The courier spat out its load of data in one rapid squirt. The Victor absorbed the recording, watching and listening as His targets circled each other, wary as a pair of cats.
Damn that Warfem. Her distrust of the Demon was a barrier the Victor had not anticipated. He needed to force her to turn to the half-breed. To trust, or His plans would never reach fruition.
Fortunately, the answer to that problem was obvious. There was a risk, of course—there always was in such cases. Still, the Demon had been more than a match for everyone the Victor had ever sent after him. There was no reason to believe he wouldn’t meet this challenge as well.
And if he did not—perhaps his Stone would fall into the hands of someone who would be easier prey.
Return to the girl, the Victor told the courier. Log their location, and wait for My team’s signal.
Milltown, the Present
The nanobot colony writhed its way under the window sash, then froze, sensors scanning the room. Its targets still slept. No surprise, as it was surrounded by a field that rendered it invisible even to Riane’s computer.
Reassured, it crept down the wall and scuttled toward the bed, moving in a blur of psuedopods. It scaled one leg of the bed’s headboard, then skittered across the pillow toward Riane’s head. Delicate as a whisper, it found her braid, crawled up among her combat decorations, and wrapped itself around one shining bead. Then it settled down to wait.
And record.
• 10 •
Riane woke to the smell of frying bacon. Yawning, she stretched lazily, enjoying the sense of well-being that radiated through her sated body.
A completely inexplicable well-being. She frowned. The sex had been delicious, true, but the fact was, she was still trapped in the twenty-first century with a dead T-suit and no way home. And the man who had given her this delicious sensual buzz was half-Xeran.
She rolled out of bed and looked around for something to wear. The T-suit was stiff and uncomfortable without power, so she scooped up the first item of clothing she saw and slipped into it. It turned out to be a black T-shirt of Nick’s. He was considerably taller and broader than she was, and the shirt hung to the top of her thighs.
It also smelled like him. Without really intending to, she took an appreciative sniff, enjoying the sensual scent of clean male. There was no trace of that faintly reptilian tang the Xerans so often carried.
No wonder he kept sneaking past her defenses. The man even smelled good.
And he was cooking bacon.
Her mouth watering, Riane padded barefoot down the hallway into the little kitchen.
Nick stood at the stove in nothing but a pair of blue jeans. Riane eyed his bare back, admiring its strong muscled contours. Half-Xeran, remember? A half-Xeran who showed up a little too conveniently. As Mom would say, I can’t trust him as far as I can drop-kick him. She cleared her throat. “That smells good.”
He turned to give her a smile, though she thought there was a hint of wariness in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like bacon and eggs, but I really didn’t have anything else.”
“Well, normally I eat gaksnake pancakes for breakfast, but I’ll make do.” He blinked, and she grinned. “I’m kidding.”
“Oh.”
“I’d never put gaksnake on pancakes. It’s pretty good on crackers, though.” His expression of revulsion made her laugh. “You are so easy. Seriously, my mother is from the twenty-first century. She makes bacon and eggs all the time.” She inhaled deeply. “Reminds me of home.” And it did, as much as she hated to admit it.
He started plating the bacon with deft flips of his spatula. “How did you end up with a mother from the past?”
“Dad rescued her from a Xeran killer.”
“Wish he’d been around to rescue mine from hers.” He put the plate aside and started cracking eggs into a bowl. “You like your eggs scrambled?”
“Definitely.” Riane filched a piece of bacon from the plate and crunched into it. It was perfectly done, smoky but not overcooked. She frowned. “You mentioned that before—that the Xerans killed your mother.”
“Yeah. It was . . .” He paused, as if thinking back. “Sixteen years ago now. I was fourteen. We’d been running from the ali—the Xerans for years, but apparently there were too many of them that time.”
She winced, imagining the scene. “And you witnessed it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I had. I was home playing a video game at the time.” Nick tapped an egg a little too hard on the lip of the bowl and cursed as half of the smashed shell fell into the yolks. Retrieving his fork, he started fishing out the fragments.
“Why were they after her?”
Nick shrugged broad shoulders, his expression brooding. “Don’t know, but I think it had something to do with this.” He tapped his armband with one finger, then started beating the eggs.
Riane hesitated, watching his face. “Does he believe what he’s saying?” she asked the comp.
“Affirmative.”
She took a deep breath. Should she do this? Did she have the right? Maybe not, if he was the innocent he appeared to be. But if he wasn’t . . . if he was indeed a Xer spy, he’d probably put on a very revealing act. Either way, his reaction just might tell her what she wanted to know. Riane took the plunge. “Nick, did you know your mother was Xeran?”
He froze, his eyes widening. As she watched, the blood drained from his face, leaving it white as the broken shells of those eggs.
Well, she thought, there’s a reaction impossible to fake.
“Bullshit.” A muscle flexed in his jaw, and anger blazed in his eyes. His armband began to crackle and flash like distant lightning before a storm. “Who told you that?”
Fuck, he really hadn’t known. Well, it was too late to stop now. “My sensors. Your maternal DNA is Xeran.”
Nick turned back to the eggs, the movement jerky, agitated. The fork clattered furiously against the bowl’s ceramic walls as he beat the mixture. A muscle worked in his cheek. Without turning around, he said, “You’re wrong.”
“No. I’m not. Your father was human, possibly from this time. You’re definitely from this century—there’s no other sign of twenty-third-century molecular structures in your body other than half your DNA. If you’d ever been in the future, there’d be some traces of it in your body.”
He slammed the fork down on the countertop and spun with a snarl. “My mother was not a fucking alien!”
She winced. “I told you, Xerans aren’t aliens. They’re an offshoot of humanity. Otherwise, humans wouldn’t be able to crossbreed with them.”
“Let me get this straight.” Nick took a step closer, looming. “You’re saying my mother lied to me my entire life.”
Riane refused to back down from his angry glare. “Did she ever tell you that you weren’t Xeran?”
“No.” Doubt stirred in his eyes before he turned back to the stove again. “But that’s not the kind of thing you forget to mention.”
“It’s also the kind of thing you might hesitate to tell a child. Particularly if your own people are trying to kill you. That pan is starting to smoke.”
“Shit.” He poured the eggs into the skillet with automatic skill, then shot her a look. “You’re sure about this?” He wasn’t asking about the skillet.
Riane shrugged. “Sensors don’t lie.”
“And I wouldn’t have been able to sense that she was Xeran until I got the Stone.” A muscle flexed and rippled in his tight jaw. “And I never saw her body after I got it.”
For a long moment there was no sound except the soft sizzle of frying eggs. Riane watched him cook and wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut.
No. She’d had to know whether she could trust him.
After a moment, Nick plated the eggs with the same deft skill he’d displayed before, then carried them and the plate of bacon to the table. It was already set, including a pitcher of orange juice.
He put the plates on the table and turned to h
er. “Please serve yourself. I’ve got something to take care of.”
Riane watched, frowning, as he headed back down the hall. Well, she thought, that didn’t go the way I expected. “Computer, did you detect any sign he was lying?”
“Negative. He was not aware that his mother was Xeran.”
But what did that mean?
Nick felt as if an earthquake had struck, knocking everything he thought he knew into a shambles. He couldn’t believe it was true. Didn’t want to believe it was true.
How could his mother have hidden something like that from him? And if she’d lied about that, what else had she lied about?
And why the hell did he believe Riane over his own mother?
He walked into the bedroom and knelt on the worn carpet. The room still smelled faintly of the sandalwood he’d burned the day before.
And Riane. Her scent lingered in the air, intoxicating and exotic. He breathed in deeply without really intending to, trying to identify the delicious underlay. Aroused woman and something else, some exotic smell he’d never sampled before, rich and strange.
She’d turned his world upside down, made him doubt everything he’d thought he knew. Resentment stirred. Irrational, of course, and he knew it. It was better to know the truth than fumble in darkness.
So he closed his eyes and reached for the Power.
He found it as he always did, hot and sure, as much beneath his skin as inside the Stone. But instead of directing it outward as he usually did, he turned it within himself. It poured through him, touching each cell, testing for the truth.
And finding it.
Riane stood in the bedroom doorway, her breath caught.
Nick floated six inches over the floor, emerald light swirling around his body, bright sparks shooting into his chest and out again.
The hair rose on the back of her neck, and she knew. Regardless of his DNA, this man was no ally of Xer. If the Xerans had access to abilities like his, they would have already conquered the Galactic Union. Which explained why they had been after him all these years.
They want his power.
Which in turn meant he was no enemy. Something deep inside her uncoiled and relaxed.
Of course, that left the question of where these abilities of his came from, if not from the Xerans. Still another issue was the question of what kind of game the Xerans were playing. Somebody had definitely sabotaged her suit to bring her to this particular location at this particular time. All of which suggested her meeting Nick was no accident.
Which in turn suggested an entirely new and very troubling question.
“Your eggs are getting cold.”
Riane startled.
He knelt, watching her, his body now firmly on the floor. “You were right, by the way. I am half-Xeran.” His gaze was steady, but there was pain in his eyes.
Riane shifted uncomfortably as guilt stabbed her. “I’m sorry.”
He rolled his broad shoulders in a shrug, then rose to his feet with easy strength. “Xeran or not, my mother was a good woman. I can’t even count the times she risked her life for me. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me the truth about herself. I’ll probably never know now.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Since she’s dead.” He drew his shoulders back, straightening to his full, impressive height. “But I know the most important things about her. I know she died protecting me. I know she believed she should only use the power she had to protect the innocent. I know she believed those who hunt us are immoral bastards who want only power, and aren’t picky about how they get it.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s all I need to know.”
“Any sign he’s lying?” Riane asked her comp, a question born of sheer reflex.
“Negative.”
She took a deep breath. “There is another question. One that just occurred to me.”
“And that would be?”
“The Xerans sabotaged my suit to bring me here. I thought it was a little too convenient that you happened to show up where I got dumped, just in time to save me from Ivar.”
Nick’s green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Especially since you knew I was half-Xeran.” He swore ripely. “No wonder you were suspicious. It was logical to assume I was part of some kind of Xeran trap.”
Riane nodded. “The trouble with that is—why? I’m just an Enforcer. Why go to all that effort to mind-fuck me? It doesn’t get them anything. But what if I’m not the one the trap is aimed at? What if it’s you? You’re the one with the powers. You’re the one with the”—she gestured at the armband—“magic rock.”
He considered it, then nodded. “Makes sense.”
“But if that’s the case, where’s the trap?”
He lifted a dark brow. “Your large, homicidal friend?”
“Ivar? Nah. You blew through him a little too easily. There’s got to be something else. And since I’m certainly not working for the Xerans . . .” She went still. “My suit.”
Whirling, she pounced on it. “Dammit, I should have thought of this earlier. We already know they sabotaged it to dump me here, so . . .”
Shaking it out, Riane held it at arm’s length. “Comp, give me a full spectrum scan of this. Every last centimeter. Look for any sign of tampering.”
But the comp’s scan turned up nothing. Neither did Nick’s paranormal examination, complete with dancing sparks and glowing eyes.
“So what does that mean?” he asked her finally.
Riane sighed. “Not a hell of a lot. The suit’s dead. The Xerans must have hacked the onboard computer system in order to redirect my Jumps, but without being able to power it up, there’s no way to tell.”
That still didn’t answer the main question, though. If Nick was the target of this scam, where was the trap?
And when did the Xerans intend to spring it?
• 11 •
“So,” Nick said after they returned to the kitchen and reheated breakfast. “What is it that you want to do now?”
Riane took a thoughtful bite of bacon. “Well, obviously I need to get back to the Outpost—our headquarters. Frieka’s probably going out of his furry little mind by now.” She took another bite, then explained. “Frieka’s my wolf partner. Genetically engineered and cybernetically enhanced.” Grinning, she added, “He also takes pride in being a pain in the ass.”
Nick grinned back. “Everybody needs a hobby.”
“Oh, yeah. But he also loves me, and I hate the thought of him being worried.”
“But how are you going to get back to the future? Because I don’t happen to have a DeLorean handy.”
Riane blinked at him, mystified. “A what?”
“Never mind. Movie reference.” Nick waved a hand. “I mean, how are you going to get home if your suit is dead?”
“Good question.” She scooped up her braid and twirled it between two fingers. “Either I need to find another time traveler who can send a courier ’bot back to the Outpost, or . . .”
“Or?”
Riane hesitated a moment. “You could use your powers to send me home.”
Nick shook his head. “I told you, Riane, I don’t know how to do that. What if I screwed up? Those kind of energies could fry you like bacon.” He picked up a slice of bacon off the plate and snapped it in two before eating the pieces in decisive bites.
“But I can’t stay here, Nick. And the problem is, I don’t know where to find another traveler from my time. It’s not like I can Gaggle them.”
Handsome lips twitched on the verge of a smile. “I think you mean ‘Google.’ ”
“Google, Gaggle.” She glowered at him. “You know what I mean.”
Nick sighed. “Yeah, I know. What I don’t know is how to create some kind of space-time warp that will transport you three hundred years into the future without shredding you like toilet paper.”
“Okay.” She raked both hands through her hair. “Okay, I see your point.”
“And I see yours. Let me think about this. Maybe I can come up wi
th some way to do it safely.”
Riane took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“In the meantime,” he said, eyeing her, “you’re going to need something more to wear than one of my T-shirts. Which means we need to go shopping.”
“With what? I wasn’t expecting to come to this time. I don’t have currency for the twenty-first century.”
“Luckily, I do. Money’s not a problem.” He stood and began to clear off the table.
Riane, picked up her own plate and walked to the trash can to dump the remains. “Why not? What do you do for money?”
Nick laughed. “You know, that’s not considered a polite question in this time.”
“I’ve never been considered all that polite even in my own. So?”
He smiled slightly. “The Stone provides very good stock tips. My mother made a lot of money playing the market, and I’ve made even more.”
“Are you saying you’re rich?”
“Does it matter when I have to live like this?” Nick grimaced, gesturing around at the Spartan apartment. “All the money means is that I can afford to run when I have to. Or buy you a new pair of jeans.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
“Not,” he added with a roguish twinkle at her bare legs, “that I object to the view now.”
Riane eyed his broad, bare chest and smiled back. “Neither do I.”
His gaze heated, but then he cleared his throat and got to his feet. “I’d better find you something you can wear in public.”
Nick dug through a drawer, looking for the pair of sweats he’d accidently washed with a bunch of towels. They’d drawn up in the hot water until they hit him at mid-calf. They should fit Riane . . . not that they’d do that luscious body justice.
Bending, he pulled open another drawer and absently pushed a pile of underwear aside.
He could almost hate her for the way she’d turned his life upside down. There’d been something almost . . . testing in her eyes, like she was waiting to see how he’d react to having his whole fucking life blown up around him.
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