Travis almost vomited as his face turned a sickening shade of red.
“Demetrius, release his throat. The mage can’t respond if you strangle him to death, dear.”
The scaly tendril slithered away, leaving scratches in Travis’s neck. He wanted to examine his throat for gashes, but his heavy body remained in place, transfixed by intricately patterned shadowed tentacles.
“I want Soulstealer,” Travis rasped. “I assumed you were her, but you’re a Disciple.”
“Actually, I’m an Arbitrator, but… well, you’ll understand, sooner or later.” Her voice turned flat as she dismissed her statement. “Imagine my surprise running into you, Keith. I’ll attract all my prey using you.”
All her prey? What is she going on about?
Warm droplets rolled down Travis’s thick neck as he sought the mystery woman, and his eyes widened when a long golden-blonde-haired woman sashayed to him.
“Miranda!”
Miranda giggled before adjusting the maroon beret on her forehead and smoothing her matching trench coat. “Aww, we meet again. I wish it was under more favorable circumstances.”
Muscles tensed when Travis held his breath, then released in one harsh go. “What did you do to me?”
“Oh, I’m not skilled enough for this. This is all Angel’s doing.” She drew an ornate wand from her sleeve and the tip gleamed with platinum electricity. “However, since you keep running, the Sect decided to transfer your power to Demetrius. But I begged Angel for one more chance, so please reconsider.”
Travis grimaced, despite his labored breathing and cold, sweating face. His chest throbbed from internalizing the pain and his muscles jerked from adrenaline coursing through paralyzed muscles.
“Look, Demetrius is dying. He’s using his waning abilities well, but you understand how the Sect works. They love high performers. It’s why the whole Soulstealer situation pisses off the bureaucracy.”
“I will find her,” Travis vowed, narrowing his eyes. “Soulstealer can’t run forever.”
“She’s not responsible and you know it, Keith. Shame she defected, but Angelique’s just as good.” Miranda paraded over to his transfixed form, giggling as a pale finger traced his quivering lips. “Look, you’re the fly hanging inside the spider’s cobweb. Sanderson can’t shield you from the Sect forever.”
The agent remained quiet and looked at Miranda’s finger instead.
“If you reconsider, I’ll tell you who Lyssa’s killer is,” Miranda promised, digging a manicured fingernail into his lower lip. “I can’t guarantee your companion’s safety, though… the shifter, I mean. Angel’s been waiting to confront Aviere Mye for a year now.”
When Miranda’s finger stopped, Travis sunk his teeth into her flesh. Once copper registered on his tongue, he licked it off his lips.
“Owww!”
Travis snickered when Miranda nursed her finger, gawking in disbelief at the blood oozing from the wound.
“Miranda, I said negotiating with him is pointless,” Angelique said, voice drawling the longer she spoke. “Travis braved the Sect to rescue Lyssa and survived Soulstealer. If she couldn’t persuade him, then you don’t stand a chance.”
“Hmph. But Keith’s so vigilant, Angel. We need the right bargaining chip to sway him.”
“He’s under the shifter’s control,” the cackling voice stated. “However, that won’t last after the transference spell. His screams of hopelessness and despair will be worth our efforts.”
“Angel…” Travis caught the beret covering Miranda’s once twinkling eyes. “Soulstealer wouldn’t allow such an example. She’d kill any witnesses.”
“True,” Angelique agreed. “But I’m luring someone, and they’ll take the bait. If he refuses… well, they’ll be two dead bodies instead of one.”
Arrives—she planned on Mye’s interference?
Tendrils crushed his body and Travis let out an unspoken wail.
The scabrous tendril wrapped around his neck again, suffocating him until his face returned to its tomato hue. Dark energy covered his body before siphoning his power into the pentagram. As his energy diminished, the agent’s face turned pallid.
Travis stopped hyperventilating once bone-setting fatigue set in, limp inside his bonds.
The shadow tentacles tossed him to the center of the pentagram, but pain never registered in his exhausted state. Inside his hazy reverie, Travis followed the ritual, trying to muster enough energy to flee. Silver, ebony, and electric auras combined as the voices droned in unison. Vile voices lit the pentagram, weighing down his heavy body more.
No… Jesus… Lyssa… there’s a way out… some… way…
Travis’s eyes scanned the room and cursed at his disregarded gun. Their power drove his migraine to an almost unspeakable agony. Miranda doubled in his blurry vision, but Travis continued against the magicked gravity. His right arm moved, but gravity had pressed against his flesh, as if a fifty-pound weight crashed against his forearm. Black spots floated in the agent’s vision as his heartbeat lowered from siphoned energy.
Not like this… not before I find Soulstealer!
Seconds later, Travis’s arm moved at super-speed and he missed his weapon, palm smashing against the frigid floor. For a moment, Travis’s heartbeat jumped as he tried comprehending the new development, but stopped short as Miranda shrilled and blinding electricity sailed across the spacious room.
“You!” Another round of blinding electricity soared toward the doorway. When it struck its target, the door exploded and debris ricocheted off an invisible forcefield. “You shouldn’t be capable of deflecting my power!”
That power… is that… could it be…
Travis placed his knuckles against his temple, squinting at the conflict before him. He stood up and staggered out of the pentagram, jamming his index fingers inside his ears to block the discordant sounds driving his excruciating anxiety. Figures blurred together and auras no longer separated. Voices buzzed in his ears, then whooshed when the migraine crescendoed.
He slammed his eyes shut, but the auras didn’t subside; they brightened when he directed his energy.
Breath caught in Travis’s throat as power overwhelmed his body, almost tearing him apart by sheer force.
The last thing he recalled before bellowing Lyssa’s name was comprised of overloaded magic, golden light, and burning hands on his shoulders as he disappeared.
Distorted voices and wavering colors greeted Travis when he awoke several hours later underneath a cotton comforter, accompanied by two sets of bright, cerulean eyes.
Wide-eyed, the agent scrambled from the bed and clung to the pastel violet comforter underneath sweaty hands. The closer a figure scooted to him, the further back Travis pressed against the coarse, cushioned couch. A pillow fell to the ground, and the solid slate wall behind the couch grounded the agent enough to understand the difference between reality and his heightened colored world.
“Back away, Sis. He’s seeing weird things like an acid trip.” Scrawny fingers stretched toward the agent but remained distorted due to double vision. “Angel fucked up. There’s two clashing elements. But this reminded me of th—”
The words buzzed by as blood pulsated in Travis’s ears. Even if he understood Limere’s words, the colors distorted his perception. Familiar voices changed pitches. Every other word Travis heard followed with a tasty flavor, ending with steak sauce and salt.
Calloused hands glided along the wall, frantic to stop all the bright auras and dainty ribbons twirling in the air.
Atoms floated before hovering over one of Travis’s legs.
Quickly, he crossed himself and held his breath, searching for one stable figure to stop his momentary insanity.
“I didn’t anticipate your agent getting jumped by Angel, Sis. You ordered him to escape, didn’t you?”
One word registered clearly—the mage’s name. Travis grasped the name, struggling to remember his enemy’s Disciples. Several minutes later, he identified A
ngelique, recalling how she pursued bounties for money.
Jesus Christ, they know about Angelique Argrove. She’s a dangerous psychopath, but Dalara’s on a first name basis with her.
“Of course I did.” Travis almost missed Aviere’s subdued response. “But when revenge stirs your heart, you act weird.”
“You’d know, Mye.”
Even in this peculiar world, I can count on Peters’s asinine remarks, Travis thought, making his eyes focus on the confused specialist. My god, everything doubled.
A calloused hand moved toward Peters, but stopped as Travis stared at himself, jumping as platinum and sooty energy clashed around him.
Why does everybody have two aura patterns?
“Mye.” The singular word sounded disembodied as Travis forced it out. “Where are we?”
As Aviere parted her lips, Travis spotted Limere raising a hand. Sympathy laced his ice-blue eyes, vibrating in Travis’s vision.
“He’ll hear bits and pieces, like a bad telephone connection. Look how agent man’s straining to put together words, Sis.”
As hazel eyes brightened, cerulean ones dimmed. “Yeah.”
Sensations intensified and sent goosebumps along Travis’s skin. Breath trailed like winter wind over his sensitive skin. The group of atoms sunk into the mattress, then tickled underneath his leg.
Travis’s left leg jerked underneath the blanket before he pressed it tighter to him.
“Damn obsidian’s not enough to ground him, Sis. Someone’s tethered to him.”
Lyssa, this day gets better and better. Now I’m seeing weird ribbons like DNA strands and everyone’s words are like a bad cell phone connection. How can I communicate like this? Also, why do I taste steak sauce when Dalara talks?
He didn’t expect an explanation—just silence, like every other conversation. However, the agent jumped when a gentle melodic voice responded.
~Try.~
“Now I’m hearing shit.” Travis swore, tongue heavy. “The colors aren’t funky enough, Lyssa. I didn’t expect an answer, you know.”
~You’re in between dimensions, Keith.~ A wine-red and midnight-colored DNA ribbon floated toward him. ~The Red Coat Society almost destroyed you, darling. But even tethered, your power grows as they steal more.~
“I’m not a shadow mage, though.” Hazel eyes trailed around the altered room to find the cause of his perceived hallucination. “Great, synesthesia. I’m not doing drugs, and I’m experiencing a phenomenon.”
An oppressive weight pushed against Travis’s chest while holding his breath. He lifted the alabaster dress shirt from his sweaty skin, as if shedding the invisible weight.
~They wanted your other power to combat your partner’s mage,~ Lyssa explained. ~The Society’s not the only organization afraid of your Aviere.~
“Don’t call her mine,” Travis snapped, eyes blazing at the accusation. “Jesus.”
~I never doubted your loyalty. I’m holding you to your promise, remember.~
He pinched his eyes shut when cool air caressed his forehead and scalp. Another cool sensation pressed against his torso before Travis’s lips stiffened.
~I won’t leave until you find that vicious woman and her master, darling. But Soulstealer will guide you to them. So will this Aviere woman.~
“If it means leaving you…”
~You deserve your soul, even if you are an assassin.~ Disapproval marred her melodic, soothing tone. ~Don’t let Shawn deter you from your mission, Keith. However, that shifter is plucking his nerves. If she wasn’t…~
Travis chuckled, voice faint. “God, you want to torture me, Lyssa. If they don’t round out, I’ll strangle them myself.”
The twirling ribbon dropped into Travis’s lap before enclosing him in a thick metallic bubble. He banged against the barrier, breathing heavy as it became smaller around his body.
He pictured Limere’s power and the dead body he mentioned disintegrating when they met and gasped, waiting for impending death.
~Stop being afraid, Keith. You’re running away, disappointing me, and hiding from yourself. You won’t catch my killer shirking from your magic, you know.~
“It’s not me!” As the barrier shrank, Travis pressed himself close. “I’m not—”
~Quit lying, darling. Jeopardizing yourself is one thing, but I won’t permit your carelessness toward other innocents. You need Aviere, so stop putting her life in jeopardy. Shawn, too.~
The admonishment stopped Travis’s struggle before the barrier contracted, and he wailed when her translucent form appeared seconds before he faded away.
Chapter Eight
Limere’s world exploded with silver and specks of colors instead of monochrome once Travis returned to their dimension, and he stumbled from the blood-curling scream the agent released.
Before anyone noticed, the mage steadied himself, centering on the fluctuating energy patterns instead of bursts of darkness substituting for color. He muffled the agent’s screams as sooty eyes changed to the color of midnight, developing tunnel vision while focusing on his task. Limere wanted to close them and ease the pressure behind his eyes and temples, but the sultry laughter and crooning whispers drove the mage toward completing his task.
The show on the television distorted to black and white, despite realizing the reporter’s natural hair color and the colors on the American flag folded and displayed above the mantelpiece.
Every time Angel messes with someone, there’s significant damage, Limere reflected, eyes downcast at the agent’s quiet conversation, expressed through muddled speech. It’s like illusion mages get off abusing their victims.
~You’re the exception,~ the temptress drawled.
Telepath.
~Telekinesis, technically.~
You know what I mean, temptress.
~You believe in control, but it’s an illusion created by humans. No one’s completely in control of their destiny, boy. Stop feeling sympathy and extract his power.~
Her voice adopted a patronizing tone when Limere flinched, staring at normalized colored picture frames nailed above jarred candles on top a wooden shelf. Red popped into his vision, but the lavender, cerulean and golden ones were simply different hues of black and white.
~Why hesitate? The Mistresses know he’d forsake this power if given a choice. Perform the mercy killing and stop your little sister’s suffering.~
When the agent collapsed against the sofa bed, Limere wiped his brow, relieved that Travis’s suffering had ended. However, he stared around the living room and slouched at the suited agent typing away on the titanium laptop. The man’s hands keyed furiously until the screams ceased.
After analyzing the image on the agent’s screen, Limere snickered.
A database and an MMO. Sis, your agents are characters, that’s for sure.
“Lim, your eyes are dark again,” Aviere whispered. “You didn’t—”
“No.” The mage’s voice softened once Limere gazed at Aviere’s horrified cerulean eyes. “Angelique screwed with him. Her signature’s imprinted on the spell.” He swept a single curly strand away from Aviere’s forlorn face. “I stopped an absolute transference, but it was mid-spell, so the effects might be screwy. Not as severe as mine, thank God. Seems limited to hallucinations and synesthesia.”
A drawn-out hiss made Limere scurry backward before tripping on the cowboy boots discarded on the living room floor.
As Limere rubbed his posterior, he grabbed his baseball cap and wiped the dust off, scowling at Aviere. Dimmed cerulean eyes narrowed before her body slanted to the side. Brunette strands hit her face, but Limere imagined her pursed lips and closed eyes.
It’s never good enough, is it, Aviere?
He reached for her, but Aviere hissed again, lower than her first attempt. A growl followed as a hand rested over her weapon.
“Mye, it’s nice to know you’re a bitch to everyone,” the neurotic human typing in the corner quipped. “I swear, some days are worth coming to work. Today’s not one of
them.”
Oh my god, his voice! One palm bashed into the mage’s temple. It’s easier picturing shards of glass ripping through my eyes! I realize he can’t help his voice, but for God’s sake!
As swarms of thoughts invaded Limere’s senses, he pushed himself off the ground and squeezed one eye shut. “Stop talking, human. Your voice pitch reaches epic proportions.”
“What is with everyone bitching about my voice?!” The laptop slammed against the glass table and almost cracked between the pressure and the titanium alloy around the device. “I understand Mye because of her hearing problems, but you? There’s nothing supersonic about you, mage.”
“I didn’t lose everything,” Limere mumbled. “Telepathy amplified my mental hearing when I lost my other senses. Right now, I’d rather swallow shards of glass than listen to your voice. My headache’s severe enough without wanting to tear out my eyeballs.”
The soft exclamation from Aviere’s direction turned Limere’s head, but she averted her gaze before their eyes met. He realized where her eyes drifted, but said nothing when they rested on the mantelpiece.
Sis, I can’t help that Gunther’s not here; but it’s obvious you’re not confident in me.
Limere clenched a fist before scuffing a foot against the floor. “Aviere, stop avoiding me, will you?”
“She’s good at that, I hear,” Limere caught Peters murmuring. “Runs every time you confront her about anything serious. Or leaves out shit… that’s her M.O. most of the time.”
“If I was still a shifter, I’d rip your throat out,” Limere mumbled, advancing toward Peters’s makeshift office. Silver energy danced along his index finger as Limere reached the agent and placed his finger over the space bar. “I wouldn’t give you the time of day after attacking my sister in a fucking hospital bed. Why would she depend on you?”
“I admit, we don’t trust each other, but I’m not hiding in sheep’s clothing.”
“Sis’s judgment is right about you.”
Before Limere conducted energy into the electronic device, another growl escaped his sister’s throat.
Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two Page 13
