“Maybe.”
11
Brett Flynn set an illusion about himself that would cause anyone looking at him to see him as a short, stout, middle-aged farmer, clothed in flannels, plaids, and coveralls—the typical garb of the diner’s patrons. This town belonged to Owen Tremaine’s mercenaries, and Brett didn’t want anyone to know it had hit his radar.
The mercenaries were enemies of the Omnis. They’d been trained and groomed for the fight in the Army’s Red Team. He’d had one of his flunkies check them out after King’s Warren fell to the Feds. The subterranean castle was built in the footprint of an old missile silo. Losing it was a big hit to the Omnis.
Brett’s intelligence had indicated that the group of fighters here were simple regulars who didn’t pose a threat to the Omnis—not where the OWO was headed, at least.
Brett didn’t agree with that assessment. It felt too easy, like they were ignoring an obvious threat. They ignored him too. They shut him out of the Omnis’ business, patted him on the head and told him to not worry. He’d been shut out most of his adult life. Passed over by others less flawed than he.
His family was blind to all he had to offer. He’d been honing himself into a brutally effective weapon, all while behaving in a self-effacing manner toward his parents’ peers in the Omni ruling class, as he tried to make a spot for himself.
Truth was, he was a festering wound among his own people, who underestimated his potential for violence. Always. Always. His parents had paid him off and cut him loose, seeing no use for him, finding nothing redeemable in their own son.
Because of her. One stupid female.
Selena Irving.
She’d joined the Red Team for a time, then followed several soldiers out of the Army and into Tremaine’s service. Brett stroked part of thick scar on his cheek. It started at his cheekbone and continued down to his mouth, shredding the symmetry of his lips.
Oh, yes, he was not finished with the estimable Ms. Irving. His plans for her were long and terrible. Brett sipped his steaming coffee. Patience was an art, one rarely practiced anymore. His lengthy stalking of his enemy was enjoyable, giving him the opportunity to consider at his leisure the myriad ways he could destroy her.
He’d ruined her parents’ lives, breaking them down a little more every time they ran from him. They didn’t have a lot of fight left in them, but still they lingered, like a dying person taken off life support. He wanted them to experience his coup de grâce—Selena’s capture and torture would be their undoing.
Or perhaps he would do the opposite: have Selena watch him end her parents.
Either option gave him delicious shivers.
The object of his fury came out of the grocery store, walking next to a man pushing a cart.
Brett hissed a victory sigh. Patience always won the day.
Brett tried to slip into her mind to see where they were headed next, but Bastion had set a protection around her, blocking her from such invasions. The man she was with, however, was still wide open to his mental probing. Brett urged him to go for a coffee at the shop next to the grocery store.
Bastion’s meddling didn’t surprise Brett—after all, he was protecting the forces on his side of their war. What did surprise Brett was that Bastion hadn’t put a protection on the man with Selena, or on all of those who worked for Tremaine.
Brett smiled, feeling the victory that would soon be his. Bastion had a thing for Selena. Taking her would be like sinking a knife in the Legion’s breast.
Everything Brett wanted would soon be his. All it would cost was a little patience.
The man with Selena announced they were going for a coffee after they stowed their groceries. Ever alert, Selena looked around them before agreeing.
Brett went into the café, keeping the two in his line of sight. When Selena walked past him, he drew the scent of her into his nose, testing her scent, reacquainting himself with the nuances of her energy. She wasn’t afraid at the moment, but when he had control of her, God, how delectable it would be to taste the way fear tempered her essence.
He kept himself invisible to the regulars. Selena and her friend were standing at the counter. Bastion’s damned protection meant he couldn’t get physically close to Selena, but it didn’t prohibit him from projecting his astral body into her energy.
Brett stood a few feet behind Selena as his astral body leaned close to her, bending near her shoulder, inhaling her scent—the smell of her skin and blood and bones, all of which Brett would soon sample. His physical body swallowed the saliva that filled his mouth, soaking him with anticipation. Of course, she would be alive when he did what he was planning. Alive and screaming. Oh, how delicious her agony would be, like all of his pain over the years, condensed into a much shorter, more intense period of time.
She was a regular, so she wouldn’t heal rapidly. He could take his time drawing out her agony. He rubbed his palm over himself at that thought.
Brett wrapped his astral arms around her waist, letting his energy infuse hers. He felt her body tighten with alarm. She looked over her shoulder, but there was nothing for her to see. He bent his astral head low, letting the ghost of his face drag along Selena’s shoulder.
She jumped and turned to face the room, her eyes darting about as her mind tried to meet the rest of her senses halfway. Brett smiled as he watched her struggle. Humans never trusted their instincts.
She reached over to her companion, grabbing his sleeve. “Jim, we have to go.”
Jim took the change the cashier handed him. He looked at her, then turned and sent a look around them. Brett wasn’t certain what Jim’s role in her life was, but the man had a warrior’s essence. He was, therefore, an enemy of the Omnis.
“Why?” Jim asked.
“Because we do.”
“We haven’t gotten our coffee.”
“I don’t care. Let’s go.”
Jim frowned. “Selena—what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Brett let his astral hands touch her cheeks. Selena gasped and stepped back, backing into the counter.
“Sel?”
Selena folded her arms in front of her.
“Go outside,” Jim ordered her quietly. “I’ll get our drinks.”
Selena shifted her attention to Jim, and then Brett felt it, that first hint of fear. God, it was delicious. He clenched his teeth and sucked in a long draw of her energy.
“I’ll wait,” Selena said.
Jim stepped nearer, providing her cover from the rest of the shop. “What happened?”
Selena shrugged. “Someone touched me.”
Jim looked around again. “I’m the only one near you, and I sure as hell didn’t. Russ would kill me,” he said, chuckling.
“It wasn’t you.”
“Oh.” Jim frowned. He leaned close to ask, “So what are we talking about, then? A ghost? You sure are spooked.”
Selena shivered. “I felt… I thought… Never mind. Forget it. Let’s just get out of here.”
The ops guys had reconfigured triggers for the different security sensors, making them more sensitive to energetic interruptions. Bastion had been forced to switch his shields from emitting sweeping electromagnetic pulses to more mechanical tweaks, like simply pausing any recording devices while he was in range of them. It was something that required more concentration.
Bastion gave it no more thought. His time here was ending. The team was already looking for him. And his presence seemed to be causing Selena extreme discomfort. Never in his life had Bastion harmed a woman—he sure as hell didn’t want to start a new trend now, with his own light.
Bastion gathered his shower kit and headed out to the gym building. It was the middle of the night. The team didn’t begin straggling into the gym until a couple of hours before dawn. He figured this was a safe time to hit the showers, since he had at least an hour before the first fighter would be in the locker room.
He set up his shaving mirror and got his shampoo, soap, and
shaving gear out. Then he got into the water and stood under its hard streams, letting it hit his back and neck for long, luxurious moments before washing up.
The stall showers were all individual booths with blue polyester curtains in the front. Each had a small anteroom with wall hooks and a bench. There were no cameras in the locker room, but Bastion wasn’t taking any chances—he’d set an illusion over his stuff so that, in the unlikely event one of the team came in early, it wouldn’t be seen.
That habit saved his hide.
Greer came in while Bastion was shaving. “Hey,” Greer called out. “Who else’s guilty conscience is keeping him up tonight?”
Bastion supposed Greer was talking to him, but of course he didn’t answer.
“Yo. I’m talking to you,” Greer said.
Still, Bastion didn’t answer.
“Shit.” Greer ripped the curtain aside.
Bastion had his razor poised for another stroke on his neck when the cold air hit him. Greer reached in and shut off the water.
“Motherfucker. I will find you and kill you for using all the hot water,” Greer grumbled under his breath.
Bastion gave Greer a compulsion to leave the locker room and get on with his workout. Pushing a compulsion over Greer wasn’t as easy as it was with some regulars. He’d clearly had training—and significant practice—shielding himself from psychic intrusions. The fighter left the shower area and went over to the toilet stalls, slamming each door open before he was satisfied that no one was hiding in the room. He finally left, still in a high funk.
Bastion finished his shave, then dried off and dressed. He gathered up his gear and left the locker room, his shields in place because the teams had cameras in all the public places in the house and across the compound.
A kid was coming into the gym wing—one of the older wild boys. Hawk was his name. It was still dark outside, but Bastion could see perfectly well in the low light. The kid looked right at him, right into his eyes. Bastion stopped. There was no way a regular human could see him, not through his illusion.
What had just happened?
Bastion dropped his shower bag and hurried back to the kid, but whatever he’d just experienced was over; the kid now showed no sign he was aware of Bastion, though he shouted at him, walked backward in front of him, tried in every different way to get his attention again.
Bastion stepped back when the kid went into the workout room. He stared at the closed door, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had he imagined it? The kid was a regular. No doubt about that.
He collected his bag and returned to his attic hideout. He slumped into a creaky old rocking chair, rocking while he puzzled over the issue. He definitely needed a closer look at Hawk.
Selena seemed odd that evening, Bastion thought. She didn’t want to socialize with the others in the billiards room. Instead, she took herself off to her room, preferring some alone time.
Bastion hid in the attic, away from cameras, and waited until Selena’s lights were out before visiting her in her dreams. This was always tricky to do with humans. When he’d visited her before, she’d always been awake, though he’d convinced her she was sleeping, and later, he’d compelled her to sleep.
Now his astral self reached out to her sleeping mind. He couldn’t enter her sleeping mind, not like Liege could. Her shields were too strong against him. But he could tap on her consciousness, like an awake person could physically tap another person’s shoulder.
Selena. Talk to me.
He wasn’t expecting what came next—Selena sat up. Well, her astral body sat up while her physical body stayed in repose. Mon Dieu, she was stunning. She had a purple glow about her. This was the first time he’d ever seen color around someone, and the sight was breathtaking. Best of all, in her current state, she could see his astral projection too.
She got off the bed and came toward him with narrowed eyes.
My love, why are you angry? he asked, speaking psychically.
There was another of you in the coffee shop this afternoon, she said.
Bastion frowned. What do you mean? There is only one of me.
Another one like you. Another mutant. He touched me. Did you send him?
Selena, you know I can’t tolerate male regulars near you. Why would I send a mutant male to you? I would not.
Then who was it?
Bastion shook his head. I don’t know. I’ve been feeling another’s energy here lately, but the energy signature is weak. I can’t get a read on it.
It wasn’t weak this afternoon.
You think it was a “he”?
She nodded and folded her arms in front of her.
I have a protection on you. Nothing should have come near you.
I don’t need your protection.
You do. You don’t know what you’re up against.
I do know. Things like you. Things that can act like ghosts.
Oui, but I’m not a thing. I’m a man.
Are there many like you? Mutants?
Bastion nodded. Far more than there should be. The Omnis are building their mutant forces.
Selena held up her astral hand. She didn’t notice at first that she was pure energy—not until she touched her hand to his and they merged into an amorphous shape. She gasped and looked up at him, but before he could explain what was happening, her astral body was instantly reunited with her physical self.
She jerked awake. Bastion did not reveal himself to her. She turned on the light and looked around the room, then got up and checked her closet and the bathroom—looking for him, he was sure.
He hated this, hated only being able to connect with her spirit self or in situations where he would have to wipe her memories of him. How were they to have a future if they couldn’t be together?
Bastion pulled his astral projection back into his body in the attic. Keeping his eyes shut, he focused on surrounding Selena with an energy field that would block physical and psychic attacks.
He was not successful. She had set her own boundaries and he was not allowed to break them.
She was strong. He admired that. She would make a good candidate for taking the human modifications. All of her natural talent could be channeled and trained, honed into pure power.
Still, Bastion had to find a way to protect her.
It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Flynn had found a way into the house, despite the protection Bastion had on it. Perhaps Flynn was using one of his minions to infiltrate the compound and stalk Selena. Perhaps others from the household were likewise in jeopardy.
He should talk to Liege. It was past time to blow this open. The fighters here were used to secrecy—it was why they lived together: less exposure to the outside world, and much easier to protect each other. The Legion could trust them with their awful secret.
12
Barely two weeks after Max and Hope’s wedding, the team was again celebrating nuptials. This time it was Owen and Addy’s wedding. Bastion crashed Addy’s bachelorette party—in his astral form. Owen’s fiancée was the exact opposite of Selena. Addy was gentle, sweet, almost meek, and yet Bastion sensed a core of steel within her. Tonight, the women had spent the evening helping her plan a sex fest with the boss.
Bastion hadn’t laughed so hard in his life.
He tried to tamp down the hunger the party had aroused in him. Selena felt it too. She went behind the bar to begin cleanup as the night wound down. Her body was on fire. She was inches away from driving over to the local bar to find a hookup.
Don’t do it, Bastion said, insulted that his light thought to find relief with a stranger. It isn’t a stranger you crave.
Ignoring him, she continued cleaning up. He felt a wave of her loneliness as the door to the game room opened and the women began pairing up with their men as they left for the night. Selena wiped the granite counter of the bar.
You aren’t alone, Bastion told her. You have me.
She squeezed her eyes shut, rejecting that. She still
thought he was a figment of her own mind.
You’ve seen me, touched me. I am real.
Ivy commented to Kelan that he was a lucky man. The look he sent his girlfriend should have incinerated her. He pulled her close and kissed her.
“Yes, I am.” His growly answer came long after Ivy had already left. He wrapped an arm around Fee.
“You sure I can’t help, Sel?” Fee asked.
“Nope. Got it under control.” Selena forced a smile. “Go show Kelan what you learned tonight.”
Kelan frowned. “What did you learn?”
Fee giggled and took his hand, leading him from the room.
Show me what you learned tonight.
Selena gritted her teeth, fighting her own desire. She loaded the dishwasher with the dishes the women had brought over to the bar.
Come upstairs. I will be with you in the way that I can. I will not leave you alone when you are in need.
Selena’s pulse sped up. Bastion could almost feel its drum. She swept the room with a glance, looking for something that needed straightening, something—anything—that would let her delay the inevitable, but there was nothing more to do.
She crossed the room and switched the lights off as she left. Her heart was pounding: she hungered for what she knew was coming. She stepped inside her room and locked her door. Bastion turned on the lamp on her bedside table so she would know he was there. She walked deeper into her room, searching for him.
“Bastion? Are you here?” Selena asked, seeing no one in her room.
I’m with you. Heavy arms encircled her. But she was alone, so it was only the impression of him there, holding her. How could that be? She opened her eyes and looked around, flooded by a sense of emptiness when she realized this was all in her head. All of it. The crushing sense of aloneness made her want to vomit. She covered her mouth and headed toward her bathroom.
Stop.
As if she’d hit a wall, she was absolutely blocked from moving forward.
You are not alone.
Bastion: O-Men: Liege’s Legion Page 10
