Sleight of Hand: Book Three: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  Ian fought the constraint, but Jaered was incredibly strong. He soon relented. Ian went to draw power, but his core sputtered. He growled.

  “Super jam. You aren’t going anywhere.” Jaered got off of him and licked a drizzle of blood at the corner of his mouth. He pressed a palm to his jaw and winced. “Eve figured we’d kill each other if we had our powers.”

  Ian got to his knees and coughed. The pressure didn’t ease and made it impossible to draw a deep breath. It was the high-powered jam, not Jaered, that crushed his core. “Turn it off!” he barked.

  Jaered chuckled and walked away.

  The rebel had shyfted them to a small indoor basketball arena. There were several rows of seats flanking both sides, rising from the hardwood floor at the center. A narrow platform, midway up gave way to an upper level of rows. Arched windows highlighted the curved ceiling and topped off the impressive building. Basketball hoops faced each other from opposite ends.

  Movement in the topmost row. Patrick sat, staring at Ian. His friend’s hands were free from restraint, and he kept rubbing his palms across his legs. The distance couldn’t mask Patrick’s terror.

  Ian scrambled to his feet.

  Jaered chose a seat in the first row, center court. He plopped down and stuck his legs out in front of him, then reclined back like settling in for a show.

  Ian took off, rushing up the stairs.

  Patrick waved his hands, “Ian, stop! Don’t!”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jaered called out.

  “Fuck you!” Ian shouted from over his shoulder.

  “Then have at it.” Jaered raised a thumb into the air.

  Ian cleared the lower level, crossed the platform, and kept climbing.

  Patrick got out of his seat and backed up. He pressed his fist to his chest. “Ian, please,” he moaned.

  The heat in Ian’s core intensified. It took a second to realize, it wasn’t from exertion. His steps slowed. When he turned into Patrick’s row, the walls of his core shuddered and constricted. He stopped and leaned against the back of the seat—stunned.

  Patrick grimaced and met Ian’s gaze.

  The unspoken truth passed between them as Ian stared at his friend, measuring the distance that would forever define their relationship. A bridge that neither could cross.

  Ian backed down the steps until his core returned to normal. Patrick sank into a nearby seat and buried his face in his hands. Ian glared at Jaered across the way. The rebel’s smug attitude was gone.

  “You made him a Duach,” Ian snarled.

  “He always was.” Jaered got to his feet and wandered out to center court. “We need to talk.”

  “Ian, listen to what we have to say.” Patrick descended the stairs at the far end of the arena. “This isn’t about the Pur and the Duach. This is so much greater than that.”

  It was the same thing Jaered told Ian weeks earlier. He closed his eyes. The rebels had gotten to Patrick. His mother had made him Ian’s natural enemy. Keep your friend close, but your enemy closer. He didn’t know who to trust anymore.

  Ian descended the steps, retreating from Patrick, searching for an exit. When he reached the platform he paused. “Where’s Rayne?”

  “On Thrae,” Jaered said. “The fire forced me to parashyft. It was either that, or die.”

  Ian’s legs threatened to buckle. She was in the one place he couldn’t go. He’d lost the two people closest to him. He stumbled down the stairs, picking up speed as rage flushed his despair.

  “Ian!” Patrick shouted and hurried after him, but Jaered waved at Patrick to stay back.

  Ian reached the bottom step and took off for the closest doorway. He ended up in a hall and followed the exit signs until he came to double-wide metal doors. He shoved them open, but threw his hand up, blinded by brilliant, natural light. He didn’t get but a few yards before coming to a halt. Shock cemented his feet to the ground. The super jam extended beyond the arena. Unable to draw energy to shyft, Ian found he couldn’t pull enough heat into his core to warm himself. He shivered and rubbed his arms.

  A wall of ice stood not fifty yards away, spilling over an ocean cliff. Frigid blasts of wind rocked him on his feet. The back of the iridescent-blue glacier swept up toward jagged mountain peaks zigzagging across the horizon. They framed the valley where the arena stood, the only building in sight.

  Footsteps from behind. Ian didn’t turn around. “Where am I?”

  “Greenland,” Jaered said. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me.”

  “Trust?” Ian scoffed. “Even hate doesn’t come close.” He shuddered and his teeth chattered when a strong gust swept over him.

  “I’ve given you reason, I admit that,” Jaered said. “But Rayne is stranded on Thrae. We need to get her back to Earth before Aeros hunts her down and kills her.”

  “You’re the rebel. You do it.” At a sideways glance, Ian caught something in Jaered’s hand. A remote. “Turn off the jam. You don’t need me. You’ve got your new Sar.”

  A fury rose in Jaered’s eyes and Ian swore his iris’s turned to flames. “You don’t get it,” he snarled. “I can’t go back, and he’s not strong enough, not yet.” Jaered pointed toward the door. “You’re the only one who can save her.”

  “I nearly killed her,” Ian said. His voice drained with the last of his warmth. “I thought I had.”

  “If you leave, she is as good as dead. But not until Aeros has his fun. He’s our enemy, yours and mine.” Jaered pointed the remote at Ian like an accusing finger. “Either work with us to save her and defeat him, or go back to the Weir’s senseless civil war, fueled by the shortsighted and closed-minded.” He tossed the remote at Ian’s feet. “Your choice.” He let himself inside without looking back, and the metal door shut with a ferocious clang.

  Ian wasn’t sure how long he stood, staring at the remote.

  If he didn’t return, what would Milo and Tara’s fate be? Would the Primary hunt them down, imprison them, like he had Marcus. Or worse?

  He didn’t trust Jaered, but Patrick changed everything. Shyft home, screamed in his head, before it’s too late, but the home he knew didn’t exist any longer and the image of Rayne in the fiery vortex was too vivid to ignore. If he was responsible for her being trapped on Thrae, how could he walk away?

  He returned with uncertain steps, shutting the door behind him. Patrick and Jaered sat in the stands at opposite sides of the arena, hunched over with their heads hung low, like opposing counsel awaiting a verdict.

  Ian came to a stop under the basketball hoop and swallowed hard. “How much time does she have?”

  “I don’t know.” Jaered came alive and got to his feet. “Not long.”

  Ian pressed the button on the remote. The god-awful pressure lifted, and he took a deep breath while drawing energy into his core. “I can’t leave Earth—it’ll self-destruct.”

  “That’s just the tip of an iceberg of lies,” Jaered said. He descended the stairs, but held back from the bottom step.

  Patrick started down. “There’s so much you don’t know. Rayne isn’t the only one on Thrae. Your mother is there, too.”

  Ian’s nostrils flared. “I need the truth. No more lies.”

  “Show him,” Jaered said.

  Patrick hesitated, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it back and exposing his left breast.

  When Ian found his voice, it came out barely above a whisper. “I suspected there might be two.” He looked at Patrick. “But you . . .”

  “There’s more to this than rescuing Rayne,” Patrick said. “It’s about saving Earth.”

  “It goes way beyond that.” Jaered pulled his T-shirt off. “This is about saving the universe.”

  The Heir’s Seal on the Thraen’s chest turned Ian’s thawed pulse to ice. He pressed a fist to his left breast. With three Heirs standing on the floor of the arena, in the formation of a triangle, he finally grasped what Dr. Mac tried to tell him. The world, hell, the universe was vast, but fo
r the first time in his life, Ian wasn’t alone.

  ***

  Glossary

  Book of the Weir: A volume of letters and notes kept by the Ancient Weir Counsel. It is rumored to include secrets to the Sars powers and predicts the coming of the Heir.

  boost: A device that draws elements from the planet, such as calcium or proteins, to aid in healing. The boost is fueled by the energy stored in a Sar’s core.

  Channels: A set of identical Weir twins who share a genetic marker with a Sar. The three are able to communicate telepathically or, when standing close enough together, the Sar may receive visions or eavesdrop on the thoughts of others.

  core: Sars are born with a core, deep in the center of their chest. It allows them to control, and contain, energy drawn from the planet. Not all cores are alike, and therefore, it dictates what power they yield. If a core extinguishes, the Sar dies.

  core blast: Known as the Dragon’s Breath during the Dark Ages. A core power that enables a Sar to draw and manipulate energy from below the surface of the planet. Scholars believe, from the center of the Earth.

  corona: A colorful gas that’s created when a Sar uses a vortex. If a Pur steps into a vortex field and draws energy into their core, the gases turn green. When a Duach uses the field, the gases turn red.

  Curse: An unpleasant, often excruciating reaction when a Pur Sar and a Duach Sar come in close proximity to each other. Developed by the Ancients, it prevents the Duach and the Pur from stealing each other’s powers, a barbaric practice which often results in death.

  Duach: du̅-ȏk A rebellious group of Weir who use their powers for self-gain. They are considered the black sheep of the Weir and are despised by the Pur for their narcissistic ways.

  Heir: The Ancients predicted the eventual decline of the Weir race and predicted the coming of the Heir, the last Sar born to the Weir. Prophesy stated that he would be born with the most powerful of cores, and thus, inherit all of the combined powers of the Weir Sars that came before him. Since the Weir keep the energies of Earth in harmony, the planet would continue to survive.

  mark: In ancient times, known as a Seal. A triangular image of raised skin found on the left breast of Sars. Only the Heir’s mark is a triangle that houses a sun. Weir males born without a mark are powerless.

  paral: Someone from Earth and someone from Thrae who are the mirror image of each other.

  parashyfting: Crossing into an alternate dimension during a shyft. A powerful vortex stream or field is required. Only Sars born with the shyfting power can parashyft.

  Primary: The head of the Syndrion.

  Pur: pu̅r Thought of as the original and longest practicing of the Weir. They continue to work tirelessly for the good of the planet and to lessen man’s impact on the world and other living creatures.

  The Rising: A Weir practice, designed to draw a Sar’s powers to the surface. Only held in the event of a Sar not discovering their powers naturally.

  Sar: A firstborn Weir male who’s inherited a core, granting them control over a single Earthly power. Most Sars control plants or animals. Sars born with rare powers, such as shyfting or core blast powers, are the most revered and sought after.

  shyft/shyfting: shift The ability to teleport. The Sar’s core allows him to use one of thousands of vortex energy fields or streams found across Earth in order to move around the surface of the planet.

  shyftor: shif-tor A Sar born with the shyfting power doesn’t need a vortex to shyft over short distances.

  Somex: sȏm-ex A Sar born with the somex power can con-trol neurotransmitters in the brain that affect consciousness.

  Syndrion: sin-dri̅-un The Weir counsel. Ever since the Duach broke away from traditional practices centuries earlier, the current Syndrion is made up of only Pur Sars. Representatives from each continent serve on the counsel.

  Thrae: thra̅ Earth’s twin planet in an alternate dimension.

  vortex: A specific location where energy fields emanate from the planet surface and circulate on invisible gases.

  Weir: we̅-er Magical stewards of the Earth who have lived quietly among humans for more than two thousand years. Their purpose is to ensure harmony between Earth’s various energies and all living creatures. With each generation, there are fewer Weir Sars born with a connection to the Earth. The Weirs’ power is dwindling, and along with it, their control of Earth’s combined energy. As a result, natural disasters are on the rise in frequency and intensity.

  A Message from the Author and a Sneak Peek Ahead

  I hope you enjoyed reading Sleight of Hand, Book Three: The Weir Chronicles. To get caught up on the series, don’t miss Fade to Black, Book One or Masks and Mirrors, Book Two of The Weir Chronicles available wherever books are sold.

  To receive the latest news about the series, visit my website at www.sueduff.com. Add your name to the fan email list to receive notices about book events, the latest information on upcoming novels in the series, and more.

  Here’s a peek at the next exciting adventure in the series, Stack A Deck, Book Four: The Weir Chronicles appearing winter, 2017.

  Rayne stumbled, but the tight pull on the tether in either direction helped to keep her on her feet. The dust clouds swallowed up Liem and Gwynn. The pressure of the cord around her waist was a miniscule beacon of comfort and safety.

  They made their way along the protective side of the dome. The meteors, that weren’t dissolved by the field, bounced over them as they came sliding off the sloped dome. Rayne took shuffling steps, but Liem’s constant tug on the rope forced her feet to keep moving. The pull of gravity taxed her muscles, but she barely noticed. Her attention remained on controlling her pulse. She needed to conserve her oxygen.

  “How are you doing?” Gwynn’s voice sounded in Rayne’s ear.

  “I’m okay,” she said, but it came out raspy.

  Gwynn had warned Rayne not to touch the dome for fear she’d corrupt the only thing keeping the Thraens alive. The shower of meteors made that a challenge. Many were the size of microwaves. Rayne couldn’t help but stoop whenever they came crashing toward her. Miraculously, they bounced over their heads and landed a few feet away, kicking up clouds of dust. Gwynn had promised they would, thanks to the curvature and power emitted from the dome.

  “I’m getting more activity ahead.” The edge in Liem’s voice put Rayne on the alert.

  “Retrace your steps to find Rayne, then we’ll turn around,” Gwynn said. “There’s no need to take chances. The power grid is holding up on this side.”

  The ground shook with a tremendous shudder underfoot. It stopped Rayne in her tracks. She peered up, through the dust cloud. A boulder, the size of a small car, slid down the slope with sizzling scrapes. They were directly in its path.

  “Run!” Gwynn shrieked.

  Acknowledgements

  I am so lucky to have a marvelous support team who help me pull pages off my computer, then mold them into books and digital pages for the fans to enjoy. Special recognition goes to Karri Klawiter for her mind-blowing covers, Steve Parolini, editor extraordinaire, Stephanie Viola, who patiently cleans up my grammatical messes, Matthew Woolums for his detailed Beta reads and valued insight, and Sami Jo Lien of Roger Charlie for her tireless efforts to keep this series in the public’s eye. Thank you, the Tattered Cover Writer’s Group in Littleton, Colorado, for your never-ending support of my work and this series. I’m blessed to call you friends, as well as colleagues.

  To my awesome family, countless friends and fans, your enthusiasm makes everything about writing worthwhile.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sue Duff dreamed of dragons and spaceships before she could read, and it’s only natural that she combines both fantasy and science fiction as her favorite writing genre. She is the author of The Weir Chronicle series with the first three books, FADE TO BLACK, MASKS AND MIRRORS and SLEIGHT OF HAND available wherever books are sold. Check out her anthology short story in TICKTOCK, Seven Tales of Time, coming March, 2016. Wh
en she’s not writing, she can be found walking her Great Dane, getting her hands dirty in her garden, or creating something delicious in her kitchen. She calls Colorado home. Check out her blog, A Cook’s Guide to Writing, and her other musings at www.sueduff.com. Follow her on Facebook at Sue Duff-Writer, Tweet along at https://twitter.com/sueduff55, view her Instagram pics and emoji strips at sueduffauthor, or connect with her at sueduffauthor@gmail.com.

  Book cover by Karri Klawiter.