Dangerous Data (The Meridian Crew Book 2)

by Blake B. Rivers

  She was taken by his eyes, his smile, and it was all he needed to pull her through the maze of hallways.

  It was just as beautiful as he had described. She gasped as she looked up, thousands of stars twinkling above them. She had never seen anything like it–so clear. She was sure that she could see at least three galaxies shining above her.

  “Wow,” she said, leaning against Devon as they stood in silence. The door was open, and they were barely outside. It was as dangerous as she was willing to get, and yet, it was worth it.

  “What gets me,” he said, putting an arm around her as she shivered, “is seeing all these stars, planets, space, all those worlds out there–so many possibilities. So much life.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

  “There are millions of lifeforms up there,” he said. “And each of them living a different life, doing a different thing. There are so many paths, you can't count them. They are anything they want to be.”

  It sunk in as she leaned against him.

  “And we can't.”

  “Not really,” he said softly. “We were born witches so that's what we must be. Unless….”

  Her head whipped toward him. “Devon, you aren't thinking about Reynolds' path.”

  “No!” he said quickly. She didn't actually think that was the case, but she had to be sure. “No, not at all. Just that there are different paths out there. Where medical treatments aren't timed with missions; where classes aren't streamed into the med bay. And where your Maestro isn't your only family. Can you imagine?”

  She couldn't. But staring into his eyes, she saw a glimmer of what could be.

  “Maybe,” she said. It was easy to say that, standing just a few meters from her sleeping Maestros, their safe magic still feeding her veins, and Devon's arm around her. She didn't have to imagine being alone, nor did she want to.

  “Maybe,” he said with a smile. “Maybe is good enough for me.”

  She lay her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as they stood under the stars for another few moments. Soon, her shivering grew intense, and he brought her back inside, both of their thoughts a million miles away.

  “I'm just going to get something to eat,” Sienna said, and Devon kissed her on the cheek as he went to his room. She paused in kitchen, searching through the sack left on the table. She was tempted by the fruit on the table, but knew it would likely end badly.

  It was while she was reading the ingredients on a bag of processed food that she saw the communication screen flicker.

  A message had come through, and from what she could tell, it wasn't coded. Her fingers paused at opening the bag, knowing that she really shouldn't access a message without her maestros. But curiosity got the better of her, and she hit the screen.

  A man's shape filled the screen, his face hidden, and his voice technologically blurred.

  I hear that Desmond is in your camp. Bring him to me, for we have much to say. You will be rewarded. His Tiro's strength is too dangerous for him. His best interests are in my heart.

  The message cut off, and Sienna felt her heart rate go through the roof. Was that Reynolds, reaching out to Sybil?

  She felt her hand start to tremble as she replayed the message. It was too blurred to figure out who it was.

  But whoever it was, it was clearly coming from Reynolds' intentions. She would go with Desmond, she knew, and she instantly felt guilty about it.

  Would Reynolds want Desmond if she wasn't at his side? Was this going to be a repeat of today? First, one Maestro, and then the other?

  Chapter 11

  “It is Reynolds,” Sybil said the next morning at the crack of dawn. The first thing she did when she got up was check for messages. “He's afraid of people knowing his identity, but those on the inside know exactly who the messages come from.”

  “So, it's time,” Desmond said as he leaned against the small breakfast table. Nathaniel, looking pale, but alert, beside him, leaned forward. “Don't even think about it,” Desmond answered, without looking at his former Tiro. “You can't protect us if you come with us, and you know it right now.”

  Nathaniel traded a glance with Sienna who was watching him across the room. She was picking at her food, her anxiety through the roof. Yesterday had clearly shaken her up, and being separated from Nathaniel for an unknown period of time was throwing all those feelings back through her. It had taken her so long to feel useful, to feel wanted and strong as she found her place in the world, especially beside her younger Maestro.

  “Besides,” Desmond went on, “if Reynolds sees you, he'll know that something is not right. You are devoted to the magic, Nathaniel. Everyone knows that.”

  “And you're not?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. Sybil tensed, but said nothing. She felt Desmond's pain every time he mentioned Reynolds. But now, she also felt him longing for times that were past, filled with regret in the way the situation was handled.

  “Of course, he is,” Sybil spoke up. “He just doesn't wear it on his sleeve as you do, Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel glanced to her, but dismissed the thought, turning to Sienna. “And you, Tiro? Can you play the part?” he asked evenly.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  “And if Reynolds asks?” Desmond said. “What will your reason be?”

  “That I no longer wish to be a burden,” she answered. “Acheronian Magic does not require a Maestro-Tiro system, and is fueled by desire, not the burden of protecting the universe.”

  A silence fell over the room. Both Nathaniel and Desmond were well aware that Sienna's vocabulary wasn't quite good enough to spontaneously make such a powerful sentence. She had to have been rehearsing it beforehand. And while she could have been preparing for the mission last night, it wasn't like her to be so quick to spout out an answer.

  “I see,” Desmond said. “It is a good answer.”

  “He will believe it?” she asked, and Desmond nodded.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Reynolds will believe that wholeheartedly.”

  Devon was watching her intently, his breath coming short as her words rang true in his heart. Did she mean that? Was she thinking of such a thing?

  Because he had the same thoughts, and often. He didn't want to walk another path of magic; it wasn't about the fork in the road. It was about the fact that Laura would be left Tiro-less one day, and the older he got, the closer it would be to the tests. He didn't think he'd make it to the tests, and he didn't want to leave Laura so emptyhanded just days before. Somehow, with the luck he had, he thought that it might be the case.

  “Sienna…” Nathaniel opened his arms, and she went forward, giving him a brief hug. But even as she did, she glanced over her shoulder at Devon who raised an eyebrow at her.

  Laura nudged her Tiro. ‘What's up?’ she asked through the bond.

  ‘Nothing,’ Devon managed. ‘Just tired today.’

  ‘Well, we aren't to present ourselves to Reynolds and swear loyalty today, so relax.’ She was so used to his energy levels and his feelings, so protective of him. It wasn't supposed to be that way. He was supposed to be a support to her, learning and growing.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, as Desmond summoned Sienna to him.

  “Be careful, then,” Nathaniel said, trying not to show his anxiety at the situation. His fingers drummed the table, and Sybil put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Have some faith in your Maestro,” Sybil said softly, feeling the tension in the air.

  “Of course,” Nathaniel answered as he watched them head to the door.

  Sienna gave one last look at Devon, and then followed her Maestro onto the busy street that was already full of noise.

  “So many people,” she said as she hurried to keep up with him. He was lost in his own thoughts, and barely remembered to slow his pace for her. “So early.”

  “This is a busy planet,” Desmond said. “People here don't have much, and they are struggling to survive.”

  She could see that it was true
in the clothes and in their hungry faces. She realized she had never wanted for those things, despite all her shortcomings. She may be sick, but she was never hungry, never searching for a place to sleep. She felt guilty for getting so much, when she was so useless to the magical cause.

  “Sienna,” Desmond snapped her back to attention, “Reynolds will be relentless in this. His passion is undeniable, and he does not give up, ever. Perhaps if he had given up, perhaps if he had been just a little weaker, we wouldn't be here now.”

  “Would he have passed the tests?” Sienna asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Desmond replied. “He is very strong. He would have passed with flying colors.”

  “Oh,” she said, quietly. “At least there is that.”

  Desmond fell quiet again as they walked.

  “You always take different ones,” Sienna said. “Christa, Nathaniel, me, Reynolds.”

  “I suppose I do that,” Desmond said. “Perhaps I am quicker to see potential in those that others don't.”

  “Desmond,” Sienna said, suddenly, stopping in the street. “It hurt you that Reynolds did not take the tests. After all the work.”

  “It's not the work, Sienna,” he said quietly. “It's the loss of….” he met her eyes. “It's all right. It was a long time ago.”

  “But with me, it will happen again.”

  He put hands on both her shoulders.

  She expected him to say that it wouldn't, that he would stay with her, and that he wasn't going anywhere until she took those tests. But the words that came out of his mouth were much different.

  “But for you, it will be for a different reason–an acceptable reason, that no one will dishonor you for. There is no dishonor in death, nor in the loss of magic outside your control.”

  Her heart sunk into her stomach at those words. He saw her eyes widen, and started to move again.

  “But any one of us could die tomorrow, Tiro. None of that matters in the moment.”

  “It's not just the moment, Desmond. It's the past five years,” she replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Tiro, can you handle this?”

  “Yes,” she assured him, not wanting to let him down. “Yes.”

  “All right,” he said, and they fell into silence as they walked.

  Sybil had given them instructions as to where Reynolds would be, but Sienna had a feeling that he wasn't following them. Desmond's mind was closed off, and he was accessing his former bond with Reynolds.

  Before she knew it, they came upon a darkened building. Everything about it made Sienna's stomach drop as they drew closer. It felt cold and dead. She had met this kind of magic before, but never in such strong doses.

  She drew closer to Desmond as they rang the bell. The buzzer was answered, but no voice came from the other side.

  “Maestro Desmond,” he gave his own name, “and his Tiro, Sienna…former Tiro. Former Maestro. Searching for redemption.”

  There was a pause, and then the gate buzzed open.

  She flickered her wrist, trying to conjure up a protection spell, but Desmond blocked her.

  “There will be no more of that kind of magic, Sienna,” he said, and she felt her stomach sink. The way he said the words sounded so real and so final.

  The courtyard was dark and cold. Even though it was spring, everything inside was dead. It was as if all nature had been sucked from the surrounding areas. She could hear sounds; people in the buildings around them, but they were alone in the darkness.

  The gates closed with a clatter and double locked. She jumped, leaning closer to Desmond.

  “It's all right,” he said, as much for her benefit as for those around them, surely listening. “It's all right. We're safe now.”

  “Maestro Desmond,” came a voice, and they both spun to the right.

  A figure emerged from the shadows, and she squinted into the semi-darkness.

  “Terrian,” Desmond answered, facing the young man who was about Nathaniel's age. “I should have known I would find you here. I remember your training, Terrian, you showed such promise.”

  “And I should have known you'd come around eventually,” Terrian answered. “The grey line you walk.”

  “Is that so?” Desmond answered.

  “But such a special Tiro you've brought with you,” Terrian said, turning to Sienna. He surprised her by speaking in Jeffro to her. “We've heard so much about you.”

  Desmond instantly put an arm across her, pushing her back. “How did you know to speak to her in Jeffro?” he asked.

  Terrian smiled. “We do much research on those coming to us,” he said. “Or those we think we can sway. Come, Reynolds awaits you.”

  “Of course,” Desmond said, but his jaw was set. Sienna reached out to him with her mind.

  ‘He knows so much.’

  ‘Not now, Little one,’ Desmond answered, and she realized that he was afraid of Reynolds listening. After all, if Desmond could reach out to Reynolds, Reynolds could listen in.

  Terrian led them deeper into the courtyard, and then through a series of dark hallways that reminded her of where Sybil had first brought them.

  He finally came to a heavily barred door and reached out to the lock with magic that made Sienna ache inside. It was so dark, so strong, and so devoid of anything living.

  The door opened, and she could see a chair placed by a roaring fire.

  “Enter,” Terrian said. “He's waiting.”

  Sienna leaned closer to Desmond as the door latched shut. They stood in silence for a moment, and then the dark figure by the fire stood up and turned around.

  “Maestro,” said Reynolds with a half-smile on his face. “I thought you'd never come back to me.”

  Desmond felt like his heart shattered at the sight of his Tiro again. Reynolds had a slash across his face, and one eye was light blue, useless. The young, eager boy that had been so passionate and so strong, was now a weathered warrior who stood half-stooped, as if the magic was weighing him down.

  “I have come to hear what you propose, Reynolds,” Desmond answered. “Nothing more at the moment.”

  “Is that so?” Reynolds answered with a smile as he drew closer. “Yet you bring your Tiro here, when I know she would rather be with her young Maestro–the young hopeful that replaced me. Isn't that the truth?”

  “Reynolds,” Desmond said steadily, “I have come to hear your proposal. That is all. Are you going to give it to me?”

  “I'll show you instead,” Reynolds said as he moved toward them. “Come with me.”

  Sienna said nothing, her eyes wide as they followed him to the windowsill. There, several dead plants littered the ground, making her ache. So much dead nature was not good for witches who drew their very life force from nature itself.

  “Resurrection,” Reynolds said as they stood by the plants. “The witches' dreamed of mecca. A world where we can save them all, to give everyone a second chance. That is what you always wanted, isn't it, Desmond?”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance,” he echoed. “But that is a common fallacy.”

  “Second chances are always possible,” Reynolds answered with a twist of his wrist.

  Sienna sucked in a breath. He didn't even focus; didn't even blink. The plants twisted back to life, filling with green and rising toward the sun. It took only moments, as their leaves turned out, and their stems moved upwards.

  Both she and Desmond watched in silence, feeling the air.

  “Reynolds,” Desmond said, quietly, “that is not life.”

  “Of course, it is,” Reynolds answered. “Look at them. Who else do you know who can do that?”

  “I can,” Sienna spoke up. “I can bring back the dead.”

  Chapter 12

  Reynolds looked upon her with a smile that made Desmond uneasy.

  “I've heard of your power and your skill,” he said. “But also of your flaws. What happens to you when you bring back the dead?”

  Sienna swallowed, looking to Desmond.
>
  “She is sick, Reynolds,” Desmond warned. “It would happen to anyone who has that much power inside her.”

  “And whose insides are also raging war,” Reynolds answered. “Your magic is based in nature. Mine is not. I can show you how to bring back the dead this way, and it won't harm you.”

  Sienna remembered the little bird fluttering in her arms and the brokenhearted look on Nathaniel's face when Eliza lay limp. Both those times, the resurrection had nearly killed her, and she knew she couldn't sustain it. As well, bringing back the dead had opened up portals to the world beyond theirs, wrecking nature's very order.

  “The portals?” she asked quietly, and Reynolds shook his head.

  “This isn't Nature,” he assured her. “This won't wreck their plan.”

  He twisted his wrist again, bringing even a dead leaf that had fallen to the floor back to its green state. Sienna looked on in shock.

  “With your permission, Maestro,” Reynolds answered, and Desmond took a long look at Sienna. If he refused her use of this magic, then Reynolds might become suspicious. After all, weren't they supposed to be here because they possibly thought it was right?

  “Carefully,” Desmond said at last. He had no idea how Sienna would react when she experienced Acheronian magic for the first time or whether it would make her sick. He imagined it would; it was still magic, after all. He wasn't sure of the medical facilities around, but he had a feeling that they weren't advanced.

  “Here.” Reynolds reached out for her, and Sienna pulled back instinctively. A lifetime of medical intervention meant that she associated most touch with pain. Sensing this, he paused just before touching her. “Use your left hand, not your right. And instead of drawing from around you, draw from inside yourself.”

  “Huh?” she looked up at him.

  “This is the magic of our ancestors, Sienna,” Reynolds answered. “Not nature.”

  She closed her eyes, imitating his wrist movements again and again without flooding magic into it. When she felt like she had finally gotten the flow of it, she reached deep inside her consciousness. She had heard about doing this, about drawing from her belly rather than pulling from nature, but she was never sure if it worked, and she didn't dare try.