“Space is infinite, and there are more planets in the Alatheia System with complex life, but I’ll focus on those of the most importance to Rellaeria. Keep in mind, however, that there are more cultures and more civilizations across the universe than even I know of.” He drew a representation and began the lesson.
“First, we’ll start with Rellaeria’s closest neighbor and ally, Vasku; home of the Aeirnin.”
“What do they look like?”
Loken rolled his eyes. What was the human race’s obsession with the appearance of other races? “Similar to the Evoir, more or less. Overall, they tend to be tall, thin, and have sharp features. They’re a culture that prizes knowledge above all else.”
“Sounds like a place you’d like.”
“I do,” he confirmed with a small smirk. “I visited there often in my youth.” And read many things his parents would have disapproved of during his magic lessons.
Danika grinned. “So, what’s next? Tell me there’s at least one race that doesn’t look human.”
Loken paused, pretending to think to hide his discomfort with the topic. “There are several.”
Her eyes lit up, and she scribbled down his words. “Yeah?”
Was she truly so fascinated by the idea of monsters? What would she think if she knew what she sat across from now? “The goliath Kyants of Kholn, the scaled Nagai of Zenus, and the lethal Drakain of Draferia.”
“So, the Nagai are reptilian-like?”
He supposed that was an apt description, so he nodded. “Quite. They don't have a bipedal stance as many of the other races do. Rather, they have no legs at all.”
Danika’s eyes widened as she wrestled with that mental picture. “Like snakes? Wait. You don't know what a snake is, so, never mind. So, how tall do Kyants get?”
Loken’s lips twitched in amusement. Her excited curiosity was almost endearing, but that was to be expected. She had an infant’s understanding of the universe compared to him, and it was refreshing to meet someone interested in learning.
“Depends on the race,” he replied. “The Mountain Kyants are the biggest, but the tallest are the Ice Kyants.”
It like that information had spurred a dozen more questions, but when she spoke, she surprised him by asking, “What do the Drakain look like?”
Anger sparked in his chest, simmering silently. “Aren’t we getting a little off topic?” he snapped.
She blinked, looking caught off guard by his frigid tone. “This is the topic, right? Oh, are the Drakain not important to Rellaeria?”
He glared but otherwise regained control of his temper. “They are. Their home world isn’t close, but our races have a complex history. The Drakain are temperamental and destructive, incapable of moderating themselves.”
Danika looked skeptical. “That sounds really...racist, Lyall.”
Loken snorted. “It isn’t racist if it’s true. They’re nothing like the Evoir or the Aeirnin.”
“Why do they have to be like either to be of value?”
He gritted his teeth at her ignorance. How could she possibly understand? Humans were sheltered, so secluded. When was the last time their people had to stop an intergalactic war because of the greed of another race?
“You haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” Then, without a care that their assignment was incomplete, he teleported back to his room.
He was both irritated and relieved when she didn’t come knocking at his door to continue the disagreement, but that left him in a foul mood until it was time for dinner with Raaum. He considered canceling, but he had no way of contacting her. When a knock came at his door at seven that night, he reluctantly answered it.
It was strange to see her wearing what he recognized as casual clothes—jeans and a simple but flattering top.
“Ready to go?” Raaum asked, appraising him in turn.
He wasn’t, but after the speech she’d given him on his anti-social behavior, he didn't say so. “Won’t Callum be displeased that I’ve wandered off the compound?”
“Technically, you’re not a prisoner, but we both know that’s bullshit. So I cleared our little excursion with Callum beforehand.”
Loken barked a laugh, delighted by her honesty. A spy that spoke the truth.
“I got the impression he’s happy to have you go,” she said wryly. “Wanna tell me what that’s about?”
He hummed and ignored her attempts to pry. “So, where are we going?”
She didn’t press him for details as he thought she might. Instead, she gestured for him to follow and led them out of the compound. Though the guards all gave him scrutinizing looks, they didn’t question Raaum’s authority. Just how long had she been an agent, he wondered. And how high was her rank?
“I thought the closest town was too far to walk to,” he said when they didn't head towards a means of transportation.
“It is,” Raaum agreed, turning to face him when they were alone in the woods that surrounded the compound. “I figured you could take us there.”
Loken carefully feigned puzzlement.
“Agent Bowen knows what he saw,” Raaum said, undeterred. “You disappeared and reappeared elsewhere. Either you can move that fast or you can, for lack of a better word, teleport.”
He made a noncommittal sound. “Have you shared your suspicions with Agent Callum?”
“Short of having you confirm it, I'm pretty sure he knows.”
Loken supposed it didn’t matter if they knew, and admitting it now would earn him more of the trust he sought. “Where did you wish to go?”
“Is that how it works? I tell you the name of the place, and you can take us there? Both of us?”
“A visual would be preferred.” In fact, teleporting to an unknown location wasn't possible without coordinates or a picture, but he didn't admit that. Specifying limitations seemed foolish.
Raaum made a thoughtful sound. “Did you have your heart set on checking out the local town?”
He didn't. Truthfully, getting far away from the compound sounded alluring, but he didn't wish to vocalize that need—lest she report it to Callum. “You decide, Agent Raaum. Tonight, you're the guide.”
That seemed an acceptable reply because she typed something into her phone and then showed him a picture. He took them there in a heartbeat, disappointed when she didn't bat an eye.
“That's handy,” she said, composing herself as she fought off the side effects of teleportation.
Pleased at the low-key praise, he said, “You're merely envisioning all the time you'll save on travel if you and I work together regularly.”
“You caught me,” she said dryly and began to lead the way through the city streets.
After a few blocks, it became apparent that they'd teleported to neutral location rather than anywhere of significance to her. A cautious soul, Agent Raaum was; he appreciated that.
“Where are we?”
“Chicago.”
It smelled like New York, grime and gasoline, and seemed just as busy. Why did so many humans prefer to live in such places? The lack of greenery was unnerving.
Raaum nodded to a storefront as they approached. “This is one of the best places to get deep dish in the country.”
Deep dish. Though he hadn't a clue what that meant, he strolled inside with the nonchalant confidence of a man native to the area.
The atmosphere inside couldn't have been more different than her last restaurant choice. It was loud but welcoming, like that of a local tavern.
“Any preference for pizza toppings? Deep dish is like a pizza pie.”
Finally. A word he understood. Pizza had been Sora’s and Darby’s favorite food. “I'm partial to sausage.”
“Works for me.” She ordered their pizza, and as soon as they were alone, said, “Ian Nolan called me, looking for you.”
Loken wasn't certain how to feel, but he opted to appear amused. “Oh?”
“He can’t stand mysteries.”
There was a way to use t
hat information. Loken was sure of it; he just didn't know how yet. “I do hope I’m not causing him too much frustration,” he said with mock sympathy.
“He could stand to be frustrated more often.”
“You don't seem overly fond of Ian Nolan,” Loken noted. “So. Tell me, Agent Raaum, what interest does ALPHA have in such a man? Or is that....classified?”
“He's a genius,” Raaum said simply. “He might be an irritating manchild most days, but he's one of the best robotics engineers in the world. He's also one of the leading experts on AI—artificial intelligence—and donates generously to foundations dedicated to science and technology.”
All of which were things Loken would have to research later. “He implied that the two of you shared a history.”
Raaum snorted. “I was sent to investigate a project of his last year. Eventually, he found out I wasn’t who I said I was.”
He’d ousted a very seasoned spy? Loken found that hard to believe. How had he gotten his intel? “I take it he was offended?”
“Let’s just say he made it clear to ALPHA what he'd do if they tried to spy on him again.”
Loken contemplated that, interested by the implication that Nolan could do anything to ALPHA that might concern them. If her judgment was to be believed—and she’d already proven herself an excellent analyst—Nolan was brilliant and formidable.
A dangerous man to have sniffing around Loken’s secrets. He wasn’t certain what ALPHA would permit a non-member to know, but Loken had little interest in his origins being disclosed.
“Call him,” he said abruptly.
Raaum raised a brow.
“Allow me to help you end his harassment.”
She didn't look at all convinced that he was concerned for her, but she pulled up his contact (listed as Ego) and handed him the phone.
It would be better for Loken to approach Nolan on his own terms, to control what Nolan saw and knew, so he didn't hesitate. He clicked call.
“Ramona? Or are you using another alias today? It's getting so hard to keep up.”
“I can't say that's a name I've ever gone by,” Loken drawled into the phone.
“007? Is that you? Wait. Don't tell me. Agent Ramona is down, and I'm the only one who can talk you through how to defuse the bomb. Cut the red wire. It's definitely the red wire.”
Loken wondered if deafening silence properly conveyed his lack of amusement. “I’m told you've been looking for me.”
“Sure have, and let me start off by saying, who the heck doesn't have a cell phone these days? How am I supposed to work my investigative mojo if you're off the grid? Give me something. A phone number. An email. A PO box.”
At least Loken understood what two of those three things were. “No, thank you.”
“Me, you, and an expensive bottle of scotch. Interested?”
Did Nolan think alcohol could loosen his tongue? “I do believe Agent Raaum may take offense to you poaching her date.”
“Oh, no,” Raaum said, highly entertained. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Ah-ha! Mom gave you the okay. Tomorrow night, then?”
Loken glared at Raaum as he replied to Nolan, keeping his tone silken with false cordiality. “I have a prior engagement.”
Nolan gasped in mock-realization. “Are you playing hard to get? You do remember that you called me, right?”
“Agent Raaum says you’ve been persistent in your attempts to contact me.”
There was a pause. “Are you seriously calling me to issue a cease and desist? Wow. I misread this. How awkward.” His tone suggested he didn’t find it awkward at all. “You should threaten me in person. It'll be more effective.”
Loken had seen windows less transparent than Nolan. “You're not very good at manipulation, are you?”
“It’s one of my more endearing qualities.”
And Loken didn't find it endearing at all. “Apologies, Mr. Nolan. I prefer my dinner conversation to be a little more...stimulating.”
Across the table, Raaum rolled her eyes at the innuendo.
“I'm gonna pretend not to be thinking about Ramona stimulating you when we meet face to face next time. Or do you stimulate her?”
It was too bad humans had such pitiful hearing. Seeing Raaum kill Nolan for that comment would have been satisfying. “I'm flattered,” he said, sarcasm thick.
He ended the call, quickly took note of the number, and handed Raaum her phone.
“Accomplish anything?”
Loken contemplated his answer. “Yes.”
It gave him further insight into the man, and despite the pseudo-flirtations, Loken was certain Nolan wasn't interested in a carnal engagement with him. Well, not primarily. What he likely wanted was to satisfy his curiosity about a secret agent he knew nothing about. One who’d mentioned the existence of magic. It meant Loken had the upper hand in their interactions; he had knowledge Nolan wanted, and Loken had no problem taking advantage of that.
Raaum watched him with an unreadable expression.
“Yes?” he prompted her.
She shook her head and gestured past him. “Pizza is here.”
After eating (deep dish pizza was exceptional), they walked the streets of Chicago with Raaum acting as a guide.
“See that tall building there? That's the Sears Tower. It's called the Willis Tower now, but if you’ve lived here a while, you know it by both.”
He absorbed the information and followed her towards what she called Lake Michigan. The wind cut harshly across his cheeks, but he'd always had a higher tolerance for cold conditions. Raaum didn't seem very affected either. He listened to the waves crash against the pier as they followed the paved path. The sound reminded him of Rellaeria, and suddenly he was drowning in homesickness. It wasn’t fair that he should miss a place that didn’t want him, that would shun him. No doubt they all knew the truth now and were muttering amongst themselves. ‘No wonder he was always so odd,’ they’d say to each other.
Tearing himself away from his gloomy thoughts, he looked to Raaum, and a realization struck him. “You were raised here.” It wasn't a statement. She wasn't the only one good at reading others.
Just when he started to believe she wouldn’t answer, she said, “In the suburbs.” Then she pulled out her phone, scrolled, and showed him the screen. It was a picture of what he assumed was a room in her home. “I promised you dinner and chess, so if you could take us there—”
Enjoying his newfound freedom to show off, he teleported them there in the blink of an eye.
As he studied his surroundings—taking note of how neat everything was—Raaum removed her coat and hung it up in a closet by the front door. He couldn’t decide if it was so clean because she was a stickler for cleanliness or because she didn’t spend much time here. A glance into the refrigerator would give him better insight, but he didn’t dare snoop so blatantly. She wouldn’t take kindly to it.
She had paintings on the walls. For reasons he couldn’t put to words, he hadn’t expected that. One caught his eye, and he stepped closer to inspect it—a burst of color as a couple walked down a street.
“Freshness of Cold by Leonid Afremov,” Raaum said as she came to his side. “Not an original.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you a patron of the arts,” Loken mumbled, unable to tear his eyes away.
“My work for ALPHA doesn’t define me,” Raaum replied, her tone void of any telling emotions.
Loken wondered if that was a jab at him. Currently, beyond ALPHA, what did he have?
(Nothing. Exactly as you deserve.)
“Want anything to drink?”
He declined and took a seat in the living room while she retrieved her chess set. Unlike the one he’d seen online, these pieces were handcrafted pewter figurines, made with attention to detail. In order to perpetuate a charade of ignorance, he listened closely as she named the pieces, set up the board, and explained how they all moved.
She let him choose whether to go first or second
(of which he chose second, feigning hesitation), and they settled in for a night of chess. Raaum caught on in the first round that he’d researched techniques, and although he lost the first match, he nearly won the second—in his opinion. He won the third, but it was a far longer match than the previous two. As they played, they stumbled onto the subject of earthen literature, and though Raaum hadn’t read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, she had plenty of books to recommend, including works by Virginia Woolf and Charles Dickens.
Loken remained weary and slightly reserved throughout the night despite Raaum’s apparent ease, for though he did find her company favorable, he understood her loyalties would always be to ALPHA first.
And some part of him couldn't help but whisper that her attempts at forming a relationship with him was all a ploy for ALPHA—that even now she was spying for them.
When he finally returned to base, he was surprised to find a collection of green sticky notes on his apartment door.
“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin or his background or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love....”
Nelson Mandela is a controversial dude, but he was definitely one of my favorite leaders. Me and you are gonna study history tomorrow, so get some rest!
Danika ♥
Loken sneered, crumbled the paper, and went to bed.
Chapter 6
Loken considered his disguise in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom and into the hotel room, head held high.
“Ready?” Raaum asked without looking up, adjusting her pant leg to conceal the gun strapped to her leg.
Eloy adjusted his headset and grunted in the affirmative, seemingly unaware of Loken’s emergence.
Earlier that morning, Callum had called Loken into his office to tell him that Raaum and Eloy needed a third agent for a mission—and they'd specifically requested him. That alone had caught his interest, so he’d agreed and set out with them the same day.
“Locke?” Eloy looked up in surprise and whistled his appraisal. “Hot damn.”
Loken arched a brow and caught Raaum’s rolling eyes.
Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1) Page 11
