Jordan

by Susan Kearney

  He tried to pick up thoughts about the Grail, but no one nearby knew anything valuable. Except one young man seemed to know where the government headquarters were located and was heading there himself.

  The man’s mood was dark, angry, and fearful. Jordan wasn’t sure why, but the man felt he’d been unfairly accused.

  “Follow him.” Jordan gestured with his chin.

  “Does he know something?” she asked.

  “No, but he might know someone who knows someone who does.”

  Vivianne sighed. Her handheld buzzed, and she raised her wrist to her mouth. “Yes, Gray?”

  “Repairs are complete. We now have a working cosmic energy convertor.”

  “Good job. We hope to be back soon.”

  She ended the conversation and then skidded to a stop at the sight of a strange three-legged animal with four eyes and two tails. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t worry. Hartogs are vegetarians, at least according to its owner.” Jordan nevertheless gave the animal a wide berth. At the moment, the hartog seemed solely focused on when it could take a nap. The animal was picturing a cool, dark room, where it could crawl under the desk and out of the light of… the Holy Grail?

  Jordan delved deeper into the creature’s mind.

  “What is it?” Vivianne asked.

  Jordan realized he’d stopped walking in order to concentrate better. He resumed their progress, this time following the hartog’s owner. “Just a sec.”

  He focused on the owner’s mind, sifting through memories, but he found nothing about the Grail. Weary, he withdrew. “That animal has seen the Grail. But its owner seems to know nothing.”

  “Maybe he’s not the owner. Or maybe he was with his last owner when he saw it. Or maybe—”

  “You’re right. That man isn’t the animal’s owner but this world’s equivalent of a professional dog walker. But we still need to follow them.”

  “What about the government offices?” Vivianne asked.

  “They aren’t going anywhere. And I’ve scanned thousands of minds. This is the first clue about the Grail, and I want to pursue it.”

  “So we’re going into the house?”

  “Maybe later. First I want to check out the home’s owner. According to his paid help, he’ll attend the parties tonight.”

  “Fine, but we aren’t dressed properly for this level.” Vivianne sounded tense.

  So far he’d refrained from reading her mind. It took quite a lot of effort to do so, but he didn’t like the anxiety he heard in her tone. “What’s really wrong?” he asked, knowing instinctively it wasn’t the clothing.

  “I told Knox we would succeed, but I never really believed we’d find the Grail.”

  He raised his brow. “We haven’t found it yet.”

  “But it seems real now. And…”

  “And?” he prodded, uncertain where she was going with the conversation. They trailed the Hartog walker into a park. Unlike the levels up higher, this area had plants, flowers, and green grass—none of them real, but plastic replicas. Still, the animal seemed to take great pleasure in sniffing every artificial blade.

  Vivianne turned to him. “Will you unite the Grail and the Staff the very moment you find the Grail?”

  He stopped again and tipped up her chin. “I won’t leave you alone in enemy territory.”

  She shook her head and swallowed hard. “I’m not ready to lose you. Not yet.”

  “I’ve gotten used to having you around, too.” He kept his words light. But he realized the irony that he’d lived so long alone, and now that he’d finally found a woman he cared for, he was going to lose her before they’d had any chance to make a life together.

  He’d warned her. He’d told himself to keep his distance. But he’d learned that he couldn’t chose his fate. Apparently it was his destiny to love Vivianne Blackstone.

  Conversation is the slowest form of human communication.

  —BEN FRANKLIN

  34

  The legends about uniting the Staff and Grail were ancient, even back in Arthur’s time,” Jordan told her, his blue eyes kind and looking far too sad for Vivianne’s taste. But then the sparkle rekindled and he grinned. “But there’s something you should know.”

  “About the Grail?” Vivianne wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and tried to act casual.

  While she hadn’t thought they’d find the Grail, she’d always believed they’d find another solution. That a man who’d spent so many years seeking justice would finally have time for his own happiness. In a fair universe they would have a lifetime together—but the universe was anything but fair.

  “I love you,” Jordan told her and her knees went weak. “I don’t know if that knowledge will make things worse after I am gone, but Vivianne Blackstone, I love you. And I’m sorry for it.”

  “I’m not.” She grabbed his hands, her passion rising up in a fierce swell. “It’s better to have loved… even if—”

  She couldn’t voice the reality. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she blinked them away, forced herself to look at the hartog as it chewed on a flower. Jordan followed her gaze. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Yes. Of course.” She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. She would not cry. She wouldn’t. Right now Jordan was still alive. There would be more than enough time to grieve. Later.

  Jordan loved her. His words meant more than she’d thought possible. He loved her, and her happiness flowed from inside out, erupting into a giggle of joy.

  Jordan shot her a curious glance. “You okay?”

  She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “I love you, too.”

  “I’m glad.” His tone was gruff, heartfelt. She wished they could go rent a room and forget the Tribes, Earth, and the Grail. She wished they could just be two people in love, with all the time they needed at their disposal.

  The hartog decided it was done sniffing. Either that or its caretaker forced it forward. In either case, the pet and its steward darted across the street, through a private gate, and up a staircase toward the double doors of one of a dozen mansions lining the block.

  “Let’s go around back.” Jordan steered her to the corner and crossed the street. The mansions were laid out in neat rows, every lot the same size, landscaped exactly alike. But only the Hartog mansion had a stone wall around the perimeter.

  She was about to ask Jordan more questions when he got that “missing” look in his eyes. He was off reading minds again.

  With his special ability, they were a lot more likely to secure information. They needn’t even attract attention to themselves, and that gave them a huge tactical advantage.

  Would it be enough? Surely the Tribes had to keep the Grail well guarded. Surely they would have tight security, alarm systems, locked doors. They’d be walking straight into danger.

  Yet all she wanted to do was skip and dance, because Jordan loved her. She felt crazy good. And scared out of her mind that she was still going to lose him.

  The optimist in her told her they’d find a way to be together. The pessimist in her replied they’d be together, all right—in death.

  Get a grip.

  Vivianne needed to get grounded. Do something to keep her mind busy, or she was going to fall prey to her roller-coaster emotions. She needed a distraction but couldn’t use her handheld to check in, since they’d agreed to keep the communication with the Draco down to a minimum for security purposes. Too bad there was nothing to see beyond a bunch of mansions. No one was going in or out. No one was even on the street.

  In fact, the place seemed strangely deserted. But she didn’t know Pentar’s customs. During the day, adults probably worked and the kids attended school, and for all she knew, the grounds were kept by robots.

  She glanced at Jordan. He’d been “gone” for what seemed like a very long time.

  “Jordan?”

  “The hartog could have seen the Grail anywhere. The animal’s primitive mind doesn’t allow for details that might let
me identify the location.”

  “We followed the hartog for nothing?”

  “Not for nothing. The hartog’s owner is an important man. He’s going to celebrate with other important leaders tonight.” Jordan paused, then continued, “There’s some huge social event this evening. The city’s residents are attending a gala.”

  “We’re going to attend?” Vivianne asked. “That way you can circulate among the important people.”

  Her comment seemed to catch him off guard. He spoke thoughtfully. “I’m not certain I can handle so many minds coming at me at once.”

  She arched her brow. “Here I thought you were omnipotent.”

  “I wish.”

  She didn’t press the matter.

  “Fine.” He changed his mind. “Let’s go join the party.”

  “I suspect we need to go clothes shopping… unless you just want to brainwash everyone into thinking I’m wearing a drop-dead-gorgeous gown?”

  His eyes sparkled with a glow that heated her. “Let’s go shop.”

  “I’ve very expensive tastes,” she warned.

  “All I ask is that you buy sensible shoes.”

  She pouted. “Define sensible.”

  “Shoes you can—” Jordan grabbed her and yanked her behind a thick hedge. “Security,” he explained before she could ask.

  Fear tightening up her chest, she peered between the branches as a vehicle rolled down the road. “Are they searching for us?”

  “I don’t know. One guy’s thinking about how his wife found his porn stash last night, and the other is so angry at his boss that I can’t get a bead on whatever they are supposed to be doing.”

  Vivianne held her breath. When the vehicle passed without slowing, she remembered to breathe again and began to step back toward the sidewalk.

  Jordan placed his hand on her shoulder. “Wait. They’ve picked up something on their sensors.”

  “Us?”

  “Maybe.” He squeezed her shoulder. “They’ve taped a picture of us exiting the Draco to their monitor. It’s grainy, probably picked up by a pedestrian camera, but it’s us for sure.”

  “Maybe going to the gala isn’t such a hot idea, after all.”

  “No. I think you’re right. We need to attend.”

  “We’ll need more than clothing to attend the celebration. We’ll need disguises.”

  Jordan frowned, and she could tell he was mind-reading the Security team. “You’re assuming we’ll be free that long. They’re turning around.”

  “Do something.”

  “Okay. They’ve spotted us.” He sounded calm, distracted. “They’re heading right here.”

  Apparently he couldn’t stop them. “So do we run?”

  “Let them come to us,” Jordan directed. “I’ll try to make them see two loose hartogs instead of us, but I can’t focus on the task and run at the same time.”

  Vivianne rooted her feet to the ground. It was broad daylight, and they were just standing there. If Jordan slipped, if the men reported in, they might send squads of guards.

  She crossed her fingers. Don’t see us. Don’t see us. Don’t see us.

  “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” Jordan muttered.

  She squeezed her crossed fingers together harder. Don’t see us. Don’t see us. Don’t see us.

  Security was twenty feet away. Then ten. Five. They rolled on by.

  Drained, she swayed on her feet, and Jordan reached out to steady her. “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she insisted.

  “You did… a lot.” He held her shoulders and ran his palms up and down her upper arms.

  She’d never seen him look so serious. Almost shaken. “I don’t understand.”

  “You fed me power.”

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t have held the image by myself.”

  That made no sense. He didn’t need her to play mind tricks. “You faked the money at the station, and I had nothing to do with it.”

  “That was a tiny piece of paper for just a few seconds. This time, we made imaginary three-dimensional images look real for over a minute. The construct was so tight, even their sensors didn’t suspect we’d faked them out. Your extra power made the difference.”

  She searched his eyes to see if he was teasing, but he appeared dead serious. Temples throbbing, she rubbed her head. “I thought you drew power from the Staff.”

  “That’s on the physical plane. What you did was on the mental plane.”

  “Like telepathy?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t a message. You sent me emotional mental energy.”

  Had her wishing been a form of mental energy? Had she really fed it to him? It seemed impossible. But then, why else was she so suddenly drained? She couldn’t discount his explanation, not after she’d recently seen so many things that she’d previously thought were impossible.

  Her head was spinning. “How’s it possible for me to feed you energy?”

  “The Staff has fed me all my life. So I guess it’s possible my DNA has evolved to the point where I can pick up additional energy from you.” He looped an arm over her shoulder. “I always knew you were special.”

  Had he? If the Staff hadn’t forced lust on them… hadn’t forced them to share memories… would she be able to feed him power from her emotions?

  “Jordan, what are the chances that I would have a simpatico power that feeds your own capabilities?”

  “It’s possible my Staff altered your DNA,” he said. “That while it caused us to share memories, it somehow taught you to give off the right energy frequency.”

  “Out of all the beings in the universe, how many can feed you mental power?”

  “That I know of,” he said, his eyes darkening, “only you.”

  Vivianne dropped the subject. For now. But her suspicions were beginning to grow. She shook her head. It was a good thing Jordan wasn’t reading her mind. No doubt he wouldn’t be pleased to know that she suspected he might have programmed the Staff to do his bidding. But then again, she hadn’t forgotten how those blue lights had entered her body when she and Jordan had made love, either. Perhaps neither Jordan nor his Staff had anything to do with her new ability. Perhaps those lights that had changed Jordan had changed her, too.

  Courage is standing up for what you believe, regardless of the odds against you, and against the pressure that tears at your resistance.

  —LADY OF THE LAKE

  35

  The elite of Pentar seemed to be celebrating throughout this level, with the most prestigious party taking place at the palace. The domed ballroom with crystal columns and polished, illuminated marble floors was the perfect backdrop for the festivities, and the citizens had decked themselves out. Their normal dreary and drab garments had been replaced with ostentatious finery. Women wore strings of sparkling gemstones twined into their sweeping updos, and the men sported jewel-encrusted shoulder pads over their suit jackets.

  Vivianne had no idea who was paying for the party, but from the golden sculpted decorations to the glitter-scented air that lent a glow to the room, they’d spared no expense. The fountains startled her. At first she’d assumed the silver-painted statues were sculpted from polished marble, but as the figures slowly pirouetted, she realized that trained actresses and elaborate costuming had fooled her eyes.

  Jordan stood beside her looking elegant in a black jacket with black-studded shoulder pads that showed off his wide torso, and a black shirt and black pants. Vivianne had chosen a gold gown that trailed along the floor to hide the ugly flat sandals Jordan had insisted she wear.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said with an intimate heat in his eyes that warmed her down to her toes as they made their way through the twenty-foot-high front doors.

  “The gown doesn’t look right without heels,” she responded, concerned that someone would notice they were strangers here owing to her footwear more than any fashion faux pas.

  Her role was to deflect attenti
on from Jordan so he could focus on scanning minds. Her plan was for them to dance together, moving around the room to give him a chance to scout without having to converse. But there was no music.

  Once she looked past the brightly hued gowns and sweeping architecture, the Tribe party was really quite dreary. There was no art, no laughter, no smiles, no joy here.

  “So what’s plan B?” she asked.

  “What makes you think I have a plan B?” he countered.

  “I was hoping.” She realized that just because she almost always had a backup plan didn’t mean that Jordan did. He seemed to operate on the fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants theory. So far it seemed to work for him.

  “The buffet line looks long and winds through the crowd,” he observed.

  She slid her arm through his, and together they walked toward the drinks and finger foods. Even those didn’t look appetizing. The display was pedestrian, with apparently no effort made toward making the food look appetizing. Had the government here wiped out all creativity? Or did these people simply have other values?

  A couple ahead of them in the buffet line turned toward them. Vivianne pasted on a smile. “Good evening.”

  The woman sized up Vivianne’s gown, her hair, and her makeup with a sniff of disdain. Then, with a regal nod of her peach-tinted hair, the woman pretended not to hear Vivianne’s greeting. “Looks like they’ve let in the riffraff.”

  Her husband shot them an apologetic look.

  Vivianne dug an elbow into Jordan’s side. “I told you these weren’t the right shoes and that women pay attention. But did you listen?”

  “I was wrong. Sorry,” Jordan murmured, but she could tell he was distracted.

  At least her feet didn’t hurt. Vivianne had attended hundreds of social functions, but she’d never been so on edge. The woman’s catty comment didn’t faze her, but being in the middle of the enemy elite was daunting. Security was everywhere.

  Jordan had done his mind-altering thing to convince the doorman they had an invite. But there were dozens of monitors in the ceiling, and they might have face recognition software. Or something that detected their alien DNA. Or—