MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  Charla herself, looking emaciated, sat in a corner with two female guards flanking her. Above their heads, and fitted into the walls, were the poison gas pipes the Prophet had set to kill the inhabitants of this room if anyone attempted to rescue them.

  It was easy to see in these prisoners that they'd been trapped in the room for several days. Due to lack of water, some of them were near death. None of them were infected, however, and I considered that for a few seconds before transmitting images to Travis, Kooper and the others.

  What are we going to do? Trent's voice whispered in my mind. He understood that if we moved anyone inside the room, or set foot on the floor, the Prophet would know and he'd kill anyone inside the room with a poisonous blast of gas.

  I'm calculating the weight of everyone in the room, and their placement, I replied absently.

  What good will that do? Kooper demanded.

  I can send Dori out of here with these prisoners, I said. While maintaining their proper weight and placement on the floor.

  You should get yourself out of there, too, Travis said.

  I can't do that without alerting the Prophet, I replied. We need a more legitimate way to destroy the house. Any ideas? The Prophet doesn't need to know we've figured out this part of his scheme.

  If I can find the solar panel connections, I may be able to create a short in the system, Sabrina offered. It could cause a rush of power throughout the house, frying all the connections and starting a huge fire.

  Do it, Kooper said. Now. Randl, you said yourself that the Prophet is a perfectionist. Make damn sure you have that weight and placement down to the micron and milligram before sending those prisoners to the holding facility. I'll have physicians on standby when they get here.

  Sabrina, can you short out the system in such a way that it will lock all the exits and entrances? Vik asked.

  They're all locked now, Sabrina said. I can see they stay that way. It won't be a stretch, I don't think.

  Good. Better. Go, Kooper barked. What are you waiting for? I'm developing an ulcer, here.

  Hold on, I cautioned.

  What now? Kooper wanted to know.

  He's a perfectionist.

  And?

  He has their weight and placement down, but they're breathing. Drawing in air. That means their weight fluctuates by the tiniest of amounts. Bloody, fucking hells. Give me a minute. Sabrina, are you and Travis at the solar panels?

  Yes.

  Can you do everything up to the final point and hold off until I tell you?

  Yes.

  Good.

  Randl, what are you doing? Kooper asked.

  Resetting the spell, so it will fluctuate like living, breathing bodies, while maintaining DNA and every other fucking variable in this equation, I snapped. I'd apologize later, and doubly so if what I was doing had no effect on any part of this. I couldn't take a chance on this one, though; I felt it in my bones.

  Tell me when it's time to take them, Dori said, her voice calm.

  Founder's Palace

  Kooper

  "You're joking." Kell and Opal had arrived, and I'd allowed them to see what I'd gleaned from Charla Dare's fortress so far, including the most frightening thing of all—Randl calculating weights of bodies and air in and out of the lungs.

  "What if," Kell began.

  "Don't," I held up a hand. If anybody knew that breaths could be interrupted, Randl would. I had no idea how he was calculating this, or providing a spell to duplicate all of it, and my biggest concern was that the people in that room would die, and then the house would explode.

  The result was that the Prophet would know we'd discovered this part of his plan—as little as that was for the moment.

  I needed the people in that room to tell me what they knew—and I certainly needed Randl to tell me what those people weren't willing to tell me.

  Vrak Falken—the real one, this time—how did he figure in all this, while his double sat in a sealed cell in Queen Lissa's dungeon?

  At this point, I doubted that Randl or anyone else could tell me whether he'd gone to the Prophet willingly or had been taken by him.

  No matter; if all went according to plan, he'd be toast soon enough.

  "I really do think I'm getting an ulcer," I breathed.

  "Then stop it," Opal said.

  Charla's Fortress

  Travis

  Sabrina had already disabled the transformer outside the house, making it appear as if it had failed on its own—or as much like that as she could. A working transformer ensured that a surge of power into the house wouldn't occur. They seldom failed, however, unless they were neglected or damaged in some way.

  We were now inside the house again, where the power panel was affixed to an inside wall. She hasn't had this checked for several years—here's the last inspection tag, Sabrina pointed out the tag in question. She was right—the date was six years earlier. That gap between inspections will make this so much easier, Sabrina said, before pulling the outside panel open to examine the comp-like wiring and connections to every part of the house and grounds.

  It will only take the smallest of metal filings, she said, pulling a small laser cutting tool from her utility belt.

  I watched as she removed three long, metal slivers the width of fingernail parings off the back edge of the panel, near a hinge. Now, she went on, I only have to attach one end of each sliver to the inside of the metal panel door, she worked at connecting the tiny slivers to the door as she sent mindspeech to me.

  What then? I asked.

  I wait for Randl to say when. I slam the panel door shut and the ends of the slivers hit these corresponding connections. She pointed out the proper circuits. That will cause three simultaneous short-circuits that will burn out the entire panel. A non-functioning panel and a broken transformer will open everything up to a surge of power from outside, which will cause appliances and the lights connected to solar power inside the house to either spark or explode. That will start a fire in every room and we get the hells out of here. This is why it's Alliance law to check these things yearly, to make sure nothing like this happens. And, as I'm about to disable the emergency fire alarms and the sprinkler systems, the whole place will go up.

  I love you, I told Sabrina. Randl, how's it coming?

  Randl

  This has to be a gradual removal, I told Dori.

  Like filling a tank, only in reverse? She asked.

  Yes. Very much like that. Almost ready, I replied to Travis' question.

  Wyatt? Travis called out.

  Here, Wyatt replied.

  Evacuate non-essential personnel, Travis commanded.

  Moving in, Wyatt said.

  Ready? I turned to Dori.

  Ready. She leaned in to give me a quick peck on the lips. I nodded. Whatever happened, I'd make sure she got out of this alive.

  I began trading actual weight for virtual, spell-driven weight. It would take a few seconds to accomplish, and those seconds were slow in passing.

  Vik

  Wyatt had a big task, collecting all the people from the house that didn't need to be there. David and I were last on his list, as Wyatt started on the upper floors first. David had already sent our location, so we were forced to wait where we were.

  Someone's coming, David's voice hissed into my mind.

  It took a few seconds to realize that a guard was heading for the restroom across the hall from our hiding place.

  All this time, and he has to take a piss now? David grumbled.

  Stop breathing, I commanded. If I ended up skipping us out instead of waiting for Wyatt, then explanations to the Director would be in order, and I wasn't prepared to explain my true nature or my continued existence. For now, only Randl knew the full truth. David knew part of it. Kooper had no idea and I wanted to keep it that way.

  What the hell is he doing in there? David pulled me away from my thoughts. He's jerking off, isn't he?

  Please stop. I can't laugh, remember?

>   Now! Randl's sending hit both of us at the same time, and an explosion sounded at the other end of the massive structure.

  Wyatt practically sucked us into his mist as rooms began to catch fire all around us.

  Randl

  I didn't leave immediately—I wanted to make sure Dori and her charges arrived at the holding facility safely, and that the poison gas wasn't released as an indication that the Prophet was aware of our infiltration and rescue effort.

  In the adjoining suite, I heard Charla's replacement scream and Vrak's shout as their stolen boudoir caught fire.

  Pulling Charla's dog into my arms with power, and then adding the photograph I'd seen on her bedside table to one of my pockets, I watched the gas pipes for barely one moment more before flinging myself away from the inferno that engulfed Charla Dare's home.

  Holding Facility, Campiaa

  Kooper

  Nearly half of those Dori delivered to the holding facility needed to be in a hospital. I had them sent to Le-Ath Veronis, so their names wouldn't appear on any lists in Campiaa. The Prophet could be checking, and I was determined to follow Randl's example and work to outthink that devil.

  The rest, Charla included, were being treated by medics inside the holding facility, where they were being given water, fluids and nourishment.

  There was no sense trying to talk to any of them now; I waited for Randl to come and tell me what he saw in them.

  "I'm here," he said, appearing beside me in an office, where I watched the proceedings through a vid-screen. Randl looked and sounded more tired than I was, and that was admitting a lot.

  "You smell like smoke," I pointed out.

  "You would, too, if the room next to you was on fire," he said. "I waited to make sure the gas wasn't released."

  "Good. Did anybody get out of the house?"

  "No."

  "While that's a terrible way to die, it was the only way in this situation," I shook my head.

  "I know."

  "How long will it take Charla to come around?" I asked, changing the subject.

  "She isn't just Charla Dare," Randl said, setting a photograph on the desk in front of me.

  "What's this?" I asked, lifting the frame to study the two images depicted.

  "Charla and her mother—Jewl Yarro," Randl replied.

  "Get Jett for me." I was up and at the door talking to a guard faster than most people could see my movement.

  "Right away, Director."

  "This—how could anybody see this?" I slapped the photograph on the desk, cracking the glass in the antique frame.

  Without a word, Randl reached out and pulled a finger down the crack, repairing my mistake.

  "You may need that, Director," Randl observed.

  "Yeah. I guess I will."

  Mountain Retreat

  Travis

  "What's this?" I stopped halfway into the kitchen, where Susan was ruffling the fur of a small, white dog while he voraciously drank milk from a bowl.

  "This is Barkins, according to Randl. He hasn't eaten in days, poor fellow."

  "He got Charla's dog out?" I blinked at Susan, who was on her knees beside the dog, soothing him as he finished the milk and licked the bowl clean.

  "I believe so," Susan replied. "I didn't want to make him sick, so I'm only giving him milk and water first."

  "What are we going to do with a dog?" I asked.

  "Give him back to Charla," Randl appeared in the kitchen and headed for the cold-keeper. "At a price," he added and opened the cold-keeper door.

  "You want to make a trade? But you can get all her information already," I pointed out.

  "That's not what we'll aim for," Randl pulled the makings of a sandwich out and set them on a nearby counter. "What we need is a deal with Charla's mother."

  "What good will that do?" Susan stood and blinked at Randl.

  "It'll get us a meeting with Jewl Yarro, Charla's mother," Randl shrugged. "We'll see how willing she'll be to help us get to Charla's would-be killers."

  "I admit, I never saw that coming," I blew out a breath. "Jewl Yarro and Charla Dare. Wow."

  "Is there enough for me?" Dori walked into the kitchen.

  "I'll make a sandwich for you," Randl said. "Sit down, sweetheart. You look tired."

  Wow, indeed, Susan's voice filled my head. Is he allowed to call her that?

  "You fixing?" Vik walked in with David right behind him.

  "Have a seat," Randl's grin was tired but genuine as he gestured toward empty seats at the island. "We need sustenance, dammit."

  Holding Facility

  Opal

  Kell and I watched the news-vids buzzing through both Alliances. Normally this would attract the most attention in the Campiaan Alliance, but as Campiaa was the location of the upcoming Conclave, all the news outlets in the Reth and Campiaan Alliances had images of Charla's house burning down. They also reported the early information gleaned from the local inspection crews—that Charla's transformer and solar power panel hadn't been checked in six years or more, because Charla refused to allow anyone inside the house.

  Kooper was sleeping at Teeg's palace, but only after Kell threatened to place compulsion if he didn't go to bed.

  For now, those rescued from Charla's home were barely coherent and still receiving medical care.

  While we watched the news-vids and the speculation floating throughout all of them, I toyed with the comp-vid Dori had taken from Charla's fortress. I didn't have the code to open it and didn't want to pass it to the team who handled those things.

  If anyone would know the code, Randl would.

  If it were Charla's device, he'd see it. If the device belonged to one of the Prophet's people who'd died in the fire, the code could elude us, still.

  Kell and I really wanted to know what was on the comp-vid. Kooper would too, when he woke.

  The news that Charla was Jewl Yarro's daughter put Jett into a frenzy, and he had some of his most trusted agents working on that connection, now.

  I wondered if the Prophet knew of the connection, but if he had half the smarts Randl did, he'd have known about the photograph in Charla's suite, too.

  "What will we do if the Prophet has already infiltrated the Big Three?" Kell asked, echoing my thoughts. "We won't know, really, unless we convince Charla to contact her mother."

  "The news outlets are reporting Charla's death," I pointed out. "How will that initial contact go, when Jewl thinks her daughter died in that fire? The images of charred remains being hauled out of the rubble is already spreading everywhere."

  "At least the Prophet's game is working against him in this case," Kell sighed. "The replacement clones will match DNA and the other markers of Charla and her bunch. It won't help us any at all when we approach Jewl. Not unless her daughter is willing to convince her in some way."

  "Kooper may need to leak false information about the possibility of other remains found, or the Prophet may notice," I said.

  "I agree. Let's put a plan together for him, so he'll have a course of action when he wakes."

  "How will we explain the one set of DNA that wasn't supposed to be there?"

  "Which one?" Kell wasn't thinking along the same path—yet.

  "Vrak Falken—the real one, according to Randl. He was in bed with Charla's clone. I wonder how Jewl will receive that news, along with that of her daughter's supposed death?"

  "No idea. Let's hope she listens to her daughter, though. Kooper should convince Charla to speak with Jewl the moment she's able."

  Randl

  Dori, in ocelot form, was sleeping beside me on my bed when I woke. "Baby, are you warm enough?" I raised up and leaned on an elbow before touching her head and stroking around her ears. She wasn't covered by the blanket, but I was.

  She lifted her head and blinked at me with wide, gold-and-brown eyes. Then she sneezed on me.

  I dropped onto my back and laughed out loud. Dori's cold nose nuzzled my cheek before she slipped off the bed and padded out of my
suite, tail tip low and curling suggestively. See you in the kitchen, she sent. I'm hungry.

  I was learning that a shapeshifter's metabolism was higher than that of a human. I liked women with healthy appetites.

  Especially one woman with a healthy appetite. Right behind you, I sent to her. Don't eat it all.

  Then hurry, she said.

  I did.

  "How's Barkins?" I asked the dog, who turned his head at a quizzical angle as he looked up at me.

  "Begging for food," Dori said. "Want eggs and bacon? You fixed last night; I'll get this one."

  "Yes," I said. "Scramble an egg for Barkins, too, all right?"

  "Already on it," she replied. "He was tapdancing on the tile until I told him I'd fix him an egg. I think he recognizes that word."

  "A criminal who loves her dog can't be all bad, can she?" Susan walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Flyer. Both appeared happy enough to me. Flyer was shirtless and showing off his full set of Falchani tattoos. Hawks covered all of his upper torso and flew in spirals down both arms.

  "It's a point in her favor," I agreed. "We'll see how willing she is to cooperate with us, since she's officially dead to everyone else."

  "Tea?" Flyer grinned at Susan.

  "Not that stuff you call tea," she swatted at an arm. "I want proper tea."

  "Proper tea on the way," he teased and busied himself at the counter where the brewer sat.

  "You remember Chief Markus, from Jaledis?" Travis, Trent and Sabrina walked into the kitchen. Travis asked the verbal question before nodding to Flyer's unspoken one—of whether they wanted tea or not.

  "Yes," I said. I had a feeling where this was going, but waited for Travis to explain.

  "He's on the way. Kooper's pulling in agents and supervisors he can trust to help with this. There'll be a meeting this afternoon to bring them up to speed."

  "Good. We're going to need them," I said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sandswept Casino

  Vendor Ballroom

  Randl