Fallen Star

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Who is she?” He tried again, allowing his impatience to show.

  “Why did you think Sevrin meant to kill her?” Gerrod evaded.

  “Roxie’s a tattoo artist and she’s been working on my men. Sevrin is afraid she’s overheard things she shouldn’t and Sevrin always ties up loose ends.”

  Gerrod chuckled and turned around. “Want a beer.”

  After one concerned glance at Roxie’s still form, Nazerel followed Gerrod into the kitchen. “Sevrin has obviously been screwing with me, which I’m sure doesn’t surprise you. Who the hell is the girl?”

  “That, my foolish friend, is the ace up my sleeve. If Sevrin tries to screw with me again, the Mystic Militia will learn all of Roxie’s secrets.”

  “Meaning you have no intention of telling me anything.”

  Gerrod pulled two beers out of the refrigerator and handed one to Nazerel. “I will tell you that Sevrin needs Roxie much more than she needs you. Take Roxie back before she wakes up and pray to every god you know that she thinks she imagined the entire thing.”

  Nazerel twisted off the top and took a long swig of beer. It did nothing to calm the anger seething inside him. Sevrin obviously thought he was a fool, managed to make him look like a fool at every turn. “How do you know my father?”

  “What Sevrin told you was basically true. I worked for Pern Keire and so did your father. Pern arranged for South to train me and—”

  “You founded the Dirty Dozen,” Nazerel cut in, already confused. “Aren’t you Ontarian? My father trained Rodytes.”

  “Your father trained hybrids of many varieties using Rodyte techniques.”

  “You’re an Ontarian hybrid?”

  Gerrod’s brows arched as he took a swig. “Something like that.”

  “Why are you still on Earth?”

  Gerrod laughed. “Hasn’t anyone told you what happened to the others? I wasn’t going to let some prissy Mystic rearrange my mind. I was ready to die fighting, and when the team chasing me thought that’s what I’d done. I stepped back and let them believe it.”

  “Which stranded you on Earth, living as a human.”

  Unaffected by the distain in Nazerel’s tone, Gerrod shrugged. “At least I’m living.” He set down the bottle and motioned toward the other room. “Go put her back before she wakes up. Sevrin is not going to kill her.”

  Chapter Eight

  “This looks like the ultra-secret army base they create for movies. I just didn’t realize places like this actually exist.” Jillian walked beside Odintar, feeling like a rescue puppy exploring a real house for the first time. “Why do they call it the Bunker?”

  “This is the only level that’s above ground. The rest of the complex is subterranean.”

  “Of course it is.” She laughed. “Aren’t all the best Top Secret installations buried underground.”

  She’d driven to a rest stop just off the highway that allowed overnight parking. Odintar still insisted she’d sleep in her own bed tonight, but he was making allowances for the unexpected. Probably wise, being that the unexpected seemed to be his stock and trade.

  “Morgan Hoyt, that’s Elias’ boss, runs this place and she’s been gracious enough to sublet a portion of the complex to the Mystic Militia. We were going stir-crazy on our ship.”

  “Wait, did you say ‘she’s been gracious enough’? Morgan is female?”

  “I’ve never seen her naked, but I have no reason to doubt her claim.”

  She slapped his arm. “I bet you’ve pictured her naked, you pervert.”

  He was obviously unmoved by her annoyance. “I suspect every man on this base has pictured Morgan naked, or at least the ones partial to curvy females.”

  If he was trying to make her jealous, he was succeeding.

  They turned right at the end of a long corridor and found Elias waiting for them. Well, two could play at this game. Elias was certainly fantasy worthy. “Hi there, handsome.” She looped her arm through his and flashed a flirtatious smile.

  Elias looked at Odintar and raised both brows. “What did you do to piss her off?”

  “Told her about Morgan.”

  “I see.” He patted Jillian’s hand. “Morgan is a bona-fide workaholic. She keeps herself much too busy for any sort of social life. There’s not a man around who can turn her head. And believe me many have tried. You have nothing to fear from Morgan.”

  “So the only reason I don’t need to worry is because Morgan’s not interested in men?”

  Odintar laughed while Elias looked confused. “That’s not what I said at all. Morgan is interested in men. She’s just more interested in the work we do here.”

  She took pity on him and smiled. “We’re just having fun while we can. I’m not looking forward to this meeting.”

  Elias reached over and activated the elevator before he spoke again. “I just met King Indric, but from what I’ve been told—”

  “King Indric?” Odintar and Jillian chorused. Then they each clarified the reason for their outburst.

  “I requested a representative from Guild Air,” Odintar said. “Not the region’s king. Is Lor responsible for this?”

  “I’m going to be assessed by a king?” Panic sped Jillian’s pulse and urged her to run in the opposite direction. “Why would a king, any king, bother with me?”

  “King Indric wouldn’t be here without a good reason. I just don’t know what it is.” The elevator door slid open and Elias motioned them inside.

  “Am I allowed to refuse?” She hated feeling like a coward, but she couldn’t seem to slow her breathing or calm her racing heart.

  “No one is going to hurt you, gennari.” Odintar took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “We are sworn to your protection.”

  “He’s right.” Elias moved into her peripheral vision. “None of us will let King Indric harm you. Even if that were his intention, which I’m certain it’s not.”

  “What if he wants to take me to Bilarri for training or whatever? Earth is my home. I don’t want to leave here.”

  Elias held the door with his outstretched arm. “You won’t be forced to do anything.”

  She scoffed. “You’re going to say no to a king?”

  Her doubt didn’t change his determined expression. “Not just me. You’re part of our team and we protect our own. If King Indric steps out of line, we’ll all be there to pull him back. Now get on the damn elevator. Your doubt is insulting.”

  Odintar chuckled, clearly agreeing with Elias’ strategy.

  The slap had been verbal not physical, but the result was the same. Her panic eased and she was able to process his words. Okay fine, so she was about to go before alien royalty. Why should that rattle her after everything else she’d been through?

  She moved to the back corner of the elevator and scrubbed her hand over her face. She had to stop thinking with human perspectives. The rules had obviously changed. She wasn’t a showgirl anymore. Hadn’t Tori said Lor was the head of some Great House? Aria had married a Bilarrian nobleman. And now Jillian was about to go before a king.

  Rather than bombard her companions with questions, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Focus on one thing at a time. “How should I greet him? Do I bow or curtsy or something?”

  “Royal protocol is only observed at formal events and official court functions,” Elias told her. “A simple handshake will do.”

  “And rumor has it King Indric is a terrible flirt, so don’t take it personally,” Odintar added.

  “I won’t if you won’t,” she countered, unable to even imagine what a Bilarrian king looked like.

  Elias led them to a large open area. It looked sort of like a gymnasium crossed with a martial arts dojo. Familiar, and some not so familiar, workout equipment was situated at one end, while the other was surrounded by mirrors. Large padded mats carpeted the floor.

  She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this was definitely not it. Three men stood in the middle of the padded area. Al
l three turned as she entered the room. She recognized Lor, but the other two were unfamiliar. One stayed slightly back and only glanced at her, while the remaining man met her gaze directly. From his square stance to the confidant tilt of his head, everything about him projected authority. His gold-streaked black hair had been pulled back and bound into a wrist-thick mass. His black-and-gold coloring was echoed in his rich garments. The outfit looked part business suit and part uniform. As she approached, she realized the rings separating his pupils from his irises were gold rather than red or blue. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  Despite Elias’ advice, she dipped into an automatic curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

  Indric caught both her hands and raised her knuckles to his lips for a light kiss. Then his gaze locked with hers and the golden rings shimmered. “May I enter?”

  She felt the brush of his energy against her mind and tried not to panic. This was common for these people. They exchanged images, thoughts and energy as easily as humans sent text messages. Unsure of her voice, she nodded and quickly closed her eyes.

  With a deep chuckle, he released her hands and stepped back. “You can open your eyes now. I’ve seen all I need to see.”

  But she hadn’t felt anything yet.

  Realization unfurled and Jillian shivered. He’d only asked permission out of courtesy. He could have scanned her mind without her knowing it; scanned it and probably a whole lot more.

  “What did you see?” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt. Hopefully her expression was equally convincing. She might be quaking on the inside, but she didn’t want this powerful stranger to think she was a spineless fool.

  “It’s a rather long story. Shall we find a more comfortable setting?” Without waiting for her preference, he waved his hand and the scene around them morphed.

  Jillian gasped and wobbled before her mind accepted the new input. She stood beside an ornate loveseat in a stylish salon. Complete with massive marble fireplace and oversized oil paintings, the room created an old-world ambiance. Odintar stood at her side, but Indric hadn’t allowed the others to…transport with them? “Did we teleport or is this some sort of mind trick?”

  Amusement softened Indric’s gaze as he explained, “We’re on the metaphysical plane and I’ve paused our time stream. As soon as I release the visualization, we’ll return to reality and everything will continue on as if we never left.”

  “Nifty trick.” She was pretty sure even Odintar couldn’t pause a time stream. This was another indication of Indric’s power.

  “Have a seat.” He looked at Odintar and added, “Both of you.”

  “Is Lor not allowed to know what you discovered?” Odintar sat and held out his hand, encouraging Jillian to join him on the loveseat. She sat and he stretched his arm along the back, barely touching her shoulders.

  “It’s up to Jillian whom she informs.” Indric sat facing them and the padded armchair suddenly seemed like a throne.

  “And yet I am here.”

  Indric’s smile made him look younger and less intimidating. “I just looked into her mind. Mates should have no secrets from each other.”

  Odintar cringed and Jillian felt obliged to point out, “We’re lovers, not mates.”

  “If you say so.”

  Rather than argue about something that was really none of Indric’s business, Jillian asked, “What have you learned?”

  “You are not merely a child of my region; you are a direct decedent of my bloodline.”

  She kept herself from laughing, but just barely. Her mind was so saturated with unexpected developments she couldn’t even find the strength to feel surprised. Less than a week ago she’d been lying in a hospital bed, barely able to walk, and now she was moving things with her mind and an alien king had just claimed her as kin.

  Was this where he insisted that Bilarrian royalty, no matter how distant, belonged on Bilarri? If that was where this conversation was headed, he was in for disappointment.

  “How is that possible?” Odintar asked. “She isn’t a foundling. She was raised by her human mother.” His arm shifted from the loveseat to her shoulders.

  “My sister was a war bride.” Indric paused. “You’re Ontarian. Do you know what that term means?”

  Tension rolled up Odintar’s side and hardened his expression. “Most believe I’m half Ontarian. In truth, my mother was a war bride. She hid me with friends on Ontariese when she was lucky enough to escape her captor.”

  Indric shifted his gaze back to Jillian. “And do you understand the complexities of this subject?”

  She nodded. “Rodyte warriors captured Bilarrian females, claiming they were spoils of war. That’s where the Shadow Assassins got the idea to capture their mates.”

  “Shadow Assassins were simply replenishing their ranks,” Indric pointed out. “With war brides, the intent was more convoluted. Rodytes were trying to restore magic powers to their offspring, but it also became a battle of wits. They prided themselves in besting our security measures. The harder we tried to protect our women, the bolder the Rodytes became.”

  “Can I ask a rude question?”

  “I doubt I’ll find it rude, but please continue.”

  Each time Indric spoke Jillian felt warmth melt the tension from her muscles. Was he doing it intentionally or was it a side effect of the metaphysical plane? “Rodytes can’t manipulate magic, correct?”

  “Most can’t, though they have technologies that replicate many of our abilities.”

  That was new information. When Odintar explained the conflict, she’d pictured Rodyte hostilities growing out of a sense of inferiority or at least having been treated as inferiors. As with most conflicts, it was obviously more complicated than she’d first thought. “If your sister had abilities similar to yours, how was a Rodyte able to imprison her?”

  “They developed a collar that suppresses our access to elemental energy. Without such energy, we are powerless. We have since engineered a device that disables the collar, but it was still in use when Lierra was captured.”

  She shuddered. It was so easy to imagine the terror and hopelessness Lierra must have endured. “Is it still going on?”

  “We’re enjoying a prolonged lull in hostilities. I’m not sure the war will ever be over. Resentment on both sides runs too deep.”

  “I’m sorry about what your sister suffered, but she couldn’t be my mother. My mother has photographs of me in her arms shortly after I was born.”

  “You misunderstand.” Indric crossed his legs and offered her a patient smile. “You’re too young to have been battle born.”

  “Battle born?”

  “The offspring of war brides are referred to as battle born. My sister was returned to us forty-three years ago. As is the custom, she was released from captivity without her battle-born son.”

  Another shiver raced down Jillian’s spine as the subject became more personal. “You think your nephew is my father?”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “There’s no speculation involved. The rhythm of your energy is so similar to mine, you can only be a blood relation.”

  “What made you suspect a connection?” Odintar asked.

  Damn good question. What made the King of Bilarri drop everything and flash to another planet?

  “It took many years, but I was able to confirm the identity of my nephew. I have attempted to make contact with him, but he considers himself Rodyte and wants nothing to do with his Bilarrian heritage.”

  “Who is he?”

  Jillian appreciated Odintar’s directness. Her thoughts were too chaotic for such clarity.

  “Gerrod Reynolds. He organized the despicable group of rebels known as the Dirty Dozen. When Drakkin told me about the notebook, I knew it was only a matter of time before one or more of Gerrod’s offspring was located.”

  “It’s possible I have half-brothers and sisters?” Her heart did a little flip. She’d always longed for siblings, had always envied the closeness Tori and Angie
enjoyed. Despite the numerous conflicts the sisters had endured, they each knew the other would be there to support them if the need arose.

  “It’s not just possible, it’s likely. The goal of the Dirty Dozen was to create as many offspring as they could.”

  “Wait a minute.” She paused, hoping to organize her thoughts. “Weren’t the Dirty Dozen from Ontariese? I thought the Ontarian government sanctioned the program, even brought them to Earth.”

  “The facts are sketchy at best,” Odintar admitted. “Nine of the twelve were taken back to Ontariese. Two were killed during the manhunt and their leader was presumed dead. The nine we had in custody were interrogated at length, but their stories varied greatly.”

  “Why didn’t someone just read their minds and learn the truth.”

  The knowing smile Odintar and Indric exchanged made her feel naive. So many of their explanations began with “it’s not that simple”.

  “Truth is greatly influenced by perspective,” Odintar began. “If a person is told an untruth, but they have no reason to doubt it. The falsehood becomes true to them.”

  When she didn’t respond to Odintar’s comment, Indric elaborated. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, Gerrod was working for Pern Keire, the ruler of Rodymia at the time. Gerrod recruited the others then dispatched them to different locations so they had minimal contact with each other. It’s likely the others didn’t realize they were being manipulated by a Rodyte.”

  And this delightful Rodyte spy was her father.

  “What did the Rodyte gain by…never mind. I don’t think I want to know.” She folded her hands in her lap and interlaced her fingers. “What do you expect from me?”

  “I expect nothing,” Indric insisted. “Lierra passed beyond years ago, but you have a variety of other relations who will be anxious to meet you.”

  “I’m not ready to leave Earth. Is that a problem?” A touch of rebellion sharpened the question.

  Indric chuckled, unaffected by her attitude. “I’m not going to throw you over my shoulder and zap you to Bilarri. That’s not why I came. All of Lierra’s wealth and property were held in trust for her son. When I located Gerrod, he stubbornly relinquished all rights to his inheritance. There were no specific provisions for grandchildren in Lierra’s will, but Bilarrian law requires a ten-year waiting period in which offspring can register a claim. Gerrod renounced his inheritance six years ago, so you have four years to decide what you want out of the rest of your life.”