Warrior (15 page)

But more than the tempting promise of food for her hungry stomach—so much more than that—was the feeling of peace that hung in the shop.

They
were here.

Every knotted muscle in her neck and shoulders relaxed. Charlotte sighed as fear and tension ran out of her like water.

Eagerly now, she walked toward the counter. Two matronly women worked behind it, moving in the smooth rhythm of long partnership as they waited on a fidgeting teenager listening to a pink iPod. The heavier of the two dispensed a flood of something dark and steaming into a paper cup as her thin coworker rang up the kid's purchase.

The first woman's round face was lined with age, and her body appeared to carry fifty or so pounds it could have done without. Her gray hair was gathered into a tidy bun on top of her head, tied with a garnet ribbon that matched her dark red apron. Her partner was taller, more wiry than round, her hair a shade of black that was a little too dark, as if she'd dyed it herself, badly.

To Charlotte's special senses, both women seemed to radiate tranquility like a pair of matching beacons pouring light into foggy darkness.

Vanja and Ethini.

She'd have died for either of them without hesitation. Had damn near done so more than once.

Charlotte watched the two with an awe and longing she didn't bother to disguise. Vanja looked up, giving her a slow, serene smile, sweet and guileless as a child's. “There you are. Your usual?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said with gratitude, leaning wearily against the counter as the older woman moved briskly around pouring two large cups of ice tea. It was too hot for coffee.

Suddenly Charlotte felt exhausted. A combination of hunger, sleeplessness, and fear, she supposed. “And a muffin, too, please.” She needed the carbs desperately.

Vanja handed her the cups, along with a blueberry muffin on a paper plate, then exchanged a silent glance with Ethini. The two women smiled as if saying something Charlotte couldn't hear.

They probably were.

As Ethini went back to work, Vanja headed toward the rear door that led out to a brick courtyard. Charlotte started after her, then paused, frowning. Something seemed to vibrate the air in her lungs, a powerful something that wasn't either of the women.

Instinctively, she scanned the room until her senses zeroed in on a shelf covered with knickknacks—a collection of snow globes, candles, and plates printed with paintings of Charleston landmarks. The kind of kitsch beloved of tourists everywhere, all of it dangling price tags.

One of those tacky little objects was one hell of a lot more than it appeared.

Charlotte shot Vanja an incredulous look. “You brought it here? What if the Xerans—?”

The woman shrugged calmly. “Even if they do, do you really think they'll recognize it?”

She gave the shelf another glance. “No, I don't suppose they would.”

Vanja stepped through the door. Shaking her head, Charlotte followed.

The courtyard was empty at the moment, which wasn't surprising considering the suffocating noon heat. Vanja would hardly have suggested they talk here otherwise.

A massive old oak dominated the space, which was surrounded by a brick wall topped with decorative wrought-iron spikes. Planters of colorful peonies nodded in a faint breeze as a bumblebee circled them drunkenly.

Gratefully, Charlotte sank into a chair at one of the wrought-iron tables in the shade of a big garnet cafe umbrella. She sipped her tea, relishing its bracing sweetness, then took a bite of muffin and sighed. For once she wasn't running, wasn't hiding.

Wasn't afraid. Even the pain of her wound faded into the background, no more than a nagging ache.

Vanja reached out and rested a hand on Charlotte's injured hip. Power poured from the plump fingers, tearing a soft gasp from her lips. The pain faded, melting away as the deep knife wound began to heal.

Dark eyes met hers, kind and infinitely deep, as Vanja took her hand away. “Poor Char-lotte.” There was a hint of some unidentifiable accent in her soft voice, something that might have been mistaken for a Charlestonian drawl. Charlotte knew better. “You have sacrificed much for us.”

Charlotte stared into those fathomless eyes hungrily. “It was no sacrifice. I have gained far more than I lost.”

That compassionate gaze dropped to her newly healed hip. “He hunts you still?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Colonel Marcin is not the kind to give up.” She dared reach out and touch the other woman's hand. For just a heartbeat, she thought she felt fur under her palm. “And even if I defeat him, there will be others. The Xer mean to kill you and steal the T'lir.”

Vanja's mouth curled in a very slight smile. “We are not so easy to kill. Nor is the T'lir so easy to take.”

“But they are very good at killing.” Her mouth tightened. “And stealing.” They'd stolen her life, hadn't they?

Vanja only shrugged.

Charlotte sighed, afraid for her, but knowing by now that not even danger could pierce that smooth serenity. “How is Jessica?”

Vanja's gaze turned distant, abstracted. “Her body changes in its time. Our enemies plot her murder. She will soon face her test.”

Charlotte's hands twisted in her lap. “Do you know—have you seen . . . ?”

“You know I cannot tell you that, child.”

Her shoulders slumped. “No. I suppose not.”

Jessica's test was her own. Just as Charlotte's was.

Feeling loose-limbed and
relaxed in that way that just screamed “great sex,” Jess followed Galar back to his quarters. She didn't even bother to ask for a room of her own. Hell, after sampling his mind-blowing passion, she didn't want one.

She paused to watch shamelessly as he stripped, enjoying the shift and play of powerful muscle as he moved, admiring the perfect V of his torso, the length and power of his legs.

He cocked a blond brow at her. “Enjoying the view?”

Jess grinned. “Absolutely.”

Galar folded his brawny arms, rocked back on his heels, and stared at her in obvious challenge. Jess laughed softly and peeled her sweatshirt off over her head.

His golden eyes flared with approval as her bare breasts bounced free. She caught the waistband of her jeans and rolled her hips in a teasing wiggle as she pushed them down. She grinned at him. “Enjoying the view?”

Galar barked a laugh and swooped down on her, scooping her into his arms as his cock jerked upward into full erection. “What do you think?”

Jess wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think I'm impressed. ”

“You
think
?” he purred, “Obviously, I'm going to have to work harder.”

An hour later, deliciously exhausted, Jessica sighed as Galar pulled her against him and curled his big, sweaty body around hers. She pillowed her head on his powerful shoulder, sighed, and slid quickly into sleep.

It slammed into Earth's atmosphere and kept going as a protective shield flared bright around it, warding off the friction of entry. As the great craft plummeted toward the ocean, Jess's head tossed against her pillow.
Tsunami,
her mind whispered, conjuring images of people screaming, drowning . . .

Damn, it's huge,
Jess thought, startled. The craft was easily five times the size of the sub.

Jess jerked upright
with a shout. Heat and light burst from the center of her chest, illuminating the room. All around her, she saw objects dance with a clatter, then tumble from shelves, hitting the carpeted floor in a chorus of thumps.

“Jessica!” Strong arms closed around her. “Lights!” Galar snapped. The room filled with a soft white glow, banishing the last of the alien light.

“The Xer!” Instinctively, Jess dug her nails into his biceps with a strength born of desperation. “They're going to kill them! They're going to steal the T'lir!”

“Hey! Hey, it's all right,” he said soothingly. “You just had a nightmare.”

She scanned the room wildly. Every object he'd had on his shelves lay on the floor now, as if toppled in a storm of energy. “Are you sure about that?”

And what the hell was a T'lir?

“We must have
had an earthquake,” Galar told her. She'd told him about the dream as they moved around the room picking up and putting away the fallen trids, statuary, and weapons.

Jess stopped in the act of picking up the data sheet and stared at him. “In Georgia?”

He shrugged. “It felt like one to me. The bed shook so hard I almost fell off.”

Jess opened her mouth, then closed it again. If she told him she'd done it, he'd think she was nuts. Yet as she'd jolted awake, she'd felt something rush out of her in a burning flood of energy.

No, it must have been a nightmare. Only . . . “What about Charlotte?”

Galar shot her a look as he picked up the sword and put it back in its place on the shelf. “You think she really is Xer? Jessica, it was just a dream.”

“But it seemed so real. I've never had one that vivid, and I've had some pretty vivid dreams.”

“Charlotte isn't Xer, Jess.” Shaking his head, he bent to pick up a fallen trid globe. “I scanned her. She was as human as you are.”

“Sensors can be fooled.” Or so said her EDI, anyway.

“Not really. You can shield against them, but then they won't pick up anything at all. Charlotte read as completely human. If she'd been shielding, I'd have known it.”

She frowned. “I thought Xerans
were
human.”

“They came from human root stock, yes, but that was before a couple of hundred years of genetic tinkering. There are significant differences now.” He stepped closer to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You had a nightmare, Jess. That's all it was.”

God,
she thought grimly,
I hope you're right. Because if you're not, something really scary is going on.

Jess watched her
opponent brandish his knife, a sneer of menace on his face. Muscle rippled up and down his powerful bare chest as he moved.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

Galar lowered the knife and sighed. “Jess, that EDI combat file won't do you any good if you don't practice.”

“I don't see how it would do me
any
good at all against a Xeran battleborg.”

He glowered. “Now there's an attitude just guaranteed to get you killed. May I remind you that you torched his ass the last time you fought him?”

She snorted. “The last time I fought him, he gutted me.”

“Yeah, but you fought him off just long enough for us to get to you.” Galar gestured with the knife. “That's the whole point of this little exercise. You're right—one-on-one in any extended fight, he'd kill you. That means your job is to make sure you don't get in an extended fight with him. You get the fuck away and give us a chance to save you.”