Comet Coalition 4: Mystic

by Aubrey Ross

  Drake nodded, and Jericho ended the transmission. Rushing across the bedroom, Drake tucked his pistol into the pocket of his robe. If Miranda noticed it, fine, but he wanted to downplay this as much as possible.

  She emerged a few minutes later in a smaller version of his bathrobe. “What does Kwinton think he’s going to do, come crashing through the wall?”

  “Stranger things have happened. Let’s curl up on the couch and watch a movie.”

  “I thought he had hit men to do his dirty work,” she grumbled as they went into the outer room.

  Drake wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side. “We’ll be fine, sweetheart. Jericho called Ritter. I’m sure all sorts of backup are on the way.”

  “Do you have your gun?”

  He patted his pocket. “Armed and ready. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “Should we dump the serum? Maybe that’s what he’s after?”

  “If it is, we’ll give it to him or at least use it to negotiate. I doubt he knows about the vial we sent with Nicay. That gives us a pretty solid bluff. The next move is his. We’re just going to be a little more prepared than he’s expecting.”

  She curled up against his side as he activated a movie, but he could almost hear the whir of her thoughts.

  “I can hear you thinking.” Her startled gaze flew to his and he smiled.

  “That’s the first time you initiated telepathic communication. I deactivated our link, so this is all you, Enforcer O’Bannon.”

  He kissed her temple. “Does this make me a mystic?”

  “Would that be so bad?” His arm gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Why did Jericho call Ritter? You weren’t sure if you wanted him involved.”

  “Jericho didn’t ask for my input, he just made the call.”

  She was silent again and tension built, becoming almost palpable.

  A door slammed somewhere beyond their suite, and Miranda started.

  “Relax, sweetheart. You’re watching a movie in the arms of your lover.”

  “We’re sitting here like red meat being dangled before a carnivore.” A softer clatter drew her attention to the simulator. “Did you hear that?”

  “I believe our visitor just arrived.”

  “He came through the wall! I was joking, but he came through the goddamn wall.”

  “He had to have had detailed diagrams of these rooms. As long as we weren’t using the simulator, it gave him a perfect entry point. Lie back and show off those legs. I need a distraction.”

  She reclined on her back as he crept across the room, positioning himself to one side of the doorway. Bending one knee, she let the robe gape and positioned her long, toned legs to best advantage.

  He dragged his gaze away and pulled his gun from his pocket. She wasn’t supposed to distract him!

  They waited, listening for the slightest shuffle inside the simulator. Miranda fidgeted with her belt and rearranged the decorative pillows behind her back. Helpless, Drake followed the graceful line of her legs from ankle to midthigh. God, she had fabulous legs.

  A faint hiss snapped his attention back to the doorway. A pulse pistol, similar to his, emerged from the simulator followed by the hand clasping the weapon. Drake didn’t wait to see more. He slammed his arm down across the intruder’s wrist and jerked him into the living room.

  Kwinton caught his balance and spun to face Drake, the pistol still clutched in his hand. With a bruising uppercut, Drake jerked Kwinton’s head to the side. Not giving him time to shake off the blow, Drake punched him in the stomach and reached for the gun. Drake twisted viciously. Kwinton yelped and his fingers released. Drake tossed the gun out of reach and tried to twist Kwinton’s arm behind his back.

  Infuriated and desperate, Kwinton went for Drake’s throat. Drake threaded his arms through the circle created by Kwinton’s frantic grasp and jerked his forearms outward. Air rushed into his lungs, but Kwinton didn’t let go.

  Drake maneuvered his foot behind Kwinton’s and shoved with all his might. Kwinton stumbled back, his hands releasing as he lost his balance. Drake followed him down, flipping him over and securing him against the floor before he could regain control of the situation.

  When he felt it was safe to divide his attention, he found Miranda covering him with Kwinton’s gun. He smiled. She might not enjoy tromping through the sewers, but she held together in a fight.

  Jericho and Ritter burst into the room half a second later.

  “Unbelievable.” Ritter chuckled. “I leave you two alone for a couple of days and you blow my case wide open.”

  “Your case?” Drake shot him an impatient glower.

  Ritter knelt beside him and secured Kwinton’s wrists and ankles before helping Drake haul him to his feet.

  “Special assignment from Prefect VinDerley.” He motioned toward the dining room. “Could you grab one of those chairs?”

  Jericho obliged and they forcefully seated Kwinton. Ritter produced a long strap and bound him directly to the chair. “We know you have a partner, and we know she’s running the show. Your only hope of avoiding a complete mind sweep is to start talking now.”

  Kwinton smirked at Ritter then turned his face away.

  “Fine. We’ll send you back and let her take care of you. I suspect her justice will be less forgiving than ours.”

  The insolent mask slipped. “You don’t know where she is or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “True. But if we turn you loose in a public place, I suspect she’ll find you without too much trouble. She’s outmaneuvered us often enough. We suspect she’s tapped into our communications.”

  “If she gets her hands on me again, I’m dead.”

  “So give me a reason to give a damn.”

  Drake glanced at Miranda, wondering how she was reacting to this new development. Each time they thought their struggle had ended, they turned a corner, and a new challenge appeared. She watched Kwinton intently, her expression carefully guarded.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Part of me wants to squash him like a bug. I could reach into his mind and… The more rational part understands that we need him.” She sent the thought without taking her eyes off Kwinton.

  Kwinton’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze. “What do you want to know?”

  “Start with this magic elixir. What is it and how does it work?”

  “She was trying to make her abilities stronger, but she was already the most powerful mystic I’ve ever known.”

  “All right, since you brought her up. Tell me about your boss.”

  “She calls herself Lopeka, but I know that’s not her real name. She was still trying to decide which name to use when I first met her.”

  “Where did she come from? What do you know about her background?”

  “She was born on Temple-Tuttle, and she hates Miranda with a consuming passion.”

  Drake looked at her again. Confusion crept into her gaze, yet she remained silent and let Ritter do his job. She looked so alone, standing there with a pulse pistol clasped in her hand. He moved to her side and took the gun from her hand. After setting the weapon on the end table, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

  “You said she was trying to make herself stronger. Did her goals change?”

  “The only new ability she developed was to… I don’t know how to explain it. She can manipulate energy. She can take it or give it whenever she wants.”

  “That’s not unusual. Most mystics can transfer energy.”

  “Trust me, this is different. She can convert her mystic energy into a sort of ooze.”

  Miranda looked up at Drake, clearly surprised by the revelation.

  “The substance she creates becomes the serum,” Kwinton added.

  “And what does the serum do?”

  “It intensifies the abilities of people like me, people whose powers are hardly noticeable. But there are side effects with some people, and she hasn’t been able to figure out wh
y. Nicay injected himself with the same batch I use and it just about killed him.”

  “We’re aware of that.” Ritter crossed his arms over his chest. “What was her ultimate goal?”

  “Her short-term goal was control of the Comet Coalition. Long term…who knows. Take over the universe.”

  “Why did she dispatch you here tonight?”

  “I was supposed to kill him” ‑‑ Kwinton nodded toward Drake ‑‑ “and bring Miranda back to her.”

  “Really?” Ritter’s gaze shot to Drake before he went on. “Abduction is much more dangerous than assassination. Why does she want Miranda alive?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe she wants to be the one to kill her. What does it matter now?”

  Ritter’s gaze returned to Drake. “We’ll never get another opportunity like this one.”

  “You’re not using her as bait.”

  Miranda laughed. “What was I doing on the couch?”

  “That was different. I was right here with you.”

  “So we shove a directional charge up his ass and give him an empty pistol,” Ritter said without inflection.

  Miranda gasped. “Is that legal?”

  Ritter smiled at her, while menace hardened his gaze. “You watched him brain fry CJ Kaffee without blinking an eye. Would you like to hear how he killed some of his other victims?”

  “It’s not my fault,” Kwinton cried. “She controls anyone who uses the serum, and the injections are so fucking addictive. It’s like her ambition and her hunger for violence are imprinted on… I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is it makes you want what she wants and withdrawal is more painful than anything you can imagine.”

  Ritter shot Kwinton an impatient glare. “I’d almost feel sorry for you if you hadn’t killed at least three people before you joined up with her. Maybe she sped you along the path, but you were well on your way to depravity when she first found you.”

  “Where is she?” Drake asked.

  “She rents rooms at the Pleasure Palace,” Kwinton replied.

  “Makes sense.” Jericho nodded. “Their security is almost as good as mine.”

  Kwinton couldn’t conceal his smirk.

  “We made you at the front desk,” Jericho defended. “You were only allowed to check in because we knew what you were planning.”

  Kwinton tugged against his restraints. “You’ll never take Lopeka alive. She’ll mind fuck anyone who enters the room.”

  “What exactly are her abilities?” Drake wanted to know.

  “I only know what I’ve seen. She refuses to explain herself to anyone.”

  “So what have you seen?” Ritter snapped. “Stop dancing around the issue.”

  “It seems like she can reach into a person’s mind and change their reality to whatever she wants it to be. I’ve seen people scream and tear at their clothes as if something were crawling all over them. She enjoys catching people on fire. They’re never really on fire, you understand. She just makes them believe they are.”

  “We get the idea.”

  “Once she’s finished amusing herself, she just turns them off. She reaches into their mind and convinces them they’re dead.”

  “Charming,” Ritter grumbled.

  “How the hell do you fight someone like that?” Jericho muttered.

  “You reach into her mind and convince her she’s powerless,” Miranda said.

  Everyone turned and looked at her, but Drake posed the question, “Can you do that?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Miranda took a deep breath and thought about her answer before she volunteered. “Manipulating thought is the temptation of many mystics. Temporal guides were especially susceptible. We’re supposed to observe, never tamper with the events we witness. Some can’t resist tweaking a memory here or altering a perception there until they’re corrupted by the power.”

  “You think that’s what happened to Lopeka?” Drake asked.

  “When members of the Perrlain Tribe misuse their gifts, they’re banished from our lands. Before they go, their abilities are contained, suppressed so they can’t access them. Most times, the barriers hold, but there are stories of exiles who have eroded the mental blocks or found ways around them.”

  “Your abilities weren’t suppressed when you were exiled,” Kwinton pointed out.

  “I hadn’t misused my abilities. I just refused to abide by their rules.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her robe, feeling both vulnerable and empowered. If Lopeka were a temporal guide gone bad, and every indication they had pointed in that direction, Miranda was their only hope of stopping her.

  “So we’re back to the original question,” Ritter said. “Can you take on Lopeka?”

  “I have to try.”

  “Not a chance.” Drake clasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “We’ll take her out with a sniper. She’ll never see it coming.”

  “If she’s released the full scope of her mystic power, she’ll sense the danger long before the bullet strikes. Self-preservation is a powerful force. I’ll have to shield Kwinton’s mind from her. I can’t shield a bullet. She wants me alive, likely to create a second serum. We can use that against her.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  She smiled and touched his face. “I don’t like it either, but what choice do we have? She has to be stopped.”

  “Are we agreed?” Ritter asked obviously anxious to get started.

  Drake’s gaze never left her face. “If she wants to do this, I’ll support her decision.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Ritter left the suite without further explanation.

  “Are you really going to shove something up Kwinton’s ass?”

  “It will control his behavior.” He slid his hand up to her neck and brushed his thumb along her jaw line. “If he makes one wrong move or says one wrong word, he’s dead and we’ll attack in force.”

  “Won’t an explosion kill me too?”

  “The charge is only strong enough to scramble his insides.”

  “Have you used this tactic before?”

  “Don’t ask questions when you obviously would rather not know.”

  “Good idea.” She tugged on the belt to her bathrobe. “I suppose I should get dressed.”

  Drake reluctantly lowered his hands to his sides. “Had you anticipated that possibility?” he asked Kwinton. “How were you going to get her out of here dressed in a bathrobe?”

  “I anticipated every possibility.”

  “Except our being ready for you?” Miranda responded.

  He just glared.

  Miranda was in the bedroom when Ritter returned. The screams and burst of profanity told her exactly what they were doing. She waited until the noise settled down before she returned to the outer room. Easing the door open, she gazed out. Kwinton stood beside the chair he’d previously occupied, his face flushed, gaze smoldering.

  “And I thought she was a sick fuck,” he muttered. “You enjoyed that.”

  “What I’d really enjoy is setting it off,” Ritter corrected. “So don’t provoke me.”

  Drake saw her peeking out and motioned her forward. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He gave her a tiny audiocom that rested discreetly in her ear channel. “The stealth models never receive as well as their big brothers, but we should be able to hear you.” He glanced at his partner. “Why don’t you gather up his gear? It’s best if he doesn’t know exactly what we have planned.”

  Ritter nodded toward the simulator, using the bomb’s controller to set Kwinton in motion. As soon as the two disappeared from view, Drake pulled Miranda into his arms and kissed her long and deeply.

  “I hate this. I should be there to protect you, not watching from a surveillance ship.”

  She returned his kiss before she replied, “This is my field of expertise. I’ll be fine.”

  “If things get ugly, put as much distance between you and Kwinton as possible.” />
  A certain gleam in his eyes made her ask, “Any particular reason?”

  “Kwinton’s your ticket into her lair. He’s also plan B.”

  “I thought you said the bomb would only scramble his insides.”

  “The little one will.” He grinned.

  “I see. How far away do I need to be?”

  “Out of the room at least, off the floor would be better.”

  Miranda couldn’t decide if she was intimidated or comforted by the knowledge. Would more innocent people have to die to end Lopeka’s reign?

  Not if she could help it!

  Determination surged. She was descended from the most powerful mystics in the star system. Her training and experience had strengthened her confidence and honed her skills. She was strong and she was ready.

  Kwinton maneuvered his skimmer with mechanical efficiency. “They’re going to kill me anyway. You realize that, don’t you? As soon as you take out Lopeka, they’ll detonate the bomb.”

  She didn’t know if that was true, and she wasn’t sure if she cared one way or the other. Kwinton enjoyed killing. People like that were never reformed.

  He led her to a side entrance and Miranda tried not to gawk. Most of the action at the Fantasy Forum took place behind closed doors. The Pleasure Palace flaunted its amenities with decadent enthusiasm.

  They crossed an area reserved for discipline, and Miranda’s dark nature stirred. On one side, a whip-wielding Mistress marked the back and buttocks of her masked thrall. His body bowed each time the lash connected with his flesh, and his cock bucked in wild approval.

  Miranda turned her head sharply, and her steps faltered. A woman was restrained over a high, padded rail. Her body bent almost in half, arms and legs securely bound, all her secrets exposed. Her ass bore the marks of recent attention, and her Master vigorously fucked her dripping pussy with a sleek metal dildo. His naked assistants used similar toys in the woman’s mouth and upturned ass.

  Bloodlust unfurled within Miranda; dark, potent hunger seeped into her bones and muddled her thinking. She clenched her hands until her nails bit into her palms.

  A mocking chuckle intruded and the beast tossed its head. “I’ll make sure Lopeka knows you’re desperate for discipline. She’ll be happy to introduce you to the brutal pleasure of pain.”