by Elana Brooks
She turned away to hide her tears. “Mama sent me to work with one of her brothers and his family the summer I was twelve. I hated it. I begged every day to go home, but they wouldn’t let me. It was hot, and dirty, and boring, and no matter how tired or thirsty I got, I had to keep going until it was time for a break. Day after day the same. When one field was harvested, we moved to the next. I was too proud to lie down and refuse to work, so I forced myself to be the fastest, the most efficient, the best. My uncle told me how proud he was of me, what a hard worker I was. But I felt myself dying inside a little more every day. When the summer was finally over and I went home and back to school, I put every bit of that hatred into my schoolwork, so I’d never have to go back there again.” She gave a dry laugh. “That’s undoubtedly what Mama intended.”
Steve put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
His compassion hurt more than any disdain. She whirled on him. “Don’t you dare pity me! It’s what made me who I am. I am damn proud of my heritage. My uncle is a better man than anybody who wears a suit and tie and works in an air-conditioned office all day. It’s because of people like him we can go to the grocery store and buy oranges and apples and tomatoes. His work is important. Just as important as yours or mine.”
“Of course it is.” Steve studied her, his brow furrowed. “Why are you so angry? Help me understand.”
She had to make him angry, make him fight back. She could never do what had to be done if he kept looking at her with those puzzled, tender eyes. So she reached for words she knew would hurt him, provoke him, infuriate him. “You can’t understand. No gringo can. You think you’re so enlightened, so liberal, so progressive. Bullshit. You’re just another privileged white male. You’ll never understand what it’s like not to be. You’ll never understand me.”
The fire she wanted blazed in his eyes. “Maybe I could, if you made the effort to explain. Or better yet, show me. Share your memories with me, if you think I’m that much of a bigot. Let me experience what it was like.”
She sneered at him. “You don’t deserve my memories. Why should I waste my time working to make you see what’s obvious? Face it. You and I come from different worlds. Sure, we make each other hot, but that’s all there is. When you called me last Friday, I told myself I’d give it a week, to see whether I could make a relationship with you work. Well, I have, and I can’t. We’re just too different.”
Fear poured from his mind. She felt how it fueled his anger. “What the hell, Rosalia? This week has been great! How can you say our relationship isn’t working? You sure acted like it was last night!” He blasted her with an image of her head flung back, mouth open in a cry of ecstasy, breasts heaving as her orgasm rolled through them both.
His blatant attempt to manipulate her drove her over the edge into fury. “Damn you! Get your fucking memories out of my head. Mindless sex. That’s all we ever had, and all we ever will. Maybe it’s enough for you, but it’s not for me.”
She was shaking, and her eyes blurred with tears. She had to end this before she broke down and admitted the truth. “It’s over, Steve. I never want to see you again.” She turned her back and zoomed away toward the city.
He followed, effortlessly passing her and blocking her path. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it. You could have just said so, you know. You didn’t have to scream and yell and insult me. I don’t stay where I’m obviously not wanted.”
“Fine. I’m telling you now. Goodbye. Adios. Hasta la vista, baby.” She made her astral form intangible and passed through him, ignoring the part of her heart that was screaming at her to take everything back and fall into his arms.
He let her go, staying where he was as long as she could see him. When he vanished behind her, she quit looking back and focused only on her tether. It led her unerringly back to her body, lying still and silent in the meditation garden.
She scrubbed the tears angrily from her astral eyes, waiting to settle into her body until she was sure no physical tears would form when she rejoined it. Sure enough, her eyes stayed dry while she climbed from the cot, adjusted her clothes, and headed for the elevator. She kept them that way by resolutely refusing to glance back at where Steve’s body lay unmoving on the cot beside hers.
She held on to her composure while she rode down the elevator, walked to the parking garage, and climbed into her car. She focused on driving safely and sedately back to her apartment. She maintained an icy demeanor while she unlocked her door, hung her purse on its hook, and undressed for bed.
Only when she switched off the light and climbed into bed did her emotions overwhelm her. The sheets were imbued with Steve’s scent and hers intermingled. They’d spent so many hours here giving each other joy. She rolled over, buried her face in her pillow, and wept.
Seeing the story played out in front of her tonight had finally made it clear. She couldn’t stay with Steve without losing herself.
She wasn’t Annie. She was Frank. She was the one who’d spent a lifetime honing her skills, only to be blown away by the novice’s prodigious natural talent. She was the one who could only ever hope to triumph if her lover and rival purposefully held back. She was the one who would forever live in the shadow of the one she was unwise enough to love.
No thanks. She had to end it now, while she could still save herself. He wouldn’t intend to hurt her. He would never intentionally overwhelm her. But his natural strength couldn’t be suppressed forever. Eventually, inevitably, she would succumb to it. His Steve-ness would consume her until there was no Rosalia left. Only Steve’s lover, Steve’s partner, Steve’s woman, Steve’s wife.
She cried for a long time. Finally, when her grief had poured itself out, she settled into bleakness. Tomorrow she would sleep late, then spend the day at home, pampering herself. Monday she would get up, go to work, and give her two weeks’ notice.
All her ambivalence about joining the Covenant had fallen away. She looked forward to more lessons with Flora, learning to use her gifts better than ever before. She eagerly anticipated devoting both her psychic and professional skills to whatever task they assigned her. When the Seraphim came, she’d do her part to defeat them.
If she was ever called upon to work with Steve, she would do so in a courteous, businesslike manner. Hopefully he would treat her the same way. Just because they couldn’t have a relationship didn’t mean they couldn’t strive toward a common goal. The Covenant needed both of them. She’d be damned if she’d let her feelings for her ex interfere with saving the world.
Chapter 19
Present
Rosalia poured yet another vision into Steve’s brain. A cartoonish Halloween ghost, sheet fluttering, snuck up behind him and hit him over the head with a foam-rubber sledgehammer. Garish red stage blood poured from his mouth and nose and eyes.
Got it. Steve dropped to his mat, rose from his body, and spun to find an amorphous cloud of astral substance coming through the far wall. Despite his exhaustion, astral energy came easily to his hand, and he flung it at the enemy. It summoned a shield, but his ball burned straight through and obliterated its tether. The blob fled back through the wall without even trying to reattach the severed end.
Weak, and disguised, he reported to Rosalia. Not one of the three we know. Probably they’re as tired as we are. But they want to keep the rest of their organization anonymous.
She didn’t break the smooth flow of yoga poses or the steady stream of instructions to her students. They can’t have very many able to drop what they’re doing and come, or else we’d have been attacked by a mob of them by now.
True. He sank back into his body and resumed following her directions. Three poses went by before an unpleasant possibility struck him. Maybe that one disguised himself because I’d have recognized his real face.
She was quick to grasp what he meant. A Covenant member?
They’re bound to have placed agents among us. You were right about how easy it would be. The t
hought chilled him. How many of those he knew and trusted were only biding their time before they betrayed the vows they’d all taken?
You should warn the rest of the Eight about the possibility.
Will do. He’d told Solomon about Angel’s initial attacks and kept him in the loop with terse reports of their ongoing attempts. Solomon had offered to send reinforcements, but Steve knew all the rest of the Eight were engaged in vital tasks. From the worried strain Solomon tried but failed to hide, things weren’t going smoothly. As long as he and Rosalia were handling Angel on their own, he hated to pull Covenant resources away from other necessary pursuits. They’d proven they were a match for the strongest of them, and Rosalia’s visions kept them from being taken by surprise.
It would only take one miss, though. If his attention lapsed for even a moment, the telepathic contact that let her exploit his immunity to the Seraphim’s shield would break, and Angel could sneak a surprise assault through. He could probably fight off whatever they threw at him, but Rosalia…
The memory of her astral form reduced to a scrap of tattered flesh felt like a giant black void yawning beneath his feet. Her swift thinking and valiant actions had saved her that time, but next time she might not get the chance. It wouldn’t matter how well she fought if Sarangerel or Robert or Carlos took her out with one sudden, unforeseen blow. The terror of that thought made him want to vomit.
He knew what he had to do. But they had to make it through this session first. Then they’d be done for the night and could take a few minutes to breathe and talk about their options.
He spared a glance to where Rosalia’s beautiful body was stretched into a warrior pose, as strong and steady as she’d been this morning, though his limbs were shaking. Her heroic efforts to keep the screenings going despite Angel’s constant deadly interruptions had been nothing less than amazing. He’d been roused to new heights of admiration and respect by the way she’d returned again and again to her work after each attempt on her life. He’d helped as much as he could with scanning the candidates during the final relaxations, but she’d been the one to lead each group of hundreds through the routine that brought them to the point of receptivity and guide them telepathically to release the bonds that had held body and soul together their whole lives. He’d have given up hours ago, but she never wavered in her determination to see her task through.
It had paid off. They’d identified nearly two hundred strong talents and several hundred moderate ones over the course of the day. Each new recruit would strengthen the Covenant and increase their ability to fight Sarthex and the Seraphim. Rosalia’s work wasn’t glamorous, but it contributed more to the success of their cause than any showy, headline-grabbing stunt he might perform.
Finally Rosalia took the class down to their mats and led them through the relaxation sequence. Steve quit trying to follow along and sprawled limp. Sleep threatened to drag his mind under, but he fought it. Rosalia wouldn’t be able to maintain telepathic contact unless he stayed awake.
At the appropriate time, he rose from his body with a groan and launched himself to soar over the rows of still bodies. He forced himself to pay just as careful attention this time as any other. They weren’t going to miss a promising candidate because he got lazy.
Finally he met Rosalia in the middle of the room. She gave him a weary smile. “Seven strong, twenty-one weak.”
“Eleven and sixteen on my side.” He told her their mat numbers. “Let’s get this done and get out of here.” He swallowed. “We need to talk.”
She nodded slowly. “We do.”
She stepped close, threw her arms around his neck, and sagged against him. He enveloped her in an embrace. They clung to each other, minds entwined, giving and receiving wordless comfort.
He was about to reluctantly release her when she stiffened. He bit back a curse. Couldn’t Angel give the hell up already?
As soon as the vision ended, she shared it with him. Two armored knights stood back-to-back, swords raised. Above them flew a banner bearing the Covenant’s rainbow symbol. From the three points of an equilateral triangle mounted knights advanced, lances pointed at the pair, banners with Angel’s emblem fluttering overhead.
“Pretty obvious what that means,” Steve said, trying for a tone of grim humor, though he feared only the grim part came through. He swiveled to face away from Rosalia and raised his hands, gathering astral energy one more time. “I may never want to play another round of energyball after today. They’re going to be sorry if they ruined my favorite sport for me.”
She pressed her back against his. “I’ve always wanted to see you wipe out the competition. It would suck if I never get the chance.”
“Tell you what. After we win this war, I’ll play at least one more match. You and me against Beverly and Adrian. The rest of the Eight can choose sides and join in. It will be an epic battle.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.” Her voice was light, but Steve sensed the same grief beneath it as lurked under his bantering tone. Even if they did defeat their enemies, how many of them would survive to play the game that mimicked deadly combat far too closely?
Sarangerel emerged from the wall in front of Steve. Quick glances over his shoulders showed him Robert and Carlos behind and to either side.
Sarangerel sneered at him. “Three against two.”
“We’ve got plenty of friends right beyond those walls.” So far they’d avoided calling on Adrian or the other instructors for help, but all of them were aware of the situation and ready to come at a thought. They should be wrapping up their sessions as well, so the disruption would be minimal if he had to summon them. Assuming Angel didn’t put up a telepathy block. So far they hadn’t. They were certainly strong enough, but apparently they weren’t familiar with the technique.
“So do we,” Sarangerel retorted. “You have no idea how big Angel is.”
“Not very big, or you three wouldn’t be doing the heavy lifting yourselves. And not very strong, if that last guy was any indication.”
“Big and strong enough to keep you running until you stumble. It’s only a matter of time until we bring you down.”
“We’ll see about that.” But the hollowness in Steve’s gut belied his word’s confidence. How many more attacks could he and Rosalia endure before one of them made a mistake? He was certain Angel intended to keep up their campaign until it succeeded. One day of it had both him and Rosalia exhausted. How would it be after a week? A month? And they’d be practically useless to the Covenant as long as this went on. He was supposed to lead a raid against the Seraphim ship tomorrow, but there was no way he was going to leave Rosalia to face Angel alone. Or leave his body empty and vulnerable for so long, no matter how many guardians protected it.
From behind him, Robert said, “Tell you what, mate. Let’s make a deal. It’s you we want, not your girlfriend. She can only see what the Serries are up to through your hole in the shield. You agree to settle this right now, just you against the three of us, no outside interference from either side. We let her walk away.”
Cold flooded Steve. His chances alone against all three of Angel’s leaders combined were almost nil. Each of them was strong enough to qualify for the Eight, and Robert and Sarangerel shared a soul bond.
A wave of heat followed. He opened his mouth.
“Go to hell,” Rosalia said. She sent a sphere of energy sizzling at Robert’s head. He batted it away negligently.
Rosalia, listen. I’ve got to accept. That way, at least one of us will survive.
You go to hell too, Steve Fucking Miller. I won’t let you nobly sacrifice yourself to save me. You’d be an idiot to agree to his terms. He only offered because he knows they can’t beat us in a fair fight. Let’s call in Adrian and the others and send them running with their tails between their legs.
He wanted to drag her out of the triangle by her hair and throw himself into battle. But, reluctantly, he had to admit she was right. He’d be a fool to take on a fi
ght he knew he couldn’t win. He just hated leaving Rosalia at risk, when he had the chance to guarantee her safety.
He tried to console himself with the thought that Angel couldn’t be trusted to keep their word anyway, but he didn’t believe it. They were right. If he died, Rosalia would be as blind to the Seraphim’s future actions as every other human with precognitive talent. They would have no more reason to target her for assassination.
Rosalia pivoted until she faced Robert directly. Steve pressed his back to hers and turned with her. He didn’t like letting Sarangerel out of his direct line of sight, but he wasn’t going to leave Rosalia’s back undefended, and this way he could watch Carlos, too. The Spaniard was being quiet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Steve wouldn’t put it past him to launch a sneak attack while both of them were distracted.
“We reject your offer,” Rosalia spat. “You’ve got ten seconds to get out of here before I call in every Covenant member in Los Angeles and we crush you like the cockroaches you are.”
Steve twisted to see Robert spread his hands. “If you insist. Just don’t get too comfortable. We won’t.”
All three of them spun and streaked from the room. Steve thought about giving chase, but there was no point. They’d be back soon enough.
Rosalia marched back to her body, fists clenched, and dropped into it without glancing at him or saying a word. Steve returned to his and sank into it, grateful for a moment of rest. Rosalia launched into the closing litany. He rolled to his side and scrambled to his feet in response to her directions, along with the rest of the class.
Her anger hadn’t abated by the time the room emptied. She refused to look at him as she strode to the exit. Her mind kept just enough contact with his so she wouldn’t miss a vision, but she stayed stubbornly silent both physically and mentally.
