Mystic Flame

by Cyndi Friberg

  His eyebrows shot up and he looked from Dro Tar to Grat and back. “What are you simulating?”

  “Vampire adventures.” Trey had never been one to jump in blindly, so she rattled off a quick explanation. “We’re creating entertainment simulations. Clients will be able to hunt vampires or be a vampire or be seduced by a vampire. We need your voice for the latter. So think of Krysta and give us a damn voice clip.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Annoyance deepened his tone. She quickly called up the first few lines of the simulation and pointed to the vidscreen inset in the control panel. Trey rolled his eyes but recited the lines. “Did you honestly think you could elude me so easily?” He paused. “Your scent is intoxicating. Your skin is like silk. I hunger for the sweetness of your nectar. I must know your taste.” He burst out laughing and stepped away from the controls. “You have got to be kidding. No one will make it through that rubbish with a straight face.”

  “It’s a bit melodramatic, but you have to be surrounded by the simulation and in the arms of the vampire before it makes sense.”

  “Whatever you say.” He crossed his arms over his brawny chest, amusement glistening in his amber eyes. His hair, an unusual mixture of vivid colors, always made Dro Tar think of autumn leaves.

  “Was there some reason you came looking for me?” she asked.

  He glanced at Grat. “I need to borrow her for a bit.”

  “We’re pretty busy,” Dro Tar said before Grat could speak. “Is this important?” Trey wouldn’t be here if it weren’t, but Grat needed to think she’d at least attempted to resist.

  “It’s very important and as usual you’re uniquely qualified for the—adventure.” His lips quirked but he didn’t quite smile.

  She followed Trey across the lab, pausing in the doorway. “Grat, he might be right. Let’s reconsider the dialogue.” He offered a distracted wave then returned to the controls.

  Trey took her to a nondescript shuttle parked in the small lot behind the building. She looked at the shabby edifice with parental pride. It wasn’t much, but it was hers and she could see the potential, even if no one else could.

  “I know you’re retired,” Trey began.

  “Semiretired. I’m always available for your adventures.” She had served on three of Trey’s ships during her cycles in the armed forces. He was the only commander her rebellious nature could tolerate, so his promotion to director of Covert Operations had prompted her resignation. If she was required to wear a uniform, all bets were off.

  Trey activated the hatch and motioned her inside the shuttle. Tal dar Aune awaited them inside. Regal and composed, Tal’s sculpted features revealed nothing while his smoke-colored eyes saw everything. His sleek black hair had been swept away from his face and formed a neat coil down the center of his back. Dro Tar wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. Tal could strike faster than a cobra.

  “Two Aunes for the price of one. Have I been very good or very naughty?” Trey closed the hatch and crossed to the expansive control console. This shuttle might look simple from the outside, but it had all sorts of bells and whistles. “What’s going on?”

  “I need your help.” Tal’s tone was even graver than usual. He sat in one of the passenger seats facing the aft cabin. “I’ve done everything in my power to assure the transition of leadership within the Conservatory progresses smoothly, but a major setback has occurred.”

  A pang of sorrow disrupted the rhythm of Dro Tar’s heart. She hadn’t known Vee well, but his death had affected so many of the people she cared about. “Vee named you as his successor and transferred his wisdom and experience to you. How could any of the Mystics object to your…promotion?”

  “The ripples of discontent began before Vee’s death. His passing has simply made the rebels bold.”

  Sounded like a Mystic problem to her. So why was one of the most powerful men on Ontariese asking her for help? “What do you need from me? I’m not even a Mystic.” Way to accent the obvious. She clasped her hands behind her back and did her best to emulate his calm.

  “The fact you are not a Mystic is part of the reason you were chosen.” Tal scooted to the edge of the seat, his gaze boring into hers. “Vee kept a journal detailing the development of the Conservatory from its inception. Every challenge, every success, many training strategies he only shared with an elite few, all this and more is recorded in his journal.”

  “You’re talking about a physical book? He wrote this stuff down—on paper?”

  Tal shook his head. “Nothing so antiquated. It’s a simple, portable device that stores a combination of audio, visual and holographic entries.”

  There was only one reason he’d be telling her all this. “One of the rebels stole the journal?”

  “The journal was stolen. Beyond that, my information is muddled. We know who took it and a Seeker Circle revealed where he went. This crime was witnessed by Master Malos, but his account leaves me with more questions than answers.”

  “According to Malos, who took it?”

  “Who is not as important as why.”

  She arched one of her eyebrows at the obvious evasion. “I’ll bite. Why was the journal stolen?”

  “Malos claims the thief intends to use the information in the journal to sabotage my leadership.”

  “You don’t believe the thief is involved in the rebellion?”

  “I believe Malos himself leads the rebels, but my investigation has barely begun. I can trust no one at this point, which forces me to look outside the Conservatory for assistance. The man Malos accused was Vee’s apprentice. His loyalty is beyond reproach. It is simply impossible that he—”

  “Nothing is impossible and no one is beyond reproach. Stop beating around the bush. Who took the journal and where did he go?”

  “Evan cet Roumi took Vee’s journal.”

  Dro Tar just stared at Tal for a long moment, her throat tight and dry. Trey knew how she felt about Evan. Why would he bring Tal here if Evan was involved? She looked at Trey, but the coward suddenly found something on the control console that demanded his attention. After rubbing the bridge of her nose with her middle finger, she turned back to Tal. “You said the thief was Vee’s apprentice. Evan was already a Master-level Mage when we crossed paths fifteen solar cycles ago.”

  Trey turned around and met her gaze, his jaw clenching before he spoke. “After Evan returned from the mission, he renounced his standing at the Conservatory. He asked Vee to assign him another mentor so he could be retrained. Much to Evan’s chagrin, Vee named himself Evan’s new mentor. Evan thought it was too great an honor. The reason for his request was to—”

  “He blamed his cowardice on his mentor? ‘I shit my pants and ran for the hills. Will you please retrain me?’ How pathetic is that?”

  Tal stood, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes began to swirl. Only Shapeshifters could control the subtle movement universal in Ontarian eyes. Tal’s expression remained impassive, but her belligerence had obviously upset him. “Trey warned me that you harbored resentment toward Evan. I found it hard to believe you would still be angry after—”

  “You weren’t there! He deserted our team and two of my friends died because of it.”

  “Did you ask him what happened that day?” Tal replied with uncharacteristic fervor. “Did you give him the opportunity—”

  “He blinked out in the heat of battle. What is there to explain?”

  “If she interrupts me again, I will silence her,” Tal told his brother with an imperious scowl.

  Trey crossed the cabin with two long strides and placed his hand on Dro Tar’s shoulder. “This isn’t about Evan.” She twisted away. “The information contained in the journal cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

  “It’s already in the wrong hands,” she cried. “Evan is a sniveling—”

  “Stand down, Dro Tar.” Trey’s tone snapped with an autocratic inflection he seldom used with her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at
each brother in turn.

  “We have to get the journal back. That’s the bottom line.” Trey looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with expectation. If Tal had come alone, she’d have laughed in his face, but she owed Trey more than anyone would ever understand. He’d taken a chance on a foul-mouthed troublemaker when the rest of the world wanted to pretend she didn’t exist. “You’re one of the few people who can track him down without requiring significant training. The fact you’ll be tracking Evan is an unhappy coincidence.”

  “Bullshit.” She punctuated the profanity with her sweetest smile. “There is no such thing as a coincidence when you’re involved. Tell me the rest. Where did he go and what makes you think I can make him do anything? He’s got a few more tricks up his sleeve than I do.”

  “We don’t expect you to bring him back,” Tal interjected. “Find him. Talk to him and find out why he left.”

  She snorted. “I don’t need to leave the shuttle to tell you that. Running and hiding is what he does.” Tal’s breath hissed out in an exasperated sigh. Trey just shook his head. She’d pushed them both about as far as she dared. As if being leader of the Mystics wasn’t impressive enough, Tal was married to High Queen Charlotte.

  “Let’s agree to disagree on the subject of Evan,” Trey suggested.

  She focused on her friend and mentor. It was too easy to lump all Mystics together, which put Tal in the same group with Evan. “Where did the little weasel go?”

  “After rescuing the journal from Malos, Evan opened an interdimensional portal and transported himself to Earth.”

  Dro Tar grinned. It was starting to make sense. Earth had fascinated her since she first visited the planet eleven solar cycles before. She’d returned to different locations in various time periods, volunteering for any assignment that took her to Earth. Her obsession with all things Earthish grew with each new venture.

  “Now do you understand?” Trey’s stance relaxed in tandem with hers.

  “Yes, sir. No one knows more about Earth than me and no one is more willing to go.” She paused, glancing at the Mystic. “Won’t Malos and his lackeys know that?”

  The faintest hint of a smile curved Tal’s mouth. “If they knew Evan had transported to Earth, your concern would be justified.”

  “Baby brother is getting crafty in his old age,” Trey teased. “He staged some sort of ritual and manipulated the results.”

  “I wanted to see how long it would take Malos to dispatch his ‘lackeys’.”

  “Was he smart enough to wait a day or two?” she asked.

  Tal shook his head. “Within hours of the false Seeker Circle, Malos sent a team to Linusia Prime. The true Seeker Circle revealed strange images, even I didn’t understand. I shared the impressions with my life mate and Charlotte helped me clarify what I had seen.”

  The High Queen had spent the first thirty solar cycles of her life on Earth, unaware of her Ontarian origins. “I’m still waiting for the punch line. Where am I going?”

  “We were unable to determine his exact location, but we narrowed it down to one of three hotels.”

  Trey wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Not only are you going back to Earth, my dear, you’re going to Las Vegas!”

  * * * * *

  Dro Tar fought back her excited laughter. Laughing was inappropriate given the importance of her mission, so she’d wait until the Mystics were gone before indulging her cheer. The rebellious thought only made her excitement that much harder to conceal. Colors bent and twisted around her and sound escalated to an unintelligible roar as her escorts propelled her through space.

  Tal could open an interdimensional portal by Summoning the Storm, but the resulting vortex was too large and obvious for their purposes. They needed to be stealthy and specific, so he’d joined with two other Mystics and created a tight, intense conduit.

  Sound receded and the blur of color slowed, taking on shape as they neared their destination. The Mystics uncrossed their arms, allowing her to exit the portal. She took two wobbly steps then turned back and looked at Tal, squinting into the shimmering glare.

  “We will return for you in five days unless we hear from you first,” he said.

  The only way she could contact them was if she found Evan. She nodded and shooed them away. Despite their attempts to control the portal, the conduit was noisy and bright. They locked wrists and closed the vortex, leaving Dro Tar alone in the hotel room.

  Tal had scanned ahead and located an uninhabited room. The suite might be empty at present, but it was obviously occupied. One of the beds was rumpled, the pillows stacked against the headboard, as if someone had sat on the bed to watch television.

  The bathroom door swung open and a man stood in the threshold, a towel wrapped around his hips. “What the—”

  “Oh gods!” She rushed toward the main door to the suite, wheeling her small suitcase behind her. “There’s obviously been a horrible mistake.”

  “How did you get in here?” He stepped back into the bathroom, partially closing the door.

  “Card key. You must not have flipped the privacy thingy.” She slipped into the hallway before he could say any more. The front desk was going to get an earful as soon as he dried off. She better hurry.

  Twenty minutes later, Dro Tar lifted her suitcase onto the bed in her own room. Moving to the window, she pulled back the draperies and stared out at the mesmerizing clutter that made up the world-famous Strip. The scene was cast in hazy twilight, the sun still visible against the far horizon. Her gaze swept down one side of the crowded street and up the other. Had any civilization ever created a more eclectic skyline? She couldn’t wait to see the lights once darkness fell.

  She finger-combed her hair as she walked back to the bed. Unzipping her bag, she retrieved a handheld scanner. A recent skirmish with the technologically advanced Rodytes had left Ontariese with some interesting new gadgets. Rather like Vee’s journal, the trick was going to be keeping them out of the wrong hands. The device had been designed to look like a cell phone, but it was far more powerful. She powered up a simple grid. A blinking red light indicated her location.

  “Activate full spectrum.” The primitive grid morphed into a three-dimensional diagram. Turning as she moved, the image maintained perspective, but there was no sign of Evan. “Minimize.” The display returned to the original grid.

  Moving between dimensions allowed the Mystics to access different points in time as well as space. The timeline remained constant on Ontariese while the vortex had deposited her on Earth before Evan arrived. But how long before, that was the question. She had five days to find him and discover the truth about the journal. Setting the scanner on standby, she made sure it would signal her at the first sign of Evan’s energy signature.

  She looked into the mirror above the small desk and verified that her contacts were still in place. The thin film concealed her gently swirling eyes and created the appearance of concentric rings. Confident that she would pass for a human, she headed for the casino.

  * * * * *

  Evan staggered out of the transport conduit and sank to his knees. Disjointed images beset his mind, blinding him, melding reality and vision until he couldn’t tell one from the other. He clutched his head, bracing himself against the agonizing waves.

  “Oh my god, are you all right?” A shrill female voice sliced through his throbbing head. “What was that crash? It sounded like…”

  The ringing in his ears distorted her words beyond comprehension. Think. Concentrate. What language is she speaking? Where are you?

  He slowly opened his eyes. The woman’s face swam before him, swelling in and out of focus.

  “Are you— Where did you get those contacts?”

  He groaned as her voice attacked him again.

  “What’s going on, Sheryl? Is he okay?”

  English. They were speaking English. Why was he on Earth? The pain was less penetrating with his eyes closed. He concentrated on his b
reathing, pushing the pain from his body with each exhalation.

  Sheryl giggled. “I think he’s drunk, but you should see his eyes. He must be with Star-Crossed.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Should I go get help?” the second female asked.

  The last thing Evan needed was more attention. He raised his head and searched for the right words. “I will—be fine.”

  Sheryl’s companion gasped when he opened his eyes. “How do you make them do that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Contacts.” He repeated Sheryl’s word. Earth’s languages had been gradually consolidated into one common language during the second half of the twenty-first century. He must have materialized before that time.

  Pain eased, leaving a persistent ache and a sense of urgency. He needed energy.

  “Are you in Star-Crossed?” the second woman asked.

  “Of course he is,” Sheryl said. “Why else would he be dressed like this?” She knelt beside him and reached for his hand. “Did you hit your head when you fell? I heard a terrible ruckus.”

  “I’m feeling much better now.” The journal! He reached down, hurriedly feeling for the device in the seam pocket of his robe. Thank the gods of the day moon it was still there.

  “How did he get back here?” the second woman whispered to Sheryl, her expression dubious. “If he came staggering through the kitchen, why didn’t anyone stop him?”

  As the females debated, Evan took stock of his surroundings. He was in some sort of storeroom, surrounded by crowded shelves and wooden crates. The women were dressed in identical dresses, likely uniforms. Clanks and clatters emanated from the adjacent room. He needed to think, to sort out the images twisting through his mind.

  He pushed off the floor then got his feet beneath him. His legs trembled, barely supporting his weight. Sheryl pulled his arm across her shoulders and wrapped hers around his waist. The movement shocked him. It was forbidden to touch a Mystic without permission.