The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Her smile faded, and then she cackled. "Why, lad, you should be proud. It's a public service you'll be doing. You'll make all those women happy, and you'll help make Mama Kane rich while you're at the doing of it."

  "I'm sure he's nay happier about this than me own self," the other man said. "Hang onto yer hopes, kid. I've run across these rings before so I know it takes two weeks before yer mind really starts ta go."

  "Why, Captain Crowley, how very observant of you!" the old woman exclaimed, "even if you're wrong. It only sometimes takes two weeks. It occasionally only takes a few days."

  "Ya do realize that people will start lookin' fer me? A guardsman don't just disappear," Crowley said.

  She laughed and then sighed. "Captain, I have sources inside the N'Ark Guard. Paying for a blind eye is the only way I keep this operation going. Sometimes I hear things, too. You and I both know that--."

  Light flared inside the building as the door was pushed open.

  "A real customer," Nance called. "Woman says she's proved fertile, and she has twenty full gold on her. None clipped. I checked."

  "Oh--Reeeally." The old woman moved away. "Charity, please invite the woman in. Welcome, darling," she said to an indistinct shape standing in the open door. "We have just the thing you're looking for. No, no. Neither of those. They aren't ready yet. Haven't run any fertility tests on them. Now this fellow here, he's a big one and the most fertile of our present bunch. If you--."

  Brushing her droning out of his ears, Aaron twisted and rolled to his back and then to his other side. The captain cursed quiet protest as Aaron's weight pressed up against him. Aaron ignored the words until his cheek almost touched the face of the other.

  Captain Crowley stopped cursing and gave Aaron a sympathetic smile. Their faces were no more than four inches apart. Their bodies pressed up against each other.

  "Hurts, don' it," Crowley said. "The pain'll stop in a few minutes. Now, I have ta tell ya right now that ya better not think o' kissing me. If ya want ta kiss somebody ya best think of that Faith gal. Quite a body on her, I'll tell ya that. When the light hits her just right ya can see she's got a wonderful pair what's just right fer any man's grip. The thought of those legs wrapped around me waist an' her moaning--." The captain smiled dreamily.

  Aaron refused to answer. Faith moved back into his view. Her garments were still sheer but not so enticing in the building's dim light.

  "Shut up and keep your eyes off me," she ordered Crowley.

  "But, darlin', ya have to admit that ya make quite the fetching sight; that ya do. I might not like what ya got waiting fer me, but I like what ya got waiting fer me, if ya catch my drift."

  "You just wait and see what I have waiting for you tomorrow." Her voice was filled with contemptuous humor and wry threat. Their banter confused Aaron. Somehow, it seemed incongruous with the situation.

  His mind felt slightly clearer.

  "Charity, take the young Mistress into the green room," the old woman said. "Let her try out Tom. Faith, why don't you go with her?"

  "Do I have to?"

  "You're new, dear. You have to learn how these things are done. Our bulls don't just perform on command, you know. There are certain stimulants we feed them, and the stimulants have to be delivered in a particular order."

  "I won't kiss you," Aaron promised Crowley, "but I'll take you for a ride."

  Aaron closed his eyes.

  Light flared as the door opened again.

  "Another one," the old woman snapped.

  "I came for the little man," a muffled woman's voice said. "I'll give you whatever you want for him."

  "Do you have the papers with you?"

  "Let's go," Aaron said to Crowley and to everyone else in the room.

  Flicker

  Thump Thump

  "Oomph."

  "What the--!"

  Aaron tried to suck air in through a suddenly clenched belly. Something had struck him when they fell.

  "Sorry," he finally managed to gasp. "I normally do this sort of thing when I'm vertical." Drawing in another shallow breath, he released it. "If we'd been standing, we would have arrived on our feet instead of in midair."

  Crowley wiggled around behind him. Somehow, they had changed their orientation in the fall. Their backs were now to one another--or at least Aaron's back now pointed toward the captain. He didn't know which direction Crowley faced.

  "Do you have any idea what you've done?" Crowley demanded.

  "I saved our virtue, not to mention the integrity of our minds," Aaron said reasonably.

  "They're going to panic. They'll pack up and get the hell out of there. I've worked this case for the last six months. We were set to pull a raid later tonight. Because of you, my people won't have anybody to arrest." He grumbled again. "Hell, kid, I told you not to worry. Why didn't you listen? This entire case just got blown. Thanks a bunch."

  Aaron twisted and bumped his way around until he faced Crowley. His head felt clearer.

  "This case got blown," he said pointedly, "because you didn't say 'hang on tight kid because help is on the way.' No, you just gave me a scare story, and now you're bitching because--."

  Two sets of footsteps echoed off the wood floor.

  "I don't know where Autumn got to, Mistress. I swear to you, that one is nothing but trouble waiting to happen. I can't even keep her in her crib anymore."

  "For the Lady's sake, Miss Hurbage, the child isn't even two yet."

  "Who are they?" Crowley whispered. His eyes looked alarmed. Aaron could not blame him. At least back at the warehouse the man knew exactly what he had gotten himself into. At the moment, Crowley had no idea where he was or what anyone wandering by would do about finding two tied-up men laying on their dining room floor.

  "That," said Aaron, "is my wife."

  A small figure moved into view. When she saw Aaron, she burbled, and made her tottering way toward him.

  "Da," Autumn said, and plopped herself on his head.

  "My daughter," Aaron explained though the muffling of Autumn's diaper. The young lass had a decided need for a change.

  Autumn burbled and pushed herself away. Aaron raised his voice but took care not to make it loud enough to startle his daughter.

  "Kit! Autumn is in the dining room with me."

  "Aaron? What are you--?"

  "Da," Autumn said very distinctly. Drooling, she stuck an inquisitive finger into Aaron's eye.

  "Ouch. Honey, stop that!"

  Autumn jerked back and fell to her well-padded seat. Her face screwed up in distress, and she started bawling. Kit breezed into the room, her slightly concerned face changed instantly into shock.

  "OH MY GODS! Miss Hurbage, go get a knife from the kitchen."

  Aaron watched as Kit took one frantic look at the men trussed up on her floor and then at her screaming daughter. "Forget that! Just pull Autumn out of here. Take her someplace where you can shut her up. I'll get the knife."

  Miss Hurbage was quickly before them. She scooped up Autumn, eyed Aaron with stern disapproval, and flitted away.

  "That's your wife?" Crowley demanded with a shudder.

  "That's the nanny," Aaron explained. Heavy footsteps thumped on the floor, heading in their direction. "You're about to meet my wife."

  Kit leaned over them. Her red hair flew wild around her face, tangled and dirty. Mud smeared across one of her cheeks, and a three-inch rip showed in the side of her heavy work shirt. All in all, she looked damned good. The knife she held in her hand looked even better. Dropping to her knees beside Aaron, she sawed at the ropes. His were cut in less than half a minute.

  Aaron tried to wiggle feeling back into his fingers while Kit worked at the ropes binding his feet. His hands were red, the tips of his fingers were purple, and the ropes had left abrasions around his wrists. Small beads of blood dotted his skin.

  The pressure disappeared from his ankles. Kit held up two lengths of cut rope.

  "Thanks," Aaron said. His mind felt clearer still
, and it was angry. It became angrier when he felt the burn of blood returning to his limbs.

  "Despite everything, you are my husband," Kit said in a strained voice. "Have you any idea what the neighbors would say if they discovered I keep my husband tied up on the floor?"

  Her face twisted strangely. Aaron realized she worked very hard to fight back a laugh.

  "There are no neighbors," Aaron pointed out. The purple had already faded from his fingertips.

  Kit shrugged. "There might be by now. I haven't checked since yesterday."

  "Hello," Crowley said pointedly. "Would you two mind?"

  Kit tossed the cut ropes to the side. She glanced at her knife, back to Crowley, turned her eyes to Aaron, and then back to Crowley.

  "You are not my husband, and now that I think on the matter, Aaron is correct. I don't have neighbors close enough to worry about. I also don't know who you are, why you are tied up, or if you had anything to do with getting my husband in a like situation."

  "Free him, Kit," Aaron told her.

  She gave him a hard look. Something in his eyes must have said this subject was not going to be discussed since she moved to comply.

  "Kit, this man is Captain Crowley of the N'Arkian Guard."

  Crowley lifted the knife out of Kit's hand with his freed one. He immediately fell to cutting the ropes at his feet. "No I'm not."

  "You're not?"

  "No. I'm Sergeant Crowley of IFBIS."

  "I never heard of it" Aaron admitted. He looked to Kit, but she shrugged her shoulders.

  "Not many have. We're rather new." He looked to Kit. "Do you have any weapons?"

  "I have a few bows."

  "No, that won't do. I need something for close in. I don't know how he'll do it, but your husband is going to put me right back where we just came from. I need something for close in fighting."

  "The kitchen's full of knives. Some are longer than the one in your hand."

  "A long, sturdy knife will do wonderfully, that and a conveniently sized piece of firewood." Crowley made his own way to the kitchen. "Mister Turner, if you could please find me a chunk of wood suitable for a club, and maybe one for yourself, we can get out of here."

  "Aaron," Kit demanded, "tell me you're not doing this!"

  "They strip away people's minds," Aaron told her before walking away. Kit followed.

  Crowley dug through the kitchen drawer when they moved past him. The firewood pile was just out the back door. "They destroy men's minds and use their bodies as some sort of breeding slave. Somebody has to stop them."

  "Does it have to be you?"

  "Kit, these are women. We both know I can't do anything about them. I just can't. If there's any real trouble, I'll pull us both out."

  She stood behind him as he lifted chunks of wood. He tossed twenty or more pieces to the side before finding two that felt right in his hands.

  "You aren't a fighter." Kit pulled at him. "Look at you. You've even let the training Perk gave you go to waste."

  "I'm angry."

  "Anger doesn't make up for a lack of skill and conditioning. At least go home and get a gun."

  "Let's go," Crowley said. He held a thick-bladed, heavy knife that was at least a foot long.

  "Not enough time," Aaron said to Kit. "Don't have one at home anyway." The old familiar coldness ran through him. Gods, he had hoped never to feel that sensation again. He turned his eyes to Crowley. "Prepare yourself. This time you'll land standing up."

  "That's my favorite chopper," Kit protested. "I want it back."

  Grabbing at Crowley with his mind, Aaron pictured the inside of the warehouse.

  Flicker

  * * *

  "Hold it," Crowley shouted.

  Faith grabbed the end of Aaron's club, jerked it out of his hands, tossed it away, and grabbed at his arm. Aaron twisted to the side and grabbed back. All he got for his trouble were two layers of her clothing that tore free. Before he had time to even think of letting the fabric go, he was face down on the floor with his arm wrenched into the middle of his back.

  Aaron twisted and flipped, caught Faith by one wrist as the fingernails of her other hand slid painfully off his wrist. He tried to straighten her arm and twist it into a submission hold, but she did something he had never seen before. His hold slipped free, and he once again lay on his belly. He gathered his mind for a quick transfer away.

  "Um, I said hold it," Crowley said in a more reasonable tone. "I guess I'm a little late. Baxter, keep a good eye on that old woman. She's far more dangerous than you'd think. Miss Smith, please herd some of these people out of here. Lieutenant Larns, I'd appreciate it if you released Mister Turner. He's on our side, after all."

  "I didn't want to risk him hurting anybody," Faith said from over the top of Aaron's back. "Sir, if I let you up will you promise to be good?"

  "I promise," Aaron said. The pressure on his arm released. Gentle hands brought his arm back around to where it belonged and helped him stand.

  "Could somebody explain to me why that woman is not in cuffs?" Crowley asked.

  Aaron looked at the lone figure Crowley gestured toward. "That's my lawyer. Miss Bivins, why are you here?"

  "I was trying to protect my only client," Amanda said in a clear and unperturbed voice. Her stance was casual. A briefcase dangled from one of her hands. "Once I got here, I changed my goal to protecting both of us. Then you left me here all by myself."

  Her eyes roamed over the people still in the room. Aaron followed her gaze. Most of the original occupants were gone. The old woman was still there, as were a number of people wearing official uniforms.

  "We started our raid early when the lieutenant stuck her hand out and gave us the signal," one woman said.

  "I wasn't alone for long," Amanda agreed. "Um, Lieutenant, you might want to see to your attire. I believe it's a tad more revealing than you intended."

  Faith looked down at herself. "Oh Gods. Even I can see through it now. Somebody find me something to throw over this thing?"

  "Personally, I think it's becoming," Crowley said. His head canted to one side as he studied his superior. "I always knew you were a good-looking woman. I just never knew how good-looking that was."

  "We'll talk later," Faith Larns threatened.

  Remembering how easily she had tossed him around, Aaron took great care to not look toward her. The room remained silent while a blanket was found.

  "I'll remember this," she told Crowley once she was covered. "Don't forget that I choose your assignments."

  Crowley groaned theatrically. "Ah, well, fate is about to be cruel. My only consolation is that I shall retain the memory of this day for the rest of my life. I will especially remember that cute little birthmark."

  Faith frowned. "You had best start gaining amnesia. I also want an explanation as to why you adopted that horrible and inconsistent way of speaking."

  "What? Are ya telling me ya di nah like it? Miss Lieutenant, ma'am, I had no choice but to do it on account of I war playing at being nothing more'n a unedicated and lowly captain of the City Guard. I certainly did not want them to suspect they were dealing with a highly educated and suavely sophisticated, not to mention supremely well compensated, paragon of justice such as myself."

  "The man is an idiot," Faith muttered so low that Aaron barely heard her. "All men are idiots."

  "Must have met my husband," one guard said.

  "I'll see your guts wrapped around your necks," Kane spat at them. Her old eyes were hard as flint. "The Mister will see all of you dead before the year is out. He doesn't like people interfering with his business."

  "Ohhh?" Crowley said in a suddenly interested voice. "And just who is this Mister?"

  Glaring, the old woman refused to answer.

  Amanda cleared her throat. Aaron looked to her calmly composed face, caught her gaze, and felt ice run up his spine. He knew he would not like what she was about to say.

  "Maybe," said the unflappable Miss Bivins, "he is the same per
son who had the ransom demand delivered to me, the one that said Aaron would be killed if I did not do exactly as they ordered. Aaron, have you made someone especially angry with you that I don't know about?"

  "Not that I know of."

  Kane began cackling. "Kid, the Mister hates you so much that he'd rip his left lung out if it would bring you to him."

  Chapter 9

  As best Aaron could tell, not a single speck of dust was left in his apartment. As usual, Miss Frainwind had done an exemplary job of converting chaos into order.

  "Very neat," Amanda said approvingly. "I did not expect your place to look this organized. I might have to change a few of my opinions about you."

  Faith Larns remained silent as she made her way to the dining room table. Pulling out a chair, she settled into it, then reached into her uniform's shirt pocket and pulled out a flip pad with a pencil jammed into its spiral binding. Pulling the pencil free, she opened the pad and leafed past a few pages before looking at Amanda.

  "Okay, Miss Bivins, now is a good time to explain how you became involved in this affair."

  Amanda gave Aaron a half-smile and walked over to the table to sit down. Crossing her legs and folding her hands, she stared at the ceiling for a few moments before giving her attention to the lieutenant.

  "There is really not that much to tell. I was in my office, trying to decide how I would answer a summons, when my secretary, Miss O'Malley, knocked at my door and told me I had an urgent visitor. She said she tried to brush the man off, but could not. This surprised me since the main reason I hired Miss O'Malley was for her knack of getting rid of irritating people."

  "So her bothering you about this person was unusual?"

  "It was extremely unusual. I soon discovered the reason for her discomfort. At heart, Miss O'Malley is a kind soul, and she does not like to hurt the feelings of those she considers downtrodden or handicapped. The fellow she showed into my office filled at least one of those two categories. He was, oh I do not know, maybe a tiny bit over three feet tall. Even so, I would not call him small. He had broad shoulders and more than his share of muscle."