Prophecy (Book One in the Prophecy Series)

by Lea Kirk

  Dante moved closer, positioning his raised knee between her and Captain Helyg. The symbolic separation created some personal space for her, and she gave the healer a grateful look. A knowing smile hung on his lips. Marvelous. She flicked her gaze upward and suppressed a groan. Angry Alien’s narrowed eyes glared down at her as if he’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. He was so not amused.

  “Proceed, Chief.” Captain Helyg leaned his head against the wall and closed his good eye.

  Alex moved closer so she could see over Dante’s leg. Wow. The captain’s eye was already swollen shut, surrounded by mottled black and purple bruising. Had she really hit him that hard? She flexed the fingers of her right hand. He hadn’t even been angry that she’d hurt him. Instead, he’d taken care of her. She should’ve given him a chance to explain before she’d swung.

  Dante’s fingers hovered over the injured eye. “Ocu.”

  Alex sucked in a soft, quick gasp. A faint aura glowed around the long-fingered hand. She glanced at the healer.

  “You are not imagining it,” Dante affirmed. “This is my Gift; to heal. Look.” His hand moved a fraction. A pale-blue light swirled with tranquil grace between his palm and the captain’s eye. Alex leaned farther over Dante’s leg, tilting her head for a closer look. The swelling receded, and the bruising faded. Incredible. Her lips parted. He had ultra-fine laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

  The glow faded, and Dante pulled his hand away.

  “Whoa,” Nicky gasped.

  Alex couldn’t have said it better. The captain’s eyes opened...so clear, so deep, and so blue. Her favorite color.

  A deep desire to touch him—touch his soul—filled her, expanding until her heart trembled. What was happening to her? Who cares? Just let yourself fall into the sapphire whirlpool. She liked what the carefree little voice in her head told her.

  “What are you doing to her?” Nicky’s firm hands grasped her by her shoulders and yanked her backward. Pain knifed through her brain, behind her eyeballs and down her neck. A dry sob escaped her. Too much pain—and getting worse.

  Nicky’s arms wrapped around her in an awkward embrace, and he scuttled backward, dragging her along the floor. Her head rocked against his shoulder and she moaned.

  “Nick.” Dante reached toward her, concern marring his brow.

  “Don’t touch her!” Nicky snapped, adjusting his grip and pulling her tighter against his chest.

  What the hell, Nicky? Her mouth worked, but the words she wanted to say didn’t come out.

  “She suffers, Nick.” Dante’s voice remained calm and reasonable. “I can help her.”

  Sharp pain stabbed through her brain in time with her heartbeat. Don’t cry. It’ll make it worse. Dante continued to coax Nicky, but it sounded as though her brother wasn’t having any of it. Blackness edged her vision. If they didn’t stop arguing and help her, she would faint again.

  She flailed her arm out, reaching for help that didn’t seem to exist. Strong fingers entwined with hers. Bam. The sensation of ocean waves cradling her returned. A pleasant heat flowed through her ear canal, then seeped into her head. It sped through her neural pathways, leaving nerve endings tingling, vibrant with renewal. Then, it funneled back out her ear and disappeared.

  The heat and waves dissipated, and she blinked away the lingering haze of pain. Captain Helyg’s concerned face hovered near hers, their hands still entwined between them.

  What had just happened?

  “Shall we try again?” He asked with a smile. “Hello, Alexandra, I am Gryf. It pleases me to meet you.” His warm voice flowed as smooth as honey into her newly-healed ear, and didn’t stop until it touched her heart.

  ~ * ~

  Gryf met Nick’s glare. Surely the boy could see that his sister was now well.

  “What did you do to her, you freaking Martian?” Nick growled, his arms tightening around Alexandra.

  Did the young man seek to goad him? “I am Matiran, Nick, not Martian.” He understood the reference and was not amused.

  “I also should like to know what happened, Gryf.” Dante’s assessing look bordered on suspicion.

  “I….” For the love of the Mother, what had he done to her?

  He looked back to Alexandra. Had he truly just healed her? He had not the ability to heal anything more than minor cuts and bruises, yet she looked at him with eyes alert and pain free.

  And she was the only one not glaring blades at him.

  “Whatever you did, it worked,” Alexandra said. “My head doesn’t hurt, and I can hear.”

  “But you should not.” How in all the hells had he managed this feat?

  Alexandra appeared ready to protest, but Gryf cut her off. “I am not a healer, Alexandra, which means you should not be well.”

  “Well, you’re wrong about that, because I’m fine. Nicky, let go.” She gripped Gryf’s hand tighter and used it to lever herself upright, shaking free of her brother’s hold. “And it’s Alex.”

  “I am partial to Alexandra.” It was a gamble, but he much preferred her full name. Would she find him worthy of the honor? He lowered his chin, quirked an eyebrow, and gave her a lopsided smile. Another negotiating tactic he had learned: the right facial expressions and body language often worked as well as his Gift to put another at ease.

  A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, and she sighed. “All right, you may call me Alexandra.”

  His heart hitched in his chest. This Terrian woman wreaked havoc with his senses, and he enjoyed it.

  From behind Dante, Graig Roble made a noise of exasperation. Gryf spared him a withering glance.

  “May I check you, Alex?” Dante asked.

  “Um….”

  Then she did the most wondrous thing. She turned to him with a look as though seeking his assurance. It seemed too much to hope she trusted him to any degree already.

  “He only checks to make sure I did it correctly, nothing more, I assure you.” If it were Graig asking to do such, she would surely balk. But Dante’s nature instilled confidence.

  Alexandra nodded, and the healer laid his hand on her shoulder. Three heart-beats passed, then he sat back frowning. “She is healed, Gryf. Completely.”

  “Wait a minute.” Alexandra furrowed her brow at Dante. “You’ve done that before, haven’t you? Used your Gift on me.”

  “I ran a diagnostic scan on you earlier.” Dante’s expression was wary.

  Alexandra frowned. “But you...I feel different when you use your Gift on me, like I’m in the clouds. And, Gryf, you’re like...an ocean wave.”

  It was true; each Matiran’s Gift bore a natural signature of sorts. How had Alexandra picked up on both their signatures? She should not be able to do that, any more than he should be able to heal.

  Dante stood up. “I apologize, Alex. Rare it is that I do not obtain a patient’s permission first. Captain, a moment, please.”

  Gryf cringed, loath to surrender Alexandra’s hand. But duty called. “Excuse me, Alexandra.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released her.

  Dante led the way to the furthest corner, Graig following along. Apparently, both of them were in interrogation mode. It was their right.

  “By your leave, sir.” Gryf gave Dante an absent nod, and the familiar sensation of floating in the clouds filled his senses as the healer scanned him. “Completely normal.” Dante spoke in Matiran, likely to keep the conversation semi-private.

  “As a healer, I would think such a diagnosis would thrill you.”

  Annoyance flashed in Dante’s eyes. “When my friend with no formal training heals a concussion and hearing loss for a woman from a different race—and shows no sign how he did so—I am far from thrilled. Sir.”

  Of course not. Who would be? In truth, these facts disturbed him as well.

  “Sir.” Graig moved closer. “As your head of security, I must remind you that at this time we are still prisoners of the Anferthians.”

  “I am rather familiar with our situation, Co
mmander.”

  “Your personal involvement with any of the Terrians could compromise the safety of us all.”

  Involvement? Had Graig lost all sense? “I need not remind you that the length of time the Terrians have been with us can be measured in hours. That is hardly enough time for any of us to become involved.” Not that he would reject the idea as out of hand.

  Graig’s grey gaze did not waver. “Sir, I swore an oath to protect you, with my life, if necessary. You swore an oath to lead the Guardians. Right now we are in a volatile situation that requires you to be that leader. We cannot afford to have you distracted.”

  Gryf pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. No, none of them could afford that.

  He dropped his hand and met Graig’s stern gaze with one of his own. “It matters little, Graig. An hour from now, Alexandra will know my role in the events leading to the destruction of her people. Is it too much to allow me that time free of her glaring hate in my direction?”

  Those were the most selfish words he had uttered in the two years since accepting his promotion to senior captain of the Guardian Fleet. Not that he held much hope of completing the three-year assignment, or resuming a personal life.

  Graig opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and gave him a curt nod. Gryf shifted his attention back to Dante.

  “I am at a loss regarding the healing of Alexandra, Chief. Run regular checks on both of us, with her consent, of course. If anything unusual shows up, notify me immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I do appreciate your concern, both of you. Dismissed.”

  Alone for the moment, Gryf massaged his temples. Friends did not come much closer than Graig and Dante. As children, Gryf and Graig had played together. They had gone to the same tutors for their schooling, and joined the Guardian Fleet together as young men.

  Dante had fallen in with them when they were cadets. A couple of cycles older, and decades wiser, he had been their calming influence in their younger, wilder days. No one knew Gryf better than these two men.

  Except Ora. But she was gone now. The Anferthians had used the Atlantis to reduce her ship to dust. His cousin and life-long friend was no more. Mother above, had his aunt and uncle been informed of the loss of their daughter yet? His heart ached with an unbearable hollowness. He swallowed hard as regret rose up, threatening to consume him. He could not change what had happened, although he would give his own life to do so. But the universe did not stop spiraling, and he must let go what he could not control.

  But, Alexandra. How could she touch him at his core when they had not known each other more than one Earth hour? If he was not mistaken, she was equally confused—fluctuating between accepting him and despising him.

  In the end though, it did not matter. She would pull away when the truth came out, and he would resume his isolated role as senior captain.

  Chapter Four

  Alex glanced across the cell at the four Matirans gathered in the opposite corner. It couldn’t have been more than three hours since she and the other Earthlings had arrived in the cell, and it seemed that lines were being drawn. Besides her and Nicky, there was Simone, Dennis, and six-year-old Juan. A botanist, a banker, and a foster child. Talk about an eclectic group. But the bond of a shared trauma seemed to draw the Earthlings together.

  The fourth member of the Matiran group was the woman Commander Roble had referred to as Lieutenant Commander Zola. She wore her black hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun at the base of her neck, and her equally black eyes seemed to see right through a person. But, despite her severe appearance, she’d been kind to Nicky.

  “It’s every bit as awkward to use as you’re thinking,” Simone said, her lip curled with obvious contempt.

  Alex refocused her attention to the petite African-American woman sitting next to her. “Sorry, what is?”

  Simone’s mahogany eyes regarded her with a hint of wry humor. “We’re talking about the bathroom, Alex. Try to keep up. It’s behind that partition over there, and it isn’t easy to use knowing everyone out here can hear you. I know. I tried while that big blue bruiser, Roble, stood on the other side making sure no one walked in on me.”

  Alex studied the half-wall partition in the corner at the far end of the cylindrical cell. Grey, just like everything in here. Although, she had revised her initial impression of their prison. The room seemed more like a smooth-walled Quonset hut than a tin can.

  “I see your point, Simone.” She gave her shoulders a small shrug. “I guess we’ll have to make the best of the situation.” Cripes, didn’t she just sound like little Miss Mary Sunshine?

  “At least no one has to help you to the bathroom every time you need to pee.” Dennis muttered from where he lay a few feet away on the floor, one beefy arm slung across his eyes.

  Of the five Earthlings, he was in the worst shape. Alex glanced at his injured foot. It was swollen and turning every shade of purple, blue, and black from being crushed under a large piece of concrete during the invasion. At least he’d allowed Dante to use that Gift thingy to block the pain. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how the healer planned to fix it.

  She glanced across the cell again. Gryf’s blue gaze met hers. Something in the vicinity of her heart fluttered like the last leaf of autumn clinging tenaciously to its tree. What was it about him that caused such a ridiculous reaction? Sure he’d healed her, and that gave him mega-bonus points over the invaders, but she still didn’t completely trust him.

  And why not?

  There wasn’t a great reason other than she was just suspicious by nature. Until the Matirans gave a satisfactory explanation of their role in the invasion, she had to assume they might not be all they seemed.

  “I’m hungry.”

  Alex started, and looked down at the little six-year-old boy sitting between her and Nicky. Juan wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Do ya think they gonna feed us?”

  As if in response to his words, her stomach growled. Her watch was gone when she woke up—probably being dissected in an Anferthian lab right now—but it had to be evening, more or less. Food would be nice since she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and her morning coffee break had ended up on Gryf’s boots. Heat rose to her cheeks. She should apologize for that faux pas.

  “Not sure how they’re going to do that since there doesn’t seem to be a door,” Nicky said.

  Huh? Oh, right, food. Her eyes searched the adjacent wall. Sure enough, not so much as a crack, or even a shadow of an outline. How the heck had they gotten in here?

  “Maybe they can walk through walls.” Juan scrunched his face at his own suggestion. “Nah. That’s a stupid idea.”

  Whoosh!

  A gasp escaped her even as her brother swore. Several spiraling lines appeared on the end wall opposite the bathroom, meeting at the center. Then the wall opened like a camera shutter.

  “There’s your door, Nick.” Simone’s tone was tongue-in-cheek.

  “Cool,” Juan breathed. The poor kid had been lost in the state foster system for most of his life, which could be why he seemed to be viewing their situation as an adventure.

  A rush of cool air prickled Alex’s skin as she stared at the large opening. Well, large to her, but just big enough to allow two of the green aliens to pass through. Which they did, and then stood on either side of the opening, weapons at the ready. As if they needed weapons. They had to be at least eleven feet tall. Even if everyone in the cell rushed them at once, there was no hope of getting past these giants.

  A blue-skinned couple strode through the doorway, and Alex did a double take. “They’re Matiran?”

  “Wonder why they get to walk around free?” Dennis muttered.

  She studied the strange Matirans. The man appeared to be in his early thirties, medium brown hair and eyes, high cheekbones and straight, narrow blade-like nose. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but he did pass as handsome. The woman was…stunning. She wore a uniform similar to Gryf’s crew, but the
beleaguered despair of the captive Matirans was absent from her blue-green eyes. The uniform pants accentuated her long legs, and the shirt fit snug over her full breasts. The features on her heart-shaped face were perfectly proportioned. She oozed femme fatale.

  The man’s eyes swept the cell before honing in on Gryf. “Saltu, Capeto Helyg.” There was a definite hint of mockery in his voice.

  “We speak English here, Kotas.” Gryf moved, placing himself closest to the newcomer.

  Kotas shrugged. “As you wish. I hope you and your crew have found your new company here pleasing.” His gaze met Alex’s. “Very pleasing.”

  A chill slithered down Alex’s spine. Being noticed by this guy couldn’t be good, but it wasn’t as though she could hide from him.

  “And who do we have here?” Femme Fatale’s gaze raked Nicky from head to toe, his face flaming red under the Matiran woman’s scrutiny.

  “Leave him, Haesi,” Graig growled.

  Haesi’s attention shifted to the Commander, her perfect lips bowed into a seductive smile. “Jealous, Graig?”

  Alex gaped. This drop-dead gorgeous bombshell was his ex. She had to be. Commander Roble’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he said nothing.

  “No toys today, Lieutenant Velo,” Kotas said, his eyes lingering on each of her fellow Earthlings. “You will be happy to know that your time in this pit is almost at an end, Captain Helyg.” He spat Gryf’s title as though it were a foul word.

  “Indeed?” Gryf folded his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.

  Kotas cast a glance back at him. “Indeed.” His nose twitched into a sneer. “The merchant ships will arrive in fifteen Galactic Standard days. Then you and your crew will be moved to new accommodations with the Terrian slaves.”

  “All of my crew?”

  “Of course, Capeto. It would be pointless to keep them here. The Anferthians want these cells available as they continue to collect their merchandise.”

  Did anyone else see the almost imperceptible tightening of Gryf’s jaw?

  Kotas’s eyes narrowed. “As you can imagine, the Anferthians have a schedule to keep. Supreme Warden T’lik has given the invasion fleet one hundred days to collect all Terrian survivors. After that you will be off to your new life.”