Mystic

by Cheryl Brooks

  “You Zetithians and your restorative sleep,” Rashe said with a snort. “Wish Terrans healed that fast.” Grinning, he added, “Wouldn’t mind acquiring a few of your other attributes, either.”

  “Yeah, right,” Aidan grumbled. “You and everybody else.”

  Rashe shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

  Aidan was still trying to figure out how anyone could’ve found Sula while he put the finishing touches on breakfast. A tracking beacon was a possibility, but if that were the case, whoever was after her would’ve caught up with her long ago.

  “We really need to do a scan on Sula,” he said, finally giving voice to his ruminations. “If she’s carrying around a beacon of some sort, we need to get rid of it.”

  “A little late for that, don’t you think?” Rashe said. “I mean, if the dude already knows she’s here.”

  “We don’t know that for sure, but we can’t take any chances. Sula said some Terran guy was gunning for her in Damenk several months ago. She was able to lose him in the crowd, but the man you saw could be the same one.”

  “Hmm… Not much of a beacon if he couldn’t trace her after that,” Rashe commented.

  “I agree. It would help if we knew how or when she might’ve been tagged. She was inoculated a while back, and the injection could’ve contained tracking nanobots, but if so, she’d have been caught long ago.”

  “Nanobots don’t always show up on a scan,” Rashe reminded him. “They don’t have much range, and they don’t last forever. Most of them quit transmitting after about a month.”

  The timer dinged, and Aidan pulled a pan of sweet rolls from the oven. “Maybe they did know she was in the mountains and didn’t see any point in tracking her until she came back to town. She would’ve posed very little threat to anyone out there in the wilderness. Or maybe whoever was tracking her was too lazy to go looking for her, preferring to wait for her to come to them.”

  “What exactly does she know that’s worth killing for? No, wait”—Rashe put up a hand—“if it’s one of those ‘If I tell you, I’d have to kill you’ things, I really don’t want to know.”

  “I wouldn’t kill you,” Aidan said. “But anyone tracking her would have to assume she’s confided in us. She didn’t until last night, and I’m sure there’s more to it, but—”

  “Meaning you’re all going to be targeted, including the girls?”

  Aidan grimaced. “I’m afraid we might be. And you’ve been here twice—”

  “I’ve seen that guy too.” Rashe sighed. “You might as well tell me everything. Wouldn’t be the first time someone was after my blood.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Aidan picked up a piping bag and began icing the rolls. “Besides, the man you saw might have nothing to do with Sula.” If he told himself that enough, he might actually believe it. “Although in all honesty, he probably does. Guess I’d better fill you in.”

  He had just finished giving Rashe a brief rundown of Sula’s background and current predicament when the rousing strains of “La Marseillaise” sounded from the foyer. “Who the devil would be ringing the bell at this hour?” he snapped. “I’ll never get breakfast ready.”

  “If it’s that creepy dude, want me to take him out?” Rashe actually looked hopeful. “Haven’t seen any action for a while now. Might be time to put on some war paint and dust off my tomahawk.”

  “Let’s not go that route yet.” Aidan peered at the front door camera display and groaned. “I should’ve known.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Giklor,” Aidan replied. “He’s probably sensed that there’s a broken bone somewhere in the house and is just dying to fix it.”

  “Hey, it’s what he does, dude. He can’t help himself.”

  “I know. But Sula doesn’t want to be healed by a Zerkan, and I can’t say as I blame her.”

  “Yeah, well, you know Giklor.” Rashe scooped up a stray dollop of icing and popped it in his mouth. “He’ll probably talk her into it.”

  “If you’re right about the ‘creepy Terran dude,’ she might agree. Having her mobile would certainly be helpful if we need to disappear in a hurry.”

  Qinta strolled into the kitchen and snatched a sweet roll from the pan. “You guys talking about me?”

  “Nope,” Rashe replied. “You aren’t the only thing around here that can disappear.” As if to prove his point, he made a sweet roll vanish in less than three seconds.

  Qinta savored hers more slowly. “Oh, yum… Why don’t you ever fix breakfast at the orphanage?”

  “Because I don’t like getting up that early.” Aidan wasn’t sure he wanted to be up now. He was still trying to figure out why he’d left Sula’s bed when he could’ve been kissing her all night long. “La Marseillaise” played again. “Guess I’d better see what Giklor wants.”

  “Is that the Zerkan healer?” Qinta asked.

  “They’re all healers,” Rashe said, helping himself to another roll. “Must never be anyone sick on their planet if they have to leave home to find people to cure.”

  Aidan had never been to the Zerkan homeworld, but if the Zerkans he’d met on other planets were any indication, Rashe probably had the right idea. With any luck, he could get rid of Giklor before he got wind of Sula’s predicament.

  “Nope,” he muttered as he entered the foyer. “Probably not gonna happen.”

  “Greetings, my friend!” Giklor said when Aidan opened the door. “I sensed the need for my services, so as you can see, I have come!” Without so much as a “by your leave,” the little Zerkan hopped over the threshold, his teardrop-shaped eyes glowing red with excitement. “Where will I find this unfortunate lady?”

  “Mother of the gods!” Aidan growled. “How could you possibly know—”

  “I do not question how I know. I simply do.” He rubbed his hands together with such vigor, Aidan feared he would rip the pearly skin from his fingers. “Now, where is she?”

  “Still asleep in her bed,” Aidan said without much hope. Deterring Giklor from a healing mission was like trying to stop a volcanic eruption.

  “She’s awake now and ready for breakfast,” Abuti announced from the west wing hallway. “I just need help getting her out of bed, unless you want me to take her food to her on a tray.”

  “Rashe already brought the hoverchair, so she can eat wherever she likes,” Aidan said. “He also brought a splint kit. We can redo her leg after breakfast.”

  “Give me a few short moments with her, and she will need none of those things!” Giklor insisted.

  “She won’t need breakfast, either,” Abuti said darkly. “I’ve seen what you guys do to people. She’ll be sick as a Keldrak on a three-week bender.”

  “Any nausea is very short-lived,” Giklor said. “And recovery is rapid and uncomplicated.”

  “Except for the red eyes,” Aidan said. “She doesn’t want those.”

  Giklor dismissed this objection with a casual wave. “I will explain that to her and allow her to choose.”

  “She’s already made up her mind,” Aidan said firmly. “She said no.”

  “That was before the enemy infiltrated the neighborhood,” Rashe said, coming up behind him. “She needs to know about that before she can make an informed decision.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Aidan reminded him. “That man might have a perfectly valid reason for being here. Besides, any worthwhile assassin would make damn sure you didn’t spot him.”

  “I think we’ve already established that he’s no great shakes as a hit man,” Rashe pointed out.

  “What hit man?” Abuti demanded, her bulbous eyes wide with apparent fascination. “Did you get a good look at him? Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “Probably,” Rashe said, albeit without much conviction.

  Abuti stomped a flippered foot. “Probab
ly isn’t good enough. What did he look like?”

  “Creepy,” Rashe replied.

  “You should’ve taken his picture,” Abuti said, then glared at Aidan. “I don’t think we want him on our team.”

  “Team?” Giklor echoed. “What sort of team? Do you need a healer? Oh, of course you do. Every team needs a healer. I hereby volunteer.”

  Aidan took a moment to massage the growing ache in his temples. “Why don’t you all head into the dining room while I go get Sula? Then we can have some breakfast and talk this over.”

  “Want me to bring the hoverchair?” Rashe asked.

  “No,” Aidan said, a bit more sharply than he’d intended. “I can carry her.”

  “Suit yourself, dude,” Rashe said. “Giklor can fix your sprained back right up.”

  Giklor nodded vigorously. “Indeed I can. Just say the word.”

  At the moment, scram was the only word that came to Aidan’s mind. However, all he said was “Be right back.”

  After what had passed between them during the night, Aidan was a little nervous about facing Sula, but one glimpse of her welcoming smile banished his fears.

  “Good morning,” she said. “I had the nicest dreams after you left last night.”

  “Thanks to you, so did I.” When he scooped her up in his arms, the kiss she planted on his cheek felt so right, he was tempted to forget about breakfast and indulge in far more pleasant activities.

  “Sounds like we have company.”

  “Rashe and Giklor,” he said with a weary roll of his eyes. “Rashe said he saw some creepy Terran man hanging around the neighborhood this morning, so of course everyone thinks he might be your assassin. Abuti is pissed at Rashe for not taking a picture of the guy, and Rashe is talking about getting out his tomahawk and war paint. Giklor wants to fix your leg and join the team as our medic.” He sighed. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  “If the man Rashe saw really is the same man, I don’t think we have much choice,” she said. “Bad help is better than no help at all.”

  “I dunno about that. Bad help might be what gets us all killed.”

  * * *

  After Aidan left her the night before, Sula had given serious thought to abandoning her mission so she could instead explore the possibility of a lasting relationship with him. Not only had he made her feel safe, he’d reawakened her desire in a way that couldn’t be ignored. She’d looked forward to spending the coming weeks with him while her leg healed, providing her with a much-needed break from her search for evidence in remote mountain caverns. Now, the report of a possible assassin in the neighborhood brought those pleasant dreams to an abrupt halt.

  “Any idea how he found out you were here?” he asked. “We’ve talked about tracking beacons and injected nanobots, but there might be a simpler explanation.”

  “I can’t think of one,” she said. “Trust me, I’ve been trying to figure out how he tracked me down the first time. Nanobots make the most sense, especially given that Raj and I were probably infected with the plague using the same method.”

  “Yet another reason to run a scan. We’ll head over to the orphanage after breakfast, although that scanner might not be sophisticated enough to detect nanobots.”

  “Not if they’re the really good bots,” she agreed. “It scares me to think what I might be carrying around inside me—plague viruses, nanobots, or something we’ve never even heard of.”

  “Yeah. I imagine it would be. I—”

  “Ah, there she is!” A short, thin-limbed creature came scurrying toward them, followed closely by Rashe and the two girls. “Please allow me to examine—”

  “After breakfast, Giklor,” Aidan said sternly. “Don’t be bothering her now.”

  “I understand completely.” As the little being bowed low before her, Sula fancied she could see the underlying tissues through his pale, translucent skin. “Forgive my eagerness, dear lady. I am Giklor of the planet Zerka, and I have had tidings of your mishap.”

  Sula had seen pictures of his kind before, but this occasion marked her first face-to-face meeting with one. With the exception of their eye color—the males had red eyes while the women’s were blue—Zerkans were as sexless in appearance as Norludians and, like members of that species, wore no clothing.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Giklor,” she said. “I am Sula of the planet Earth.”

  “Sula…” Giklor tapped his virtually nonexistent chin with a rounded fingertip that appeared to lack any form of nail or claw. “Short for Sulaksha, meaning ‘fortunate,’ I believe.”

  Sula was too shocked to deny it. “How could you possibly know that?”

  Giklor blinked slowly, his eyelids sliding sideways in a sly, secretive manner. “Who can say from whence such knowledge comes? I have traveled far and have seen much. But as for you, Sulaksha…no one believing in fate could have named you otherwise.”

  Chapter 13

  Sula had never considered herself to be very fortunate. Taking the good with the bad, she figured her luck was on par with almost anyone else’s. However, in light of recent events, the name was beginning to make sense. She’d survived when thousands, perhaps even millions, of others had died, and she’d made it to Rhylos alone on a starship. She’d somehow managed to elude an assassin, and just when she’d found evidence to support her theory, she’d been injured, only to be immediately rescued by a man who could fly.

  Had her parents given her that name hoping it would protect her, or did they have foreknowledge of the events that awaited her?

  Sula wasn’t a great believer in fate. Such beliefs tended to make people reckless, because with the future predetermined, there was no need to be careful. She’d observed a similar effect in her own country. For herself, she couldn’t see the benefit in taking needless risks and was therefore reasonably cautious.

  “Sulaksha.” Aidan whispered her name slowly, as though savoring each syllable. “What a lovely name.”

  Still somewhat dumbfounded by Giklor’s uncanny knowledge, all she could say was “I’m glad you approve.” For the little Zerkan, she had no words.

  Fortunately, Abuti had plenty to say. “Now that you’ve got us totally weirded out, can we please have breakfast?”

  “Oh, of course,” Giklor said graciously. “I have no desire to interrupt your repast.”

  Abuti snorted. “Sure seemed like it to me. Listen, pal, I’ve been smelling those sweet rolls for the past hour and getting hungrier by the second. Your timing really sucks.”

  Giklor bowed again. “Ah, yes. You Norludians are such treasures. Always speak your minds, never leaving any doubts as to where you might stand on any given subject.”

  Sula half expected Abuti to stick out her tongue, which was the Norludian equivalent of “Fuck you.” Instead, she seemed content to do a sucker-tip pop with all ten of her fingers—a less obscene gesture that conveyed a similar sentiment—before heading back toward the dining room.

  “Guess she told you, dude,” Rashe commented. “Can’t say as I blame her, either. These things are damned tasty.” Having said that, he wolfed down the remainder of the roll he held and then licked his fingers.

  “You’d better have left at least one for Sula,” Aidan warned.

  “I didn’t eat all of them.” Rashe grinned. “Haven’t had enough time for that. How come you don’t ever make these for the orphans?”

  Sula would’ve thought the answer was perfectly obvious.

  Aidan, however, chose to elucidate. “Do you have any idea how many I’d have to make to ensure that every child got at least one?”

  “At the rate we’re eating them, I’d guess at least five hundred or so,” Qinta said.

  “Exactly.” He glanced at Giklor. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Why, no, I haven’t,” the Zerkan replied. “May I be permitted to join you
?”

  “Sure, no problem. What about you, Rashe?”

  “I’m good with that,” Rashe replied. “All that shopping made me hungry.”

  “I’ll fetch some more plates,” Qinta said before dashing off toward the kitchen.

  Entering the dining room, Aidan put Sula in the chair to his right near the head of the table. “You’ll have more leg room here.”

  Sula somehow managed to refrain from kissing him again as she thanked him. Abuti had enough fodder for teasing as it was. She saw no need to provide her with any more.

  If anything, breakfast was a more sumptuous spread than dinner had been. In addition to the coveted sweet rolls, there was a platter of crisp bacon, a large bowl of scrambled eggs with cheese, and a fruit salad. To Sula’s delight and astonishment, next to her plate was a stack of masala dosas, a jar of ghee, and three types of chutney.

  “Oh, Aidan,” she said with a sigh. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had a masala dosa?”

  “As long as you’ve been climbing mountains?”

  “And then some.” After putting two dosas on her plate, she spread them with ghee and chutney and took a bite. “These are absolutely perfect. Even better than Mom used to make.”

  Abuti, who sat in the chair to Sula’s right, leaned closer to sniff the dosas. “What did you say they were?”

  “Masala dosas,” Aidan replied. “The dosa is like a crepe made with a fermented rice and lentil batter. The filling is called aloo masala, or potato curry.”

  “Sounds weird,” Abuti said. “I think I’ll stick with eggs and fruit—and sweet rolls, of course.”

  Qinta helped herself to a dosa, then reached for the bacon. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

  “Can’t stand that nasty bacon crap, either.” Abuti popped a blueberry into her mouth with her fingertip. “Fruit is much better for you.”

  “So true,” said Giklor. “However, I believe I’ll have a dosa in honor of our new friend.”