Parallel Heat

by Deidre Knight

  He gave a nod. ‘‘You’ll be off the case then.’’

  ‘‘Probably.’’

  ‘‘I trust you.’’

  ‘‘I’m working for them—you remarked on that yourself.’’

  ‘‘You don’t like the way they’ve handled this.’’

  Without altering her expression or tone—without even flexing a muscle she told him, ‘‘I want to believe you, S’Skautsa—and I don’t like how they’re treating you. Denying you food and water, acting as if you have no rights. That’s not how humans are supposed to do things. You should know that.’’

  ‘‘Then help me, Hope. I’m begging you. If what I suspect about the Antousians is true, this attack they’re mounting is major. I need to be with my people, I’m their—’’

  He’d almost revealed his stature within Jared’s rebel forces, but stopped himself.

  ‘‘You’re their . . . what?’’ she prompted. For a moment he entertained the idea that Hope was nothing but a trap: her seeming innocence; her semiblindness; her beauty—a combination that was his particular weakness, with her light-colored eyes and long blond hair. Maybe the humans were setting him up totally.

  He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He’d have to gaze her in order to feel her out. Every other time he’d soul-gazed her, she’d come up clean: She was exactly what she presented herself to be.

  ‘‘What did these Antousians, the vlksai, do to your people?’’ she asked, changing her tack. Scott felt an answering avalanche of guilt. She had no idea that his race was the very ones hell-bent on destroying her world. Biologically speaking, that was. The heart that beat within his chest was Refarian, through and through. So he was telling the truth.

  ‘‘Genocide.’’ He said nothing more, waiting for her reaction.

  ‘‘Your DNA is totally human—that’s what we can’t figure out. Are you human?’’

  He laughed bitterly. He held little love for her species, and it was the greatest irony about his genetic makeup. ‘‘I’m a descendent of your people,’’ he admitted cryptically, unwilling to spell out the facts for her just yet. ‘‘The Antousians are murderers—they’ve killed millions of my people. They’ve killed many of yours, too, only your governments don’t realize it.’’

  She stirred in her seat. ‘‘How?’’

  ‘‘The missing,’’ he explained, thinking of all the human lives taken by the Antousians already—what would happen if no one stopped them? ‘‘So many missing here on Earth, Hope. None of your people know where they go.’’

  ‘‘You’re telling me these vlksai took them?’’

  ‘‘And they will take more, but your people here, these Air Force jocks, they’re never going to believe someone like me. We’re all aliens to them—they don’t understand that some of us are different.’’

  ‘‘Okay, I have to think about this,’’ Hope answered after falling silent for a long while. ‘‘They’ll have the other interpreters translate as much of this as they can, but they won’t catch a lot of it. From what I’m hearing, I’m far and away the best with your language.’’

  Scott smiled. ‘‘Doesn’t surprise me.’’ She blushed slightly, which pleased him.

  ‘‘I have to tell them something—what can I say?’’

  ‘‘That I stand by the facts: The Antousians are another race. A violent, warmongering one, and your leaders need to start taking pointers from me. Fast.’’

  ‘‘This one speaks English. Perfect English. Our task is getting him to speak alien.’’

  ‘‘Refarian,’’ she corrected, keeping her voice as respectful as possible.

  The colonel peered through the window of this other containment cell, where Hope had been immediately directed upon exiting Scott Dillon’s holding area. She glanced through the glass, seeing nothing but blurred light and a shadowy, tall form. The colonel tapped on the glass. ‘‘This one we’ve been trailing for a lot longer than Dillon. Never had anything to officially link him to the others until now. If one of the local deputies hadn’t called in the plate from that bar, we never would have nabbed him.’’

  ‘‘What will my task be, sir?’’ She stepped back from the viewing pane. It was useless anyway—what point was there in staring at blurred shadows?

  ‘‘Nothing right now. I want to debrief you about the interview with Dillon,’’ the man explained, whistling slightly through his teeth again. He made that sound a lot while contemplating strategy, Hope had discovered. ‘‘Let’s go for breakfast in the officers’ club,’’ he said, and immediately led the way, several soldiers falling in around them. Hope hadn’t slept or taken a walk or even breathed without having some sort of security escort since arriving at the underground facility days ago. ‘‘Then we’ll have the debriefing.’’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Thea stared at the envelope within her hands and feared what she would discover. Had Marco’s predictions been accurate? Was he as tainted as he claimed to be? Or had, in fact, his heart been pure but broken in their other life? The one where their relationship had only been bad. Dark. Wrong. Where she had been damaged.

  Whatever would come from gazing into that other timeline, Thea knew it couldn’t be good. It was an endeavor that would be fraught with danger, the outcome uncertain and possibly irreversible. Some things you weren’t meant to know. That’s what her mother had told her the first time she had coached her in her gift. She’d said, ‘‘Thea, darling, you are gifted by All, deeply gifted. But with that gift comes tremendous responsibility. It’s a burden some are unwilling to shoulder.’’

  But this time, no matter what her mother might have warned her, she had no choice but to find out. Stroking her fingertips across the document’s surface, staring down at Marco’s scrawling, nearly indecipherable handwriting, she focused. Focused, trained her intuitive sight and stepped into the abyss.

  She took his hands, belted them together, feeling mischievous as she grinned up at him. But he misunderstood. Thought it was about control and dominance . . . maybe it was. Never taking his eyes off of her, he wrestled free of the loose binding, then spun her furiously, drawing her back against his chest. The scent of warm leather filled her nostrils as he strapped her hands together behind her back.

  ‘‘There, you little wildcat,’’ he breathed in her ear. ‘‘I’m in control now.’’

  She panted, her chest heaving, struggling for words. I don’t want control over you! I want you.

  ‘‘How do you like it now?’’ he spat in her ear. She’d hurt him—badly. Whatever she’d done it had left his heart so ravaged that he sought emotional revenge upon her. Domination. The need to take her with visceral rawness. He skimmed a scintillating hand down her shoulder, then along her bare arm, lower down her thigh, then circled back, stroking her hard between the legs. Crushingly hard. She stiffened in his arms, feeling dampness form in her panties. Everything in her wanted to strike back, even as she responded to his feverish touch. I love you, don’t do this, she wanted to scream. Struggling with her hands, she found just how hard he’d bound her.

  ‘‘Just this once, you won’t do the leaving,’’ he told her coolly, forcing her legs wide apart. ‘‘I’m the one in control now.’’

  ‘‘You can bind me, Marco—you can turn me away so you don’t look into my eyes.’’ She panted; his touch grew more aggressive. ‘‘But I will never be your precious Kelsey! Never.’’

  ‘‘I used to want you,’’ he hissed low in her ear. ‘‘I was a fool, but it all started with you.’’

  ‘‘When?’’ she whispered. ‘‘Tell me when.’’

  ‘‘That first night, in the bar when you came for me—the night Jared kicked me out. I thought it could be love, but I was a fool. A fool to follow you into this godsforsaken camp, a fool not to know how many men you gave your body to.’’ They were in Veckus’s camp, together; she glanced about them, knowing they were in the lair of Jared’s bitter enemies.

  ‘‘You loved Kelsey then,’’ she argued, but her words
sounded hollow and flat.

  ‘‘True—but just that one night, I thought I could love you too.’’

  Thea crumpled the letter against her eyes, wanting to blot out everything she’d just glimpsed. Tears streaked both of her cheeks, rolling hot without her wiping them away. Of course her mother had been right; some things weren’t meant to be seen. She had betrayed her king and queen, in the most evil of ways. And she’d loved Marco; powerfully, deeply, but been so locked up inside she hadn’t known how to be different. In that other life she’d fallen so far and so abominably; how could she possibly have loved him well?

  Whatever she’d done, it had been worthy of his derision, his need to punish her emotionally because in her trance, she had felt his anguish. Thea began to tremble so hard she was forced to wrap her arms about herself in an effort to still the tremors. It was the thought of Marco’s empathy, of his deep, passionate nature coming in contact with that vile person she’d been that tore her apart. How had he stood that life? How had he been able to survive a world shot through with such evil, which would have confronted his empathy in every direction? And she’d been the one who’d led him by the hand right into it.

  Her body was wracked with sobs, but still the tears wouldn’t subside. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she thought about Marco now. Her Marco, the one she loved, the one in this time whom she could still save. I have to find out where he is, she resolved, trying to staunch her tears with her hands. It’s not too late this time!

  She’d been the one to turn him to their enemies in that other realm; without her presence in Veckus’s camp, perhaps he still had a future here where he belonged—with her.

  It took every ounce of soldier’s discipline she possessed, but she grasped the letter again, forcing herself to enter their world, to see what was probably never meant to be known by her. There was a dark, foggy mist swirling around a bar—the same bar from tonight—or was it smoke? She saw herself walk in, only this time . . . something was very different. Her eyes didn’t have that cold, lost look in them. They were her own eyes, filled with love and concern for the drunken man in the booth. He tilted his head sideways, staring up at her. Beautiful, full-lashed eyes that almost stopped her heart.

  Yes, she thought, yes, this was only hours ago. This is the right world, yes. Thank you, All! Thank you. Help me, show me more.

  Almost as if she were taken by the hand, the vision drew her inward, sped ahead, hurtling her through hyperspace, then slowed to a slow-motion tempo. Back and forth she rocked, keeping her eyes shut, as time spread before her. Someone else had come, another. A blond-haired man, short-cropped hair. Looked like military or maybe FBI. He wore a long jacket, yes, FBI, she felt it. Special Agent Happer? No, no, Harper. Chris Harper. He was making a deal with Marco, telling him about Scott, saying if he cooperated then Dillon would be released. Marco had nothing left, nothing to lose—she clutched at her heart, nearly catapulted out of the vision by the pain his emotions caused her—so he went. No choice, anyway. Had to go.

  Gasping, Thea pulled out of the vision yet again. It felt as if she were bursting forth from under water after nearly drowning. Repeatedly she dragged at air, just trying to breathe. Doubling over, she clutched at her stomach, nearly gagging.

  The FBI had Marco! Her love, they had him!

  One more time, she promised herself. Just one more time, back into the vision, long enough to find out more so I can help him—and Scott. With another gasp, she opened her psyche yet again, reaching with her intuition for the truth. It was then that she saw the critical piece, the part that had evaded her about the first timeline. Scene after scene revealed in painstaking detail Earth’s destruction at the hands of the Antousians.

  I can’t stay here, she thought, surveying the ruined landscape. It’s too much!

  The vision changed, taking her deep inside Warren Air Force Base, through a circuitous length of tunnels and corridors. She stopped before a particular holding room, gazing through a small aperture of glass. Within the cell, Marco paced—restless and anxious—and reached toward her. Walls gave way to fire, melted into rubble, became an inferno within the hallways. Thea reached toward the room where Marco had been standing, screaming his name, sobbing. ‘‘Love! Careful! Oh, love!’’ she wailed and, opening her eyes, she pulled out. With a sob, she rubbed at her eyes, tried anything to blot the images of destruction and annihilation from her mind. But she couldn’t wipe her mind clean; the images were too indelible. They were a cauldron of what had happened before and what might still be yet to come in this timeline.

  Shaking all over, Thea leapt to her feet and grabbed her jacket. There might still be time if she acted quickly enough!

  Thea banged on Jared’s door, hoping against hope that she’d find her commander still within his chambers at this early hour of the morning. Five A.M. usually placed him here or at breakfast, but with security so elevated, there was no telling. No answer came at first from the other side, so she raised her fist to knock again, but the door opened. Kelsey stood before her in an oversized shirt of Jared’s, all her crazy auburn curls cork-screwing in every possible direction.

  ‘‘Kelsey’’—she paused, correcting herself—‘‘my lady, is he here?’’ The words came out breathless and desperate, and her clear urgency registered visibly in Kelsey’s eyes.

  ‘‘No, he’s already left for Base Ten.’’

  ‘‘Mlksa,’’ she cursed. ‘‘You’ve got to get dressed and come with me.’’ She realized she’d just issued an order to her queen, but she held a military rank and the human did not.

  Kelsey nodded wordlessly, pulling open the door so Thea could enter. ‘‘I’ll be dressed in twenty seconds,’’ she told her, moving briskly across the room without a question. Her easy trust made something in Thea’s chest tighten, something she didn’t bother examining. All she knew was that suddenly she didn’t feel nearly so alone as she had just moments before.

  Thea shoved the door closed in case any officers were sitting in the media center on the exterior landing and might overhear them. For now, this was intel of the highest level, and she was taking it straight to her commander.

  Kelsey disappeared into the bathroom, then reappeared a moment later fully clothed and wearing her ski jacket. ‘‘I’m ready.’’

  Thea nodded, trying to still her heart. ‘‘Thank you—I’m so glad I’m not alone in this.’’

  Kelsey crossed the distance that separated them, moving toward the door. ‘‘Alone in what, Thea?’’

  Catching her queen by the arm, she stopped her. ‘‘I know why the Antousians have been crossing the border, and if we’re going to stop them, we’ve got to move fast.’’

  Marco sat on an unmade pull-down cot, and considered his options. When the FBI agent had appeared in the bar, he’d known this was his chance for redemption: Allow the feds to pull him onto the base near Dillon, and hopefully he could figure some route of escape for the lieutenant. If he could help him escape—by what means he hadn’t a clue—then Jared would know his loyalty without question.

  Was it still tonight? They’d confiscated his watch, wallet, and other personal effects, and without windows in his cell, he really wasn’t sure. They’d airlifted him onto the base, forcing him to dress in an Air Force uniform so no one would question his presence, then driven him right into the underground facility at Warren—the same lockdown area where Dillon was being held. The FBI agent, Chris Harper, as he identified himself, had explained that if he’d cooperate, it could lead to Dillon’s freedom. He had no illusions about the veracity of the ‘‘promise,’’ but still, here he was.

  So far they’d drawn blood samples, offered him water, and treated him well. Still, a dark sense of foreboding clouded his senses, and every time he reached with his intuition, he felt that the lieutenant was suffering. He didn’t dare engage his empathy to sense more of what his captors had planned: It was just too dangerous on the narrow line of sanity he’d already been tremulously walking. So he worked with
his intuition, blocking out the dark gift that perpetually threatened to overwhelm him at every turn.

  Lying back on the cot, it seemed best to try and grab a bit of sleep. No telling when he’d have the opportunity again, and often when he dreamed, All gave him visions. Inspirations. Strategies, too, and that was what he most needed to break out Scott Dillon.

  Nevin Daniels eyed Thea curiously; the thoughtful man was never given to explosive outbursts, no matter how perilous the military situation. Likewise, Sabrina sat across the table, her face a mask of calm reserve; it seemed the Circle leader rarely revealed emotion.

  Jared, on the other hand, rested both hands on the meeting table, his eyes blazing in expectation. Kelsey had assumed the seat beside him, waiting with bright, curious eyes of her own. Thea noted that her queen had a remarkable gift for supporting, even as she always steered her own path. It was the perfect balance for Jared, and that thought didn’t annoy or upset Thea. They needed Kelsey’s wise, confident counsel in their midst.

  Thea drew in a quick breath, glanced eagerly between the gathered leaders, and began. ‘‘I spent time in meditation with the letter,’’ she stated quickly. ‘‘Commander, it is paramount that we take offensive action against the Antousians immediately.’’

  ‘‘I have the ready fighters in place. Right now, our enemies are not on radar. Could be their stealth capacity, but we usually find our way around that.’’

  The Antousians’ fighters and craft were nowhere near as stealthy as the Refarians’ were. One advantage that usually played to their benefit.

  ‘‘Sir, what I saw with my intuition’’—she paused, wanting to blurt everything at once, but knew she had to frame it in an orderly manner—‘‘we’ve been thinking about their strategy all wrong. It’s not the missiles they want to target and take out—it’s gaining control of them.’’