“I would love to, Captain, but you see…” Danielle licked her thumb and rubbed it against the resistant ink. “I’ve tried everything to get it off before I came to work today.”
“Were you drunk when you got that?” Even if Danielle had been drunk enough to get an unfortunate tattoo that weekend, there was no way it would have healed already. Miranda would know, too. She had a similarly designed butterfly tattoo on her inner thigh.
“Uh…”
“Never mind. Here.” Miranda opened one of her desk drawers and withdrew a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Give me your hand.”
Danielle placed the back of her hand on top of her supervisor’s palm. The stench of the rubbing alcohol hit a tissue and stung against Danielle’s wrist.
So badly that she leaped out of her seat, snatching her hand out of Miranda’s.
“Goddamn, what is wrong with you?” Miranda scooted back from her seat and stood up for better leverage. “Whatever that is on your skin, sell it to the government, because you could coat tanks with it.” She threw out the tissue and put the rubbing alcohol back in her desk.
Danielle shook out her hand. Damnit, why was it still burning? Her skin was on fucking fire! “Thanks for trying, I guess,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Just keep it covered with your watch until you can get it off. Assuming it’s not a permanent tattoo.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Danielle was subsequently dismissed.
At a quarter after nine, the office was hushed, with only the buzz of computers, the flurry of fingers over plastic, and the soft voices of those on guarded calls filling the air. When Danielle passed Troy, he took off his headset and peered around the wall between their cubicles.
“What did Hottie want?”
Danielle secured the headset inside her ear and turned off her phone. “My soul.”
“Ha, the way you talk about it, you almost sound like you’d like that.”
Danielle made no comment.
After detangling the headset wires and pushing back his rolling chair, Troy rounded the partition and stood before Danielle’s desk. “Better tap that before you lose your mind.”
“Please, I’m not that big of an idiot.” Danielle never removed her eyes from the monitor in front of her. “Even if it was the best night of my life, she’s still my commanding officer and that’d be the end of the both of us if that got out.”
“Speaking of out, I just heard we’re having a department review on Wednesday.”
“That so? Should be fun.” Danielle had to type her password three times because her friend kept distracting her. Now she had to worry about a department review on top of everything else? Christ.
Halfway through the morning and after another cup of coffee during her break, Danielle focused on switching networks on her computer only to have her cubicle phone ring in her ear. While receiving a call was not unexpected, they were so few and far between that she always jumped out of her seat.
She gathered her bearings before sending the call through to her headset. “Department of Personnel Data Unit #207, this is Second Lieutenant Cromwell speaking.”
Silence. She wondered if the caller had hung up or if she pushed the wrong button.
“Ah, yes! Ms. Danielle!”
Bile shot up her throat the moment she recognized that voice. “What are you doing?”
“This is Marlow.” As if she didn’t know! “I hope it’s not rude of me to butt into your government’s private line like this, but your cell phone is off, and I must speak with you.”
Danielle’s stomach performed somersaults and strangled her lungs. “You can’t barge into a line like this! These calls are monitored.”
“I’m not worried about that. Short of you blabbing about it, I don’t see why anybody would have to know about this conversation.” His voice contrasted Danielle’s practiced roboticism with its wistful tone. “I need you to stop by my office tonight. Sort of an impromptu meeting. From what I understand, you and Devon are already doing good work! I also have intelligence that my old colleague may be on to you.”
“Really? Would that explain our stalker yesterday?”
“Excuse me?”
“All right. Don’t wait up for me, but I’ve gotta cut you off.” Danielle closed the connection with a flick of her finger.
Here she was, acknowledging that everything was real. Given another week or so, she would be willing to believe that her government really was keeping aliens locked up in a desert one state away. Because why not? Apparently, aliens were real, and they were human.
And ready to kill everyone! How about that?
***
What Danielle couldn’t understand was that she was quite familiar with another alien.
Granted, anyone hailing from or with a genetic connection to the Intergalactic Federation of Sentient Bodies and Their Peoples was considered an alien on Earth. That went for those whose entire genetic makeup wasn’t Earth-based, humanoid or not.
Miranda made her rounds as she did every two hours when she wasn’t swamped with paperwork. That 11:00 hour was brutal when hunger started kicking asses. Heaven forbid anyone in the military actually eat a well-rounded breakfast.
Not that Miranda could talk. She had half a grapefruit and a bagel because her stomach couldn’t handle any more than that. She hadn’t been eating much lately. Stress did that.
Every time she looked over in Danielle’s direction, her anxiety spiked.
That tattoo… Miranda had known a lot about Danielle for a long time now. Even before she first walked into Miranda’s office, reporting for duty.
She knew that Danielle was not the first name that soul had.
She knew that Danielle would one day be tapped to save the world from a man named Nerilis Dunsman.
She knew she had to make sure that happened.
How did Miranda know this? Because Nerilis Dunsman was a name she was intimately familiar with.
Easy to stay focused when Danielle was under her command. Even easier when nothing of note was going on in the world – beyond the wars and natural disasters, anyway. But when Danielle walked into the office with that tattoo on her wrist?
That was not a good sign. That meant she had met Ramaron Marlow. And that meant that the ball would soon start rolling on the end of the world.
What strange thoughts to have as she calmly walked up and down the aisles of her department, pretending to look over shoulders and give a single fuck about what anyone did. How could she concentrate when a million feelings waged war in her heart? Fear that she would soon die. Worry that someone would find out what she knew. Anxiety that nothing she did was good enough to stop the oncoming bullshit a man wanted to inflict upon the world.
Love. Always that curdling, choking, overwhelmingly consuming love that stole her breath every time she woke up and smothered her when she returned to bed – alone.
She stole one last glance at Danielle before shutting herself up in her office. She closed the blinds and pulled out a small tool that would temporarily block all the signals the government shot through her office when it was activated.
Once the red light on her Federation Military-regulated device turned on, Miranda dialed a number on her cell phone and held her breath.
“Dunsman.”
She choked back tears. A thousand years’ worth of misery with only the lightest flicker of hope constantly lurked behind her dark eyes.
This was it. This was the deciding moment she always faced, life after life.
She didn’t have to introduce herself, but she did need a good reason for calling. “I’ve confirmed the identity of the female mercenary.” Speaking with such a stable voice shouldn’t have been so difficult. “She’s already been branded with the tattoo.”
The man on the other line hung up with a soft click.
EIGHT
The day climaxed when Devon received his final grades in the middle of the afternoon. His professor was generous to give him a passing grade. The only
thing keeping Devon from whooping in relief was his girlfriend taking a nap in their bedroom.
When Alicia emerged, she mumbled something about going out for the Monday evening. She left before he could tell her the good news.
And before Devon could call his friend Clyde to invite him over for a night of drunken video-gaming, Marlow contacted him to relay the same information that Danielle received. Since it was after five, Devon figured it was safe enough to call Danielle and ask her to come pick him up so they could head over to Marlow’s together.
She told him that she wouldn’t be over until eight. Plenty of time for Devon to make himself dinner.
Around seven forty-five, Alicia stumbled into the apartment, hair disheveled and eyes cloudy with alcohol before Monday night had the decency to be over.
“Shit!” Devon intercepted her flaccid body before she could collapse on the linoleum. “What the hell happened to you? Are you drunk?”
“Always!” She fell into his arms like a sack of grain. The smile plastered on her face was laced in the odor of cheap, stale beer. “I am… always… drunking…”
“What the hell are you doing?” Devon dragged her to the sofa. Alicia’s body sank into the plush seating as she pawed at his shaking arms.
She was a little drunker than Devon initially guessed, based on her inability to sit up straight in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she slurred.
“Why are you drunk? How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough!” She was halfway out of her coat, bare arms falling over the edge of the couch. “I must… I must drown the… the memor… give me the phone! I have a call to make!” Her hands latched onto the cell phone laying on the coffee table. Devon could not act quickly enough to stop her from mashing on buttons. Alicia brought up the last number called and stared at it through suddenly lucid eyes. “Oh, look! I should call this one!”
Devon snatched the phone out of her hand. “I’m going to get you some water… and a bucket, in case you start puking.”
He left his incapacitated girlfriend on the couch. Alicia’s roaming hand found the phone on the table and retrieved it. Even in her hardened, half conscious state she managed to call that number Devon wanted far away from her.
She held the phone to her ear, listening to the ringing on the other end. The smirk on her face grew with each passing second while Devon rummaged in the kitchen behind her.
“Hello?” Danielle’s voice was almost drowned out by the sound of her car cruising down the boulevard. “Devon? That you? I know it is because I recognize your fucking number.”
“Fucking number? Lady, you… you sound like… I’d like to fuck your number!”
“Who is this?” Danielle scoffed. “Is this a prank? I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Alicia?” Devon snatched the phone out of her hand again. “Who is this?”
“What is going on over there? I think I was just propositioned by your girlfriend.”
“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” Devon gave that flirty girlfriend an exasperated look. “She stumbled in here drunk off her ass. Hang on…” Devon saved Alicia from collapsing onto the floor and gingerly leaned her against the couch again. “All right, I’m gonna need you to come up here to our apartment. Second floor, letter B. I can’t leave her alone or she’ll start calling everyone else whether she knows their numbers or not.”
Danielle balked. “All right, I guess. I’ll be up soon.”
“Thanks.” Devon snapped his phone shut and turned his attention back to his girlfriend.
She rolled toward him, flimsy hand smacking him against the chest. “Devon…” she began, lips pursed. “You know what I really want?” She trapped him on the other side of the couch, her polluted breath etching across his face. “I really want… want…”
“Yeah?” He was going to regret this, wasn’t he?
“I want a woman!”
“Excuse me?”
“A woman!” Alicia flung herself against the back of the couch, arms spread wide and smacking Devon against the cheek. “I need to fuck a woman. Hard! Hey! Go get me one!”
“You’ve definitely had too much to drink.”
“I have before, you know. In college… wait… I am in college!” Alicia snatched a handful of his shirt and stared at the ceiling above them. “Did it a few times. Really good shit, yo. Better than sex with you.” The last words stung the air like a killer bee gone rogue. Alicia didn’t wait for her boyfriend’s response before casting herself onto the other side of the couch, where she buried her face in the upholstery.
Devon put that outburst out of his mind. While he wasn’t egotistical enough to think himself the greatest lover any woman could have, he certainly wasn’t prepared for a drunken outburst like that. Let alone on a Monday night.
Right. He needed to get his drunken girlfriend a bucket to potentially puke in. To the kitchen he went.
Alicia had left the door unlocked when she stumbled through minutes ago. Danielle poked her head through the gap, attention settling on the brunette sprawled across the arm of the couch. “Hello?” she asked, wary. “Anyone home? Devon?”
“Yeah, over here,” he called from the kitchen. “Sorry about the emotional mess on the couch. Bad day for her, I guess.”
“Uh… is she crying?”
Alicia shuddered with every one of her breaths. “Shit,” Devon muttered. He stepped out of the kitchen and brought the bucket he had promised his girlfriend. “You okay, hon?”
“I…” She kept her face pressed into the corner of the couch. “Think I’m gonna be sick.” Her breath was fouler than sulfur.
Before she could lose her liquid supper all over him, Devon remembered the towels in the back bathroom. “This is going to sound odd,” he turned a hopeful glance toward Danielle, “but do you think you could watch her while I go find some towels in case she pukes? There’s a bucket there if things go that direction.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Please?”
“What the hell do you want me to do in the meantime? Relay all my own drunken college experiences?”
“Two seconds ago she was going on about how the best sex of her life was with a woman, so maybe you could regale her with some fun lesbian tales to brighten her drunken Monday night.” He ran down the hallway, tennis shoes thumping against the hardwood floor.
“Whatever.” Danielle hooked her thumbs into her front pockets and ambled toward the sofa where Alicia cried herself into a stupor. The only thing Danielle knew about Devon’s girlfriend was that she was prone to inebriation. Seemed fitting for a college-based relationship.
She also couldn’t see Alicia’s face, for she had covered it with her coat and the shoulder-length hair that plastered itself to her skin with sweat and drool. If she could see Alicia’s face, then this already botched night would go in an incredibly different direction.
The universe wasn’t ready for her to go in that direction, however. So Danielle would perch on the arm of the couch and pretend she couldn’t smell this woman’s alcohol breath.
“So you like girls, huh? How’s that working out for your relationship? You know, he called me a lesbian, but I’m technically bisexual, so…” Why the hell was she sharing this personal information with a girl choking on her own spit? Was this really what Danielle’s life had become at twenty-nine?
(Yes.)
Alicia pushed her arm underneath her face and continued to cry, lost in her own drunken, desolate world. Danielle gave up trying to communicate and remained where she sat, staring at the small TV in front of the window and wondering if she could jump out of the way in time for Devon’s girlfriend to vomit all over the living room floor.
Something else called to her, however. No, it wasn’t Alicia, who was now half-asleep on the couch. But it was something on her person. Something Danielle couldn’t see, but made her uneasy… and her tattooed wrist ache.
Just like Devon’s always ached.
Easy to see that Alicia was
a link between two people who hadn’t met in this life until a few days ago. Now, wasn’t it curious that they both had similar reactions to her since Ramaron Marlow barged into their lives? In a perfect life, both Devon and Danielle would have the capacity to acknowledge that perhaps, maybe, they should confront Alicia and discover how deeply the link between the three of them went.
Unfortunately, neither Devon nor Danielle had the capacity to accomplish this yet. Partly because of ignorance, but mostly because stubborn mules like Danielle Cromwell were always the last to acknowledge anything unpleasant. It was much easier to sit off to the side and pretend nothing uncouth occurred.
Even though the tattoo hurt like a wound.
“Here we go.” Devon returned with a handful of towels. “Ready to go?”
Danielle looked up at him, incredulous. “Go? You’re going to leave her like this?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “Not too worried about her. She’s breathing.” Still, just to make sure, he would slightly turn her body so fresh air readily accessed her nostrils. “We won’t be gone long. I hope.”
“If you think it’s best…” Danielle pried her eyes off the mass of dark hair. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
Devon grabbed his jacket off the flimsy coat rack by the door. “Think it will be cold where we’re going?”
This was their first attempt going to Marlow’s office on their own. He had sworn that all they had to do was grab their wrists and think of his office, and time and space would wibbly-wobbly and blah blah blah the next door they opened would lead them to the interdimensional space. Naturally, neither of them had any idea what to make of that. Either it would work flawlessly on the first try, or they would look like utter idiots before going their separate ways and feeling content to let the whole damn world burn.
“If you think you need a jacket, far be it from me to try to change your mind.” Danielle wore one because she had gone outside. The days grew warmer as spring advanced through the weeks, but the nights were still chilly. “Anyway, let’s go ahead and embarrass ourselves when this inevitably doesn’t work.”
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 9
