. Before he knew it they were making love. Amazing as it was, it was wrong. Malik, in his heart, knew it was wrong. Despite the fact that Stone had moved on, there was something illicit about having Capri in this way. Malik's concerns were confirmed when later, during dinner, she began to question him about Stone. She was digging for information. It was as if she was reading his mind and knew he had been in contact with Stone since the day they left him for dead.

She knew he was alive, Malik believed that. He realized then that Capri had used him—for comfort, for information, for whatever reason. She had used him and it wasn't for love. In his heart, he wondered now about her love affair with the two brothers.

What had been her true motives for coming between them the way she had?

“You have to contact Stone and tell him,” she said then, bringing Malik's attention back to her presence in his office.

“I told you. He's dead.”

“You lie, Malik. I know he is not dead.”

“Then you find him. You tell him.” At that Malik was on his feet and moving around the office. He was moving as if a target avoiding a spear. His heart, he was guarding his heart. He'd turned away from her, facing the window. “Why did you come here? If you are being followed, why on earth would you come here? Why would you lead them to me?”

“I didn't, Malik. They are not following me. I made sure of it. I would never do that to you. I just knew you were the only one I could trust. You know all my secrets. It takes us together to make it work. Why do you think we were always assigned to work together? It takes the two of us. You—”

“I do? I know all your secrets?” he asked without turning to her. “Then answer me this Capri—whose child did you give birth to? Stix's or Stone's? Tell me that.”

“Both,” she whispered.

He turned to see her expression but instead he only saw an empty office. She'd seemingly vanished. He walked out to where his secretary sat. She seemed undisturbed. He wondered if she'd even see her leave. He didn't even bother to ask. Maybe she'd never even been there.

“Both?” he mumbled under his breath.

“What? Mr. Akimbo, did you say something to me?” his secretary asked.

“No, no, I didn't…Uh, I'm leaving early.”

Leaving the office after collecting himself, Malik was not at peace. He felt watched and uneasy. It had been years since he'd felt this way. Capri was right. It always took their abilities working together to finish the unforeseen. It always took Malik's ability to feel the jumbled pieces of the impending future and Capri's telekinetic abilities to put the pieces together.

Separated from her, Malik stayed consumed with anxiety most of the time. Even now he took anxiety medication to ease the feeling.

When the Phoenix was assassinated it was through channels of extreme discretion that the remaining few family members communicated with him and with each other. Despite his breaking off from the ‘family' years earlier when he ran off with Capri, he'd kept in touch, especially after finding out that Stone was still alive. He never told anyone for fear of betrayal, but gathered information in case his friend needed the information for his safety. He knew he'd be able to channel in on him and find him if he needed to—if it meant saving his life.

Newspaper ads, junk mail, chance meetings in the marketplace where discussions of the weather held codes full of pertinent information. There was rumor that some had started working for the government, helping them to find those family members who had escaped. Soon no one trusted anyone anymore and living became a lonely endeavor.

As far as he knew back then, Capri was dead, Stix was gone, and the Phoenix was a just a page in the government's espionage history. Eventually, he accepted that he'd never see Stone again, either.

Soon Malik felt a lightening of his spirit. Maybe it was the medication for anxiety but he really began to believe that his troubles were over. The government had rounded up and turned out as many of the family as they could and none of their efforts produced Stone. They finally accepted that he was dead—or so it seemed. It never really occurred to him why he'd been left alone. There had never been an attempt to turn or capture him. No interrogation. Never once had he been pulled in by the government. He never thought about the possibilities of his life being under close surveillance. Not until today. Now with this revelation from Capri he needed to see his friend again. What Capri had said was fierce and could change their lives.

If they were again being sought by someone, they needed to know who and why.

“Why would she come to me like that?” he asked himself. “Why would she come from the ashes that way and trouble my spirit?” he said, not really noting his own words and references to the mythical Phoenix. “And asking about Stone of all people. Has she been turned?”

He reached his condo but sat in his car for a moment or two just staring at his front door, pondering the question. His home that had brought peace and sanctuary for some time now suddenly felt queer and unwelcoming. It felt invaded.

Finally, stepping from his car, he tossed his keys back and forth in his hands, causing them to jingle loudly. The noise seemed to fill an uncomfortable silence of his neighborhood.

His neighbors seemed vacant. No dogs barked. No children played. He looked around for some comfort but found none. Stepping on his porch, he slid the key into the doorknob but did not turn it. He paused. His senses sat on alert and for the first time in years, he felt the need to call upon his long abandoned skills. Stepping back off the porch, he moved into the yard. Looking around, he felt no one was watching. At his age, scaling the side of his condo without a ladder would surely draw attention, so he thought he'd just try to get into his house mentally instead of through the attic.