by Meg Xuemei X
“I know, I know,” Dr. Wren sighed. “It’s burning him like fire. I wish I could do more for the poor boy.” Then his eyes darkened and his fists clenched. “I heard about that scumbag Schmidt. When Kian gets him, I’ll personally administer a lethal injection into him.”
“He’ll get worse than that, doctor.” Kian stalked in, nodding to Lucienne’s guards at the door before turning to her, and asked, “How’re you feeling?”
How am I feeling? Lucienne’s eyes burned in anger.
She didn’t have the energy to fight him on the way back to Sphinxes, but now was the time for him to answer some questions. “Kian,” she said, barely containing her temper, “a word please.”
“Now isn’t the time,” he said. “Admiral Enberg and General Fairchild have summoned a meeting.”
Kian could have sent one of his aides to get her, or just paged her. He didn’t need to come get her in person. So despite that he said it wasn’t time for them to talk, he knew she needed to get a couple of things off her chest.
“Should I be thankful that I’m still included?” she asked.
“You’re the heart and soul of Sphinxes,” Kian said. “You can remove anyone, including me, from any position with a wiggle of a pinkie.”
“Why don’t I feel that way?” Lucienne said.
The sound of stilettos clicking on the floor grew louder.
Ziyi peeked in, carrying a load of books. She darted a look at Kian, then at Lucienne. “Should I come back?” she asked in a blush. “I’m off-duty. I was hoping to read to Ash.”
“Good idea.” Lucienne waved her in. “Reading calms the nerves.”
Ziyi jumped into the room, put the books on the bedside table, and went to hug Lucienne. “Glad you’re back, Lucia!”
Lucienne glimpsed the titles as she broke the girl’s tight embrace. “You’re reading him a vampire romance book?”
“Not good?” Ziyi asked. “Well, I’ll read him The Martian Chronicles then. A classic can never go wrong.”
“That sounds good,” Lucienne encouraged.
“Let’s get going,” Kian urged her. “We can talk on the way to my office.”
With a sigh, Lucienne followed him out of the patient room despite her sizzling anger.
Ziyi started reading, then paused. “You don’t think Ash will be bored by this, Dr. Wren?”
Dr. Wren politely ignored her as he chased after Lucienne. He cleared his throat and called behind her, “Lucia, the chocolate mousse cake—”
“I’ll bake it,” Lucienne called back over her shoulder.
“No, no, not you!” he said in a panic. “You promised Aida would make it.”
The guards following Lucienne and Kian suppressed their chuckles.
As Lucienne stepped into the elevator after Kian, he told her guards, “I’ll take it from here,” and pressed a button. The elevator closed in the guards’ faces. He pushed a second button and locked the elevator. “What is it?” he asked.
“You knew.” Lucienne exploded. “You knew right from the beginning that Vladimir was on a covert operation. If he had betrayed me, you’d hunt him down to the corner of the earth yourself. But you only sent out a few scouts. And Duncan is his friend. You knew Duncan would bring back the information you needed from Vlad.”
“I’ve always had this foreboding feeling that something could hurt you. I talked to Blazek. I asked him, when it was needed, would he be willing to risk everything for you—even leaving you—to keep you safe. He said he would give his every breath for you. I believed him. I’d been watching him since the day he approached you at Desert Cymbidium. When he took off from the battlefield, I realized the situation had presented itself.”
“That was why you let him go,” Lucienne said coldly.
“I trust that his feelings for you will overcome every obstacle,” Kian said. “I trust that he’ll do everything in his power to keep you safe. I bet on his absolute loyalty to you. He hasn’t disappointed us.”
“And you knew the Brazil raid was necessary, but you kept me out of the loop.”
“You’d only put a stop on our plans. You’d never risk him.”
“But you risked him! You treat him like a disposable tool.”
“I treat him like a true warrior.”
“You cost me him. Kian McQuillen, you cost me him.”
“I’d lose anyone, including myself, to protect you!”
“I’m not the only one who matters.”
“You are, Lucienne Lam. You’re our Siren. We’re all willing to sacrifice for you.”
“That’s not what I want,” Lucienne said. “I don’t want anyone to sacrifice for me. Do you know how bad I feel about the men falling around me? Do you understand how sorry I am about Marloes and Orlando and—” The weight of the guilt crushed her.
She wouldn’t show her hurt in front of others. She’d been doing well hiding it. But this was Kian. She never needed to guard herself or pretend to be strong in front of her ultimate protector.
Lucienne doubled over with a hand on the floor of the elevator and wept.
Kian pulled her into his arms, supporting her. “That’s the burden the Siren carries,” he said, “especially you. You’ve been at the center of the war ever since you were born. You represent the shift of the world. But most people don’t like change.”
It was more than that. She swallowed.
Kian didn’t know about her conversation with Seraphen. The creature called her a catalyst that would cause the apocalypse. Even Ashburn believed she would endanger the world, though he couldn’t end her.
“I’m here to bear the burden with you,” Kian said.
His strength anchored her. For a moment, Lucienne wondered who could comfort him. He had lost as much as she. Her Siren’s curse was his, too. He had carried her and all that she carried, ever since she’d been a squirming infant in his arms, busy biting him.
Tremendous gratitude and profound love for him washed over her, lightening her grief and brokenness.
Jed and all the Sirens before him had to wear their sorrows alone, but she had Kian. She had Vladimir, Ashburn, Ziyi, Aida, her people.
“Vladimir is not lost,” Kian said. “He’s one tough son of a … son of a gun. He’ll come back to you.”
“You can’t know that.”
“He’s not alone,” Kian said. “He never will be.” He fished a silk handkerchief from his shirt pocket and handed it to her, as if he had always prepared for her to cry on his shoulder.
Lucienne blew her nose.
“You need to let go of the guilt, kid,” he added. “It’ll eat you up; keep you from moving forward. You can’t let that happen.”
Yes, she had responsibilities for the living and the dead. She must stuff all the grief and guilt in a big wooden box until one day when she had the luxury to open it.
But when that day came, would she be able to stand it?
“We’re warriors,” Kian continued. “We fall, and many of us die young. It’s the nature of things. The men died honorably. They’re remembered in our hearts.”
“Death is still death,” Lucienne said.
“They would have died in vain if you—fall,” Kian said, his voice turning stern. “So stop taking every chance you get to run straight to the cliff. Think before you act. You had no business going into a war zone.”
“I needed to find a cure for Ash. I can’t let him burn out,” she protested. “You can’t just expect to lock me up in Sphinxes’ tower.”
“If I have to, I’ll chain you to the tower to stop you from risking yourself.” His voice choked. “When Finley’s call came through, I thought I was going to lose you this time. You had a whole army regiment on top of you. What are we going to do if we lose you? And now there’s this weapon targeting you.”
Lucienne saw raw fear sink deep into his eyes, and Kian wasn’t one to let terror get to him—he was terror himself.
“It won’t get to me while I have you,” she said softly, but she was lyin
g.
She’d been having this feeling that sooner or later Nexus Tear would strike her, and no one, not even Kian, Vladimir, or Ashburn, could protect her from it.
“We’ll destroy the Sealers and Nexus Tear at all cost,” he said, steel in his sapphire eyes, before pressing a button to unlock the elevator and allow it to descend. “Come. The gentlemen are waiting.”
“Marloes was Jekaterina’s secret bodyguard,” Lucienne said quietly.
“Jekaterina?”
“The true name of the Russian woman who gave me birth,” she said. “Marloes guarded me until Jed took me to the Red Mansion.”
“Tell me everything,” Kian said, “after the meeting.”
When Lucienne followed Kian into the underground conference room, Admiral Enberg, General Fairchild, Intelligence Director Pyon, and other high-ranking officers, all wearing gray and blue Sphinxes’ uniforms, were waiting.
The room smelled of strong espresso, Cuban cigars, and cologne.
General Fairchild, tall and dark-skinned, came aboard right after the Chechen war. He was a former major general of the United States Air Force.
Director Pyon, his dark brown hair spangled with gray, was a retired lieutenant colonel from the First Chief Directorate of Russia. He had been collaborating with Kian for years. Before arriving at Sphinxes, he brought Lucienne news—her father, Jimmy Lam, had joined the Sealers.
Lucienne hadn’t thought it would have had an impact. She had no recollections of her parents, but when she received the news, it hurt like a hammer slamming into her chest, knowing her father was more than eager to terminate her.
Nevertheless, Lucienne had appeared impassive when Pyon delivered the information. She didn’t even blink an eye. Never show your weakness.
She nodded an acknowledgment as the gentlemen greeted her. She wondered if they could detect her exhaustion by the bluish circles under the hollows of her eyes. She put a little makeup on to look her best. Did her tears smudge the powder on her face?
“… Many nations are aware of the rising of Sphinxes,” said Director Pyon. “They don’t like the idea of our growing too powerful. Even our major allies—the UK, Canada, Spain, Italy, and the USA—are less than thrilled with our advance.”
“Like it or not,” General Fairchild said, snuffing out his cigar in a sterling silver ashtray, “they’ll have to deal with that.”
“The intelligence communities are especially unhappy that we have exclusive rights to ancient technology,” Director Pyon said, and Lucienne shot him a sharp look. The Eye of Time was Sphinxes’ top classified information. “The National Security Agency, our partner, has been trying to breach our network.”
“Haven’t we upgraded the anti-satellite devices to keep out unwanted eavesdrops?” Lucienne asked. “And we have Ziyi Wen’s team to guard the gate.”
“The whole island is rigged with anti-surveillance devices,” one of Kian’s senior aides answered. “Sphinxes’ underground facilities are even more fortified. Officers only discuss the most sensitive matters in the castle’s most secure conference room—this room.”
“We need to be careful with NSA,” Kian warned.
Lucienne nodded in appreciation. Her men were from different nationalities, but she didn’t want to cut ties with her homeland.
“They can suspect all they want, but they don’t have any evidence on the artifacts we’ve acquired,” she said. How did they know?
As if knowing what was on Lucienne’s mind, Director Pyon said, “The Sealers clued in the NSA that we possess advanced technology that isn’t from our time.”
“Ziyi intercepted intel from the NSA after a tip-off from one of our infiltrated agents,” Kian explained. “The Sealers showed the NSA and its allies the records of a dark matter outbreak in Sphinxes a few months ago.”
Lucienne’s eyes darkened.
The signal must have reached the world when her team tested the Eye of Time. They couldn’t jam the frequency when the Eye burned all of their devices. Luckily her competitors hadn’t detected the dark matter outburst in Nirvana. Vladimir and Ziyi had succeeded in blocking the transmission.
“The US Air Force and the NSA have forged a partnership with the Sealers Brotherhood in secret,” Director Pyon said.
Lucienne drew a cold breath. “The Americans have turned on us?”
“We do not fear them,” General Fairchild said. “Our army is ready. Our air force and navy are equipped with the best hardware. They’ll think twice if they come knocking on our door.” Fairchild removed a long, fat Cohiba Esplendido from his cigar box, but then glanced at Lucienne and put it back. “To better prepare for the war, I advise we form a new nation, an elite nation like no other—a nation with our own regime.”
Every officer in the room nodded in agreement and all talked at once with great enthusiasm. They wanted a new nation with Lucienne as their Siren Queen.
This is the true theme of the meeting, she realized. The gentlemen would discuss a full-scale war after they had her word that she would declare Sphinxes an independent nation.
She now knew the Sealers Brotherhood was the shadow government behind many political powers. If Sphinxes became a monarchy, the war between the Siren’s forces and the Sealers’ would be one nation against many. Had these gentlemen thought of that?
Lucienne maintained an unreadable expression as she listened on.
Her warriors had been talking about having their own country under her rule ever since they settled in Sphinxes two years ago.
Ziyi knew every rumor in town. She had brought it up during one of their breakfasts after consulting Lucienne on dating five guys simultaneously.
“The men crave to be one proud nation with you as our queen,” the girl said.
“We’re not going to be a country,” Lucienne said. “It’s too much trouble for what we’ll get in return.” In running a nation, she would be completely trapped by politics.
“It won’t be too much trouble,” Ziyi said keenly. “I’ll help you. All I ask is—”
Lucienne arched an eyebrow.
“Will you make me a duchess?” Ziyi blurted, then blushed.
Lucienne laughed. “I’ll not be queen, but you can be Duchess Wen at any time.”
She wasn’t pursuing worldly power. The power she was after did not come from this world, but would change this world forever. Remake history. That was the Siren’s true calling imprinted in her blood, passing from her ancestors through the collective memories stored in the Siren’s mark.
A spark starts a prairie fire. She pulled her thoughts back and focused on the room. “Destroying the Sealers is our priority, gentlemen,” she said, interrupting the passionate symposium.
Kian nodded. “Let’s focus on the war for now.”
After a moment of silence, Admiral Enberg started briefing Lucienne and the officers on their moves. “It’s confirmed the Sealers’ headquarters is in a submarine in international waters. The fleet is commanded by my old friend Admiral Chester Frankfurter.”
Lucienne knew Frankfurter was Enberg’s nemesis. That would give Admiral Enberg motivation to win this war.
The meeting dragged on as officers mapped out the details on identifying, tracking, and sinking the enemy’s fleet. Lucienne’s mind drifted to Ashburn. She needed to go check on him. She had to persuade him to let the Eye of Time help him break his fever. If he refused, would she set it on him? He would hate her forever for that.
Lucienne pressed her fingers against her temples and rose. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.”
"Fear is only as deep as the mind allows.” Lucienne stood outside the patient room, listening to Ziyi reading. It seemed Ziyi had abandoned The Martian Chronicles and picked up The Return of the Angels.
Lucienne shut her eyes for a second and cited the rest of the words in her head in sync with Ziyi’s narrating, “I’ll take ownership of fear.”
She hoped the inspiring words could reach Ashburn.
His eyes were
still closed, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. The lamplight on the desk brought out a strand of pale gold in his silver hair that pooled around the pillow.
An aching tenderness welled inside Lucienne. He seemed so trusting and serene, no longer troubled by his burning fever or the predators that filled the earth. Then panic choked Lucienne. Was he still breathing?
She sprang to Ashburn’s side.
“Lucia?” Ziyi asked, jolting to a start.
Lucienne’s trembling hand moved over Ashburn’s nose to feel his breath.
A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Ashburn snapped open his eyes, gazing up at her.
Panic melted. Air returned to her lungs, and she noticed his hand wasn’t as burning hot as it had been before. She placed her other hand on his forehead to test his temperature. His fever had broken.
Lucienne smiled, her eyes moistening.
Ashburn pulled Lucienne’s hand toward his lips. “Don’t go.”
The magnetic pull between them was a long-forgotten song quavering in the air. Lucienne’s heart soared at its joyful notes and promise, then plummeted as realization wrenched inside her.
How could she pledge to two men at once?
“Ash—” she started.
“Miss Lam,” a guard moved into the room, “Mr. Claude Lam has arrived.”
Lucienne moved her gaze from Ashburn to the guard.
Claude Lam—her cousin and one of the former twelve Siren candidates—had returned. For the moment, she was thankful that she could use the excuse of family matters to flee from her troubled heart.
“Take my cousin to the reception hall,” she ordered the guard. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She then turned back to Ashburn. “I hope you enjoy Ziyi’s story. She’s been reading to you for two hours.”
“You have the voice of an angel,” Ashburn turned to Ziyi with an appreciative smile, “and so I thought I heard an angel telling me not to fear.”
“I had voice lessons in elementary school,” Ziyi said happily. “Guess they paid off.”
