Black Planet: Tiger Eyes

by Belinda McBride

  "No. Stupid thing, I hit him!” He grinned briefly, smile lines radiating from his eyes. “He shot me. Then he walked away laughing. I guarded that man twenty years, took bullets for him. I bled for him, and he shot me. Granted, I did attack him."

  "But you didn't mean to hurt him, did you?"

  He chuckled, his voice husky and low. “You know me too well, Tiger. But there I lay, bleeding to death, and someone came and held me. I thought it was her, she was so beautiful. And then she changed. She glowed with light ... mercy."

  "Quan Yin."

  "Maybe. But she made me a deal. And here I am."

  "So we both made a bad choice in the people we trusted."

  "But my mistake was worse.” She looked at him curiously. “My mistake wasn't taking a swing at my boss. That would have been the natural end of my life. I'd have been reborn, moved on to my next life. My mistake was making a bargain with what I thought was a god."

  He smiled gently. “That's the end of my story, Tiger. Now you ... you need help."

  She shook her head wearily. “I think it's too late for me, Grandpa. I've already lived with this too long."

  "Tiger, never stop believing in miracles. And if someone offers you one, don't say no."

  "You were offered a miracle, and now you regret it."

  "Yin Yang, Tiger. I used to stand right here and watch lightning storms move across the sky. It was so beautiful, but so deadly. My miracle is the same. Beautiful, but terrible. So when that miracle comes..."

  "I'll accept it, and the consequences."

  "That's my girl. I love you, Tiger."

  "I love you, Grandpa.” Her eyes had dropped shut in weariness, and when they opened again, he was gone. Not even a wisp of smoke lingered on the air.

  Hallucination. It really was the end.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seven

  "Grace? Gracie?"

  Greene knelt on the gravel surface of the roof, his eyes meeting Darah's in concern. Darah stood back a bit; with his wings visible, he was afraid to frighten the woman.

  She appeared to be tall and graceful, but his senses told him she was terribly ill. She wore a black cotton outfit, the sort martial artists sometimes wore; loose pants and a top that buttoned up the front with ornamental frogs. Her skin was golden brown, her hair silky and black. He could see that she was Asian, but had another race mixed in. Her full lips and strong coloring led him to believe she was part African.

  She was beautiful even in her troubled sleep. In fact, he'd never seen a female so lovely, not even among the golden females of his species.

  "She's burning up."

  Darah moved closer and rested a hand on her skin. Aside from heat, he “saw” the events of the past days, the medicines, the transfusions, and the desperate scrabble to find money to pay for food. The abject fear of death.

  "She's very sick, Milo. She needs to go to the hospital. Our doctors might help, but she's been aware of her own death for some time now."

  "Do you know what's wrong?"

  "She's been receiving transfusions."

  Hemo disease. Dragon's Blood.

  The same disease that had killed his wife.

  Grief crashed over Milo like a wave, crippling and futile. Grief for his wife, grief for his former lover. For a brief moment, he let that grief flow over him, through him, and then he forced it back. When he looked up at Darah, the Thalian's eyes were bright with empathy.

  "We'll have to carry her down."

  "No, Milo, you need to start down. I'll take her over the side and meet you on the dock."

  "Can you carry her that far?"

  Darah grinned. They had kept their true skills hidden. Even Milo had no idea of his strength in flight. “I'll be fine. I've got to swing out over the water to get space to land, but it'll be fine."

  "People will see."

  They would but it was the cost of saving a life, a life that his lover held dear. Darah would no doubt take a good deal of heat for this, but there was no option.

  "You start now. Hurry. Don't forget to bring her possessions. I don't want to be down there too long without any means to cover myself."

  "Meet me at the boat then.” Darah nodded, watching Milo dart off to the edge of the building, beginning his descent. He'd give him a head start before leaving himself.

  * * * *

  There were strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her tight. A breeze kissed her hot skin. Grace hated herself for the weakness, but cuddled tighter into those comfortable arms.

  "Ty? No..."

  Panic flared through her body at the thought of Tyreese. But whoever this was had broader shoulders, and his smell was different. “Milo?” She smelled Milo, that herbal soap he always used.

  "Not Milo, but he is waiting. I'll take you to him now."

  She felt his muscles gather, and before Grace could process what was happening, a lurch into nothingness, a drop that gripped her stomach. There was the sound of wind and falling, and her own scream caught in her throat.

  "No fear, Grace, you're flying with me. You're safe."

  Safe? She forced her eyes open, but she could see only a man's broad chest, and beyond that, sky and water. She gathered a scream.

  "Grace, please don't scream. It won't make me fall, but carrying you takes some concentration."

  His matter-of-fact tone penetrated her panic, and slowly, Grace turned her head, looking at the Bay from a bird's eye view. “You jumped off Wharf ... you fucking jumped!"

  "And flew."

  "I'm dead. I died up there and you're some sort of angel.” She strained to look at him, saw only a strong jaw, shapely, kissable lips. Kissable? She groaned in embarrassment, and he chuckled, almost as though he knew what had crossed her mind.

  "You're alive. I'm a Thalian. And I can interpret some of your thoughts."

  What in hell was a Thalian?

  "We're from another planet, Grace. Haven't you watched the news? Read the papers?"

  "I've been staying low for a while..."

  "Darah. I'm Darah Lash."

  They weren't really flying now; she could feel the tension in his body as he held his wings steady, banking to the right. He spoke into her ear, his warm breath tickling her cheek. “We're heading toward the pier now. I see Milo waiting by his boat. Just a few more seconds."

  Before what? Before they landed? Crashed in a blaze of glory? She buried her head in his shoulder, trying vainly to stifle her panic. Panic only drained her energy. She needed that strength.

  His position shifted, becoming upright, and Grace could feel powerful muscles pumping rapidly as he lowered them gently to the wooden pier.

  "Quick, onboard, I don't know if anyone saw...” It sounded like Milo's voice, that soft, deep tone that she remembered so well.

  "Milo?"

  "I'm here, Grace. I've got to drive the boat, but I'm here. I've been looking for you for a long time."

  She felt him at her side and emotion overflowed. For the first time in four long years of illness, Grace allowed all of her fears and grief and panic to surface. She'd kept up the façade even in front of her grandfather.

  The man who'd flown her still held her in his arms, and to her relief, she felt Milo's arms wrap around her as well, holding her tight and safe. For now, just for right now, she'd let someone else be strong for her while she lay sandwiched between two strong bodies. She cried; deep, sobbing gasps escaped, tears wet her cheeks. And even as she broke, Grace Chen began to rebuild her walls, those bastions of strength.

  "Milo, Nakashima controls the Red Flags now; they've got eyes all over."

  "Understood.” He stepped away, leaving her empty and bereft.

  The arms of the strange man tightened once more, and he wrapped something warm around her body. A long, fine woolen coat. “Look at me, Grace."

  She obeyed, shifting her head so that she could see the full face of the man. She refused to think of him as an alien. Her brain wasn't ready for that just yet. />
  He was handsome, with strong, chiseled features, and beautiful, exotic eyes set under strong dark brows.

  "There is a cure for your illness. My people created a cure. You are very sick, but we might be able to help."

  A cure? A cure for Dragon's Blood? She could only stare, letting her disbelief show. “When?"

  "A year ago."

  Anger surged through her body. Anger at the enemies, known and unknown, which had kept her out in the cold. Anger that fate had delivered the promised miracle, but maybe too late.

  The anger burned itself out abruptly, for like panic, it took energy to maintain strong emotion, and she had little strength to spare.

  * * * *

  Darah refused to relinquish Grace. He carried her from the dock to the waiting transport, and even in the vehicle, held her cradled in his arms like a child. Milo felt a lurch in his stomach as he watched his lover grow more and more infatuated with the woman in his arms. When he looked up at Milo, his eyes were bright with tears of sympathy and pain.

  He'd been skin reading her.

  "It's been bad for her.” It was a comment, not a question. Inside, a worm of jealousy worked its way into his gut, but he didn't know why, or who it was directed toward.

  "Very. She puts up a brave front, but is terrified."

  Grace was unconscious in his arms, and as they entered the emergency bay of the hospital, he finally handed her over to a golden-haired Thalian physician. As they took her away, Darah stood like a statue, his eyes following the Thalian's progress.

  Darah was a person of power and influence, but in the presence of the golden academic, he wilted slightly.

  "That was the most amazing thing I've seen.” Darah looked at Greene in question. “Your flight. I've seen you do a little bit during sparring, but I've never seen anything so beautiful as you in the sky with Grace in your arms."

  Darah straightened a bit, pride returning to his bearing.

  "I didn't know you could do that."

  "Few have the ability. None among the goldens. They lack the musculature."

  Milo set his mental defenses firmly in place and stifled a grin. Mission accomplished. He hated seeing a man as magnificent as Darah Lash diminished by ignorant and archaic bigotry.

  The men turned and walked down the corridor, showing their credentials to gain access to the secure wing of the hospital. They found chairs outside the room where Grace was being treated.

  An hour passed that way, and then another. They spoke little, hands occasionally brushing, knees pressed close in comfort. Greene called his captain, apprising him of the situation. He didn't know Grace's story, but was willing to bet that she had a strong and compelling reason to have stayed underground for as long as she had.

  After time had dragged on interminably, two doctors stepped into the hall, one human, one Thalian. Milo and Darah stood, dwarfing the human, looking the golden doctor in the eye.

  "Well, she's very, very sick. She told us her initial diagnosis had been over five years ago. The only treatment she's received has been black market transfusions and Chinese herbs and acupuncture. It's a miracle that she lasted this long. As you know, the prognosis for Hemo is poor without proper treatment."

  Yes, Milo did know that. He knew that well.

  The Thalian gazed at Darah, and Milo was certain they were speaking mind-to-mind. That suspicion was confirmed when Darah nodded slightly.

  "Can we see her? Is she strong enough to question yet?” Both sets of eyes settled on Milo, lancing him with disapproval. He didn't back down. “If I'm correct, she may be in danger, even here."

  "She's very near death, Lieutenant. I don't think it's wise, not yet."

  Darah smoothly interjected. “The lieutenant is an old friend. Perhaps his presence will prove beneficial to Grace Chen. She responded well to him when we rescued her."

  The human doctor paused a moment and nodded. “She'll begin treatment shortly. Her blood will be filtered through a modified dialysis unit. She'll begin receiving transfusions and medication as well. Does she have any family nearby?"

  "They're in Hong Kong."

  "I see.” He frowned disapprovingly. Unfortunately, it was impossible for Aiden Chen to step foot into California at this time.

  The human doctor stood aside, allowing Milo and Darah to enter the room. Milo moved to the head of the bed, softly stroking her cheek.

  "Greene."

  "It's me."

  She opened large, up-tilted eyes, and as always, Milo's heart contracted. They were brown; not obsidian brown like her brother's, but golden, topaz brown. Cat eyes in color, cat eyes in shape. Tiger eyes. Even sick and weak, danger radiated from this woman.

  Her lashes were long and thick, her full lips slightly parched. Transfusions of both blood and fluids ran into her body.

  "Did you know there are men with wings wandering around this place?” she stage whispered for Darah's benefit. She didn't smile, but a deep dimple showed in her cheek.

  "I know."

  "There's one standing behind you right now."

  "There is?” That brought a smile to her face.

  Milo straightened, taking Darah's hand, bringing him up to meet Grace. “Grace, this is Darah Lash. He is a Thalian, from a planet known as Regah. Darah is in charge of the safety of all the Thalians who are currently here on Earth."

  She simply stared and blinked at Darah. She didn't seem to remember him.

  "Grace, you should know that Thalians are telepathic, and touch sensitive. You can block me if you wish."

  "No ... that's all right.” She frowned. “You scared the shit out of me!"

  Greene laughed at the consternation on Darah's face. He'd eventually become accustomed to Grace's forthright manner.

  "Greene, he jumped off the building with me! I thought that was it!” He couldn't help laughing, and was glad to see a smile on the Thalian's face.

  "I suppose you and I have some talking to do."

  "We do, Grace, but not now. Later."

  She laid her head back gratefully. “You know, if Nakashima wants me bad enough, he'll have someone in here within hours."

  "We've posted guards, and Darah will have men here as well. They're adept at heading off problems before they happen."

  "Yeah, that telepathy thing. That rocks, you know.” Her eyes dropped closed and it was clear that she was fading.

  He glanced over at Darah, worry etching his expression.

  "Lama told me that they plan to begin treatment immediately. She has a secondary infection beginning in her lungs. Once she begins to respond to treatment for that, they'll begin the filtration and replacement of the blood."

  "Obviously, he told you more than Dr. Morris told me.” She was clearly annoyed.

  Darah smiled down at her gently. “He was afraid that you were fatigued. We won't hide any information regarding your treatment.” His eyes met Greene's and he stepped back from the bed. “I have to attend to business. Milo, I'll be in my offices."

  He left the room as quietly as he entered, and Grace watched as he walked away. From her expression, Milo could tell that she lost a bit of security with his departure. Again jealousy wiggled in his chest. The two had formed a connection, almost on first sight. Milo pulled a chair to her bedside, sitting close enough to reach out and touch.

  "He's your lover, isn't he?"

  He looked at her in surprise. Grace smiled and stroked his hand. “That look on your face. It was once there when you looked at me. And then it was there for your wife."

  "You know she died?"

  "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. You're too steady for divorce, and she was too in love with you. How'd it happen?"

  "Dragon's Blood.” The silence stretched through the room, thin and fragile. “The cure came too late for her."

  "God, I'm sorry, Milo."

  "Annie Tanaka was her bleeder for three years. I always believed...” He looked away, unable to look at her face. “I always believed she'd respond. That she'd get better. Then she
needed monthly transfusions. And still, we denied it. When she added a second donor, and then a third...” He looked at Grace then, taking in her dark beauty. “Why? How have you gone on for so long, Grace? I don't understand."

  "Call it karma, maybe.” Grace took his hand in hers, and it felt cold and stiff. She let it go. “Years ago, Guo Lee mentored a young orphan, a boy that got caught up in the Triads. Guo sheltered him, taught him medicine, acupuncture, herbology, and reflexology. Now all these years later, that man has been treating me with Grandpa's medicine."

  "She had the best doctors."

  Grace didn't answer. There was really nothing to say. The best doctors didn't always have the best medicine.

  "Darah and I have been together just weeks."

  "But you've known him for a while?” He nodded. “He's beautiful. And frightening."

  "He's a formidable man. Darah is the highest ranking Thalian officer here, not a man to trifle with."

  "Will your relationship cause problems with your jobs?"

  "I have no doubt it will. Essentially, we're both supposed to be spying on one another."

  She was quiet after that, her hair dark against the pillow. The only sound was the soft hum of equipment running life and health into her veins. Her lids quivered, and then dropped.

  "It's a pity."

  "What is?” He took her hand in his, frowning at how weak, how small it seemed.

  "I always hoped..."

  He waited for her to finish her answer, but she said nothing else. She was sound asleep.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eight

  Two weeks had brought improvement. Improvement had brought her body back to some semblance of vitality. Grace had been moved into a secure and secret area in the new Security Building. The rigorous treatment the Thalians had developed shot down her immune system, and then allowed it to slowly recover.

  So now she was in a bubble. They couldn't sterilize the entire security wing, so Grace was living in a contained environment.

  She lay in bed. The room was dim with the only real light coming from the moon shining in her window. She was uncertain what had disturbed her sleep, so Grace played possum, letting her eyes crack open a tiny bit. Her adrenaline spiked, but somehow, she kept her breathing steady, her muscles loose.