Pirate Nemesis (Telepathic Space Pirates Book 1) (18 page)

“That’s not something you see every day.”

He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Reaper sent a cold look to Griffin, but they’d grown up together. The other man wasn’t intimidated; he knew too well what Reaper’s eyes looked like in the grip of a killing mood. His younger brother, Cage, drew a bit further away.

“Look, Cage,” continued Griffin, nudging him with a shoulder. “Probably the only time we’ll ever see Reaper run from a room.”

He hadn’t been running. Just…taking a moment. Reaper’s eyes narrowed. He’d forgotten how irritating Griffin could be, always quick with a joke at someone else’s expense. Normally it didn’t bother him. Now, he found himself studying them both with a killer’s eyes. Mentally running through all of the most efficient ways to kill them calmed his nerves, and the annoyance faded. Reaper favored them with a cold smile. Griffin grinned back, an unperturbed as usual, but Cage’s complexion whitened.

The two of them stood in the hallway waiting for Vashti, as alike as brothers could be. They both sported the family line’s signature green eyes, nebula bright. Griffin was an inch taller, and slightly heavier, but Cage was the dangerous one. Griffin’s Talent was the more powerful, but he had a carefully strategic mind and was generally, annoyingly, good-natured. Cage was unpredictable, and he’d never recovered from the loss of their sister several years past. Although unsure around Reaper, the younger man was normally quick to anger. And he reacted with brutal, callous efficiency.

Reaper had once seen him beat a man to death in the arena. The insult had been slight, and the man’s skill poor. Cage could have knocked him unconscious and left it at that. Instead, he’d beaten him with a methodical, cold competence that had been as impressive as it was deliberate. Reaper marked the moment and never forgot.

“Griffin.” Reaper nodded in greeting. “Still dogging Vashti’s heels, I see.”

The insult wasn’t subtle. Griffin was a member of the Core, the ruling body that helped govern the pirates. Reaper knew Dem had offered Vashti her own set of dogs and she’d politely refused, saying she needed none with her nephews around. When Griffin wasn’t personally with her, his own dogs were, including his brother Cage. Reaper wondered how much of their protectiveness was in response to Vashti’s demands, and how much revolved around protecting the few women left in their immediate family.

Griffin just smiled, as Reaper had known he would.

“You know me, always looking to get out of meetings. Besides, she’s always where the really important action is.”

That was true enough. Vashti had her nose in everyone’s business, from Cannon to each member of the Core.

Sobering, Griffin said, “Someone must really want Mercy dead.”

“They must, yes.”

“She’s family,” said Cage with a frown.

“She is.” Griffin looked back at Reaper. “Anything we can do to help?”

Reaper debated for a moment, but Griffin was Core. He would know soon enough, whether Reaper was the one to tell him or not.

“Those who set the bomb are dead. The one who directed them to do it wiped their memories.”

Cage and Griffin exchanged a look.

“That’s a pretty crude way of covering his tracks.”

“But effective.” Reaper thought it interesting that Griffin assumed the perpetrator was a man. The population being what it was, chance weighed heavy in that direction, but there were women aboard
Nemesis
who were more than capable. He had certainly not discounted any of them, including Vashti.

“I thought she’d be here much sooner to see Mercy,” Reaper said, testing the waters.

“She went to check on the children first,” said Cage. “That explosion was felt six decks away. People were scared. Especially the little ones.”

“Cannon kept in touch,” Griffin commented. “We knew what was going on.”

Good enough for now. With the family history of back stabbing and assassination, Reaper wasn’t ready to cross them off the list yet, but truthfully, Vashti was low in the pool of suspects. He couldn’t see a real advantage to her in Mercy’s death, and the warmth in her eyes just now when she’d entered the infirmary had not been feigned.

“You should have left one of them alive,” said Griffin, leaning back against the wall with his hands at his belt. “I bet Treon could have pulled something from them, memory wipe or not.”

Possible. But a moot point, since they were all dead. Reaper almost scowled. No doubt he would hear about that later from Treon.

“Hey.”

All three of them turned to the door as Mercy stepped through it. The bruise was still a livid mark against her temple, but her hair hid most of it now. It hung almost to her jaw in a disheveled wave that managed to flatter and highlight the slash of her cheekbones and narrow features. Nayla had definitely made it grow. Griffin straightened from the wall, his trademark grin in place.

“Glad to see you survived, cousin. But then, we’re hard to kill.”

If he was trying to win some kind of approval from Mercy, he failed miserably. As she always did with family, she eyed him warily, and stepped closer to Reaper as she navigated the hallway.

“Not from what I remember,” she disagreed in a mutter. Her eyes cut to Reaper and she lowered her voice. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

Of course.

She winced.
Damn it, I keep forgetting I can just talk in your mind.

It will take time to become second nature.

Yeah.

Oblivious to their mental conversation, Griffin was holding out his hand and trying to invite her to dinner. He really was charming, but Mercy did not appear swayed.

“No thanks,” she said, and brushed by him to move down the hall.

Reaper met Griffin’s eyes, and allowed himself a small smile as he followed her.

“So, we have to go the long way, right? And use emergency ladders?” Her voice floated back over her shoulder.

Indeed. I’ll show you how to glide down with telekinesis.
Reaper didn’t examine too closely why he felt such a surge of…something, at Mercy’s indifference to Griffin.

Thankfully, Cannon didn’t sense it and tell him what it was. At this point, Reaper would rather not know.

“Great,” said Mercy with false enthusiasm. “That doesn’t sound dangerous at all. You know, I think I’ll just watch, and then climb down the old-fashioned way.”

If you like
.
Until whoever was behind this is caught, I’m going to assign one of my dogs to you. If I’m not with you, one of them will be.

Mercy didn’t answer him, but he caught her frown at they reached the end of the corridor. Reaper grabbed her arm, and she stopped and looked up at him. Her eyes were shadowed with unhappiness.

“All right?” he said softly, aloud. He didn’t want to force the issue, but he also wasn’t going to let it go. Mercy’s survival had somehow become extremely important in a very short time.

“All right,” she said, reluctantly. “For now.”

He could live with that.

T
hey ended
up back at Mercy’s quarters. It was a small space, but ten times bigger than the bunk she’d grown up with on Wolfgang’s ship,
Defiant
. As private spaces aboard a ship went, her new room was positively luxurious.

But it wasn’t home. Not yet.

It will be,
Reaper told her, from where he sat on one of the cushioned chairs covered in velvety fabric. Mercy was too wired to sit in the other, choosing to pace the confines of the room instead. It didn’t take long to cross from the bedroom doorway to the counter with the cold unit, and back again.

She glanced over at him with a frown.
That was a private thought.

He shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him.
Then keep it private.

Easy for you to say.

Yes,
he said with an amused tone.
It is.
His head tilted back and he stared up at her ceiling, as though it held some particular entertainment for him.

She decided to ignore his attempt at humor. Her mind kept turning over that weird dream she’d had with Willem Frain. Had it merely been a dream? Or something more? And if he was the one responsible for the explosion, how? Either way, someone on this ship had acted, had got to those men Reaper killed, and used them. Unless Willem could reach out across star systems to affect minds, he couldn’t have done it himself.

“So, who do you think was behind it?” She finally voiced the question that had been burning through her thoughts since the moment she’d woken in the infirmary, her ears still ringing and her body so full of aches she was afraid to move. “Cannon?”

The noise from Reaper startled her so much she stopped pacing. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was. Then she realized – the bark of sound was laughter. Reaper was
laughing
. She stared at him. What was this strange mood of his?

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” she said stiffly, arms crossed. “I’m afraid I find it difficult to laugh when someone tries to kill me.”

The laughter stopped, but an amused smile lingered around his mouth as he looked across the room at her. She wished his eyes weren’t such a brilliant blue. It felt like a punch to the gut every time she met his gaze. Unnerving and…just unnerving. She squelched the thought before it could complete, reminding herself that clearly, Reaper could hear every damn thought in her head. Stupid shields.

If you don’t like it, fix them. Make them stronger. Keep me out.

I’m working on it.
She sent him a glare before resuming her pacing.

“Cannon would never try to kill you,” Reaper said, his tone so laconic Mercy couldn’t mistake his complete faith that what he said was true.

“But he’s the king, right?” She argued, unwilling to let the idea go. “He has the most the lose by me being here.”

“Not at all. Cannon never wanted to be king. He hates it. He’s probably counting the days even now before you wrest power from him and take control.”

“Wait, what?” She stopped again, hesitated, and finally sat in the other chair. It took her weight, and the gel cushion formed around her in perfect support, the velvety micro-fiber so soft beneath her hands she couldn’t help but marvel and pet it with her fingers. The ships she’d grown up in and around didn’t have this level of luxury. Utilitarian was more the word. Reaper’s voice pulled her back from the brief distraction.

“Cannon doesn’t want to be king,” Reaper said again. “After Lilith died, he stepped into the void because anarchy was killing what was left of us. We had hundreds of deaths every day as Captains squabbled for power, each trying to lay claim to the empty throne. What remained of our women were quarantined away on a colony world to keep them safe from the virus. Without the influence of a queen, we were an undisciplined rabble. Lilith spent years pitting us against one another to prove who was strong enough to stand beside her. We were primed to destroy ourselves.”

“What happened?”

Reaper lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

“Cannon. His Talent wasn’t as good as another queen, but empathy is a powerful gift, often underestimated. He used his abilities to beat back the blood lust and hunger for power until a semblance of peace reigned. And he had to keep using it, every day, year after year, until we’d managed to piece ourselves back into some kind of functioning society.”

Mercy struggled to imagine it, hordes of pirates killing each other, with only Cannon’s force of will keeping them alive and going. She didn’t trust him yet, but she couldn’t deny the surge of respect she felt, listening to Reaper’s story.

“Wow,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Reaper agreed. “There are those of us who are significantly more powerful than Cannon. Myself, Treon, even Griffin, to name only a few. Many have wondered why one of us doesn’t just kill him and take the throne.”

“Because if you did, it would go right back to what it was before.”

“It would. Without Cannon and his Talent, the virus might well have succeeded in destroying us. But he would happily turn that power over to you in a heartbeat.” He leveled his gaze at her, and Mercy’s heart jumped into her throat. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if it was just the usual impact he had, or the idea that Cannon desperately wanted her to actually be the queen in truth.

She cleared her throat, and looked away. “So, Cannon’s not a suspect.” She could agree with that, now that she understood where he was coming from. “Vashti?”

Reaper’s silence forced her gaze back to him. His face was expressionless, but somehow she knew he was surprised.

She lifted an eyebrow. “What? You’re the one who told me not to trust her.”

“True.” He frowned, thoughtful. “I’ve already considered her. I don’t see a motive. She gains nothing if you’re dead. But if you do ascend to power and she manages to make herself your indispensable dear aunt…”

“Then she gains position, has the ear of the new queen.”

Reaper gave a single nod.

“Okay.” Mercy tried to take a step back and look at everything objectively. “I admit I lean toward family first as suspects. But maybe that’s just old fear talking.”

Reaper said nothing, letting her think. Mercy brushed her fingers over the arm of her chair, watching the microfiber change color slightly beneath her hand, reacting to her body heat. Her nails were short, programmed with nanobots to stay that way. She knew a smuggler who had hers strengthened and sharpened to razor sharpness, but Mercy had always thought that a dangerous affectation. What if you cut yourself with them in your sleep?

But it made her think. Anyone could have a hidden set of claws. She couldn’t trust them. Except for Reaper. The one person who could kill her whenever he wanted. The irony in that wasn’t lost on her.

“Who do you think it is?” she asked finally.

He shrugged, not the response she was hoping for.

“There are too many suspects for now. We know whoever it is has telepathy powerful enough for a memory wipe.”

“How many people can do that?”

“On board
Nemesis
?” He thought about it. “Maybe one in every twenty telepaths. It’s an unsophisticated method of covering his trail, but maybe that’s why he chose it. It takes little finesse, so almost anyone with the raw power could do it.”

“Great.” Mercy leaned her head back against the chair. “And how many telepaths are there?”

“Nearly everyone has at least low level telepathy.
Nemesis
has a standing crew of over ten thousand souls.”

“So our suspect pool is five hundred people.” A trickle of unease went through Mercy.

“Five hundred and twelve. Approximately.”

“And they’re perfectly willing to risk blowing up the ship.”

“That is a concern, yes.”

She lifted her head to stare at him. “Can you find out if any more of that explosive is aboard?”

A smile tugged at Reaper’s mouth again. “We are a pirate ship, Mercy. Of course there is more. We keep it locked away in the armory. Sebastian and Dem are investigating that thread now, but we are not hopeful.”

“You think the bomber covered his tracks.”

“That is a certainty.”

Damn.
Frustration was a living thing within her, making her restless and angry all at once. “Then what the hell do we do?”

Reaper lifted a brow. “Right now? There is nothing more that
we
can offer to aid the investigation. Dem is extremely thorough, and he will not stop until the threat has been eliminated. So we concentrate on what we
can
control.”

“Which is?”

“You.”

Mercy lifted her head. “Me?”

“As I’ve stated before, you need training. As fast as possible. The more you embrace your gifts, the harder it will be to kill you.”

Mercy couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. She’d much rather be out there, trying to find whoever had attacked her. Training her Talent was all well and good, but it felt passive.

Only because you have no idea what you are capable of. I assure you, Lilith was the least passive person I have ever known.

“Fine.” She sat forward in her chair. “Let’s do this.”

The first thing you’re going to need is patience. You aren’t going to succeed overnight.

I can be patient.

The look he gave her could best be described as incredulous. She scowled at him.
What? You don’t know me.

Amusement settled around his mouth.
I believe I am beginning to.

Right. Because we’ve known each other for so long.
She gave him a look, in case the sarcasm of her answer escaped him.

A challenge, then. You wear a brusque demeanor like armor. You use it to push everyone away. But in truth you do this for their protection, not yours. You are self-sacrificing, and always think of others first. In a fight, you would do whatever it takes to survive, including run away if the opportunity presented itself.

Are you saying I’m a coward?

A survivor. And an idealist. Two things that normally have no place together.

Mercy barked out a startled laugh. “So, I’m a coward and naïve?”

Reaper contemplated her for such a long time, Mercy had to fight the urge to fidget.

“It would be easier if you were either of those things. A coward would cringe away from danger. Someone truly innocent would listen to me and be easier to protect. You are neither. You also can’t take a compliment.”

“Funny, it didn’t sound all that complimentary.”

Reaper leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. His face was still, coldness creeping into his eyes. “Lilith cared for no one but herself. She willingly sacrificed her own family—be they her consorts, her siblings, or her children—to get what she wanted. This made her a powerful queen, one able to hold us together by sheer force of will.” He relaxed fractionally. “I expected you to be the same. But you aren’t.” Reaper looked away, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “You are nothing like Lilith.”

Stung, Mercy glared at him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His gaze swung back to her, and the look that came into his eyes rocked her with its intensity. She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to look away.

You mistake my meaning.
His presence in her mind took on a more intimate feel, his words softer and more laden with unspoken things. The tension between them increased to such a degree that Mercy found each breath difficult. Warmth spiraled through her, unlooked for and unwelcome.

Stop it.

His shoulders lifted.
Am I doing something?

You damn well know you are
. Mercy couldn’t tear her eyes from the way the thin cloth of his shirt clung to every muscular line of his torso. He folded his hands across the flatness of his abdomen, and for some reason the simple movement made her mouth go dry.
If this is a game, knock it off. Toying with my emotions isn’t training.

If
I could
do that, it would be excellent training. But I am no empath.

Mercy swallowed.
You are Mother-damned doing something, and you know it.

He smiled faintly, and it drew her gaze—and her thoughts—to his mouth.
I never said I wasn’t. Just not with your emotions.

Then what?
The image of kissing Reaper was a vivid thing in her head, and it made her want to punch him.

Soft laughter echoed through her mind.
Reacting to attraction with violence—I’ve only encountered that in other Killers.

It isn’t the attraction; it’s that I know you are using it to screw with me.

All I can do is plant the suggestion. What your mind does with it is entirely on you.

Fuck you.

Is that an invitation?

Mercy stood up too fast, nearly losing her balance as her head spun and the gel foam of the chair didn’t quite want to let her go. She grabbed the edge of the armrest to steady herself. Damn. The work Doc had done on her muscles might have kept them from atrophying, but she still felt weaker than she had since she was thirteen, trying to master the fitness regime Wolfgang insisted on. Atrea had made her look like a day-old kitten on that stupid holo routine, and she hated feeling the same way now.

Having a bomb detonate mere feet from her probably didn’t help either. Her head still felt a bit wobbly, taking a moment to settle from her sudden surge upwards. How long was this going to go on? How long was she going to feel this vulnerable?

Your physical limitations are nothing to your mental vulnerabilities.
No trace of humor touched Reaper’s tone.
You’re easily targeted, easily distracted, and—

If you say easily manipulated, I will stab you.

Reaper went silent, and Mercy closed her eyes.
Great
. Nothing like an ineffectual threat to make her feel completely humiliated.

“You are not ineffectual.” Hearing his voice aloud surprised her into opening her eyes and looking at him. Reaper wasn’t laughing at her, and he didn’t look offended or condescending. His eyes were steady, his expression serious. “You are a queen, Mercy. You may have no idea yet what you are capable of, but I do. So does everyone else on this ship. Do you know why someone tried to kill you today?”