The Fireborn Chronicles Read online

  She smiled too. I am where I was meant to be.

  Laynald looked back to Rael. “Now, how surprising was that, huh? Should we be insulted?"

  Rael shrugged. “Had to ask, and you all really should think about what all of this is going to entail. It's a whole new level of danger and isolation, it's.... “He paused as if hearing himself for the first time.

  The whole group broke into laughter.

  When they finally finished, Rael looked over his team. “I guess we'll need to tie up loose ends with Dark Ops next, but first, Gabriel, escort Mallory to your ship and instruct the Archangels to contain him until I have time to get things sorted out. Send them back to the Seraphim.” He glanced over to Laynald. “Oh yeah, we've got a big old mother ship waiting for us—our new home. He returned his attention to Gabriel. “Tell Michael we'll rendezvous there after I've dealt with Dark Ops."

  He leaned back and felt a soul-deep weariness overtaking him. Feeling Ira's calming presence, he turned to thank him, only to find Gabriel standing there instead.

  “Did you do that?” Rael began.

  Gabriel gently laid a hand on his arm. An intense surge of energy coursed through his body.

  “You need strength, Overlord,” Gabriel stated.

  “His touch connects your systems,” Ira added. “You felt his strength, his energy, joining with yours, replenishing what you have spent."

  Rael looked Gabriel in the eye. “Thanks.” He turned his attention back to the view screen again. Surreal in the dim moonlight, the Archangels still stood, oblivious to the sporadic whipping of the mountain's cool breeze. He caught himself smiling. “Yes, looks like I've inherited some ... unique troops. Gabriel, when you finish transferring Mallory, bring your gear back to the Nemesis. Ira, set him up in the quarters next to mine."

  The movement on the screen caught his attention. The Archangels were on the move. Three of them returned to their ship, the other three were approaching the Nemesis.

  Ira nodded and started for the door, Gabriel following in his wake.

  Laynald shook his head. “You're not going to expect me to start mind reading too, are you?"

  Rael dragged himself up out of the command chair. “I don't know, ask me later.” He started for the door, temple plates flickering. “Ship's set to go, Laynald. Press the button when Gabriel gets back. We'll be heading back to Ops Command, but not too fast. Even with that jumpstart Gabriel gave me, I'm beat, and I need some time to catch up with myself.” He glanced over at Tristen. “I think we all do."

  He started toward the door. “I'm not really ready for this Corporate Overlord business. One minute things were as they've always been, and then in an instant ... bang! There are layers upon layers, a whole universe that wasn't there the moment before ... and it's all mine ... like I've always been there.” He pushed a strand of hair away from his eyes and sighed. “It's creepy, at best, but I guess I should get started on figuring out how to break this to Lythia.” He shuddered. “She's not going to like this at all.” Shaking his head, he started back toward his quarters.

  Laynald turned to Tristen. “Working with him has never been boring, anyway."

  She smiled back at him through her exhaustion. “I've noticed.” She pointed to the screen.

  Gabriel was already returning to the Nemesis, shouldering his pack.

  “Looks like he was prepacked. It's gonna be hard to stay ahead of that one, huh?"

  Laynald noticed Tristen start to sway. He reached out to steady her, wondering suddenly why Ira had left her in this condition. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I could use some rest, she admitted.

  “Why don't I help you to your room, and I'll let Ira know where you are. You look like you need to lie down.” Laynald helped her through the long central corridor to the farthest end of the ship. Where Ira had originally chosen to place his quarters—as far away from Rael's as possible. Laynald considered what it would be like to have extended senses ... like everybody around him now seemed to have. He dropped it. It didn't really matter. Hell, if I want to know, I'll just ask one of them to show me.

  Tristen began stumbling halfway to her quarters. So hefting her into his arms, he carried her the rest of the way. “Does this mean that I going to have to find Ira and carry him too?” he asked as he set her down on the bed.

  She looked tremendously sad. I don't know. He is ... away from me.

  Laynald studied her carefully. She looked devastated. “I don't understand. What does that mean?"

  He wishes to be ... alone. She closed her eyes and Laynald, respecting her privacy, left her alone too.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  Ira found himself nearing the common room when his control gave way. Stumbling, much as Tristen had, he decided to try to wait it out there. The door auto-opened, barely allowing him time enough to stagger in and reach the nearest lounge chair. He managed to drop onto it before giving in to his dazed senses. “Nemesis, lights off,” he cried out to stop the room's corresponding flickering and pulsing.

  At last, alone in the darkness, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity, until the doors slid open again and the auto-lighting re-engaged. Vaguely cognizant, he gradually realized the source of cold calmness overtaking him, and looking up, found Gabriel standing in the doorway.

  “The Overlord worries about you,” he said softly. “May I enter, or do you want me to get someone else to help you?"

  Ira drew a deep breath and waved for him to enter. “No ... no, come in please.” He struggled to stand. “I was just about to get some coffee. It seems to help me relax, though Rael insists it is a stimulant."

  “Let me get it for you,” Gabriel insisted. “Believe it or not, I've become quite a coffee connoisseur, myself. Lord Harbringer always...” He fell silent. Ira's discord had flared at the name. “I'm sorry, Ira ... I didn't think."

  “I killed him,” Ira moaned. “He was your commander; how can you not hate me for that? How can you even stand to talk to me?"

  Gabriel's voice wavered, “You were not alone in doing that.” He paused feeling Ira's composure slip. “I helped too."

  Ira shook his head. “You weren't even there! You don't know what you're saying."

  “Exactly. I stood by and did nothing. I did not sound the alarm or render aid to save him. I did not even diminish his pain as he did what he had to do. None of the other Archangels did either.” Gabriel looked sadly to the floor for a moment. “He had known that Rael would not accept him, not even for a short time. But the mantle had to be passed, and he would not remain a deterrent to the plan. He said this was his destiny either way, no matter how hard we tried to dissuade him. He commanded us to stand by and not interfere in any way. We were foresworn to follow his orders, just as we are now bound to the new Overlord. You did what you were meant to do, just as Tristen and Rael and all of us did.” He sighed and drew a small canister out of his suit pocket as he headed for the drink bar. After setting it on the counter, he located the flash-cups. “I think you'll like this blend. I brought a few of my favorites from the Cherubim. Coffee does soothe our kind. It has something to do with the way we're wired.” The mixture flash heated within the cups, filling the room with a warm almond aroma.

  Gabriel returned to where Ira sat and handed him a steaming cup. “What is done is done. Lord Harbringer was a harsh master, but I still miss him. I apologize for bringing his name up. I will try not to do so in the future. But, like I told you earlier, the Overlord is worried about you. I felt that knowing this might help you to recover.” He situated himself into the seat nearest to Ira's. “If you would let me, I might be able to help you sort out other things too. I was outside of the room when all this happened. I felt everything. Tristen's attack has to have been devastating to you. Now that you've had time for everything to settle down, it will have to be dealt with, Ira. She attacked you. She used you—betrayed your trust. She ripped across your consciou
sness with no regard for your feelings or well-being. How will you ever trust her again?"

  Ira sipped at his coffee, hoping that maybe it would help, but his hands began shaking so badly that he finally had to set the cup down. The aroma, at least, seemed wonderful. He looked at Gabriel, dressed again in corporate style; a soft ivory suit with his platinum hair drawn back and fastened neatly at the base of his neck. “I need Tristen's help,” he said.

  “Then why do you hesitate to call to her?” Gabriel countered.

  Ira leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. “I ... everything is so messed up. It all happened too fast ... I was so afraid for her safety ... so horrified at what she'd done ... so ... hurt. I'm exhausted now. I don't know if I can face her, and there's no way I can escape her. I don't know what I will say or do when I see her alone. She has crossed too many lines."

  Gabriel sighed heavily. “So much pain ... so much fear ... so much need.” He reached out to touch Ira.

  Ira drew away out of reflex. “You should not touch me,” he warned.

  Gabriel placed his hand on Ira's shoulder and siphoned away the outermost part of the weight that had so cruelly pinned the young man before pouring some of his own energy into him.

  Ira gasped and then pulled away from the other's touch. “That is enough,” he insisted.

  Gabriel backed off and allowed himself to sink into the soft cushions of his own chair. “The Chosen Ones are not designed to have choices. They are predestined to serve, Ira. She was compelled to accomplish her mission at all cost. She is meant to always be bound in unquestioning service to the Overlord, both now and then. When he commanded Harbringer's death, he had lost control, and he meant what he said. He flashed a hatred so pure that it could not be denied. She had no choice. His orders are law to us. At that time, she knew he was her target, and she knew she had to draw him to the temple. She did her duty to the exclusion of all else, just as she had been trained to do."

  Ira nodded. “I know all this, Gabriel. I know, but I trusted her ... hell, I still do ... Even knowing she betrayed me ... used me ... beyond all reason. I cannot relinquish my feelings for her. It's like being mad at a part of myself, only we both suffer.” He sighed. “I was no more than a puppet to her."

  Gabriel shook his head, “That is a common misconception within PSI-bonded relationships. SHE was the puppet, Ira ... as she fell, so did you. And yet, she tried to free you, despite everything. You should probably try to remember that at the temple, she turned herself completely over to you ... despite her conditioning ... in the wake of her mission ... she surrendered herself totally to you and asked for your guidance.... I believe that was the first time she has ever chosen what SHE wanted, wasn't it?"

  Ira stared at him in silence. “Yes,” he finally admitted, “and I turned away from her.” He pushed himself up from the chair and started toward the door. “Thank you Gabriel,” he said, “I should go now, but tell Rael I ... WE will be all right.” He ventured a smile and stepped out into the corridor.

  Gabriel shifted in the seat and closed his eyes; concentrating only on breathing ... in ... out ... in ... out ... until finally his hands stopped shaking enough for him to pick up the cup and finish his coffee.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  A week later Rael found himself again seated across from Lythia at Dark Ops Central.

  “Give me a break!” She slammed her fist on the desktop. “Taking care of that PSI ring was exactly what I needed to secure my position and safeguard yours. Now you're gonna do this to me?” She threw the team's resignations down on the desk between them.

  Rael sighed and leaned forward. “All right, what if we agree to work freelance, but only under your command?"

  Lythia paused. “Well, that could work, but why do this at all? Nothing will change for you here. Mahata pre-arranged for every contingency."

  Rael shook his head and leaned back into his cushioned seat. “No Lythia, she did not."

  Lythia stared at him, “What aren't you telling me here?"

  “It's going to take a while to get it all set up, but believe me, you'll find out soon enough."

  Lythia started to say something. Rael raised his hand for her to stop. “Just give me some time, OK?"

  She sighed. “I thought I was supposed to be in charge here now."

  Rael nodded, “Yeah ... but things change."

  END

  * * *

  About the Author

  Mary Andrews was born in Salina, Kansas, but raised in England, Hawaii, and Texas; the eldest of seven children in a military family. She has three sons, who have grown into good men, and she has been happily married for over ten years.

  Mary is an unconventional thinker who has no trouble dwelling ‘out of the box.’ Her favorite all around question is: WHY? Since once you find the answer to that, everything else makes more sense and can be dealt with. She claims little fear of change: in fact, she has adventured through many career choices, testing the waters of the mechanical assembler, receptionist, puppeteer, artist, merchandiser, customer service attendant, structural aircraft worker, relay operator for the deaf, mother, SCA Gypsy merchant, and finally realizing a love for writing.

  She can't wait to see what happens next.

  In her own words:

  “I am a half-crazed, semi-psychotic wanna-be writer with delusions of grandeur and a propensity for bringing inanimate objects to life. Inspired by years of suffering and putting up with my cats, I find it very easy to create better and more interesting places in which to live. My main philosophy involves perseverance; Last man standing wins—sooner or later."

  * * *

  Visit www.swimmingkangaroo.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.