Mystic

by Cheryl Brooks

  “Not really,” she said quietly. “We can talk more later on.”

  “Do you really think we’ll have much time to talk?” His emphasis on the last word recalled his jubilant reaction to the results of the scan.

  “Oh, I think we can probably make time for this particular conversation.”

  His brow rose briefly. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied. “Simply a new development to be considered.”

  Sula was gazing into his sexy feline eyes when they suddenly widened with comprehension. With a vague nod, he looked down at his plate. For a long moment, he didn’t move a muscle; even his breathing ceased.

  A nudge on her right arm startled her, drawing her attention to the bowl of rice Abuti held out to her. “What? Oh, right.” She scooped a portion of rice onto her plate, then took the bowl and turned toward Aidan. “Rice?”

  He appeared to have recovered sufficiently to serve himself without further prompting. “Thanks.”

  “That shawarma smells incredible.”

  Abuti stuck her fingertips together and then popped them apart. “He’s made it for us at the orphanage before. Wait ’til you taste it. You won’t believe how good it is.”

  “Probably not nearly as good as his—” Sula caught herself before completing that sentence. Her only excuse was that she’d been reading so much, her eyes hurt, and fatigue had made her a bit punchy.

  Her bulbous eyes gleaming with fascination, Abuti turned toward Sula, resting her cheek on her palm and a bony elbow on the table. “His what?”

  Sula didn’t have to think back very far for her reply. “Um, last night’s roast Mondavian duck?”

  The Norludian girl shook her head. “The shawarma is way better than the duck. Trust me.”

  If his shawarma was better than the duck, did snard fall somewhere in between?

  No possible way. Snard had to be at the top of any list.

  “This I gotta taste.” Jetoc parted his moustache and pulled several long strands of grayish hair away from his mouth. “The captain has never made anything that smells like that. Smells almost as good as my sausages.”

  Frowning, Curly scratched his chin. “Can’t remember you ever making shawarma when we were kids, Aidan.”

  “New recipe.” Aidan still seemed a tad shell-shocked, his vacant expression suggesting that his mind was occupied with something else entirely.

  Was he willing to make love with her without the benefit of birth control? Or was he trying to come up with some other alternative? Condoms had been used in one form or another throughout the galaxy for centuries, although she doubted there was a condom in existence that could accommodate his ruffled cockhead. None of those made for humans, anyway. Given the effects of snard and joy juice, she doubted there was much of a market for condoms among the Zetithian population, even on Terra Minor. She certainly had no intention of asking him to use one.

  Something else we need to talk about.

  Abuti nudged her again. This time, she held the meat platter. “Better hurry up and take some of this before Jetoc goes back for seconds.”

  A glance across the table proved that the chicken did indeed meet with the Drell’s approval. Judging by the way he was shoveling shawarma into his mouth, the remainder was definitely in jeopardy.

  Sula spooned some onto her plate and then held the platter for Aidan. “How did you make this without using one of those vertical rotisseries?” She’d eaten shawarma before—usually purchased from a street vendor—and she doubted the ship’s galley was similarly equipped.

  “Just baked it on a tray and then cut it into bits,” Aidan replied. “Most of the flavor is in the marinade.”

  He sounded so normal. Like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in his lap. Had he come to terms with the idea already? Or was she the one who was weirded out by the thought of having triplets?

  * * *

  Despite the pressure to reproduce and replenish an endangered species, becoming a father had never struck Aidan as a likely occurrence. He’d always seen himself as a bit of a loner, something his Mordrial abilities seemed to dictate, perhaps even require. If he’d ever been in love before, he might have felt differently, but he’d never even come close. Throughout his life, he’d always imagined finding a mate and having children to be future events, never a part of the here and now.

  And yet here he was, on the cusp of an entirely new phase of his life. He still had a choice. He could look into Sula’s beautiful brown eyes and tell her he’d decided that having a family wasn’t for him. She wasn’t Zetithian. She could go on to find love with someone else, whereas being mated to her, he probably never would.

  He wasn’t completely sure how he knew she was his mate. This feeling was entirely new to him, and yet it was unmistakable. He knew it through her scent and its effect on him. He could tell her precise location in a room even with his eyes closed. Being near her had a positive effect on everything about him—his mood, his health, his happiness, and his outlook.

  Following his reply to Sula’s question, she had simply gone ahead with her meal, taking a bite or two before complimenting him on the excellence of the dish. Others had voiced similar opinions, and he’d thanked each of them. As dinner progressed and the convivial chatter of mealtime—surely among the most sane and comforting sounds imaginable—surrounded him, what had happened between him and Sula seemed more surreal than ever. How could he possibly have mated with her so quickly?

  He wasn’t making love with her at the moment; he wasn’t even speaking with her. No shadowy portents filled his mind with prescient gobbledygook. But when he gazed into her eyes, he could almost see the future unfolding. Infants cradled in her loving arms. Her fierce maternal pride in their children’s achievements. Her love for him even after her hair turned white and her soft, supple skin grew wrinkled with age.

  Tears stung his eyes, and for an instant, even breathing was difficult—until her hand closed over his where it lay on his thigh. Air filled his lungs again as their fingers entwined. Turning his head, he smiled at her, somehow managing to keep his tears from falling and drawing unwanted attention to his revelation. She must’ve seen them anyway, for a quizzical expression narrowed her eyes briefly, accompanied by a dash of concern and a twinge of doubt. He drew in another breath and used her hand to pull her toward him. Without hesitation, he leaned closer and kissed her, putting every shred of emotion into the joining of their lips.

  Their bond was nearly complete, and only one step remained—a step he would take without misgivings or uncertainty but would embark upon with eagerness, confidence, and joy.

  “Aw…would you look at that?” Abuti clapped her hands, prompting the others to join in and bringing the kiss to an unfortunate end. “I’d give him a kiss for that fabulous dinner myself. But alas, he is taken.”

  “He certainly is.” Sula squeezed the hand she still held, sending her tender affection coursing up his arm to warm his heart. “I think I knew it the moment I first laid eyes on him.”

  Qinta laughed. “Yeah. Right before you fell and broke your leg.”

  “And then he saved me from the nasty condors.” Sula let go of his hand to cup the back of his neck. This time, she was the one who initiated the kiss. “My hero,” she murmured against his lips.

  Abuti peered over Sula’s shoulder, her lips forming a pout. “He’s one of our heroes too, you know. You won’t stop him from working at the orphanage, will you?”

  “I would never do such a thing.” As Sula combed her fingers through his hair, his scalp tingled at the root of every strand she touched. “That much, I’m willing to share.” A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “But I’m keeping the rest of him.”

  “Can I at least be a bridesmaid?”

  Sula chuckled. “I don’t see why not.” Her gaze connected with his once again. “That’s ass
uming we were to actually get married.” She quirked a brow. “Do Zetithians have a ceremony?”

  “We didn’t on Zetith,” he replied. “Since then, any ceremonies have been more for the benefit of friends and family than for the mated pair. Zetithians mate for life, with or without the legal bonds of marriage.”

  She acknowledged this with a slow nod. “Weddings are quite a celebration in India, and my sister’s was no exception. The flowers alone were breathtaking.”

  “How long ago was that?” Aidan asked, pleased to discover that he could actually form words and thankful for a topic that wasn’t quite so emotionally charged.

  “It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college. She was so beautiful, and she and Dev were so much in love. I never expected to be a part of anything like that—not as the bride, anyway.”

  Giklor, of all people, rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. “I trust your wedding will be every bit as wonderful as your sister’s. And you will certainly be a beautiful bride.”

  To Aidan’s surprise, Sula laughed. “You guys are assuming quite a lot. The last time I checked, Aidan and I weren’t engaged.”

  “I trust that omission will soon be remedied,” Giklor said pleasantly. “It’s a pity I didn’t think to bond the two of you when I healed your leg. But then, hindsight is always blessed with greater acuity than foresight.”

  Aidan could’ve added a few choice comments regarding the fuzzy nature of foresight, but Giklor continued. “However, I don’t believe additional bonding was necessary. You each possess an aura that complements the other remarkably well.”

  “You mean you can actually see auras?” Sula asked.

  “Oh, but of course,” the Zerkan said with a hearty chortle. “I rather thought that was common knowledge. For the life of me, I cannot imagine why the ability to see auras would be such a rarity. It’s so useful.”

  Clearly fascinated, Sula leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table. “How so?”

  Giklor appeared to be more than willing to expound on the subject. “Auras change with a person’s mood, but everyone—at least, everyone I’ve ever observed, as well as every species I have encountered—has a unique resting aura. Mated pairs, as I have said, have complementary-colored auras that tend to reach out toward their partner and blend together when they are situated close to one another.”

  Aidan didn’t know many Zerkans, but Giklor’s uncanny ability to sense when someone needed healing suggested psychic abilities of some kind. However, if he’d ever heard about the ability to see auras, he’d forgotten about it.

  The little Zerkan aimed his huge teardrop-shaped eyes toward Aidan. “Without that ability, it’s no wonder so many beings have trouble finding a mate.”

  Curly let out a snort. “Sounds like you guys ought to include matchmaking along with the healing you do.”

  “That has been suggested,” said Giklor. “However, the practice is frowned upon. Too much interference in relationships tends to make them less stable.”

  “Meaning it’s better to find love on your own?” Aidan suggested.

  “Precisely. Aside from that, our advice, like our healing techniques, is often ignored or ridiculed.” Giklor nodded toward Val, who was seated to his left. “For example, I could tell you where to find love, but would you listen to me?”

  Aidan had never considered just how terrifying one of Val’s hawk-like frowns could be, especially when accompanied by a flap of his wings. “I have no interest in finding love.”

  Giklor merely shrugged. “Be that as it may, I could still point you in the right direction.” He offered Aidan a sympathetic smile. “Your reluctance to impart your knowledge of the future is quite understandable. For the most part, you would not be believed any more than we are. You see, most beings discount the notion of auras, simply because they cannot detect them. Because others cannot see the future, they refuse to acknowledge that the ability exists.”

  “Giklor, my friend,” Aidan drawled, “you just said a mouthful.”

  Chapter 27

  “For what it’s worth, I believe you,” Sula said. “If you hadn’t had that vision, I would’ve been condor food.”

  “Possibly,” Aidan acknowledged. “Although that was a Zetithian-style vision. In order to tell someone’s future, I have to be near or in physical contact with them. You and I had never met.”

  Giklor nodded. “A slight but highly relevant distinction. How remarkable to have the mystical powers of two separate species.” He punctuated this observation with wheezy laughter. “I have always suspected there was more to you than meets the eye.”

  Aidan leaned back in his chair and smiled. “More than just a big dumb blond, you mean?”

  Sula gaped at him in astonishment. Aidan’s twinkling green eyes led her to suspect him of joking, but she had always believed the adage that many a true word is spoken in jest.

  “Who says you’re a big dumb blond?” Abuti demanded. “I’d like to knock them senseless and suck their eyes out with my fingertips.”

  “What a horrible thing to say,” Sula exclaimed, although she wasn’t sure which was worse—the slur cast upon Aidan’s intelligence or Abuti’s gruesome retaliation.

  Abuti was the first to reply. “That’s a Norludian expression. No one actually does that.” She stuck a contemplative fingertip onto her chin. “At least I don’t think they do.”

  Aidan looked a bit sheepish. “No one has ever said that about me. Not within my hearing, anyway.”

  Sula felt like stomping her foot. “Then why did you say that?”

  “Oh, you know what people always say about blonds.” He shrugged. “I was only kidding. I didn’t mean it literally.”

  Sula peered at him, trying to decide whether he was being entirely truthful or covering up a slip of the tongue. In the end, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’ve met a lot of highly educated people during my years at the university. Very few are as sensible as you. I don’t know how much schooling you’ve had, but I would never call you a big dumb blond. Not even as a joke.”

  Her own vehemence shocked her a little. Was she defending herself? Had she said or done anything to make him feel stupid? She didn’t think so, but it was difficult to know how she came across to people. What would offend one person might seem like nothing to another.

  Aidan raised her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I’m glad to hear it, but there’s no need to get all bent out of shape.”

  “For the record, anyone who grew up aboard the Jolly Roger has had plenty of education,” Curly said firmly. “He may be big and blond, but he certainly isn’t dumb.”

  “Why, Curly,” Aidan drawled, “I never knew you noticed.”

  Curly rolled his eyes. “All I’m saying is that we were taught by the same teacher bot, and we both passed the exams. If you’re dumb, then so am I.”

  “Gotcha.” Aidan pushed himself away from the table and stood. “Who’s on cleanup duty tonight?”

  Qinta raised a hand. “That would be me.” She aimed a grin at Val. “And you.”

  “Simple tasks are a welcome change,” Val said. “They help clear the mind.”

  Sula could think of several things that would clear her mind, and most of them involved Aidan. Naked. Wiping tables and washing dishes had never been high on that list. Yawning, she said, “I don’t know about you, but my brain is pretty numb after staring at a computer all day. I think I’m ready to hit the sack.”

  Abuti cackled with all-too-astute perception and waggled her fingers. “Let us know how it goes tonight.”

  Shaking her head, Sula groaned. “No secrets around here, are there?”

  “Nope,” Abuti replied. “Not as long as we have Laurel to keep us informed.”

  That was a detail of life aboard a starship Sula had all but forgotten, although an
y computer-controlled environment would be the same. Her parents had always known what she was up to as a child. There was simply no escaping an observant computer—yet another aspect of life in the mountain wilderness that she missed. No assassins, no nosy computers… “I guess I’d better tell Laurel to keep her mouth shut about what happens in private.”

  “Oh, please don’t,” Abuti begged. “I’ve been deprived of Aidan. The least I can do is revel in the sexy details.”

  Sula’s jaw dropped. “Exactly how much does Laurel tell you?”

  “Not a lot, actually.” Abuti’s crestfallen expression proved the computer had exercised some degree of discretion. “She only tells me when you’re, um, busy. And only if I ask. She doesn’t give me regular reports.”

  Thank goodness for that. “How often do you ask?”

  “About every fifteen minutes or so after we first go to bed.” She frowned. “I think she’s starting to get annoyed with me, though. Either that or Aidan isn’t getting any.”

  Amusement bubbled up inside Sula and spilled over into irrepressible laughter. Still laughing, she rose from her chair, somehow controlling the impulse to run screaming from the room.

  Thankfully, Aidan took over from there. “Guess that proves you can’t believe everything a computer tells you.”

  Sula was about to second that when she was startled by a flap of Val’s wings. The intensity of his glare suggested he found this conversation repulsive, but he only said, “It couldn’t possibly be that simple.”

  With every eye in the room on him, he still took a few moments to reflect before elaborating. “I think I know why we haven’t been able to find anything to incriminate the university. It’s an encryption within an encryption. Anyone searching for records is directed to a perfectly legitimate site, which contains several layers of the same data. No matter how deep we dig, we keep looping back to the same place.”

  “Doesn’t sound simple to me,” Jetoc remarked. “Sounds more like a bunch of bull.”

  Val nodded. “That’s because it is a bunch of bull—everything we’ve been looking at so far, anyway. I believe I know a way around it.”