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  “Nothing you can say will bring them back.”

  He sucked in a breath, shocked by her verbal jab. Icy resignation stole through his being. “You’re right. None of it matters anymore.” He pulled the journal out of his pocket and sat at the round table near the windows. He couldn’t force her to listen and he was sick to death of groveling.

  You’re one mean-spirited bitch. Dro Tar chastised herself as she turned back to the windows and stared out at the dancing lights. Evan hadn’t deserved the low blow. Why was she so afraid to hear his side of the story?

  He activated the journal with a terse verbal command and a wayward tingle skittered down her spine. Their shared vision had been an undeniable reminder of how well she responded to his commands and how much he’d meant to her. So why was she forcing him away?

  She shook her head. Her attraction to Evan wasn’t the problem. It was more complicated than that. Part of her wanted to believe he was responsible for the mission’s failure. She needed someone else to blame.

  Guilt and grief swelled from deep inside her, squeezing her stomach and drying her throat. “Director Detrik didn’t want to use me, but no other female operative would agree to go.” Evan didn’t reply, so she turned around. He’d paused the journal and pushed back from the table. “I’d never collaborated with a Mystic before. You intimidated the hell out of me.”

  A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “It was the first mission I’d commanded. I was probably more intimidated than you.”

  “I didn’t want to like you. You were so arrogant.” She crossed to the table and slipped into the chair facing him. “I had far more field experience than you did and still they chose you to lead the team. That really pissed me off.” Their cabin on the smuggler’s ship had been continually monitored, greatly limiting what they could say. “There was so much I wanted to ask, so much I needed to know.”

  “Ask me now. I’ll tell you anything.” His voice wrapped around her with silken temptation, but she couldn’t see past the contacts disguising his eyes.

  She swallowed hard and glanced away. Her curiosity would have to wait. The incident loomed between them like a specter. Until it was vanquished, the rest was moot. “Was there really another ship?”

  “Yes. I take it you never read my addendum to the official record.”

  “I didn’t want to know.” Her pride groaned with the admission.

  Resting his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward. “I don’t understand. What did you gain by believing I was a coward?”

  Her lips trembled. She pressed them together as memories flooded her mind, Bron’s easy smile, Fitz’s smoldering gaze. Evan scooted his chair around the table and took her hands, cradling them between his warm palms.

  She raised her gaze to his and her determination faltered. “Take off your contacts. I can’t do this if I can’t see your eyes.”

  “I will if you will.” He offered with a hesitant smile.

  After storing their contacts in plastic cases, they returned to the outer room. Evan sat in the same chair he’d vacated, while Dro Tar crossed to the sofa situated against the adjacent wall. His natural, lime-green eyes watched her with cautious expectation. She released her tension in a long, low sigh. At least she could see him now.

  “I was in a social alliance with Bron before the mission,” she began. “I didn’t know if they told you that.”

  “I suspected you two had been lovers. I didn’t realize the relationship had ended so recently.”

  “It didn’t actually end.” She drew her legs up before her and wrapped her arms around her knees. “He was furious when I applied for the mission. He knew I’d be paired with a Mystic and he knew I would ... He knew sex might be necessary for the role I’d agreed to play.”

  He opened his mouth, then raised his hands, obviously at a loss for words.

  Cut to the chase. He doesn’t need this much detail. “I was shocked when you zapped off the ship. I lost focus and one of the smugglers grabbed me. Bron charged the bastard and then all hell broke loose.”

  In a blur of graceful movement, Evan was out of his chair and kneeling in front of her. He raised his hand to her face and searched her gaze. Compassion shone in his eyes, making her heart flutter. “I only had an instant to act after I sensed the signal. I tried to warn you, but --”

  “Don’t you understand? He was protecting me. He shouldn’t have had to protect me. I shouldn’t have let you distract me.” She arched away from his touch. His hand lowered to her neck. “I needed to blame you so I wouldn’t feel so guilty.”

  He sat beside her, stroking the underside of her jaw with his thumb. “We were trained to protect each other. Bron was only doing his job. You can’t blame yourself for his death. The smugglers were responsible.”

  She shook her head. “Bron knew. He looked into my eyes and knew what I felt for you had nothing to do with the mission. I shouldn’t have let you get to me. I should have --”

  Dragging her into his arms, he cut off her words with his mouth. Her body unfolded, resting half on and half off his lap. His lips gentled after a brief moment of demand. He tilted his head and gave her bottom lip a playful nibble. “No one expected the mission to last as long as it did. We had no way of knowing how we would react to each other.” He shifted her against his chest, cradling the back of her head with the bend of his elbow. “We met our objectives. The smugglers were apprehended. Even the crew of the second ship was eventually caught.”

  “How did you escape? For that matter, how were they able to keep you captive? You can teleport.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” He paused for a moment as his thumb traced her lips. “In my youthful arrogance, I overestimated my range. I was lucky to solidify. By the time I thwarted their plans, I was so weak I could hardly move.”

  “How long did it take you to regain your strength?”

  “They fed me little and kept everyone away from me so I couldn’t siphon energy. It was only when they decided to interrogate me that I was able to acquire what I needed.”

  She’d been taught how to offer energy to a Mystic and the process still overwhelmed her. When energy was taken without the donor’s cooperation the energy was tainted and the donor was often damaged.

  “I managed not to kill them, though I doubt they would have extended me the same courtesy.” He dragged his gaze away from her face and let his hand slip to her shoulder. “The memorial services for Bron and Fitz had already taken place by the time I returned to Ontariese. Director Detrik told me the mission was considered a success, but I couldn’t accept the cost. I was team leader and two men had died on my watch.”

  “I know you renounced your title and asked to be retrained.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to take responsibility for my actions. I don’t pretend to be blameless. If I had warned the team about the ambush instead of trying to be a hero, we might have been able to blast our way out.”

  “Or we might have lost the whole team.”

  “Life is filled with possibilities.” His voice was low and reflective, his gaze fixed on her mouth. “We’re never completely sure the decisions we make are correct. I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes, but I am not a coward.”

  Time itself paused as he raised his gaze to hers. All the bitterness melted away, leaving a vague sense of longing. She missed her friends and ached for the future she might have built with Evan. “It was easier to believe you deserted us than to accept responsibility for Bron’s death.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He sat her up on his lap and framed her face with his hands. “Repeat after me: I am not responsible for Bron’s death.”

  “I am not responsible for Bron’s death.”

  “Let’s try another one: Loving Evan did not contribute to the tragedy.”

  She shook her head, her lips parting in a reluctant smile. “I never said I loved you. There’s that Mystic arrogance again.”

  He laid her back across the couch and arched over her. Interlac
ing their fingers, he drew her arms over her head and settled his mouth on hers. She inhaled his scent, relishing the teasing brush of his lips against hers.

  “I missed you.” He didn’t allow her to reply. Tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue, he warned her of his intention, then eased into her mouth. His taste, the silken slide of his tongue against hers, the intensity and urgency. No one kissed like Evan.

  Angling her head and curling her tongue around his, she savored the heat and the intimacy. She needed to touch him, to rediscover the wonder of being with him. His warm breath wafted across her moist lips as he pulled back.

  “We can’t do this.” He panted. “I have to figure out why we’re here.”

  “I think this is why we’re here. I think Tal wanted us to work things out.”

  He shook his head, his ravenous gaze moving over her face. “Tal didn’t trigger my vision. He might have sent you after me hoping we’d reconcile, but the crisis is real.”

  “Show me.” She tightened her fingers around his as he started to get up. “Show me what you saw in the vortex.”

  She wanted his mouth on hers, or better yet, his entire body wrapped around her. Instead, he pressed their foreheads together and told her to close her eyes. As soon as she lowered her lids, color and light burst within her mind. Bending, shifting, like a Mystic kaleidoscope, images flashed through the color in rapid succession. She was about to dismiss the fragments as simple distortions when emotion bombarded her mind. Trepidation squeezed her heart. This was real. Someone was in danger. For just an instant she saw thick-lashed lavender eyes, filled with fear and hopelessness, then the image disappeared into the colors and the vision dissolved.

  “Who is she?” Dro Tar whispered.

  He eased back and met her gaze. “That’s what we have to figure out.”

  * * * * *

  Grat held the palm-size device level with his face and said, “Full spectrum display.” A three dimensional grid rose from the surface of the scanner. Malos had assured him the scanner would pick up the Mystic’s energy pattern. As long as Dro Tar was still with the Mystic, Grat shouldn’t have any trouble executing his objectives.

  Stone-cold fury washed over him. The mission was familiar. Neutralizing a threat was nothing he hadn’t done before, but he’d left this life behind when he met Dro Tar. Her effervescent personality and undaunted spirit had motivated him to change. He’d sworn he’d never hunt again and he’d meant it.

  He shook away the thought. His intentions no longer mattered. If some faceless Mystic had to lose his life to ensure Gine’s safety, so be it. He’d kill the Mystic, retrieve the journal, and return to Ontariese with Dro Tar. Then Malos would pay for making him break his vow!

  Malos insisted the only way to avoid detection was to make sure the transport conduit never touched the ground. So he’d dropped Grat into a field adjacent to the airport with all the care of a garbage scow. Stunned and aching from the impact, Grat had walked to the terminal and located one of the yellow vehicles Malos had described. The vehicle then delivered him to the hotel and Grat secured a room.

  First and foremost, Grat had to locate the Mystic. According to Malos the scanner was accurate, but its range was limited. The city’s attractions were congregated in two primary locations, downtown and the Strip. He would organize each into a manageable grid, then begin his search.

  If only he had some form of transportation, the search would take a fraction of the time than if he attempted it on foot. A brochure for helicopter tours lay on the nightstand. He shook his head. An aerial search might take him out of scanner range. He needed an automobile and someone capable of operating it while he scanned each building within the grid.

  He picked up the primitive audiocom and punched the button connecting him with the front desk.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I need to arrange transportation to take me about the city.”

  “Tourist information is on the table, sir, and there should be a directory in the nightstand. Dial nine for an outside line.”

  Tossing the headset back in its cradle, he opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a book printed on yellow paper. “How quaint,” he grumbled. It took him a few minutes to locate the service he required. He depressed the number nine then entered the number from the advertisement.

  “Racing Hearts Escort Service,” a pleasant female voice came across the line. “Your satisfaction is guaranteed.”

  He glanced at the sultry eyed woman in the advertisement and smiled. “I’d like to arrange for an escort.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Any luck?”

  Evan looked up from the journal and folded his hands on the tabletop. Dro Tar reclined in the contoured spa, the bubbling water more or less hiding her nudity from view. She wasn’t trying to be distracting. She didn’t have to try. Ever since she’d emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel he’d been unable to concentrate.

  “I’ve tried all the obvious searches. There are only a handful of entries that mention Malos and the information is nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Read me some of the entries. Maybe you’re missing the forest for the trees.”

  “The first entry records his acceptance into the Conservatory, the second states the name of his mentor.” He motioned toward the display. “There is no way any of this can be construed as incriminating.”

  “Who was his mentor?” She tilted her head at that inquisitive angle that always made him smile. How could he be so comfortable with her nearness after all the cycles they had been apart? “Is there anything incriminating about him?”

  “Not at all. Malos was mentored by one of the most respected ...” His words trailed away as he reread the entry. “His mentor died shortly after Malos completed his training, but there was nothing suspicious about his death.”

  “All right, let’s look at this from an entirely different angle. Are there any of the entries you haven’t transmitted to Lord Drakkin yet? Once the information is entered into the Wisdom of the Ages Malos is shit out of luck.”

  His gaze darted to her. “You have incorporated some delightful new phrases into your vocabulary.”

  “Thank you.” She laughed and arched her back, dipping her hair in the water. The motion thrust her breasts into the air. Water ran in rivulets across her smooth ivory skin and her dusky nipples gathered into tight points.

  Desire spiraled down from Evan’s chest and lodged between his thighs. “You’re not helping.”

  “Sorry.” With a siren’s smile, she settled back beneath the water.

  “The last four entries have yet to be transmitted.”

  “Is there anything odd in any of them?”

  “Define odd.” He scrolled to the first of the four entries. “Vee could be quite cryptic at times. He often addressed Lord Drakkin directly. Did you know Lord Drakkin was Vee’s mentor?”

  “I met Lord Drakkin during my last mission to Earth. He helped us destroy Operation Hydra. I didn’t know either of them well, but I’m acquainted with their reputations. Read the four entries.”

  “‘The shadow looms ever nearer. I know ye warned me, Chae Tra. But I was often slow to learn.’”

  “Vee was slow to learn? What does that make the rest of us?” She fidgeted, one silky knee poking out of the water as she raised her foot to some ledge beneath the surface. “Krysta tried to get him to modernize his speech. She might have succeeded if she’d had more time. What does Chae Tra mean? I’ve never heard that word before.”

  “It’s the Bilarrian word for master. This is one of those entries that seems more like personal correspondence than official record. I doubt it was meant for the Symposium’s archive.”

  “What do you think he meant by the shadow looming?”

  “Vee spent the last few days of his life making sure everything was in order. I believe he knew he was going to die.”

  “You don’t have to be a Mystic to feel death breathing down your nec
k. It’s a common phenomenon. What does the next entry say?”

  “It’s the Mystic Charter word for word. Again he had no reason to do this unless he sensed death approaching.”

  “What is in the Mystic Charter?”

  “It consists of the three fundamental statements governing a Mystic’s life. The oath each novice recites upon acceptance for training, the vows of a Master-level Mage, and the pledge of political neutrality.”

  “Isn’t this already recorded in the Wisdom of the Ages?”

  “Of course. It’s also on file with the Ontarian hall of records, as well as framed in the vestibule of the training center.”

  “Okay, so chalk that up to the department of redundancy department. Vee was just covering all the bases. Read the next one.”

  “Let’s see.” He found the third entry and read it out loud. “After tomorrow I will be able to erase ‘sat’ from my vocabulary. Such a simple change, yet the ramifications will be staggering. I’ve sent ye one last message, my friend. I trust thee to act upon it.”

  “Have you spoken to Lord Drakkin? Did Vee send him a private message?”

  “Not that I know of. The past few weeks have been hectic to say the least.”

  “How well do you know Lord Drakkin?”

  “My only dealing with him has been as Vee’s apprentice, but Vee trusted him implicitly. Why do you ask?”

  “Unless the last entry changes my mind, I think you should give all this to Lord Drakkin and let him decide what to do with it. Vee’s own words say that he trusts Lord Drakkin to act on the information.”

  “I don’t understand the last entry.”

  “What does it say?”

  “‘My only regret is never hearing her name again.’”

  * * * * *

  A firm rap on the door drew Grat’s attention to the portal. He slipped the scanner into the pocket of his pants and opened the door. A female smiled at him, her eyes on a level with his. She wore no shirt beneath her black jacket, allowing her lush breasts to swell into view. The scrap of material that passed for her skirt barely reached mid-thigh and impossibly high heels extended the line of her legs by at least four inches.