“Where are you going?” Steven asked, his voice gruff as he hustled past Danny in the hall. Though technically a stepfather, Steven had always called him son, but since Mom died, he’d been cold and distant, except when he was angry. Tray had crawled into Danny’s bed last night, crying as little boys do when they lose their mothers. She’d been sick since he was five; he didn’t remember her before she’d become bedridden. Danny had never been smacked so hard as the moment Steven found them crying.
“Church. The choir is singing for Mom today,” Danny replied. Seeing Steven dressed to go gave Danny hope that the man would join him.
“Your mother’s dead. You’d do well to stop dwelling,” he snapped.
“I didn’t tell them to sing,” Danny said petulantly. His father had chastised him for being smart-mouthed ever since he entered his teens, but Danny didn’t recognize the man in front of him as the father who had raised him. Steven’s hand came up, raised to slap Danny across the face, and was stopped only by the chime of the front door.
Charging down the stairs, Danny swung open the door. It was the chancellor for Olcott University—Danny’s dream school among the universities in Quin. Danny had spent the last month perfecting his application, but his mother’s death had derailed his focus, and he was in danger of missing the deadline.
“Did you even check who it was? You’ll get yourself killed with your recklessness,” Steven said, pushing Danny aside, motioning the chancellor in. “Chancellor, welcome. Come in.”
Danny grinned ear-to-ear, eager to impress the man.
“This is my son, Tray Matthews,” Steven introduced, presenting Tray, dolled up, but numb with grief. Tray was learning how to behave to his father’s high standards so that he wouldn’t get punished. They both were.
“His half-brother, Daniel,” Steven added, waving toward Danny as an afterthought. Danny’s lips parted, surprised not to hear the word ‘son’ nor any mention of Danny’s interest in the university.
“Chancellor, it is good to meet you,” Danny said, shaking the man’s hand. Steven had trained them to speak for themselves, and maybe he’d arranged this to give Danny a chance to shine. “I’ve been working on my application. I’m really excited to start in the history program.”
“History?” the Chancellor repeated, exchanging a look with Steven. “Following in his mother’s footsteps. Is that why you brought me here, Steven?”
“No, Chancellor. He will absolutely not follow in his mother’s footsteps,” Steven replied looking pointedly at Danny. “His interest is sourced solely in her passing. It won’t last the semester.”
“I think it’s good to nip this history thing in the bud before you do something crazy like make a career out of it,” the Chancellor smiled, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Ever hear of Elysia, Daniel?”
“Isn’t that mythology?” Danny asked.
“I’m taking an expedition to Terrana to find out,” the man hummed, exchanging a conspiratorial look with Steven.
“You want to take me to Terrana?” Danny asked, looking uncertainly between the two men.
“How dare you even suggest that after what happened to Clara,” Steven glowered, pulling Danny away from the Chancellor. He looked confused and angry, but Danny had seen that possessive fire in Steven’s eyes whenever the man dragged him home from the Zenzele estate. “Daniel, don’t you have some place to be?”
“But I—” Danny paused, realizing his stepfather didn’t want him around. Or maybe he did, and this was some kind of trap to make Danny miss the choir’s memorial for his mother. He kept saying to forget her. No matter what Danny chose, the choir or the university, he was going to lose.
The choir box was empty, but a recording of choir music played softly in the sanctuary. Danny didn’t know the tune, but after a few repetitions, he hummed along. Jennifer spoke softly, guiding him through some meditation, but he’d tuned her out to listen to the music.
“Jen, do you know much about the carvings on the temple in Sanshin?” Danny asked. “What’s the origin of the body—the physical body given to the pantheon spirits?”
“The drawings pre-date the Dome, I know that much,” Jennifer replied, frowning at the interruption. “Sanshin temple wasn’t built after the war; it was discovered. The drawings were already there.”
“Amanda sees them,” he said. “She knows when supernatural things are about to happen.”
“What kind of supernatural things?” Jennifer asked, her distaste for the topic apparent.
“Don’t think I’m crazy, but mind-reading, teleporting, telekinesis, foreknowledge,” Danny listed. “And those are just the things we’ve encountered in the last few months. I knew there were Panoptica in Elysia; it’s part any history you can find on them. But I’m starting to believe this pantheon that we dismiss as religious unification is based on something real.”
“And you think Amanda is Panoptica?” Jennifer asked.
“I think when she Disappeared, she was held hostage by… something. Something that moves in a way we can’t, speaks to her in a way we don’t hear, and draws her back. She remembers her experience with those Elysian creatures as good, even though it nearly killed her physically,” Danny said.
“Danny, she could have been held hostage in a Terranan temple and incorporated the physical elements into her delusions as she was systematically tortured,” Jennifer said.
“The Panoptica are real, Jen,” Danny insisted. “We at least have to sort her delusions with acknowledgment of that. I think she Disappeared from the hospital. Maybe some Aquian creature took her. One of the creatures in the Pantheon.”
“We saw a man go into her room, Danny,” Jennifer countered. “He didn’t have wings. He was human. Whether they teleported or escaped through some hole in the wall, she was taken by a human.”
The sanctuary door slammed behind them, and Danny reached for his pulse rifle, spinning to face the danger.
“You!” an ebony-skinned, working class woman snapped, striding toward them. “Danny Matthews. I need your help.”
“I’m afraid you have him confused with someone else,” Jennifer said quietly, maintaining a serene pose. “If you’ll excuse us—”
“My name is Mikayla Wright,” she said. “Don’t feed me any of your lies. I know exactly who you are and I will blow your cover if that’s what it takes for your to listen.”
Danny cocked his head. “You’re Tray’s ex-wife.”
“Good. You know who I am,” she said. “You have to speak to him. You have to convince him that what he’s doing is wrong.”
“You’re going to have to start at the beginning,” Danny said, his eyes darting about the room, expecting danger in every projection. It didn’t matter how much rest he got; he still hadn’t returned from the wilderness.
“I have been waiting by the docks for days for a signal from him and nothing,” she said. “Either Sikorsky lied or Tray did.”
“Lied about what?” Danny asked. The information dump had overwhelmed his senses, and he felt Jennifer’s hand on his, squeezing encouragement.
“My son!” Mikayla snapped, grabbing the front of his shirt. Danny pressed the barrel of his pulse rifle to her chest and she released him. “Tray tricked me. He tricked me into bringing my son to his estate, then he had me arrested. Not only has he stolen my son, he’s made me a fugitive.”
“I don’t believe you,” Danny said, shaking his head and backing away from her.
The sanctuary door opened and Danny hid his pulse rifle when he saw the glimmer of the Enn uniforms. “What’s going on?” he panted, feeling for Jennifer’s hand.
“Mikayla Wright,” said a glossy-booted Enn, snatching Mikayla by the wrist and pulling her arms behind her back. “You are under arrest—”
“No. No, it’s not me you want. It’s him,” she cried, falling to the ground, putting up no physical resistance, but filling the sanctuary with her cries of protest. “That’s Danny Matthews.”
Jennifer pushe
d Danny behind her and walked backwards, edging closer to the side door.
“I have no warrant for his arrest. I have a warrant for yours,” the Enn man said.
“Danny, help me!” Mikayla begged. “You have to get to Tray!”
Danny couldn’t look at her, and soon the door closed behind her and the Enn, muting her pleas for help. It was only a matter of time before she’d find someone to listen to her. Danny didn’t know if he could trust the woman, but he had to clear his brother’s name in regards to the kidnapping. He needed to get to Tray.
A second Enn came over, hand on his stunner, suspicious brown eyes baring down on them. “What is the situation here?”
“She came in ranting,” Jennifer spoke up. “She didn’t hurt us, but she scared me. She just talked about her son.”
“ID, please,” the Enn said, his tone polite but protective.
“Jennifer Swift. Danny Wrangham,” Jennifer said, transmitting her ID to the Enn’s Virp. “I’m a nurse. He’s in my care. He just got out of the hospital a few days ago. Post-traumatic stress. Panic attacks. He had family on Terrana and… I should get him to a place where he can calm down.”
She kept the Enn’s attention, feeding him a story while repeatedly asking to remove Danny from the situation. The Enn eventually conceded. And Jennifer rushed Danny to the side door.
“You didn’t tell me Tray’s ex-wife was a Valentino,” Jennifer panted, rubbing her hand, then tapping out a message on her Virp.
“I didn’t know,” Danny said, shaking his head.
“Is she telling the truth? Does Tray have her son?” Jennifer asked.
Danny shook his head. He couldn’t fathom the idea. Tray had spent most of his time back in a coma. Had Valentino declared war on them in their absence?
“I think you need to strike an alliance with Coro. Unless you believe the Enn will help us. Make sure you and Alex have an escape plan,” Danny said, his stumbled steps seeking a running rhythm.
“Where are you going?” Jennifer called.
“I’m going home!”
28
Saskia heard the clickity-clack of Morrigan’s fancy shoes as she pushed Tray’s wheelchair down the ramp to the boathouse. Ayize had reclined on the boat, hands behind his head, feet up. It was the most relaxed Saskia had seen him all week, although given his occasionally probing of his swollen eye, she imagined he needed the rest.
“They’re not talking,” Saskia observed. She saw the growing light as they approached, but they hadn’t rounded the bend into view yet.
“It’s been an hour,” Ayize said, peeking one eye open. “Either they talked each other’s ears off inside or they had a ‘crat-fight.”
“Crat-fight?” Saskia repeated.
“Two rich kids arguing over trivial things,” Ayize chuckled, sitting up, resting his arms on his knees. “You should have heard the tantrum Morrigan threw when she found out her mom bought her this place. ‘Why couldn’t you just get me an ice cream shop like a normal mom?!’”
Saskia laughed, then covered her lips. “Ice cream shop? Not ice cream cone? Ice cream maker?”
“She’s not exactly the business mind of the family,” Ayize laughed. “If there were ice cream in that clinic, she’d give it away for free. She was a real sweetheart before her parents died, and I really hope she can find herself again.”
The clickity-clack grew louder, and the motion-sensitive lights at the end of the tunnel brightened the entire boathouse. The smile on Saskia’s lips quickly turned to one of horror when she saw the red smears of blood on Tray’s clothes.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Saskia asked, jogging up the ramp to meet them.
Morrigan kept a steady pace. “Minor issue with the grav-therapy,” Morrigan said.
Tray puffed air through his lips and coughed up fresh blood. A few drops of blood came from his nose. He dabbed the blood away with an already pink-stained rag, then closed his eyes. “Minor,” he croaked. “Did Mikayla come?”
“No,” Ayize said, hopping from the boat. “I went out on the water a few times. Only commercial boats, all headed to deeper waters.”
“Let’s look again,” Tray said.
“Does he need a hospital?” Saskia asked, petting the top of Tray’s head.
“Maybe,” Morrigan allowed. “I did an immunoglobin infusion, and there’s no internal bleeding. Just a few capillary bursts that caused widespread bruising. I’ll keep an eye, but I wouldn’t have brought him back if it weren’t safer to go home.”
“I think we should go straight home, Tray,” Saskia said softly, studying the bruises on Tray’s fingernails. He winced when she helped him stand, and then dropped back to the chair. Ayize hauled him up and carried him into the boat.
“Put those cushions together,” Ayize said, nodding toward the front bench, keeping Tray in his arms until Saskia and Morrigan arranged the makeshift bed. Tray had to curl up to fit, moving in short twitches until he found a comfortable position.
Ayize started the engine and took the boat slowly into the open water, making sure every whitecap they passed over rocked rather than bounced them. It was partly for Tray’s benefit, but he was also meandering, scanning the boat traffic for signs of Mikayla.
“Enn,” Saskia said, pointing to a cruiser with a green and gold shield.
“What?” Ayize asked, his voice raised to overpower the purr of the engine in his ear.
“Enn!” Saskia shouted.
“They’re coming this way,” Morrigan said.
“Because we’re circling. We’re loitering. They think we’re waiting for contraband,” Ayize sighed, increasing their speed, heading toward the mouth of the river branch that would take them home.
“No, we have to stay,” Tray groaned.
“Tray, if the Enn are patrolling these waters, Mikayla won’t be here,” Saskia pointed out. “She’s already been caught once and won’t risk going to jail.”
“She needs more time. Hero needs her,” Tray insisted, writhing in his attempt to sit up. Saskia put a hand on his shoulder to still him, but he kept fighting.
“He’ll have to wait another day,” Saskia said.
Sighing at the silence in the house, Alex climbed the stairs, taking a moment to rest a hand on the door of Danny’s empty room. At least he had the solace of knowing Danny was heading home. Jennifer lay in bed, her hair wet from showering, her body quivering at the loss of her friend. She sifted through medical files, letting them scroll past her pillow.
“Any luck?” Alex asked.
“Mikayla has a son,” Jennifer said, shutting down the device, shifting the position of her hips to invite him next to her. “He was born after the divorce, but before Tray came to Terrana. No father listed. You?”
“There are no pictures of this kid anywhere,” Alex reported, crawling into bed, entwining his legs with hers. They’d divided the task of checking out Mikayla’s story based on which Quin systems they were better at hacking into. “It goes beyond protected minors. Someone has a bot in the system actively scrubbing even passive security monitors.”
“Mikayla must be super-important to Sikorsky for him to go through the trouble,” Jennifer reasoned, adjusting the pillow under their cheeks so they could look at each other without crossing their eyes.
“I was actually thinking it’s something Tray would do if he didn’t want Danny finding out he was a father,” Alex sighed, his lips twitching as he forced himself to speak the suspicion aloud.
“You think this boy is Tray’s?” she asked.
“Don’t you?”
The silence came again, and Alex stared past Jennifer at the windmills outside. They’d hidden the Bobsled out there, and Danny was taking the vehicle to Clover. Alex planned to check in the morning and make sure Danny had actually gotten out. Clover was a border Danny hated to cross for personal reasons.
“I’d feel much better thinking he’s looking after his own son than kidnapping his ex’s,” Jennifer decided. “But the way Mikayl
a said it—that he tricked her… I guess I don’t really know Tray.”
“He is a tough nut to crack,” Alex allowed. “Outwardly, he seems so social and friendly, but he was always laser-focused on getting Danny’s love and he never accepted that he had it. When he came to Terrana, he was so shaken over whatever happened with his wife and losing his dad. He was always afraid Danny would turn him out and he’d be alone.”
“Danny’s the same. Afraid Tray’s going to sell the ship and leave him hanging,” Jennifer said wistfully, hugging Alex a little harder.
“I guess they’re both afraid they’ll wind up doing to each other what their father did to them,” Alex said. He wanted to hug them both and never let go.
“But if the boy is Tray’s, why—”
An alarm sounded and both their Virps vibrated. Alex jumped from the bed, his stomach lodging in his throat.
“Dole-haters,” he muttered, reaching under the bed for their go-bag and tossing a weapon across to Jennifer. Dropping her robe, she donned the nearest shirt and shorts, then passed him his cane. Within seconds, they were ready to run.
Mounting his pulse rifle to his wrist and gripping his cane like a club, Alex tip-toed to the top of the stairs with Jennifer close behind. They listened for sounds of intruders, but Alex heard nothing. He looked to Jennifer, but she shook her head, too.
The alarm was meant to go off when someone came within ten feet of the house. He checked his Virp, and it still indicated someone standing within the perimeter. He crept down the stairs, but the doors were closed and the house looked eerily peaceful. He flipped on the back light and peered through the curtains. Nothing.
Jennifer tapped his arm. “Upstairs. Window opened,” she said, showing him the alert on her Virp. She led the way back up, pausing outside of Amanda’s room and Alex cringed at the sense of violation. He pulled his wife back, worried he would lose her. He didn’t want her to open the door and get attacked or set on fire. Had someone come here to burn down the whole house?
Jennifer pressed her ear to the door, her hand resting on the handle. A few seconds later, she triggered the latch, then pressed her body against the wall, letting the door swing open on its own. Nothing happened.
The Gray Market: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 5) Page 23
