Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga

by E. M. Whittaker

  Aviere swallowed and tipped her head, covering her mouth when she recognized Jemina’s living room. She glanced at the floor and let out a breath, relieved to stand on solid ground. The Poisoner took a cautious step, but the world spun. Before Aviere fell, she placed both hands on Limere’s broad shoulders.

  Thank god, Aviere thought, locking her gaze on oak wooden panels on Jemina’s living room walls. I lost the Accord, but I’m still alive.

  The impeding nausea and rushing dizziness diminished to fluttering butterflies in her stomach. Pine air fresheners tied with a stuffed deer’s head pegged above their fireplace soothed her, until she started picturing herself as the stuffed animal. When bile returned, Aviere shoved Limere backward, dropped to a tiny metal trash can and heaved violently, tearing when pressure tightened in her throat and chest.

  “I’m sorry,” Limere said, moving cool, reassuring hands over her neck. “I couldn’t warn you.”

  Aviere’s hair brushed against her shoulders as Limere bound it. She inhaled through her nose and wiped snot from her face, eyes darkening when she recalled her rescue. Trepidation filled her as she recalled Limere’s abilities and how he tracked people.

  Limere’s meeting—he met with someone close. To think Limere—

  Mid-thought, nausea erupted like a volcano at Limere’s secret and she vomited once more. As Aviere tried processing the unpleasant conclusions, pain tormented her body, scattering the allegations from her mind.

  When the vomiting ended, Aviere fought through the tremors and palpitations. The Poisoner rose a moment later after wiping regurgitated food from her mouth.

  My meds adapted to the poison again, but I’ll let Limere fix the dosage. He’s not chasing Vinny McSeeten across Baltimore City, is he?

  “Sis, you all right?”

  Aviere snarled at the apprehension in Limere’s nervous voice before croaking a response. “Water. Meds adapted again, Lim.”

  A silver package rested in Limere’s palm. “Take it, Sis.”

  “I did,” she stated, clinging to her older brother. “Adapted, I said. Painful.”

  One hand steadied Aviere as she tiptoed to the leather couch. The rancid taste threatened to overcome her, and she struggled against her gag reflex before resting at the end of the couch, huddled in a black throw blanket. “Thanks, Lim.”

  She gave a weak smile when Limere sat and draped an arm around her shoulder. “Cold?”

  “No, just decompressing.” She hesitated before turning to the mage, rubbing her chin. “Limere, you teleported to me.”

  “I heard gunshots, Sis.” Limere’s eyes dimmed before brightening while lifting his voice. “Of course I’d come! And then I got us out of there!”

  Limere, you’re not telling me everything.

  Aviere focused on the front door and swung her head, letting stray strands of brunette hair rest on her lower lip. “Limere, you didn’t know my location. You can’t teleport if it’s GPS only. I remember your explanation when I asked last time.”

  “Ah, right.” He pulled the baseball cap over his eyes before tightening his grip on Aviere. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.”

  “Yes it does!” Aviere exclaimed, fighting his embrace. “You’re withholding information and I—”

  “Aviere, quit bitching for five minutes,” Limere stated, pressing Aviere against his chest. “I almost lost you, for god’s sake. I did something right, so let your older brother feel proud for saving his baby sister.”

  Aviere deflated and her head leaned against Limere’s warm chest, choking at the musky scent permeating his dark muscle shirt. She embraced him once she realized the severity of her brother’s words before doubting his sincerity. Her grip softened when Limere’s hold relaxed and she stared at his icy blue eyes, unable to shake the contempt in his eyes.

  His eyes—Limere’s emotions are conflicted again. It’s almost as if I’m hindering him from accomplishing something. But why leave me in the dark, Lim? What aren’t you sharing with me?

  The hardened emotions tainted the tender moment between the siblings, even after he placed Aviere’s head close to his heart. The calm heartbeats diverted her attention and her palpitations decreased. Soon, his heartbeats mirrored her own and Limere rested his head against her shoulder, breathing gently in her ear.

  “Limere, why hide from me?” Aviere breathed, gliding her hand down his arm. “There’s no reason to. We’re family and you’re supporting me, right?”

  “Aviere, I met with someone who could help you.”

  She caressed his hand, regretting wearing her leather gloves. Aviere longed for human touch, to touch flesh and feel warmth against her fingertips. Even with her family, Aviere stayed guarded, and it hampered her ability to empathize with her older brother.

  The resigned sigh confirmed her suspicions, and she kicked the floor, cursing her mutation.

  She yanked her glove and almost pulled it off before Limere rested a hand over hers. “Aviere, stop. I understand, you know.”

  “Limere, I—”

  “One day, you’ll be able to touch people without paralyzing them with your claws, Aviere,” he assured her, sliding warm fingers underneath her glove. Then he dragged the leather glove from her hand and entwined his fingers in hers. “But you shouldn’t be afraid for me or Reese. We understand.”

  The single gloved hand covered his tanned flesh. “Lim—I—”

  “Aviere, concentrate. What happened?”

  Guilt laced her heart as Aviere recounted the tale, briefing her brother about her meeting with Darren. She studied Limere’s face as she talked, nudging her glasses against the bridge of her nose when his attitude bordered on supercilious. The sentimental actions moments before faded when a profound look passed over the mage’s face and Aviere sucked in a breath.

  Limere, stop shutting me out, Aviere pleaded, gnawing her bottom lip. I can’t perform alone if you’re acting behind my back.

  “Did Darren escape, Aviere?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. We went opposite directions.”

  “Thank goodness.” Limere tipped her head skyward, staring into her frantic blue eyes. “You noticed a Porsche?”

  “Yeah, a black one.” Aviere’s voice surged with emotion and she recounted details at a rapid pace. “At first, I thought Dom’s Marauders were following me—cause they drive Mercedes, but then I saw it was a Porsche. And Dom’s gang doesn’t operate machine guns.”

  “No. Dominic never used those.”

  “The only plausible explanation is Lil’ Vinny’s men pursued me. He also brought in a mage from the Red Coat Society because of Travis. They’re going after me because of the contract, but Travis pissed off the wrong people. I suspect I’m a dead-or-alive bounty for the Red Coat Society.”

  Aviere swallowed instead of coughed, waiting for Limere’s reaction. Scorn left his eyes, followed by genuine concern. However, she noticed Limere's conflicting expressions, concerned he hid his true intentions.

  He wrinkled his brow and scratched his neck, looking at the thick oak coffee table. “I don’t know, Aviere. But if they’re hunting you, it’s a matter of time—”

  “You’re safe, Lim.” Aviere retracted from Limere’s soothing hands, planting herself in front of him. “But tell me why you’re meeting others behind my back.” She placed her hands on her hips when Limere slouched against the couch and slipped his thumbs in his belt hoops. “Limere?”

  “Don’t fret about it, Aviere.”

  “Lim—”

  “I got some help, okay?! I don’t like trusting outsiders, but I requested protection because of the rogue mage.”

  Aviere turned away from Limere, clenching the peridot until the leather glove squeaked. “You overstepped your boundaries, Limere. Travis is a wild card, but I’ll—”

  “Jesus, Aviere, nothing’s ever good enough for you,” Limere complained, dropping his voice. “I rescued you, but you’re still bitching about my screw-ups.”

  “You jeopardized our livelihood
by keeping secrets, Limere.”

  “Sis, you’re working with the Government,” he pointed out. “Inviting a federal agent—”

  “Travis isn’t attending meetings behind my back, Limere.” Aviere spun on her heel and narrowed her eyes at Limere. “In fact, Travis’ flaw borders on honor. Every time we escaped, Travis briefed me as we arrived. Yet you—you’re going behind my back, darting your eyes away—what’s remarkable about that stupid clock on the wall, Lim?”

  Aviere watched Limere’s eyes concentrate on her instead of the hickory and cream owl clock hanging above Jemina’s kitchen door. “Sorry Sis, but I’m running late. I need to leave.”

  She seized his arm when Limere headed to the primary doorway. “Limere—”

  “Aviere. Trust me and stay at Jem’s until we race tonight. Do research, catch up on your television shows. Hell, bring the fed here, I don’t care. Just don’t get into any more trouble before this evening.”

  “Fine.” Aviere pressed two fingers to her forehead, raising her voice. “I’ll stick around. Be careful and I’ll meet you tonight. I love you, Limere.”

  Her body trembled as Limere faded. Fear changed to mesmerization as she regarded his shimmering body before it dissolved into nothingness. The phone vibrated in Aviere’s rear pocket, but she overlooked it, sniffing the air before scowling at the door.

  Limere, I hope you realize what you’re doing. I’d hate to think you’d intentionally get us murdered.

  “For god’s sake, Travis—be more imaginative,” she announced, storming to the kitchen. “I keep reminding you about your aftershave.” Aviere pressed against the swinging door, electing a vehement cry seconds later. “Don't hide behind a swinging door, moron.”

  She giggled as Travis pushed the wooden swinging door open and broadened her grin when he covered his nose seconds later. The cowboy hat dropped to his feet and Aviere grabbed it, holding it to her chest.

  The agent’s penetrating glare suited Aviere’s gloomy mood, and she matched his look, noticing his discomfort without the leather hat or control over their situation. Aviere ignored the heat burning her face and ears as she plopped on the couch, crossing a leg before regarding Travis.

  “Come, sit,” she said, slapping the leather cushion.

  All cheeriness died from Aviere’s voice when Travis squinted and huffed, folding his arms across his chest. The Poisoner rubbed her bare hand, peering at the platinum shaggy carpet before clearing her throat.

  Aviere couldn't determine what was worse—being admonished by an agent who she met two days ago, or her older brother hiding secrets about his activities, threatening their livelihood.

  She despised being scolded, but remained silent, waiting for Travis to announce his misgivings. The Poisoner prayed Travis would be quick, but the darkened look in his penetrating stare conflicted with her assumptions.

  Chapter Twelve

  I swear, Mye will be the death of me.

  Travis’ coarse fingers gripped his nose and cradled it, holding his breath as pain exploded behind his eyes and through his nostrils. The incessant snickering from Aviere heightened Travis’ frayed nerves, and he grunted, rumbling as he cleared his throat.

  Each time Aviere brushed grime from the wide-brimmed hat, Travis’ breath quickened, speeding when Aviere started again. The pine air fresheners tickled his throat, adding to his harsh breathing. Before he sneezed, Travis covered his nose with an arm, seeking to deter the woodsy scent.

  Nostrils flared and Travis expelled hot air, hardly able to endure the pungent pine or imitation sap.

  “Mye.” The single word dried Travis’ throat, and he swirled his tongue against sticky gums. “Give me the damn hat.”

  She ran her hands over the leather cowboy hat, smoothing the edges slowly.

  “Mye!”

  “Calm down,” she said, sitting the accessory on her thighs. “You look strange without your cowboy hat, Travis. A fedora would suit you better, though.”

  “Pompous hats,” Travis said under his breath, coughing when Aviere continued inspecting his hat. “Jesus, I hate pine.”

  “Expensive,” Aviere continued, stroking the leather material. “Should discard it while working, Travis. I wouldn’t peg you for having a mop of honey-brown hair, though. You seemed young, but there’s a few days of stubble on your thick chin and jawline.”

  Travis ran a hand through the coarse hair under his chin. “Look, Lyssa bought it for me after graduating the academy.” Worn fingers grazed his chest, but the tight pressure didn’t wane. “But stop changing the topic, Mye. You operated on your own and almost got killed… again.”

  “My contacts avoid law enforcement,” Aviere retorted, twirling a strand of brunette hair. “And someone followed him. We escaped after Vinny’s men shot machine guns in the tunnels.”

  “Nonetheless, you bolted again, ignoring the fact I’m tethered to you, Mye.”

  “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

  Deafening silence lingered again between the two associates and Travis grabbed his Blackberry, rolling his eyes at another voicemail notification. From his peripheral vision, Travis noticed Aviere’s rosy cheeks, but feigned checking his phone while studying her flustered movements.

  When she massaged her hand and dug into fatty flesh, Travis walked to the couch, standing behind his agitated partner.

  She’s no good agitated, Keith. Relax Mye—she might disclose something.

  Calloused fingers hovered over her pale, creamy shoulder before pressing into muscled flesh. “That’s not the point, Mye. You’re pushing your limits and it’s becoming dangerous.”

  “Stop touching me.”

  Travis noticed how Aviere’s voice dipped, practically trembling at the request. The forest-green aura shined around the Poisoner, but so did the traces of darkness layered within.

  I wonder what Mye's darkness is, Travis mused, rotating his massive fingers into her tense shoulder. She’s not an evil person—I mean, she’s capable of killing, but someone dark attracts solidified darkness. Mye’s darkness is wispy, but solid sometimes. She’s confusing, Lyssa.

  “Travis, stop,” Aviere pleaded, drawing a sharp breath between her lips. “Seriously, I don’t need you poisoned because you touched bare skin.”

  “What?”

  Travis sighed when Aviere’s head dropped and gazed at her boots. “Never mind. Do what you wish, agent.”

  Her despondent voice seemed uncharacteristic and Travis slid next to her, brushing stringy hair behind her flushed ear. “You’re not used to being ordered around, Mye.”

  “No, I’m not—well, except by Limere. He always challenges me and it pisses me off.” Aviere rubbed her cheek before facing Travis and cracking her neck. “I didn’t foresee them ambushing me, Travis. But instead of patronizing me, wait until tomorrow. I’m racing tonight and I need time to decompress.”

  The agent balked, electing a slight gasp before scooting away from Aviere. “You’re not serious.”

  “Christ, don’t start, Travis,” Aviere complained, tossing her silver-rimmed spectacles on the coffee table. “I’m not giving up racing—not for Sanderson—not for you.”

  Lyssa, Mye’s unreasonable, Travis swore. Never mind she’s being stalked by the Red Coat Society with machine guns. She’s ambitious to meet death, I swear.

  “Mye, you’re being chased by psychopaths. You avoid everyone because you’re intent on beating me—why, I don’t know. But it’s pointless if you can’t evade the assassins chasing you. You’re not listening to your brothers or your friends anymore, Mye.”

  “They don’t understand,” she explained, voice strangled at the last word. “I expected you would, Travis.”

  “On completing our assignment? Certainly.” He risked patting her shoulder and froze at Aviere's strained expression. “Getting yourself killed? No.”

  “We’re not arguing about this. Meet me at eight thirty.”

  Travis blinked, barely recovered from Aviere’s revelation as she texted on the iP
hone. One handed, she completed her message, accompanied by a prolonged whoosh from her smart phone.

  “I texted you the location, Travis. Bring your sexy wheels with you.”

  As she slid the phone in her pocket, Travis scratched his neck. “No woman should consider a car sexy, Mye.”

  “Most aren’t me,” she declared, patting her chest before straightening with pride. “I love touring old racing lots, just to see the historic race cars. Seen quite a few, actually.”

  Don’t let Mye’s lighthearted banter distract you, Keith. Be firm. Someone needs to.

  “Whatever, Mye.” Travis rose, sweeping his eyes across the decorative, creature-themed living room. “Will you remain at Rodriguez’s place if I honor your ridiculous request?”

  He snorted when her cerulean eyes glittered and Travis masked his face with a hand.

  Jesus, Lyssa, Mye’s enjoying teasing me.

  Travis wet his mouth again, overlooking his twitching nose and burning eyes. While Aviere was distracted, Travis snatched his hat and scrutinized it thoroughly before setting it on his head.

  “Hey!”

  “Mye, I’m serious.” Simple, deft movements helped Travis adjust his wide-brimmed cowboy hat. “Promise you’ll wait at Rodriguez’s townhouse till eight so I can escape the dreadful air fresheners.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” she said, drawling the last word. “Could research stuff on Joseph’s PC upstairs.”

  “I thought you didn’t like PCs, Mye?”

  “True. Macs are better.” Aviere waggled the olive and black-cased phone in her gloved hand. “I’m not spending hours learning how to operate Windows, and I think Jemina password protected the computer, anyway. Besides, Agent Neuro’s useful for online research, right?”

  Travis cracked his toes against the soles of his dress shoes, imagining his calloused fingers wrapped around Aviere’s neck. “Peters, Mye.”

  “Name suits,” she replied, twirling more hair.

  “It’s—never mind. If you can’t research, at least email me a detailed report so we turn something into Sanderson tomorrow morning. I’ll text you my email address.”