by LeAnn Mason
ILLUSIONARY
MINEFIELD ENFORCERS BOOK ONE
LEANN MASON
Illusionary by LeAnn Mason
Published by LeAnn Mason, LLC 14083 OK-51 #301, Coweta, OK 74429
www.leannmason.com
Copyright © 2018 by LeAnn Mason. All rights reserved.
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the production of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, live or dead, are purely coincidental.
For more information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, go to www.leannmason.com or email at: [email protected]
Illusionary/LeAnn Mason– First Printing/2018
ISBN:
Cover by: Crimson Phoenix Creations
Edited by: Tina’s Edit Service
For everyone instrumental in making this work possible.
You all rock. You know who you are.
CONTENTS
EIGHTEEN YEARS EARLIER
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
FOLLOW LINKS
EIGHTEEN YEARS EARLIER
Dr. Connor Dae
HE SAW IT HAPPENING, inside this artificial hometown. The separation was beginning—no, more like spreading. Like a disease. Division by differences. Segregation. He watched, saddened, as yet another Primal family moved away from his quaint neighborhood.
Connor had a habit of tunneling his fingers desperately within his thick locks when he was troubled, making it the reason he kept his auburn hair cropped short. He snatched his hand from the prickly mass.
The Enhanced, genetically superior humans evolved from a believed result of long-term medical intervention on their ancestors with various continual drug therapies such as antipsychotics or radiation exposure, had already been forced out of the general human population.
But now, those in their invisible cage disguised as a community were taking up the call and further shrinking their world. Sage—those with heightened brain activity, and Primal—those with superior physicality, were no longer united in being different from Non-Enhanced humans. Now, they, too, were dividing. The physically superior versus the mentally. Soon it would be groups of one or the other, not mixed—making him an outcast by default.
Connor Dae was the son of Lynn and Castor Dae. His mother a Primal and father Sage. His parents were among the initial to be identified and rehomed to Minefield, the first generation of Enhanced. Rehomed? Incarcerated was probably a better term.
Minefield, USA, was a small town in the middle of nowhere north Texas, isolated from the rest of the human population by design. Enhanced humans were deemed such a wildcard by those in power around the world that holding areas were created for the anomalies to be shunted. Each was far enough from the general population that if deemed a threat and needed “large scale elimination,” it could be done without risking collateral damage.
Connor snorted at the thought. Though, seriously, since when had a thing like collateral damage stopped a bombing when the powers that be deemed it necessary. Shaking his head and running fingers up the bridge of his nose, he pushed his glasses away and rubbed his eyes to dispel the thought.
One generation. That's all it had taken, a quarter of a century or so, for the Enhanced to turn on one another. Connor shook his head again, disheartened. Hybrids would be a thing of the past if this continued. Couldn't the others see that by joining their gene pool, they could help eliminate their shortcomings? Both divisions of the Enhanced had a flaw. They were opposite of each other: Primals were mentally unstable; Sage—physically weak.
Connor's medically analytical brain told him the best way to combat these flaws was to mingle genes with those who were strong in areas where one was weak.
Maybe it was because they were not seeing marked improvement within his generation, or they wanted more, faster. Instant gratification seemed the way of things. How did you combat that thinking?
What would happen to his little girl, the one his beloved Alana was carrying in her belly? What world, isolated though it was, would she endure? He feared for the future if this mindset continued along the path he was seeing. As a doctor, how could he stand idly by? What could he do for the Enhanced, for his family?
The wheels in his mind furiously turned as he pulled on his jacket, the weather starting to turn from the sweltering, sticky heat of summer, to the brisk mornings he loved. Connor stepped onto the front porch of his humble home and turned back to lock the door. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath of clean, crisp morning air, the tangy scent of fresh cut grass and dew clinging to the shortened blades.
Connor ambled slowly to his old sedan which the Non-Enhanced had deemed him worthy of, if only due to his profession. The vehicle wasn’t anything special, in fact to the outside world it was woefully inadequate. But he was grateful, and lucky, to have it. The door creaked loudly when Connor opened it, making him wince. Sometimes he forgot that he was stronger than pure Sage, and some objects protested his efforts.
Never on the job though. As an Emergency Physician, Connor Dae was impeccable, and the main reason he held any respect.
He hoped that respect would aid him in finding a way to help others see the detriment in dividing themselves. The Enhanced needed solidarity as the world came to terms with their existence. The question Connor pondered on the short drive to the hospital was, how? Would his daughter be the catalyst for change as he hoped, or had he doomed her to a life which held no happy ending? Had Connor made a mistake in tinkering with genetics? Would this new divided Minefield be a safe haven, or an inescapable prison?
CHAPTER 1
“OOF!” I GASPED AS I fell backward, my feet flying up from under me. A second gasp escaped when my back crashed on the soft grass. The impact so jarring, one of my earbuds popped free of its nearly permanent home in my ear.
From my flattened position, I stared at the sky and white puffy clouds breezing along merrily. After gulping air and making sure all parts were still functioning, I used my elbows to prop myself up as I looked around for the reason I was no longer vertical. A few paces in front of me, a football rocked slightly as it settled on the plush grass. A burst of raucous laughter drew my attention to a group of Primal males all roaring, slapping each other on the back and doubling over with mirth.
“Just like a Sage to walk through an ongoing game without knowing,” a particularly large Primal guffawed, his friends agreeing. Their muscles bulged, bare torsos gleaming with sweat as they continued to berate my obliviousness.
To be fair, they were right about me not paying attention. I was too absorbed in the invigorating melody of the large stringed instruments wafting from my earbuds. I had been twitching my fingers with phantom strings and had not been in tune with my surroundings.
I was lucky to not be nearly as fragile as a pure Sage, wh
o would be headed to the ER, most likely with something broken. Dad would probably be the one looking into their injuries. I didn’t have that breakability about me. Don’t get me wrong, that freaking hurt like a mother, but I would only bruise. No internal injuries for me!
I was a bit more, shall we say…resilient than the average Sage here in Minefield. But then, that was because I wasn’t only Sage, and that fact made me a larger target for abuse.
Living in a town mainly comprised of Enhanced humans, I saw fantastic things every day. A Sage was always using their telekinesis, or a Primal demonstrating their strength for all to see, much like this group. To us, Enhanced referred to people who had developed "abilities" beyond the average human.
Sages possessed a mental gift. My enhancement was telepathy, but it was so far from a gift that I considered it a burden. My lack of mental barriers had never been much more than an additional way to separate me from my peers. I often wished I had gained a more mainstream ability such as telekinesis or eidetic memory. Being a professed Primal would’ve been awesome as well, but that part of my identity was squelched, suppressed. Unexplored.
Primal Enhanced were physically superior to the other divisions, and their gifts added to that divide. Not only were they physically bigger, stronger, and faster, but their abilities were cooler. I mean, how awesome would it be to see in the dark or be so fast that you blurred in people's vision? My Primal ability was pretty cool though. Too bad it only came into play when I was injured, and that no one knew about it. Yeah, that little piece of the Nathalee-Dae-puzzle wasn’t given to anyone. What they did know about, landed me in the Sage camp.
I was a telepath.
I read people's thoughts, which all too often were not flattering for anyone. The person thinking unfavorable opinions usually painted themselves in a bad light, making it the biggest reason people didn't want me around. They didn't like that I knew their words and actions were a lie. Sages prided themselves on their stoic, objective nature, and they hated that I could see through the mask. Primals were usually pretty straight forward, or at least what little I’d seen of them.
So, my time was spent alone unless I was with Jade. I usually observed from afar, lost in my music, not worrying about others' thoughts interfering with my own.
I watched Sages play games like the Non-Enhanced humans did, but with teams using thought to propel items instead of arms or legs, seeing as another Sage trait was physical limitation. Sometimes those limits were as benign as being shorter and thinner. Other times, they were more debilitating.
This was the main contention between Sage and Primal Enhanced—each lacked what the other had in spades.
Except me.
Once I’d recovered my breath, certainly not my pride, I stood and dusted myself off with as much dignity I could muster. As I patted down my clothes and tried to keep myself from aching, I popped my earbuds in and continued my journey home. As I came upon the picturesque grounds of the equestrian center, however, I decided I needed some pony time.
Veering toward the drive, I took in everything as the music pulsed in my ears, further lightening my mood. I forgot the ache in my midsection, which was surely bruised but mending quickly, and breathed deeply as I passed under the entry gate’s overhanging sign which simply read “Minefield Equestrian.” I dragged my feet through the dirt and gravel, kicking up clouds of dust in my wake.
Everything about this place called to me, and I removed my earbuds and tucked them into my pocket. I paused at a small turnout area divided into several individual parts, most containing a horse. The occupants threw their heads from side to side, almost appearing to say no as they pranced back and forth with their neighbors. Then they’d stop and attempt a quick bite at the horse across the fence before pulling back, squealing, and kicking out with their legs.
I loved it.
I barked a quick laugh at their antics before pushing away from the railing and heading into the barn proper. Off to my left, I noticed the large man I often ogled from afar. He looked to be hosing down a horse tied to a post. The horse danced an Irish jig, tapping with his hooves across the mat in his futile attempts to keep its face from the deluge.
I'd seen the man at the barn countless times, though, never actually encountered him. I didn't know his name. I didn't know his age. I didn't know his eye color, or how he felt about the weather. I didn't know anything about him other than what I could see from a distance. I think this was why he intrigued me. I hadn't yet been plagued by his internal diatribe. One thing I was certain of: he was not Sage. He was way too tall and wide, too sculpted and athletic. He could be an NE, but he seemed too smooth, too graceful. I shrugged. It didn’t matter, really.
I had no idea if he even knew I came here, or who I was in general. He had no notion of my particular brand of crazy, or I his. My time here was spent roaming the barn aisle and nuzzling with the horses, taking in their scents and reveling in the absence of voices in my head.
I sat against the stall door of a horse named Jasper, my legs extended in front of me and crossed at the ankles. I leaned my head against the warm wood and closed my eyes. At this point in the day, my spot was in a beam of sunshine–warming me to my bones. Breathing deeply, I savored the musty, stale air carrying a variety of aromas. Some were pleasant, like the spicy, woodsy scent of pine shavings used in the stalls, or the smells of the animals, which were earthy and tinged with salty sweat. The bouquet of fresh excrement was not my favorite, but was ever present and added to the overall feel of this place. My peace.
Jasper whinnied and nuzzled the top of my head in greeting. I returned his affections by reaching up and holding his nose to my forehead. The whiskers on his chin tickled my skin, making me giggle and pull away. Jasper was my favorite animal here. Not only was he a gorgeous copper color with a strikingly blond mane and tail, but he had big, kind brown eyes that seemed to look into my soul. We understood each other without me peeking into his mind, and I loved him for it.
I opened my eyes to a blazing pink and orange sky, the sunlight burning my retinas with its intensity. My backside ached from sitting on the packed dirt for so long and my muscles were stiff, which made me realize the warmth had lulled me into a nap, and not the momentary closure I expected my eyes to accept.
I groaned as I pushed off the ground and stretched. Facing Jasper's stall, the sun's scorching rays behind me, I came back to the present as my stomach roared its verbal protest at the time between meals. I needed to eat. My metabolism was definitely faster than the average bear and I had to continually stuff my gob.
She stayed a while today.
I turned to see who was around and spotted the attractive man two stalls down, putting him several yards away as he walked to the far end of the barn. I couldn't pull my eyes from his strong back as he filled the wheelbarrow with forage for his charges. I'd never heard him speak before, probably because I was usually long gone by this time in the evening. Already back home to assure my parents, my dad really, that no one had taken extra notice of me.
She seems to like Jasper, I heard him say and then chuckle. I couldn't help but smile in reaction to his mirth. I wondered why he found that funny. Jasper was a fine horse, maybe a little impatient. We had that in common. The man had a nice voice, deep and melodic. Soothing. I half expected it to be clumsy and stilted, as every Sage I talked to, or heard, seemed to think Primals and Non-Enhanced were almost a lesser being. Something not nearly as evolved as Sage.
The man wheeled the feed down the dirt aisle, stopping every so often to fork hay into a stall where the horse would immediately pull a mouthful away and chew blissfully. I now realized that the barn was fully occupied with its four-hooved occupants.
When he was about ten feet away, I plucked the courage to speak. "Hello." Nice, Nathalee, real smooth.
He grabbed another piece and approached Jasper's stall. I saw myself through his eyes. He was not guarding his mind, and I was curious. I stood awkwardly with my hands at my sides, my blue-green e
yes wide, blondish hair a riotous mess that escaped the confines of my ponytail. My mouth, slightly open as if in a stupor, was a nice touch.
This close, I noticed he was a few years my senior. He definitely had a mature vibe about him. I’d guess early twenties. His eyes were a vibrant blue, made more striking by his dark hair and the stubble lining his jaw. He quirked his mouth in a half-smile that crinkled the corner of his eye and inclined his head slightly.
We stood gawking at each other until Jasper, having decided he'd waited long enough for his dinner, pawed at his stall door, making an awful racket. The moment dispelled, mystery man continued on to Jasper's stall to deliver food. I pulled myself a little straighter and cleared my throat.
"I'm Nathalee. I've seen you here working with the horses. Are you a trainer?" The man glanced at me as he headed back to the cart but didn't say anything. Not very social then. That was usually my role.
"What's your name?" Again, nothing. I followed behind him, starting to get annoyed. Geez, was this how people felt around me? No, I didn't ignore them if they spoke directly to me. I just tried to avoid close quarters with crowds. Stomping along, I didn’t care I kicked up clouds of choking dust sprinkled liberally with powdered horse manure.
He was tall, over six feet to my five foot, seven inches. I wasn't used to looking up when addressing anyone. Most Sages were under six-feet tall, especially the females–around five feet, four inches on a good day. Mark another tally for not being like most Sages.
His dark hair was sweaty and curled around his nape. Every so often, he would toss his head, dispelling a lock from his eyes, seeing as his hands were occupied. He was beautiful. Too bad he was rude.
She's following me.
"Yeah, I'm following you. You didn't answer me like social norms dictate when asked a direct question," I huffed at him and threw my arms up in defeat, letting them slam to my sides. Spinning on my heel, I strode toward the door at the far end of the aisle, intent on leaving. I'd already been out too late.
