by Jaide Fox
It was a good thing the old man couldn’t read Julien’s mind. If Adrien knew he planned to connect to a Grellan, Julien would be shackled in a synth-cloth room — or worse. If Adrien knew what Julien hoped happen when he connected to Starseeker, ‘or worse’ was the best he could hope for.
"Permission—" Adrien scowled.
Julien arched an eyebrow at the old man’s attempt to unbalance him. It was amusing that Adrien still tried. Julien willed his muscles loose. Showing tension would alert Adrien that there was a weakness to be exploited.
"Permission granted," Adrien growled.
Julien nodded once. He swallowed a sigh of relief — or perhaps a laugh of triumph. "One tower," he decided.
The old man sighed. "One tower containment zone," he agreed grudgingly, "and you carry a beacon."
Chapter Two
Julien smiled as he closed the door to the living quarters behind him. Adrien sought to test him, but it was about to backfire in the old man’s face. He should know better than to play head games with Julien by now.
The scent filled his lungs, the musk and jasmine he associated with Angel. The strands crossed over each other, telling the tale of the Grellan’s time in this place. They had only stayed a day before using power that would alert the Calante to their presence. They hadn’t even spent the night this time.
All of them left imprints in the main room. "Strange," he mused. Angel’s sibling was easier to read now. Had they planned that or had Julien inadvertently told the truth about the interference of his unit? It was a boy, a child too young to have ended academy training, maybe the age of a seventh or eighth-year cadet.
"Starfire," he whispered with a wide smile. The boy’s name was — Anthony. His power was the ability to see living conditions on far-off star systems. That and— Julien growled as he lost the weave of that strand. It was almost as if they knew how to hide things from him. At any rate, Julien knew about one of Starfire’s abilities. It was akin to astral projection, which explained his name, and it was a power that the Calante would prize highly.
Julien moved around the room slowly, touching one thing after another. They ate two meals here, food they carried in with them. Anthony had a telescope. He called Night Warrior and Moon Current ‘uncle’ and ‘aunt.’ He called Star Child—
"Names," he mused in awe. They all knew each other’s names. Now Julien did, too. Night Warrior was Paul Andrews, and Moon Current was his wife, Debra. Sky Child was Sylvia Bryant. Angel and Anthony’s family name was Taylor.
Julien sobered. It was a strange way to live. The ancient texts all agreed that only an operative’s closest confidants were permitted to know his or her true name. The Calante was founded on those ideals, brought with them from Earth millennia ago.
He furrowed his brow. All of their essences were in the main room, but Angel’s went further. Julien followed the strands deeper into the dwelling, drinking in the feeling of Angel’s soul. He shivered in anticipation as he pushed the door to the bedroom wide.
Julien closed his eyes and let Angel’s strand lead him on, immersing himself fully now that he found the source strands that he needed to reach her. He laughed aloud as his knees connected with the bed. "I like the way you think, Angel."
Her laugh sent shivers down his spine. Julien opened his eyes, still deeply immersed in the connection. Angel lay on the bed, her auburn curls tossed over the sky green pillows, her arms laid under her full breasts, and her legs crossed at the ankles. Her deep blue eyes twinkled.
"Do you ever dress?" he asked.
"When I know you will come to me? What a waste of time," she teased.
Julien sank to the bed beside her, tracing a nipple slowly. The silk of her breast and pebbled softness of her nipple were flawless. Angel’s smile disappeared, and a look of stark hunger took its place. Julien wondered how real this connection could become. He’d wondered that since she’d teased him back at Tower 1022.
Angel wrapped an arm behind his head and pulled his mouth to hers. Her lips parted, and Julien kissed her, ravenous for the connection he’d dreamed of. Every sensation was perfect; the heat, the taste of juice and toast in her mouth, the texture of her lips and tongue under his.
Julien dragged his mouth away, touching her swollen lips with shaking fingers. "I must be insane." For some reason, insanity sounded appealing if Angel was part of the package.
She smiled. "I’ve wanted to do that for months. I am real, Soulchaser."
He grimaced. Julien didn’t want to be Soulchaser with Angel. Soulchaser was Calante. It was Soulchaser’s duty to bring her to justice under the Grellan Act of 577. But, no one used his true name. No one had since his mother turned him over to the Academy for training at eight. According to the law, no one could use it — unless he offered it, but Angel was Grellan, and no Calante would offer a Grellan that power over him.
No one called him Julien. Even the old man and the three trustees called him Soulchaser. Those four held the terrifying power of knowing his true name, but they never used it for fear of punishment under the law. The trainers at the Academy were never trusted enough to know Julien’s true name. Even his unit didn’t know it.
But, Julien couldn’t deny that he wanted Angel to know it. Did he want her to be his close confidant? Did Julien want her to be more than that? Operatives were free to marry human confidants or other operatives. Julien dreamed of marriage. He dreamed of long, slow nights of sex with someone who would call him by his true name.
Angel touched his cheek, nipping at his lower lip. "You can’t do it. I understand. When you’re ready, you’ll tell me."
Julien darkened. "What do you want from me, Starseeker?" It would be inappropriate for him to use her true name now that he’d refused to give her his.
"No. I’m not Starseeker. Not with you. Call me Angel."
He closed his eyes, seeking her mouth urgently. "Angel," he breathed.
"I gave you my name, because I must confide in you.. You must know that I trust you."
"Tell me." Julien nuzzled his face in her hair. He’d wanted to do that since the first time he’d seen her walking toward him. "Tell me why you’re doing this."
"Trust me. Trust me as I have trusted you."
A rational kernel in his mind argued that Angel was Grellan and was, by definition, not to be trusted. A larger portion wanted to trust her. Trust your gut instinct.
No. Empathen died, because he trusted the wrong person, a Grellan. "I will try," he promised. What more could he promise?
* * * *
Angel sighed inwardly. It wasn’t enough. He had to trust her fully. She stroked him, searching his expression as he grew thick and heavy in her hand.
"Let me know when you trust me," she breathed.
Soulchaser groaned aloud to her touch. "How real can this be?" he whispered.
"I don’t know," she admitted. Angel had never attempted what she was doing. Soulchaser was much stronger than any man she’d connected to in the past.
His fingers stroked her inner thigh. "Open for me."
Her heart pounded against her ribs. If the others knew about this, they would not approve. Angel spread her legs wide, bowing up as his cool fingers probed at her heat. "Yes," she hissed.
His mouth closed on her nipple, and Angel bit back a scream of pleasure, aware of her family in the next room. His hands were everywhere; stroking, squeezing, testing and teasing at her skin.
"Come for me." His voice surrounded her, the phantom touch of his breath on her ear.
Angel kissed him, using the sensation of his mouth on hers to remind her not to cry out as she was swept away. She sucked in gasping breaths as her body released for him.
Soulchaser nipped at her ear. "You smell so good." He moved down her body, laying teasing kisses on her stomach, her curls, her clit.
She bit her lip. "Soulchaser," she breathed. Angel would have begged if he’d asked her.
He didn’t ask. Soulchaser’s tongue caressed her inside and out — slowly, a
s if he read her need for that approach. He didn’t back off, thrusting and stroking until she shattered again.
Angel ground her teeth against the scream building behind her lips, sinking to the bed beneath her and closing her eyes in exhaustion. "Will you come again?" she asked.
"Yes. Will you tell me what you want from me next time?"
"Come to me naked," she requested. Breaking his training would not be easy. She would have to make Soulchaser more vulnerable to accomplish her task. "Next time, come to me naked."
Angel faded from his mind, as Soulchaser groaned again. Yes. She would be able to break his training given time and the right incentives. She had to make him think and make him question. He was faltering in that respect already. But to win, she had to make him want something more than the life he had. Every Calante she’d contacted in the past had wanted out. Turning Soulchaser was much more difficult. He didn’t realize that he wanted out yet, but Angel had to free him.
She pulled the quilt around her body, sinking into a twilight sleep. The connection was always wearing, but this time it was all the more so. Soulchaser had tired her body to match her overworked mind.
Angel smiled in her half-sleep, memories of Soulchaser making her warm and weak. Going to him in the nude had been a necessity of her power. The idea of teasing him sexually, of using her nudity to draw him in, stemmed from his interest in her. Soulchaser was adept at hiding his feelings from those around him, but that was impossible inside the connection.
It was never supposed to go this far. Angel never dreamed that it could go this far. She shivered in the memory of Soulchaser’s insistent tongue and nimble fingers. Angel was looking forward to their next encounter, not to bring them closer to their ultimate goal but to experience more of their unique connection.
"Angel?" Debra called.
"Hmm," she yawned, forcing her eyes open.
"Any progress?" The older woman shifted nervously, winding a gray-streaked lock of black hair through her fingers.
"Yes. He’s agreed to meet me again." Angel smiled. "Alone. His trust will come in time."
Debra nodded. "If you become uncomfortable—"
Angel waved her off. "Soulchaser is a good man." A man who thought only of my pleasure. A thrill raced over her nerves. He hadn’t sought his own pleasure.
"Be careful, Angel. Good man or not, Soulchaser is Calante. He’s been taught only his duty." Debra brushed Angel’s curls away from her eyes. "I don’t want you to get hurt again. You started playing this game far too early."
Angel sobered, nodding her agreement. She hadn’t questioned her involvement with Soulchaser, rationalizing that anything that ultimately earned his trust would be worthwhile. She’d pursued her enjoyment as a reward for her service.
Soulchaser was Calante. The Calante enslaved her kind. The Calante had killed her parents. The Calante would take Anthony from her and kill the rest of their family — or worse. The Calante would use their family against them to force Angel and Anthony to work for them, if they knew what their true power was and how it worked.
Angel brushed her fingers over the scar on her chest, fighting back her anger. I was seven! I wasn’t supposed to be fighting a war. No. No one else could have done what she and Anthony had that day.
She nodded. "I will Debra. I will never forget what the Calante are capable of." The next time she encountered Soulchaser, he would fall to her hands as she had fallen to his. Then he would remember what it meant to be alive. Before Angel was done with him, Soulchaser would want something she could offer, at least one of things she could offer.
Chapter Three
Julien stared at the ceiling, frustrated with himself and with his errant body. He wanted her. Angel’s responsive nature was enough to drive Julien crazy, but he had to stay rooted in the reality of the situation. Angel was Grellan, and she had a reason — a hidden purpose for the things she did. Whatever her reason, could he trust her?
His mind warred on that subject. His training said he couldn’t. The Grellan killed his father. It was a societal axiom that her kind were not to be trusted. Julien sighed. His powers told him something vastly different. Angel was honest and earnest in her dealings with him.
Or was she? Julien could lie to the old man, a perfect cover for his true purpose. Could Angel do the same? He grudgingly admitted that it was possible. He’d wondered whether she was capable of manipulating the strands she left behind, erasing bits she didn’t want him to see. She might be able to hide her true intentions if her power allowed it, but a real-time strand could not be faked. A strand was a bit of the person’s essence. A strand never lied.
Julien chuckled, drawing the smell and taste of Angel’s climax into his body. That had been no act. For those few moments, Angel had been need unleashed in his hands and his mind.
He rolled off the bed, smiling. He would know what Angel’s purpose was soon enough. Julien was highly trained. His body would obey his mind, while Angel could be made a traitor to herself.
Julien pasted on a stern face as he rode the stairpad down to the east exit. Firebrand stood, flicking a blue fireball from hand to hand like a third-year cadet.
"On report," Julien barked, making his displeasure clear.
Firebrand straightened, the fireball flying up into the air and disintegrating into a puff of smoke. He met Julien’s eyes, nodding sheepishly. "I deserve it," he admitted.
"It’s a week of extra duties this time, isn’t it?"
The boy nodded.
"The old man isn’t going to be happy," Julien noted.
"I know." Firebrand grimaced at the idea of incurring the old man’s wrath.
Julien nodded. "Report to him. Now."
"But, you," he began uncertainly.
"The others will see me back."
Firebrand nodded and turned away, his face showing a good deal of the agony he was feeling at the order Julien gave him. It was a harsh lesson. Being sent back from assignment for a disciplinary was one of the worst things that could happen to a new operative. Rumors would be circulating that Soulchaser was looking to replace Firebrand by the time he hit the Academy.
Chances were that Firebrand feared that very thing. If Julien dismissed him, he would return to police duties, and Firebrand’s duties had been high-temperature disposals, some of the most boring work a power could be assigned.
Julien felt for him. Like most Calante, Firebrand would not have chosen to serve, but the law was the law. Powers who did not serve as operatives of the Calante were renegades — Grellan. Their powers represented a sacred trust. The ancient texts stated, "With great power comes great responsibility." The ones born with powers were born to serve. Anyone who refused his or her responsibility to safeguard life and keep the peace broke with that sacred trust.
Firebrand’s breach of faith had been a minor one, but minor infractions led to major ones. The humans they protected were unnerved by unnecessary displays of power. Making the humans fear them defeated the Calante’s purpose. Not to mention that Firebrand’s actions denoted a lack of control.
Julien mused over his own actions as he took the walkway to Sky Master at the north exit. Was he doing the same things he’d penalized Firebrand for? Unarguably, Julien had been lying to the old man for most of his life, but his lies had been largely unrelated to his missions — until now. Julien sighed. That would change when he reached the Academy.
He was pursuing a sexual relationship with a Grellan suspect, connecting to her consciousness. The fact that he continued on his course had less to do with his duty than his libido, and that was flirting with treason.
* * * *
"Well?" the old man asked impatiently.
Julien scowled at him. "You sent in other operatives before I got there — Seabeast, Birdspeaker and Mindtouch."
Adrien paled, his eyes going wide in shock.
"Yes, old man. I felt their presence, and it interfered with the strands," he accused.
"How—"
"I felt them.
I feel everyone to some extent. So, what did Mindtouch tell you?"
He darkened. "Nothing. Nothing that you haven’t already told us."
Julien dropped into the chair closest to his desk, rubbing his neck. "You all but ruined my ability to read the strands and got nothing in return?" he asked acidly. "Why did you waste my time?"
"All but ruined it?" Adrien questioned. "Then you got something?"
"Despite your meddling." It wouldn’t do to claim that he hadn’t gotten anything. Adrien might decide to reassign him. "The fifth Grellan is named Starfire. He is a boy. I’d estimate him at roughly seventeen years old, but he’s powerful. He also has an ailment that I haven’t managed to nail down yet."
Adrien nodded. "Anything else?"
"Everything else was muddled, trampled. Sending in the others destroys the spin and weave of the strands. Not for the others but for Starfire and Starseeker."
"Very well. I will give you an untainted field next time. You have my word. In trade—" Adrien stroked his chin, seemingly deep in thought.
Julien raised an eyebrow. The old man knew better than to place pressure on an operative when he wanted something. "Yes?"
"Find out how they travel in and out of the city without being detected by the checkpoints and identi-card checks."
"I’ll do my best. You know I can only read what is in the strands."
"I know. Get some sleep. You look worn."
Julien smiled weakly and left the office.
He ambled toward his quarters, taking time to watch the younger cadets training with their mentors. Most operatives were given classes to teach once they graduated from police service. Julien was only assigned to the most stubborn of the cadets. Anything else was deemed a waste of his time. At the moment, no one was considered enough of a problem to be sent his way. On some level, it bothered Julien that it was considered a punishment to be one of his students.
Sky Master had three fourth-year students in the smaller skydome, the one with mesh blocking the open sky-panels and a padded floor. Water Demon had her hands full with a reluctant first-year sea-mutant. Many students feared their powers and their trainers, at first. It wasn’t unusual, but that didn’t make ignoring their distress any easier.
