SoulKeeper

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  Zeyan has lived in the shadows, keeping her talent to herself. When she tries to reach out to console a grieving loved one and is summarily arrested by her people she finds life and a new start in the Citadel, as the Soul Keeper.

  Zeyan has been banished by her own race and her talents have developed under the careful eye of the instructors at the Citadel. When a psychic plague breaks out that shatters the mind body connection, the locals call the Sector Guard and they, in turn, call the Soul Keeper. It is time for her to return home.

  Orenn has envied his cousin Fenn's life and love in the Sector Guard. As a telepath at the Citadel he recognizes a powerful will when he sees it and when Zeyan looks into his eyes, he also sees his future stretching before him, with her at his side.

  He had no idea it was going to be the other way around.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Soul Keeper

  Copyright © 2012 Viola Grace

  ISBN: 978-1-77111-075-4

  Cover art by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Devine Destinies

  An imprint of eXtasy Books

  Look for us online at:

  www.devinedestinies.com

  Soul Keeper

  Tales of the Citadel Book 1

  By

  Viola Grace

  Chapter One

  Zeyan bit her nail as her transport made its way to the small spaceport. The guards surrounding her kept looking at her like she would burst into flames without provocation. Her family had declined to accompany her as she was banished from their world. She would bear her shame alone.

  A crowd lined the street and several were looking intently into the vehicle she was riding in. She wasn’t sure of their intent until a rock struck the rear window.

  The driver of the vehicle accelerated and they travelled through a hail of rocks and produce.

  Zeyan wrapped her arms around her torso and tried to remain calm as the armoured vehicle was pounded by debris. The moment they entered the spaceport, the hail stopped.

  The gates closed behind them and with the exception of the heavy breathing of her guards there was no noise in the transport.

  They glided up to the Sector Guard shuttle and she was removed from the vehicle and escorted into the custody of the Guardsmen standing on their shuttle ramp.

  Her escort shoved a data pad at the Guards and when she had been signed for, Beast and Fury brought her inside their ship. The moment that the door was shut and sealed, they removed the chains that bound her.

  “I can’t believe that they would do something like this to their own.” Fury muttered as she worked at the locks that bound Zeyan’s ankles.

  Zeyan tried to smile. “They don’t consider me one of their own anymore. I am a freak that is either to be banished or exterminated. Pardon me for being pleased that you offered them the means to execute the first option.”

  Fury grinned and patted her cheek as she tossed the chain into a storage bin. “I am pleased that you are amenable to Citadel training.”

  Beast took the pilot’s chair, his wings settling to either side with grace. He turned. “Take a seat and strap in, you want to be safe for this.”

  Fury led her to a seat and helped her to fasten the latches. The Guardsman took her seat next to her partner and they lifted off.

  Zeyan took one last look at the grasses and plains of Heschell before turning her gaze to the stars. Whatever happened next, her destiny was not on the world of her birth but in a Citadel outpost far, far away.

  Zeyan was pale grey with nausea by the time they landed. Space flight was not kind to her. Beast had tried to attend to her with water and cold compresses, but nothing worked. Being separated from her world was quite traumatic for her.

  She heard Fury speaking rapidly into the com but couldn’t make out the words. The sense of urgency was unmistakable. When a rapid knocking occurred on the hull of the ship, Beast left her and opened the hatch.

  A woman came in and smiled at Zeyan. “I hear you are having a rough time of it. May I touch you?”

  Surprised, Zeyan looked up into eyes that were unrelieved black. The woman’s smile showed sharp teeth in lips a slightly darker blue than the rest of her face. The smooth contour of her skull gleamed in the lighting of the ship.

  “Of course. But why are you going to touch me?”

  “I am a contact healer. I will take your illness and you will be able to meet with those who will take you on a tour of the Citadel. Will you allow me to do this?”

  Her head was spinning so badly that she nodded quickly. “Please.”

  When the woman pressed her webbed hands against Zeyan’s head, she sighed at the coolness. A moment later, Zeyan felt pressure on her thoughts and the healer slipped into her mind, taking her pain.

  As the healer gasped and recoiled, Zeyan jerked her head out of the woman’s grip, “Stop, you are making yourself sick.” She unbuckled quickly and knelt at the healer’s side.

  Fury moved and helped the healer to her feet. “Come along you two, this is best taken care of in the fresh air.”

  Zeyan’s head still ached and her skin was too tight, but the healer’s pain was far more obvious than hers was. She moved to help the woman as the healer struggled to stay upright.

  They moved together and exited the shuttle.

  The sunset was just taking hold and there was a peace that ran through the very air.

  Three figures in robes approached them and asked Fury, “What happened?”

  “The healer made contact with your new student and collapsed.” Fury handed her over.

  The contact healer tried to smile. “It was more than I expected.”

  Zeyan was embarrassed. “I am sorry. I have never done anything of that nature before.”

  One of the robed figures, a male with wavy blond hair and pointed ears, smiled at her, gently taking her arm and leading her toward the doors. “What did you do, my dear?”

  “Her touch was looking for pain, so I gave it all to her. I didn’t know she wasn’t prepared for it, so I took it back, but it was too late.” She could feel the blush as they stared at her.

  The healer nodded. “It was more than I was braced for, but if you walk around with that all day, you are definitely in the correct place.”

  Her companion helped her to the interior of the building and Zeyan was left with the Guardsmen and the two other robed figures.

  She didn’t know what to do, but when she felt a touch on her mind, she straightened and slammed it back at its owner. The woman on the end swayed and blinked rapidly. “That was sudden.”

  “I am not used to…why are you trying to touch my mind?”

  The male with the pointed ears smiled. “We are merely trying to determine the nature of your gifts.”

  She crossed her arms and scowled. “Fine, take me to a dead body and I will show you.”

  They stopped and she could see a wave
of communication through them. The male nodded. “I believe you can wait on a demonstration. How about a tour of the facility and a description of the training you will receive?”

  Her head pounded and she looked to the Guardsmen. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  Fury nodded. “It was a pleasure. Call Morganti and ask for us if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  Fury and Beast both gave her hugs in turn. Fury whispered, “I know what it is like to be hated by your own kind. I survived it and so will you.”

  Zeyan nodded. “I will get past it. It was just a bit of a shock.”

  Fury looked her in the eye and grinned. “I think you will. Now, go and enjoy your new home. No one here wants to kill you.”

  She chuckled. It was funny. “Thank you. It is the best news I have had all week.”

  The Drai shared a communication between them and each touched her shoulder before entering their shuttle.

  Zeyan walked into the safety of the building with the Citadel greeting party and she watched her ride slowly disappear into the sky. She was well and truly stuck on Wetura, the home of the first Citadel education centre.

  She looked at the traces of thought zipping through the air around her, marks of telepathic communication written in a language only she could see, and Zeyan sighed. Learning control over her talent would be easy. Living with it would be the awkward part.

  The blond male who seemed to have taken her on as a pet project smiled. “Please, Zeyan. Come with me.”

  “Fine, but what is your name?”

  He placed his hand on her arm. “Orenn, Orenn Deliak, telepath and intake coordinator of this branch of the Citadel. None of us can read you, which makes you fascinating from a curiosity standpoint. I believe that you could be an excellent instructor, given a little encouragement.”

  Zeyan fought her grin at the contact. It was how she had been able to tell psychics from the general population back home. A psychic could not resist touching her. No talent could. They seemed to crave the contact and once they experienced it, they centered themselves.

  Their talents settled and their bodies relaxed the moment they touched her. Unfortunately, the untalented were wound up with tension and panic when she was around. It explained her violent departure from her own world, though it didn’t take away the sting of the hate that had followed her right up to the shuttle.

  One slip. One little slip at her aunt’s funeral and her careful years of hiding what she was dissipated in an instant. When her cousin had sobbed onto her shoulder that she would give anything to speak to her mother again, Zeyan had called her aunt’s soul.

  When Aunt Leerani had walked toward them, her cousin shrieked in panic and the rest of the funeral party ran. That left Zeyan and her aunt conversing quietly in the drizzling rain.

  The authorities had arrived two hours later and her weeks of confinement had begun while trials were held without her. The Sector Guard had mitigated her sentence and she agreed to transport. A week passed and now, here she was, in the custody of the Citadel and looking into the eyes of a man who was offering her a future.

  “Well, Orenn, I think I could use some water and I would like to check on the healer who tried to take my discomfort. Can we do that?”

  He offered her his arm and she took it, nodding to the others in the greeting party. The woman smiled as they passed and patted her arm, probably not even knowing that she was doing it.

  Zeyan resigned herself to tenure of being stroked and patted by the talented. As an occupation went, it wasn’t too bad a situation. She had food, lodgings and clothing taken care of. Now, she only had to figure out what they wanted her to do for her keep.

  Chapter Two

  Orenn showed her the interior of the expansive complex. The walls were lined to keep the mental communication to a minimum, but Zeyan could see all the static and broadcasting in the common areas.

  She had to ask, “Why do they broadcast like that?”

  Orenn paused slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “All of the talents who communicate are either humming or sparking. There is very little control in evidence.”

  “You can sense it?”

  “I can see it.” She chuckled and rubbed at her forehead.

  He nodded. “I would like to discuss that with you tomorrow if you are amenable.”

  “Fine. Where is the healer that got ill?”

  “Quedar is a contact healer. She should really have made sure that it was more than simple nausea causing you distress. The medical centre is this way.” He led her through an archway and waved at the ranks of beds arranged neatly against the walls and the figures in pale-coloured robes that paced around the few occupied areas.

  “Everyone here wears robes?” They seemed a little bulky for her.

  “It is easier to determine the occupation of the wearer if we colour code our staff and students.” He led her to the bed where the healer was resting.

  Zeyan smiled at the woman and touched her arm. “I am very sorry. My people don’t have healers, so I wasn’t sure what you were doing until you made contact. At that point, it was too late.”

  Quedar smiled. “I should have taken my time. It is drilled into us that we should not jump into healing without questioning a conscious patient.”

  The touch was stabilising her. That much Zeyan could feel. She smiled and casually patted the woman before withdrawing and returning to Orenn’s side.

  Quedar looked down at her arm and her long fingers caressed her scalp. “What did you do?”

  Zeyan winked. “You have your talent, I have mine.”

  She looked up at Orenn and they returned to their tour of the common areas. Meals were taken in a dining hall and seatings were five times per day so that everyone could eat on their own schedules.

  There were classrooms, gardens, meditation centres and common areas for people to socialize.

  Orenn showed her the assembly hall and smiled. “There are dances and social events, including concerts and performances put on by staff and locals. You can be as social as you want to be here.”

  “That is comforting. Here, I was worried I would be confined to a cell.” She tried to smile, but she was rather tired.

  He laughed. “Speaking of cells, your quarters are this way.”

  They passed several folk of different races in the hallway. Zeyan tried not to stare. Her people grudgingly traded with other worlds, but they tried to keep their population’s exposure to aliens minimized.

  Orenn showed her to her rooms and she widened her eyes at the space, the bright blue bedspread and the connecting lav. It was far more luxurious than her room at home. He opened a wardrobe and she noted the ghostly white of the robes.

  “You will wear white as a student colour until you are acclimated to the Citadel. If you decide to teach, your colour will shift to deep blue.” He bowed and smiled. “I will come and get you in the morning. Have a good night’s rest. There is fruit on the table.”

  He left her before she could ask him anything else.

  Zeyan opened drawers and found not only water glasses, but a cabinet that contained an entertainment unit.

  Watching the screen full of alien programming, she selected a documentary on the Citadel. The speaker began with a history of Alliance races and Zeyan enjoyed listening to the lecture while she got herself a drink and ate a relatively bland piece of fruit.

  She took a set of robes out of the closet and tried them on. The fabric swirled around her with the faint scent of the wood from the wardrobe. A set of tunics and loose trousers were also hanging in the closet in the same white.

  The sun was long gone on this world, but she could still feel the waking pulse of her home in her blood.

  Zeyan’s mind sought out the souls of those nearby. She found several couples involved in sexual activity and passed them by, seeking a count of those around her. Most of the several hundred occupants of the Citadel were asleep or winding down for the night.

  She u
nlaced her vest and slipped out of the robes and her old clothing. She folded them carefully, unsure of what to do with the last remnant of her old life. She piled it together and placed it at the bottom of the wardrobe, next to the new boots and sandals provided.

  Crawling between the sheets, she settled in for a restless night, listening to how the Citadel had been a united effort by dozens of worlds to train their psychics.

  She was just the last in a long line of talents who had ended up in the clutches of the Citadel. It was the last thought she had until morning.

  A knocking at her door woke her with a jolt. She moved quickly and opened it. “Hello?”

  Orenn was standing there, his robes perfect and his hair neatly braided down his back, making his pointed ears exceptionally prominent. His eyes widened in surprise. “You aren’t dressed.”

  She looked down and took in her skin, the cascade of her hair over one shoulder and the small stripe above her pubic area. “I just woke up. I won’t be a minute. Would you prefer to wait inside?”

  He arched an eyebrow and obviously discussed something with himself. “Yes, I think I will.”

  Zeyan let him in and quickly retrieved the clothing, including a breast band, before darting into the lav.

  She didn’t bother fiddling with the water settings, merely jumped in, gasped at the cold and scrubbed quickly. Shivering and a little blue, she towelled off and slithered into her new clothes. Drawstrings made the trousers fit and the tunic had a sash that held the fabric tightly to her waist. The robes flowed comfortably around her, helping with the chill that she had contracted and she slipped on the sandals while combing her hair.

  Ready for breakfast, she returned to her bedroom to see Orenn tidying the sheets. He blinked in surprise. “That was incredibly quick.”

 

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