MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  It was best she didn't know who Wyatt was.

  The entire crew was involved in an elaborate dance around a well-known criminal, making her feel comfortable and protected, when under normal circumstances, she'd be a target for the BlackWing crews.

  A necessary evil, Mom would call it. A deal made with a devil, so she wouldn't ally herself with a bigger devil—willingly or not.

  I wondered about Adarr Gramm and Rale Linn. Had the Prophet taken them, yet? Wherever they were, I imagined they were surrounded by Sirenali bones. Before Cayetes was destroyed, he'd made more than enough money selling the bones of Sirenali he'd bred or cloned.

  Any criminal who could afford those bones now hid behind a macabre cloak of concealment, invisible to anyone powerful enough to find them otherwise.

  That meant that we were back to searching for them the old-fashioned way, which took time and manpower, and with so many worlds available for space travel, it was all the more difficult to capture any of the bigger, criminally-inclined fish.

  Cayetes had left a terrible legacy of crime in his wake, enabling them to hide themselves more successfully than ever. I imagined that V'ili, Cayetes' devoted Sirenali, had provided much of Cayetes' plans and ideas himself.

  Zaria had done all the worlds a huge favor when she'd killed both.

  "What are you thinking, bro?" Trent walked in to watch stars flash past the vid-screens on the bridge.

  "That Cayetes' and V'ili's deaths opened the way for the Prophet to assert himself."

  "You think Cayetes would have been able to destroy the Prophet if he'd operated during that time?"

  I turned to look at my brother for a moment. "I can't answer that," I confessed. "What we know is that the Prophet wasn't on anybody's radar until after Cayetes died."

  "But he was in business before Cayetes died," Trent pointed out. "Remember—some of the people ensnared by the Prophet were taken twenty-five to thirty-five years ago."

  "He was working in the shadows," I mused. "I wonder how he felt when Cayetes died?"

  "Did he even know of Cayetes?" Trent asked.

  "Everybody knew about Cayetes," I huffed. "He'd have to live under a rock not to recognize that name."

  "Or under a very heavy concealment shield," Trent responded.

  "True. But did he provide the shield, or did somebody else? There's still the possibility that this is tied to the God Wars."

  "I keep hearing that term. I hope it doesn't mean what I think it means."

  "Funny, bro."

  "I know I am, but what are you?"

  "The Captain," I groused. "Go do paperwork or whatever."

  Sabrina

  I wanted to catch Randl alone, so we could have a private conversation. I wanted to know why my Falchani had a white streak, while Dori escaped wherever they'd been completely intact.

  A small voice informed me that I hadn't been there and shouldn't be making these judgments, but a bigger part of me felt it wasn't fair, and that Dori received special treatment because she was more important to Randl than Travis or Trent.

  I ignored some of my duties to go looking for Randl, because I wouldn't be satisfied until we sorted things out. I wanted to yell at Randl in all honesty, while he cowered and apologized.

  He'd probably have that look on his face like he always did—the one that said he understood my thoughts on the matter, but they were dead wrong.

  I wasn't wrong about this, and Travis and Trent wore the physical signs of it and would for the rest of their lives.

  I hit the comm-locator beside the door into the galley, before asking it where Randl was on the ship. I was fuming and ready to give him an earful of my wrath.

  "Randl is in his quarters," the ship's comp replied.

  "Before you go marching off to his berth spitting venom, it's time we had a talk," a woman appeared beside me.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I demanded before taking a step back.

  She had wings. White wings, dusted with gold.

  Zaria.

  This was Zaria. A hand went to my chest, where the medallion she'd given me rested beneath my civilian ship's uniform.

  The medallion had saved my life. Saved me from the Prophet and his minions. I still had nightmares about my capture.

  "I, ah," I struggled to find words.

  "I see you know who the fuck I am," she replied. "Come with me. It's time you learned a few things."

  "What things are you," my speech was interrupted when she folded us into the galley. Cups of tea appeared before both of us, as if by magic.

  Well, this was Zaria the enigma. Maybe it was magic.

  "Power," she corrected me as her piercing blue eyes locked with mine. "Now, feel free to say to me what you planned to say to Randl."

  "But," I began.

  "Of course—there's always a but. What if I told you that Randl did what was necessary, to keep the four of them alive?"

  "Travis and Trent," I pushed my anger to the fore.

  "Have the least bit of evidence that they were where they were and did what they did. They had medallions to protect them. Dori didn't. I'm sorry that you think a white streak in Travis and Trent's hair is more important than Dori's life. I've always known you were a spoiled princess, but I hoped you'd grow out of it by now."

  "You don't have the right to talk to me like this," I snapped at her.

  "Want me to take back the medallion? Do you think you still deserve it?"

  "I," my hand went to the medallion again—involuntarily.

  "That's what I thought. You've been given many gifts, Sabrina Kend. Jealousy and entitlement do not become you."

  "How the fuck do you know anything about me?" It was a stupid question, and flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  "I know who you were in your previous life," Zaria shrugged. "You didn't make the best of decisions then, either."

  "Like what?"

  "Like committing treason, then killing yourself and murdering your child," Zaria said. "I know what your name was. I know all the names." She frowned at me. "Grow up, Sabrina Kend," she said. "Grow up before you lose those men who now sport a white streak in their hair."

  That statement left me speechless for several seconds. "Could that happen?" My voice sounded weak.

  "Yes. Consider your actions carefully from now on. You're an adult. Act like it. It's not all about you, you know."

  She disappeared before I could form an apology and beg her to let me keep Travis and Trent.

  I rose from my seat at the galley table and stalked toward the door. Even my own mother had never said those kinds of things to me.

  And then I stopped dead still. Perhaps my mother should have said those things to me. I was a spoiled princess—my father had seen to it, with his vast wealth. Except for one brief episode of my life, when we'd been kidnapped and I'd helped many people survive by employing what I'd learned and inherited from my father, my life had been nothing but privileged.

  That one brief episode is why you have a medallion, Zaria's mindspeech came to me. Make sure you continue to deserve it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BlackWing X, Campiaa Space Station

  Travis

  Kooper and Jett had brought Charla, and waited in a private area of the space station for us to disembark and join them.

  Randl looked grim as we waited for the ship to be cleared so we could leave it. I had no idea whether he was worried still about his father, or the impending meeting between mother and daughter.

  What Kooper planned to tell Jewl about the Prophet and the infection he was spreading was also an unknown. Kooper was keeping that information to himself, although I figured Randl knew what the Director intended.

  I didn't ask and Randl hadn't volunteered.

  What surprised me, however, was that Sabrina offered to bring me tea and a snack a few hours before we docked.

  She acted—normal. Nice, even. Sabrina looked me in the eye instead of staring at the white streak, asked me how I was feeli
ng and shocked the hell out of me by doing so.

  Usually, our conversations were about her—what she was doing, how she was feeling, what someone else said to her.

  She could be quite self-centered; I hadn't failed to notice that in the year we'd known one another. I considered asking her what precipitated the change, but like a much-needed rain, I was afraid to mention it lest it go away.

  Trent must have noticed it, too; he went so far as to stand behind her while we waited for the inspection crew, and wrapped his arms around her. I didn't miss the closing of her eyes in bliss, either, when he did that.

  "All clear," Nathan announced. My shoulders sagged in relief, while Jayna and Wyatt preceded Mak, Jak and Jewl toward the door.

  Private VIP Suite, Campiaa Space Station

  Kooper

  The Blevakians were even bigger than I'd imagined when they stalked into the suite ahead of Jewl Yarro.

  Charla, with two guards standing with her, jerked her head up when her mother entered the room.

  "Charla?" Jewl asked, moving past her Blevakian guards.

  "Mam?" Charla sounded lost.

  I didn't know why that was, until Jewl was in front of Charla. She slapped her daughter hard across the face. "That's for the necklace," Jewl hissed.

  Charla's guards stepped in front of Charla at that point—none of us had expected Jewl to strike her daughter.

  "Go ahead and hide behind that riff-raff," Jewl threatened. "This isn't finished between us, you know."

  "Ms. Yarro, we have an agreement," Randl appeared beside Jewl. "Strike your daughter again and I'll see that it's nullified."

  "You have no authority," Jewl's voice was haughty.

  "Try me," Randl snapped at her before disappearing.

  "Where the hell did he go?" Jewl demanded. "I had no idea he was a warlock."

  "He isn't," I approached Jewl, then. She recognized me right away. "Kooper Griff," she said, her contempt for me in every syllable of my name. "What, then, is he, if not a warlock? A wizard?"

  "No."

  "Hmmph. No matter. We have an agreement. You put us up, we leave after Conclave is over."

  At that moment, I considered letting Randl have his way with them when Conclave was over. "We also agreed for you to listen to what Jett and I have to say," I reminded her.

  "Over dinner. Later. Take us to our rooms. I'm tired and I want a bath in a real bath, not something available on such a small ship." She waved her hand imperiously.

  "Take them," I ordered her guards, indicating Jewl and Charla with a sweep of my hand. "If they need to be separated, see to it."

  "Yes, Director." I watched as Jewl and Charla marched out of the suite. The Blevakian guards hung back for a moment.

  "Give this to Randl," one of them handed David a note before he followed Charla out the door.

  I was now determined to learn what the note said, no matter what.

  "It's a comp-vid code," David handed the note to me when I requested it later.

  "What does that mean? That they want to chat?" I frowned at David.

  "Maybe. I don't know what Randl knows, so I can't say for sure."

  "Nobody knows what Randl knows," I lamented.

  "That's for damn sure," David agreed.

  Randl

  I knew Jewl was furious with her daughter over the necklace, but that was years ago, when Charla was barely into her teens and angry with her mother.

  Jewl hadn't made up her mind whether she'd cooperate with Jett and Kooper—I'd known that since we'd greeted her on Avendor.

  I'd hoped her decision would have solidified by now. Instead, she was more focused on her revenge against her daughter.

  As fucked up as that was.

  I'd folded space to the mountain retreat to check on Pap, only to find he was asleep in his suite after fretting about the images he'd seen for many hours.

  I settled in the man cave instead, with a bottle of beer at my elbow, to stare out the window and think. That's where David and Vik found me roughly two hours later.

  David dropped a scrap of paper on my lap. "Kooper's already seen it," he said. "He insisted."

  I placed my hand on the scrap, and everything it meant enveloped my mind. Mak and Jak wanted to get away from Jewl.

  They'd given me a personal comp-vid code, because they wanted to work for me.

  In one sense, it was laughable. In another, there was nothing funny about it. I tucked that information into a corner of my brain, in case it became useful later.

  "You have six hours before we have to show up at the Eclipse with Zanfield Staggs," Vik reminded me.

  "Come with us," I said.

  "But," he began.

  "No, I'm serious. Come with us. We could use another hand in this, and I'd prefer it be yours."

  "Fine. I'll have to clear it with Kooper," he shrugged.

  "Then do it and be ready to go with the rest of us."

  "Sabrina's coming as the snake charmer," Travis strode into the room. "Jayna and Susan—even though they know it's Bekzi—have uh, balked at the situation. Sabrina says she doesn't mind."

  "Then make sure she's dressed appropriately," I sighed. "Vik here can walk beside her, in case Bekzi needs more support. You don't mind, do you?" I asked Vik.

  "Not a bit," he grinned. Poison doesn't affect me, he added silently. He was High Demon, and I did know that about him. Not that Bekzi would bite any of us, but just in case.

  I nodded at his words—spoken and silent.

  Zanfield Staggs

  I surprised Founder San Gerxon by showing up in his weight and exercise room both days I was his guest.

  Did he think I stayed trim and fit by being slothful and decadent at all times? I was a credit to the ASD uniform I was now dressed in—in fact, I should probably pose for adverts on their comp-sites.

  I moved my hair nubs about, then checked the mirror to see whether I looked better with a part in the hair or without one.

  A part on the left side—yes. "Perfect," I said aloud and admired my image again. I looked more like a Director of the ASD than Kooper Griff did. There was no doubt I'd make quite a stir at the Eclipse when I and the others paraded through.

  "Your entourage is waiting in the back garden, Master Staggs," Wyatt San Gerxon announced. I'd left the door open—I knew someone would be coming for me.

  "Then I shall go."

  The Founder's son didn't know whether to be mortified or amused as I motioned for him to follow me to the trans-vator.

  Founder's Palace

  Travis

  Fuck me, Trent's mindspeech sounded in my head. He and I both stared as Zanfield Staggs, dressed in an ASD uniform identical to what Kooper would wear on formal occasions, stepped through the back door of Teeg's palace. Wyatt followed in his wake. If the outfit had a cape, I'm sure Zanfield would have made Wyatt carry it for him.

  Gonna be a long night, David sent to all of us.

  For now, Vik carried Bekzi's lion snake—Bekzi in that form was fourteen feet long and quite heavy. Sabrina stood with Vik, dressed in a slinky, leopard-print dress that hung to her ankles, with a long split up one side.

  Vik was shirtless, with Bekzi draped across his shoulders. The man had worked out for a long time—he had plenty of muscle to carry a lion snake around.

  Dori's ocelot stood beside Randl, who remained silent as Zanfield approached us. Randl was dressed in black leathers like a Falchani blademaster, and his blades were crossed over his back. I considered that he'd earned the leathers and the blades the hard way.

  Not far away, the Sandswept Casino Hotel was already welcoming Conclave guests. It was anyone's guess as to when the Prophet would strike—Jett still had his people searching for the infected ones on Charla's list, but once he'd arrested the first few, the rest had disappeared like rabbits down a hole.

  This had disaster written all over it, yet here we were, playing dress-up with an eccentric trillionaire.

  Will this be worth it? I sent to Randl.

&
nbsp; I think we need to follow the Prophet's people. These were hand-picked by him and stationed strategically, remember? Somehow, the logging industry is connected, although I have no idea how or why.

  You're right. I just can't say I like the method of our surveillance.

  I know. We won't have to baby-sit much, and can trade off whenever necessary.

  Is David really going to drive Zanfield's vehicle?

  He wanted to. The rest of us will be in a hover-van right behind the car.

  A year ago, I'd never have predicted anything like this.

  A year ago, we had no idea where we'd be at this moment.

  We've had word—two of our targets have already checked into the casino hotel, Kooper sent. No room numbers yet—I'll pass that information on when I have it.

  "It's even better in reality," Zanfield gushed as the Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up behind us and idled a foot off the ground. The motor Nenzi and his brothers installed was so quiet I almost couldn't hear it.

  The dark van designated for the rest of us pulled up behind the Rolls.

  "Showtime," Trent whispered beside me, before we began to move toward the vehicles waiting to take us to the Eclipse.

  P'loxett

  Varok

  "I thought he was going to wait and use these when we attacked certain worlds," Perill hissed at me as we walked along a narrow aisle in the catacombs.

  Once, this vast, underground space had been a bomb shelter, with large parts of it dedicated to storage of supplies, equipment and emergency food rations.

  It served as a different type of storage, now.

  "He changed his mind," I told my brother.

  Perill snorted his reply. Only in the past year had the Prophet changed his mind or failed in any endeavor. It had to do with an enemy that he hadn't named, yet. He'd attacked this enemy recently, and managed to kill his father and a former employer. Still, the Prophet had come no closer to the enemy himself.

  He now planned to use what was in the catacombs to strike Campiaa, though, and that's why Perill and I were going through them, making sure all was in place. Perill stopped to adjust the position of a weapon before nodding to me and moving on.