Betrayal's Shadow

by K H Lemoyne

  Turen watched a quick ripple of calculation flicker across Salvatore’s face and disappear. Mia’s body shifted at his side. He rubbed his fingers along her arm, hoping his touch could provide more comfort than the five warriors who surrounded her.

  “Quit playing games with this council, healer.” Salvatore’s voice rang out in anger. “This woman poses a serious threat.”

  Grimm gave a snide laugh. “Because she might bear a second child? Or because she’s smart enough not to be beguiled by the deceit we’ve been fed, and fight for her family.”

  “Imbecile.”

  “Why the lies, Salvatore?” Turen’s question carried across the room. “Why all this effort to stop our matings?”

  “Lies? You fabricate a lie by announcing to all that your relationship with this human is of worth. It is a sacrilege to our potential and a disgrace to the measure of our great people. You desecrate all we could be.”

  “We deliver the souls for the human’s race. Our children provide the healing so humanity can survive. What value could you conceive beyond the weight God bestowed upon us? Without our mates, we cannot function in this life to fulfill our covenant or realize our own souls.” Turen’s voice rose to a roar.

  Salvatore laughed. “Can your limited imagination only conjure what you are told to do, Turen? Loyalty, mating, love.” Salvatore spat the words like a disease from his mouth. “All to create more progeny, to release precious souls, which humanity will only squander. We breed and lose our destiny. And you, so rooted in minutia, too weak to even take up the mantle of leadership.”

  “There is a purpose in what you consider minutia. Our purpose provides hope to billions.”

  “We have the intelligence, the power, the vision to grow beyond those limitations. To evolve beyond humanity’s petty needs.” Salvatore’s cheek twitched as he ground out his delusion.

  “You have decided this for us, and our penalty for staying true to our path is death and madness. Your desires, over those of your people, authorize you to murder our mates and threaten our existence?”

  “When we no longer choose to be sequestered because we have knowledge you wished to hide, what then?” The soft comment came from behind Turen.

  A robed and hooded figure moved forward, followed by several dozen more, the doors sealing behind them. The group was shielded in front by Ansgar and Kamau, and from the side by Tsu, as he adjusted his position with that of Turen’s team. The hood dropped. Blue-black hair framed soft ivory skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes.

  Quan.

  More hoods dropped and women circled to align beside her.

  Salvatore’s eyes narrowed as the women, no longer ensconced in the cryo tubes, stood in a unified front, swords gripped. Warriors descended from the rise of seats to surround and protect their sisters.

  Salvatore stared at her. “Quan, you presume to speak for all?”

  “No. I imagine each of us can step forward and present our own issues.”

  Briet spoke from her brother’s side. “Mine is the issue of murder.”

  Another figure stepped forward and dropped her hood. “Mine is of betrayal.”

  Turen watched Sagari glare at Salvatore, her gaze as hot and hard as the conviction in her voice. To awaken and find their leader had betrayed Xavier, her brother, and his family, was a visible burning anger in her expression, one that matched the anger in Turen’s heart and showed on everyone’s face except Salvatore’s.

  Tension in the room had spiked with Sagari’s remark. Salvatore moved backward and snarled in contempt. Disdain he no longer bothered to shield radiated from his silver eyes. “My patience has worn thin. You speak nonsense.”

  “Do not think to threaten her, Salvatore.” Ansgar’s harsh voice brought Salvatore’s gaze to rest on him. Ansgar pulled Sagari gently back.

  The remaining warriors had allowed the dialogue to play out. However, all reflected anger at the reel of disclosures. Their stances readied. Hostility and violence clouded the room, exacerbated by the threatening movements of Salvatore’s guards.

  Turen scoped their position and weighed options for defense. The room remained locked against folding for a brief time to restrict Salvatore’s escape, but that negated the option for the rest of the group as well.

  Ignoring the combustive atmosphere, Briet forged ahead. “I tested Maitea’s remains. How did you manage to feed her the compound? Did you feel any remorse at the death of her child or for the pain and terror she endured? Was your only concern to dislodge Xavier and send him into madness?”

  Salvatore’s gaze swiveled to Briet, cold and unblinking. “Those remains were destroyed. The original tests were decades ago. Even if you had samples, the results would be faulty at best.”

  “Those remains were stored in cryo. A faulty option you deemed viable in your dictate for us. My results indicated a residual substance in the blood of both Maitea and her child.”

  He blinked. “Any number of things could have happened with those samples between then and now.”

  Turen glanced to Tsu, but the warrior was keeping a close eye on the additional weapons silently sliding from openings in the robotic guards’ center consoles, all focused on Briet.

  “Then it would be extraordinary for those findings to correlate with samples I’ve tested from Isabella, wouldn’t it? I’ve seen the photos of her mate. His mark is there for anyone to see. Did you feel anything for her as she died? She worked loyally with you for years. He died trying to protect her. But against you, what hope did he really have? Were they so much of a threat?” The choke of her tears and anger stopped her.

  Fortunately, Ansgar coaxed her into stepping back, though the damage was done. The robot guards surrounded the group.

  Warriors shifted in a horseshoe pattern around Salvatore.

  He remained quiet and lowered his gaze to the floor, not moving, seemingly not breathing, as the tension grew. A series of electrical bursts lit from his fingers, crackling around the council room. Fissures of air and energy spit between the Guardians, forcing movement, and an unplanned break in their ranks.

  “They’re not coming,” said Ansgar, his weapon tightly gripped, a wicked, angry grin on his face. “The rest of your machines have been decommissioned.”

  Salvatore delivered Ansgar a side sneer of contempt. “You share your sister’s lack of brilliance.” He glanced to the empty seats as if only now aware his support had fled, and backed closer toward the wall. “The six I have here are more than sufficient to make a dent in those of you with no belief in what our people could truly be.” He stepped behind two of his machines.

  Ansgar and Tsu moved forward with their swords to repel the attack as the machines advanced and opened fire.

  Warriors closed in to shield and fight alongside their sisters, swords and staffs battling mechanized limbs and laser fire.

  A din rose from the first shot, deafening with clash of sword and metal. Guardian skill and training tipped the outcome even against the computerized precision and new technologies of Salvatore’s guards. While the swords dissected mechanical parts, unfortunately new “limbs” evolved to take their place.

  The confusion covered Salvatore’s progress, his short sword drawn, as he folded from first one female to the next.

  Guardians shifted and parried with his movements, always a second behind him but pressing so close he had no time to take action.

  Turen focused with Grimm and Leonis to keep the machines from locking on Mia and Marcus. A morbid dance wove around them. The machines drew back and advanced, drawing Grimm, Leonis, and Turen with them, in a chess game with deadly consequences.

  Salvatore folded, attempting a slice across Briet’s arm, distracting Ansgar, and then disappeared again. The gap created was infinitesimal. Grimm and Ansgar had adjusted to shield Briet, trying to aid in Turen’s defense as well, but the distraction left just enough room.

  A brief hole.

  Salvatore folded behind Mia, plunged his knife below her right shoulder, the
long tip escaping from the front of her body, and folded them across the room. Turen spun too late.

  The security system blocked Salvatore from folding to other section of the building, but that restriction would remain for only a few more minutes. The intent of the block was to confine the debate and confrontation to the council room, not to prevent Salvatore from taking a hostage.

  Turen fought anger and panic to focus. Mia and Marcus had to be out of Salvatore’s grasp before the block released, or Salvatore would take them.

  Like meat on a hook, Salvatore maneuvered Mia, swinging her in front of the Guardians who tried to help, the robots defending his rear. Turen heard Mia’s brief cry, felt it in his own chest as Salvatore wiggled the knife in her wound.

  Turen froze. Years of training battled in his mind for way to form a coherent line of attack. He focused on Mia’s hand covering Marcus’s head to shield him, her desperate attempt to block the knife from slicing into their son’s flesh. Salvatore pressed mercilessly. Her right arm hung by her side, immobilized by pain and damage. The monster forced her back against him, his arm around her neck pressing her in a stranglehold against his chest, his face close enough to touch her cheek.

  “Release her. Now.” Turen’s voice boomed out, and he gripped his sword in cold rage. Activity swirled to a stop in the chamber.

  Warriors positioned themselves around the two guards that flanked Salvatore. The rest of the robot guards lay in computerized pieces on the stone floor. Scrutiny vacillated between the remaining robots and the horror Salvatore was perpetrating on Mia.

  “So weak, these frail humans.”

  “Let her go.” Turen’s words spit again from between his clenched teeth.

  “Or what? She’s made you weak, too, Turen.” He shook her for emphasis as his face curled in a sick smile at her wince of pain. “Just tell me where the restraining metal is on her, holding us here, and I might spare the child.”

  “I will never let you leave here with either of them.”

  Saladin and Kaax moved toward Salvatore, their calculated looks much like Turen’s, measuring Salvatore’s actions for an opening. They wouldn’t be in time to help Mia. Turen could predict the man’s sick intent with cold clarity. Salvatore had no intention of letting them live.

  Salvatore swung Mia before him, and her stifled cry froze everyone in their tracks. “Any of you move and I’ll rip the blade across her chest and through the child.” He tightened his arm around her throat. “Or perhaps just snap her neck.”

  “Stop,” Turen gritted out.

  “You never had a chance, Turen. No strength at all,” snapped Salvatore.

  Mia lifted her useless hand toward Turen. Blood saturated her shoulder and arm. Drops fell from her wrist to the chamber floor. Terror filled him as he watched her struggle to move Marcus farther from Salvatore’s weapon. Her face was already deathly pale but her jaw clenched in determination, so in synch with his thoughts.

  Turen held out his sword hand and let the blade dangle from his fingers. Without hesitation, he let it drop to the floor.

  “One last chance, Salvatore.”

  “That’s rich. You hold no cards, Turen.”

  Wrong. He had Mia.

  Turen had already assessed the position. Ansgar stood to her right, Saladin and Kaax behind him. Tsu and Grimm had maneuvered to her left. Salvatore allowed no access as he backed against the wall, signaling his guards to cover him. Turen was closest but still fifteen feet away.

  He locked his gaze with Mia’s. No one had a clear line of attack, and no one would be able to get to her before Salvatore killed her.

  Salvatore didn’t even blink as he leaned his head closer to Mia’s ear but kept eye contact with Turen. “To the count of three. Then I kill your whelp.” He gave another yank at the knife, and she bit her lip to keep in the scream. With a bleak look, swimming in pain, she twisted her trembling hand, palm up to Turen.

  She glanced down at her hand and back to him, the decision made. No time to consider what might destroy them all.

  Salvatore’s knife pressed harder into Mia’s body. Turen snarled. Flames curled in his palm and shot from his outstretched hand to meet Mia’s.

  Gasps and cries surrounded him as the flames covered Mia’s fingers and engulfed her body in a golden whip. The fire widened, exploded into sparks, surging in uncontrolled streaks of red and purple, green, blue and orange. Rainbows of color circled her, the fire shifting and changing as it washed over her body and that of their son, lashing back against Salvatore’s face and body.

  Salvatore screamed and jerked away, freeing Mia for a second. Turen’s eyes stayed locked on hers as he continued to feed the wall of fire between her and her attacker. Even with Marcus’s cry, Mia didn’t release the connection with his flame.

  Ansgar lunged and grabbed Mia around the shoulder and waist, flame melting to steam where his body met hers. He pivoted and cradled her beneath him until he crouched to the floor, providing a shield against Salvatore and his guards.

  Salvatore resurrected one last attempt with a bolt of current, the sharp crack and white streak of energy directed at Mia and Ansgar.

  Turen unloaded the full measure of his fury in a yellow flood of fire that shot over Ansgar’s head. The connection of the two powers dispersed a wide shower of sparks, backing the crowd to the fringes of the council room. Pushing harder, Turen met Salvatore’s electrical charge and slammed it back into the man’s chest, fire consuming the electrical energy.

  Salvatore stumbled against the rear wall with a curse and then took the only recourse he had. He folded. The timed security block had expired, the only indication a tiny flash of green on the security panel on the far wall.

  “Lock him out,” Turen commanded and moved to Mia. Ansgar held her, but the knife was wedged into Ansgar’s upper arm from the maneuver. The man held Mia as he whispered his regrets for causing her more pain.

  Turen eased his arms beneath her neck and shoulder to support her as Ansgar disengaged himself from the weapon. He sustained a minor flesh wound, not like the abuse to Mia’s shoulder. They moved her to the large conference table, but her shaking hand gripped Grimm’s wrist when he tried to assess the damage. “Marcus first. Do. Not. Put. Me. Under.”

  Grimm glanced at Turen. His gaze flickered between the growing bloodstain on her shirt and the long knife still embedded all the way through Mia’s body. Turen understood. He held Mia to his chest, pursed his lips and shook his head. He wasn’t taking her choices from her. Not here, not after all she’d been through. “Do as she asks.”

  He glanced around the room. “No one leaves until the Sanctum is locked down and secure.”

  “I’ll need supplies,” Grimm murmured and gently released the clasp holding Marcus in the sling against his mother’s chest.

  “Done.” Kamau waited for Turen’s nod and folded from the room.

  The baby’s cries settled, but he was by no means placated, even when Grimm lifted him and ran a thorough check.

  “Tsu?” Turen’s voice echoed through the room.

  Tsu grunted, still at the far wall behind him, manipulating the plasma security interface on the wall. “Almost finished.”

  “Take some others and sweep through every crack and crevice of this place. Make sure he’s completely shut out.” No one objected as Turen made eye contact with each and every person. Even holding his wounded mate in his arms, he saw respect mirrored in every expression.

  The stark, strained looks on the faces of his people said he had their support. He’d been Xavier’s second, and each of them had relied on him in past times of trouble. This tragedy, this betrayal had rocked the foundation of their belief—Guardians did not harm one another, and murder was the equivalent of a rejection of their covenant.

  Tsu stepped back from the plasma. “Saladin and Kaax.” The men nodded and moved forward to join him.

  Turen glanced around. “Take Sagari, too. She can scramble whatever remnants of Salvatore’s detection and monitoring
devices you find.” He hesitated a second and looked at Xavier’s sister in question, but her quick nod signaled her agreement. “Make certain he’s not hiding here, and ensure all those guards are not just deactivated but destroyed. No one here is safe until the entire area is scanned and cleared.” All three left as Kamau returned with Grimm’s bag and the baby’s bag.

  Grimm dug in the baby bag until he found a bottle. He gave Briet a quick glance and eased Marcus into her arms. “He’s fine, Mia. I need to stop your bleeding.”

  Mia bent her head in agreement, but she flinched and sucked in her breath at the small gesture. Turen brushed his lips across her forehead to ease her.

  Grimm cut away Mia’s shirt from the large, raw wound. Blood slicked her skin in a thick, oily mess. Turen caught the question in the healer’s eyes and glanced behind Mia at Ansgar, who took a deep breath and nodded.

  It would be painful but quick, though Ansgar’s hands were strong and steady. The man readied himself behind the blade’s handle, beyond Mia’s vision, waiting for the sign from Grimm to pull it free.

  “Turen, I need her immobile.” Grimm’s command was sharp as his fingers centered on the wound, ready to close the internal arteries the instant the blade released. But Mia still struggled.

  “Briet.” Turen’s voice remained gentle. “She needs be able to see Marcus.”

  Briet had turned, rocking the baby when he’d become more agitated, not realizing she blocked Mia’s view. With a murmur of apology, she moved back to the table. Leonis slid a chair beneath her so she could sit in Mia’s direct line of sight.

  “Sorry,” Mia whispered, and a harsh cry escaped her lips as Ansgar executed a quick, clean pull to free the knife.

  Briet bit her lower lip and touched Mia’s bloodied fingers in comfort. In spite of the pain he knew was radiating through Mia’s body, she moved one finger to cover Briet’s in response.

  Grimm glanced back at Ansgar and gestured with his head. “I need this clean.”

  Ansgar’s fingers drifted across Mia’s skin. Fine mists of water swept away the blood without the pressure of touch, giving Grimm a pristine medium in which suture the wound.