The Demon's Change

by Donna McDonald

  “Of course it does,” Malachi replied, walking to the end of the medical table to stand at Gwen Jet’s feet. “Is this far enough? Or do you want me to leave the area?”

  Boca glared at him over the patronizing tone he was using to tease her, but managed to stifle the retort that danced on her tongue. Her control over her temper was much better these days. “You’re right. Gwen’s arm is not healing as well as it should be. Has Chiang looked at this?”

  “Why? Does your mate have to bless all the healing you do? Have all those Greggor pheromones turned you into a submissive female?” Malachi challenged. He grinned at the stream of Sumerian curses Boca began whispering under her breath again. “When you’re done complaining, look closely at the energy around the area. The problem is not all physical.”

  Boca wrapped one hand around the injured area of Gwen’s arm. The other she placed near the Earthling heart that beat in her patient’s chest.

  Her gaze rose to Malachi’s knowing one before swinging to meet Gwen’s.

  “The demon speaks the truth. Release your guilt for fighting Ania. Your teacher will not be angry with you. There was no choice and you know that.”

  “What are you implying, Boca? I don’t feel guilty. That’s not my damn problem . . . Hey—wow—that burns everywhere.” Gwen openly flinched as heat from Boca’s hands lit an inferno in her chest.

  Malachi laughed and crossed his arms, smiling at both females, but he bowed his head to Boca. “Well done,” he said.

  Boca glared at her tormentor’s satisfied smirk. “You could have fixed her heart chakra yourself.”

  Malachi shook his head. “No—I couldn’t. I’m feeling way too bloodthirsty these days to handle female compassion carefully enough. I like the Commander and don’t wish her to think ill of me. When you are finished, I will wrap her arm again. I can do that without feeling any emotion at all.”

  “Liar. You can’t do anything without gloating,” Boca declared.

  “I’m sorry if my wisdom makes you angry, little warrior. Volatile creatures like you and Commander Jet are terribly easy to read. I can’t help being correct all the time. It is the curse I bear for having superior knowledge.”

  Malachi covered his smile with a hand, pleased with Boca’s under-breath swearing as she sent energy into the wound on Gwen Jet’s arm. The Sumerian still hated the healing gift she had been given by the emissary she had encountered. From his standpoint, Boca needed to take a number in the back of the unhappy-with-emissaries line. He and Ania were both right there with her.

  “Gwen will not need to wrap her arm after tomorrow, so wrap it lightly. Make it easy for her to remove the bandage on her own.”

  Malachi shrugged at Boca’s orders. “Fine. I will do as you ask. After all, you’re the rookie healer. I’m just a senior medic with almost two thousand years of experience.”

  Gwen felt Boca throw her arm down moments before she stalked off without even saying goodbye. She turned to Malachi who was grinning as he watched the thoroughly pissed-off Sumerian walk off in a huff. “Do you have to taunt Boca so fiercely? I was doing just fine healing on my own.”

  “Yes. I have to taunt her. It’s for Boca’s own good. And because of her gift, you are now doing much better,” Malachi said. “How’s the arm feeling?”

  Gwen flexed it again with no pain. She turned her wrist and made a good, solid fist.

  “Come closer,” she said. When Malachi leaned down to her, she punched his shoulder as hard as she could, unsurprised when he bounced back with eyes flaring red. “You’re right, Malachi. My arm doesn’t hurt as much now when I do that. Don’t mess with Boca Ador. I like her.”

  “Indeed. I thought you liked me as well,” Malachi complained, rubbing the area Gwen had hit. She had quite a punch for a female. “I do believe you hurt my host body.”

  “Damn straight I did. Looks like I’m good as new,” Gwen said, swinging her booted feet to the floor. “Boca’s healing abilities always were strong. Now she’s like . . . powerful. Maybe even a little scary.”

  Malachi nodded. “When she cares . . . yes, she is very powerful.”

  Gwen nodded and swung a disappointed gaze to Ania’s unconscious body hooked up to feeding tubes and several other connections she couldn’t bear watching for long. “Too bad Boca can’t heal Ania.”

  Malachi nodded again. Ania seemed to spend more time in Medical than anyone on the ship. That wasn’t going to change with the children coming. In fact, she was going to be a regular visitor for the next year.

  “There is nothing to heal in Ania and the children are fine. As for the rest . . . we will be addressing that as soon as we transfer to the new ship. Are we still on schedule?”

  Gwen checked her com as she nodded. “Yes. We dock in twelve Earth hours. Is Medical packed and ready to move?”

  “Everything except Ania. She should be coming around within two revolutions of the time keeper after we dock. We’re timing her awakening with Kefira’s arrival,” Malachi reported, not sure why he got uneasy every time the secretive Peace Alliance female’s name was mentioned.

  “I have a bad feeling about Kefira’s involvement in our ship transfer. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were walking into a trap,” Gwen said.

  “Just be careful of anything she asks of you. Even without an emissary inside her, Kefira is much more than she seems. And she’s keeping secrets about our situation,” Malachi said.

  Gwen nodded and put her hand on Malachi’s shoulder until he looked away from Ania and back at her. “You drill through all the spiritual bullshit faster than my laser weapon would cleave an assassin. I do like you, Malachi. And more importantly, I trust your judgment. If you tell me something is going on with Kefira, I’m going to believe you.”

  Speechless over the sincere declaration, Malachi didn’t have time to answer before Gwen walked quickly away.

  After he was alone again, he looked back at Ania. “I wonder if our delightfully volatile commander would still feel that way if she knew how reluctant I have become about ending someone’s life. I blame you, Ania Looren. It is your fault for teaching me the greater pleasures of doling out life lessons instead.”

  Patting Ania’s arm, Malachi busied himself packing up the supplies Boca had stormed off without finishing.

  ***

  Synar stepped out of the elevator and walked across the shuttle bay, trying to ignore the stares he was getting. It simply wasn’t working. He hadn’t worn these clothes since his mating ceremony.

  “Haven’t any of you seen a captain in dress uniform before?” he demanded.

  Around him, ensigns and dock workers scrambled to hide their amusement and their glee. It was hard to be angry with them when he knew they were all excited about getting a new ship.

  Beside the shuttle’s ramp, Dorian waited patiently. His long black counselor robes billowed around feet tucked into what was likely the Siren’s nicest pair of strapped footwear. Synar looked at the open shoes and sighed, trying hard not to resent Dorian’s comfort.

  “I remain your friend, Liam. If you had asked, I would have worn my formal uniform as well. We could have suffered the restrictive discomfort together,” Dorian teased.

  “No need,” Synar said tightly. “You’re dressed quite appropriately for a ship’s counselor. We aren’t attending a fashion show. We’re just meeting a few Peace Alliance generals.”

  Dorian ducked his head to hide his smile. “Indeed. There is no need to impress a few generals.”

  “Where’s Gwen?” Synar asked.

  “I wanted to personally check the shuttle, so I left her dressing. Apparently in the transfer of her things to my quarters, some of her uniform pieces were misplaced. The bursar was assisting. I’m sure she will be along shortly. We have plenty of time,” Dorian said, smiling at Liam’s quick frown. “Since I’m the one flying, I promise you we’ll not be late.”

  Synar snorted. “Yes, I’m aware of how you fly. Unfortunately, I need Warro to stay on the Liberator.
Just know that I would rather be late than ill when I arrive.”

  Their gazes shot across the shuttle bay as a fully dressed, fully polished, and fully enraged Gwen came charging out of the elevator. Long legs in sleek black slacks ate up the distance quickly as she made her way to them. Her laser weapon gleamed inside the shiny holster strapped to her leg. Twin fighting knives were sheathed on the other side of the wide dress belt defining her waist.

  But none of that was overly surprising. Instead it was the facial enhancements and ear adornments, all regulation of course, but they were female contrivances Gwen routinely shunned. Synar’s reaction to his Commander’s appearance was quizzical, until he saw the open lust on Dorian’s face. “You are not allowed to think those thoughts on this trip.”

  “It remains a challenge for me Liam, but I let her perform her duties. You don’t have to have a panic attack every time I forget to shield you from seeing my desire for my mate. The feelings are wretchedly barbaric, but fortunately I am not.”

  Dorian spoke quietly and with conviction. True, his gaze never wavered from the approaching female. His spirit screamed to claim what he considered his, but he had given his word to Gwen that he would control those urges. It was a promise he still intended to keep.

  “Just get that look off your face before she gets here,” Synar ordered. “You’re not bonding with my ship’s commander until the Liberator’s crew is safely installed on the Guardian 13. It’s bad enough that my two top ranking officers are mated. I refuse to have you two exchanging lust glances at this meeting and distracting everyone. Hello, Gwen. Good of you to finally join us. You’re looking quite festive.”

  Gwen straightened her jacket and jerked off her uniform hat. She smoothed what remained of her hair back behind her ears before slamming the hat back on and pulling it low on her forehead. She hated hats because they blocked her vision. She hated her uniform because it made her self-conscious. Give her regulations grays any day, but this day wasn’t one of those.

  “Sorry, Synar. I’m still missing two damn pieces, but it can’t be helped. Despite the daily workouts, it seems I’ve gained weight. My frigging pants didn’t even come close to fitting. The ones I’m wearing are the bursar’s. My ass looks a mile wide in them. But you know what? I don’t care. The generals can all kiss my polished shoes if they don’t like it. I haven’t had this damn thing on in at least six years. I put on enhancements to distract them.”

  Hearing too much quiet in the dock area after her rant, Gwen’s attention swung away from the two males blocking the shuttle ramp to glare at the others gawking at them. She hadn’t noticed all work come to a halt when she was walking across the floor.

  “What the hell is wrong with you people? Haven’t you all seen officers in uniform before? Get back to work. I don’t have time for any ass-kicking right now. We’re too damn late already.”

  Shaking his head at Gwen’s vicious swearing and the dock workers smothering their laughter over it, Synar walked up the ramp ahead of his second in command.

  Gwen turned back from watching the dock return to its typical busy order to glare at her mate. “In case you were wondering, yes—I noticed the look in your eyes. If you touch me, I’m going to break your arm, Zade. I won’t care if I get that fancy robe of your bloody in the process either.”

  Dorian nodded soberly, fighting his twitching mouth and the other parts of him twitching as well. “What are you so concerned about, Commander? I assure you I can wait to have my needs met. Can you, Sweet Joy?”

  Gwen snorted at the challenge in his tone. The bastard knew he could reduce her to panting in under a minute, but she’d be damned if she argued the point dressed like a first year cadet. “We both know I’m not the one with the control problem, Zade. You got your last fix from me this morning. We’re going to be too busy for several days.”

  “Indeed? Then I suppose you won’t care that by regulation of my Siren training, I’m not wearing anything to conceal my reactions under my fancy robe. So do not blame me if some female on our journey misunderstands and thinks my interest is in her. I’ll just apologize in advance for embarrassing you.”

  Dorian lifted his hand to indicate Gwen should precede him while he fought not to laugh at his mate’s gaze dropping to his crotch to check the truth for herself. She wasn’t bothering to block the images playing through her mind. Her desire for him was always very reassuring to feel, even when it couldn’t be indulged.

  “Fine. I’ll fight the females off you, but I’m not begging later. I don’t care what you do to me,” she warned, stomping up the ramp.

  Dorian smiled at the part of his mate’s anatomy that she hated most but he admired greatly.

  “Challenge accepted,” he replied quietly, laughing softly at Gwen’s swearing under her breath when she heard.

  ***

  Rena lifted her case from the floor to the sleeping platform just as the door opened. Seta came inside, followed by the bursar. “My belongings are all in this one case.”

  Turning to the male at her side, Seta pointed to the case on the bed. “Take Rena’s belongings to the guest quarters as arranged.”

  Rena hung her head as the bursar hefted her case and walked out of the room with it. After he was gone, she sighed and returned her gaze to Seta’s. “I am sorry to cause you this additional work. However, I still believe it is for the best.”

  “The work of moving your meager possessions to guest quarters on the Liberator is not the source of the pain I am suffering. Tomorrow or the next day we will transfer to the Guardian 13. I wanted us to have separate quarters at some point, but it bothers me greatly that you think I’m too vile to live with anymore. The demon I carry shares my life force, but not my spirit. If Kefira is to be believed, my condition is the will of those Creators you think so highly of,” Seta said sharply, glaring at her sibling’s shaking head.

  “It is not you, Seta. Or at least not just you. I think of myself as vile too,” Rena declared.

  Seta snorted. “The descriptive word you’re looking for is defiled—not vile. I refuse to feel any less worthy because of circumstances I could not control.”

  “It is not just our shared past that bothers me, Seta. Why can you not accept my concerns are real in the present? I am not meant to be here. Not with you. Not on the ship. Can you truly not see that for the truth it is?” Rena demanded.

  Seta walked to the door and away from the female that she valued as much as she valued herself. “No. All I see is a female who thinks herself too damaged to heal. Malachi has offered, multiple times, to remove your bad memories. He did so for Kefira who shares your spiritual beliefs. I think you should let the demon help if he is willing. You may be surprised at what changes within you.”

  “You can say that because you are the demon’s equal now,” Rena insisted.

  “No one is Malachi’s equal on this ship, especially not the one who is bound within me. Your lack of courage puts further distance between us, Rena.”

  Rena sighed, but nodded. “I suppose that is a fair statement. If I promise to consider the demon’s offer, will you promise not to detest me for seeking my own space?”

  Seta frowned at Rena’s comment. “I don’t detest you. We are dual siblings, but more than that, we are survivors together. You will always have my sincere compassion,” she promised. “But I hope you do seek help—real help, Rena. In my opinion, all your spiritual training is wasted if you choose to live in the present so miserably.”

  “Given my actions around you these last few weeks, I suppose it is fair that you would consider that a truth,” Rena said quietly.

  “Not just a truth, but I consider it a profound truth. Each day I grow more sure that neither of us was meant to die on Ethos. I beg you to start looking for a way to live, even if you don’t want me to take an active part in your life any longer,” Seta ordered.

  Rena walked to her sibling, pausing in front of her. “I promise I will reflect on your words. I honor our connection even if it doe
s not seem that I am doing so at the moment.”

  Seta shrugged, encouraging herself not to care. It made her sibling’s decisions easier to tolerate. “Good luck with that reflection, Rena. I will strive to reach some understanding of your self-loathing so we will not fight each time we see each other.”

  Rena sighed. Then she stepped across the threshold of the room they had shared and out on her own. Once outside the door, she turned back.

  “You have changed a lot these last few weeks, Seta. I know you don’t want to believe it, but nevertheless it’s true. You used to stand in front of the mirror to admire yourself in dresses. Now you never change out of your uniform. You study books on laser weapons. Your normal energy setting is dark and brooding, but something more is happening to you. It amazes me that you have yet to notice.”

  Seta nodded. “Of course I have noticed. And yes—something is happening to me. I’ve almost died twice, Rena. Surely you can’t blame me for wanting to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Rena lifted a hand to her sibling’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for anything, Seta. I just can’t be around you any more while you bury yourself in your work.”

  “Better work than some faux spirituality that serves no good either,” Seta replied.

  She pulled away from Rena’s grip and closed the door.

  Chapter 4

  High Ambassador Jilco met them at the shuttle when they docked in the space station’s port. He asked about their trip and apologized for Kefira not being able to meet them until later.

  “Welcome, Captain Synar. Commander Jet. Lieutenant Zade. Thank you all for coming. Kefira is very distressed over what has happened to Peace Keeper Looren. She has been diligently praying for a way to be able to help you,” Jilco said.

  Synar frowned upon hearing that the High Ambassador already knew about the problem with Ania. Evidently Kefira kept nothing from her father. “It surprises me that she told you.”

  His mistrust of everyone around him was already cranked up as high as it could go. Everything else was additional aggravation. He especially didn’t appreciate Kefira openly sharing with anyone about their situation.