Allegiance of Honor (40 page)

From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

June 1, 2080

Nina,

My first friend, the one I once tried to assassinate. His life changed drastically some time ago. He was ripped out of one world and had to learn to exist in another, and for a while, I feared he wouldn’t adapt. But he did and here’s how. This man I once saw as cold as ice now loves a woman as deeply and as passionately as I love you.

I feel such joy for him, Nina. To see the look in his eyes,
that
is hope. The same God that took you away from me has given him this chance. He doesn’t agree with me, of course. He isn’t a man of faith. He believes in honor and in fidelity and in standing behind your actions rather than putting faith in some “otherworldly entity.”

The arguments and conversations we have, Nina. You would love it. He accepts me for who I am and I do the same for him and our other friend, and all three of us, we challenge one another. Your beautiful mind is all that’s missing.

Even after so much time has passed, I still hope for you. But then I realize that if you’re alive, you’ve chosen not to come to me and my heart shatters. Say you’re not angry with me, Nina. Please. I could not bear it if you had forsaken me.

Xavier

TEN IN THE
evening in Venice and Bowen Knight was tapping his finger on his desk as he read through the latest report from the implant team when he received a message on his phone. He didn’t immediately recognize the sender—not unusual, since everyone in the Human Alliance had access to his contact details. It sometimes made for a chaotic day, but most folks were good about only contacting him directly if it was a matter that needed to be brought to the attention of the Alliance’s security chief.

The message was simple:
We need to talk. Too sensitive to send over unsecured line.—Isaac

He did a quick search on the sender’s number. It returned a listing for Beauclair Trucking based out of Vancouver, Canada. A little digging and he found the name of the owner: Isaac Beauclair.

Beauclair and his company had joined the Alliance a year earlier. According to the records kept by Bo’s administrative staff, no one from the company had ever attended an Alliance meeting, but they paid their dues like clockwork and the owner had made two requests for Alliance assistance.

In both cases it had been a simple application for a business introduction.

Nothing unusual in that. Many Alliance members had joined for the same reason—to expand their network among other human companies. Of course, with the Alliance now part of Trinity, with far more streamlined access to Psy and changeling businesses, that element of their membership base had increased again by a significant percentage.

Bo also had access to certain security databases, and when he ran Isaac’s name through those, he saw no red flags. The owner of the very successful company still drove a long-haul truck on occasion and he had a clean record. No smuggling allegations, nothing but a higher than average number of speeding tickets. The latter was a badge of honor with truckers—they always tried to push their trucks, the temptation of often otherwise empty highways too much.

Beauclair’s company, however, was interesting: It had a reputation for security and reliability and, as a result, often carried high-value goods that couldn’t be transported any other way. Teleporters didn’t usually stoop to such pragmatic work, and even after all the technological advances to date, sometimes the best and most economically efficient way to move certain items from one place to the next was via the road.

Instead of messaging back, Bo called Lily in from where she was catching up on her own work nearby. His sister did a little hacking at his request, found the direct link to the comm system onboard Isaac’s truck, and set up a secure call. According to Beauclair Trucking’s records, Isaac was on the road today.

“Just tap this and you’ll be set,” Lily said, then left him to it.

The call went through without any difficulty, was answered audio-only on the other end.

“Who’s this?” was the brusque question.

“Bowen Knight. You wanted to talk.”

Audio-only turned into visual and audio, and Bowen found himself talking to a broad-shouldered man who looked remarkably like his official ID photo. Isaac Beauclair had white skin touched with enough sun that it was warm rather than cool, sandy red-brown hair cut fairly tidily but not ruthlessly, a neat beard that was more red than red-brown, and dark hazel eyes. From what Bo could see, the other man was wearing what looked like a band T-shirt in black, the print white.

“Didn’t expect such a quick response,” Isaac said. “Give me a second to put the truck on full auto-nav.”

Bo waited while the other man did that, then Isaac came back onscreen.
“We have a few minutes before I have to retake manual control. The roads are a little iffy in this section of my route, couple of broken nav beacons that haven’t been fixed.”

“The line is secure,” Bo told him. “I made certain of it.”

“Figure you know your business.” Isaac glanced over his shoulder, seemed to say something that wasn’t picked up by the speakers.

When he turned back, his face held a grim look. “I might’ve done something that could blow back on the Alliance itself.”

“Explain.”

“I pulled into a truck stop couple of hours ago, went in to grab a coffee, use the restroom, usual stuff.” Isaac shrugged. “When I came back out, there was this SUV parked next to my truck. Blacked-out windows, all-terrain tires.”

“Anything unusual about that?”

“Not really. I see those vehicles now and then—mostly it’s big CEOs or celebrities who want to travel incognito. They don’t usually pull in at truck stops, but I figured maybe someone started jonesing for coffee or needed the restroom—but I still took a close look because of that alert about the other SUV that went out earlier.” He paused and Bo had the sense he was ordering his thoughts.

Isaac Beauclair struck him as a very deliberate kind of man.

“So I jump up into the cab of my truck, and as I’m pulling the door shut, I glance down.” His face turned grim. “SUV was all blacked-out, but it had a glass sunroof that wasn’t and I could see right through it. I saw a man in the front passenger seat and a woman in back. She was covered with a blanket, but her face was all scarred-up and bruised and she looked fucking thin.”

Bo could guess where this was going. “You intervened?”

“First I went and grabbed a couple of buddies who’d just brought in their trucks. Was a slight risk the driver of the SUV would return first and take off, but the dude in the car, he gave off a Psy vibe. I knew I needed backup.”

Bo nodded; humans were very good at identifying Psy. They had to be.
It was a survival mechanism. Some family lines had developed an eerily accurate second sense about Psy in the vicinity, though they were all quick to state that it wasn’t itself a psychic skill. Bo had never quite bought the latter. After all, Psy, changeling, and human came from the same original stock. And evolution, it never stopped. “Your buddies all human?”

“No,” the trucker replied. “One of them was changeling—I figured he’d stay standing even if the Psy took me out.” Isaac turned and spoke over his shoulder again, and once more, his voice was too quiet for the microphone to catch.

“I went up to the front passenger-side window, knocked,” he continued after turning back to the comm. “Guy rolled it down, asked if he could help me. I asked what the hell was going on with the woman in back, and he said they were taking her to a hospital after finding her on the side of the road. Sounded plausible but that was when she woke up and said, ‘Help me.’”

Isaac shrugged. “That was enough for us. I smashed in the back window to unlock the door while my changeling friend hauled the Psy half out of the window to hold his attention. Our other friend kept a lookout. I’d just got the woman out when a second Psy came running out, hit me with a telepathic blow.”

The truck driver rubbed his temple. “It was hard as hell but not debilitating. I don’t figure he was that strong, but he was strong enough to weaken us and that gave him a chance to help the other Psy fight off my changeling friend. I think they would’ve come for the woman but I pulled a gun.”

Another shrug. “Got to have protection on these isolated routes, especially when I’m moving expensive high-tech equipment. So they hauled ass instead—one of my buddies got a partial plate. I’ll send it through.”

Bowen nodded. “The woman, you didn’t take her to a hospital?” He’d figured out she had to be behind Isaac, in the cab of the truck.

Shaking his head, Isaac lowered his voice. “She was freaked out, begged for me to get her to the sea.” He blew out a breath. “Her eyes . . . I never saw eyes like that. Like the blackest part of the ocean, no light, no shadow.”

Bo felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He thought of BlackSea’s
request to track another black SUV, considered the plea made by Isaac’s passenger, and he wondered . . . “Can you describe her to me?”

“Five four, black hair, light brown skin, heritage from the Pacific Islands maybe. She won’t give me her name.” He paused. “It looks like someone took a fucking hunting knife to her face.”

Bo’s hand clenched on the phone. “How long before you reach the ocean?” Isaac didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d make the woman wait.

“Six hours,” the trucker replied. “I was pretty inland when I found her.”

That gave Bo plenty of time to get in touch with BlackSea. “I think I know who she belongs to—give me a little time to see if I can confirm.” Hanging up to Isaac’s curt nod, he pulled up the contact information of the man who’d tipped off the Alliance about that little cell of anti-human fanatics.

Malachai Rhys.

Beside the man’s name was a title: BlackSea Security Chief.

Bo didn’t expect his call to be immediately answered—the water changelings had a reputation for preferring their privacy and making it difficult for anyone to get hold of them. And right now, they were understandably pissed off at the Alliance.

However, Malachai picked up within the first two seconds. “Yes?”

“This is Bo Knight.”

“Hold while I confirm.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bowen leaned back in his chair. When Malachai came back on the line, he said, “How exactly do you confirm?”

“We have methods,” the BlackSea male responded. “You didn’t call to chat.”

“No. One of my people has picked up a woman in bad physical shape who wants to go to the sea.”

“Name?”

“She won’t give it, but I have a description.” He repeated it to Malachai. “She sound like one of yours?”

A pause, as if the BlackSea security chief was considering whether
to confirm or deny. “Yes,” he said at last. “We can take charge of her if you give us a location.”

“Unless you call in a teleporter, you won’t get her to the sea any faster than she’s already going,” Bo told the other man. “She’s in a long-haul truck, safe and warm. You know how fast those truckers go.” And there was nothing else on the road that could take down a truck that big.

“We need to know where she is, nevertheless,” Malachai said.

It was Bowen’s turn to pause. If he gave them Isaac’s details, then he made the other man vulnerable. On the other hand, BlackSea had extended the hand of friendship, while the Alliance had let them down in return. Maybe it was time to even the scoreboard.

He sent the data. “You should have someone meet her at the beach. From the way she was described to me, I’m not sure she has the strength to take on the ocean.”

“We’ll organize that.” Malachai’s tone shifted slightly. “Pass on a message. Tell her to resist the temptation to shift. In her condition, the water near Canada is too cold for her—say her pack is on the way and promises to get her to warmer waters as fast as possible.”

“Consider it done.” Hanging up, Bowen passed on the message and alerted Isaac that he might end up with some company along the way. “Should be friendly, but if they give you problems, let me know. I’ll call in a few favors, get you help.”

“I’ll make sure she stays safe,” Isaac said before switching off.

Bo got another message an hour later:
I’ve got an escort, front and back.
Isaac had also sent through the vehicle ID numbers.

When Bowen checked with Malachai, the BlackSea male confirmed they were BlackSea vehicles. “They won’t get in the trucker’s way, but they need to be there for our packmate when she reaches the beach.”

•   •   •

LEILA
Savea didn’t know why she trusted the man who’d rescued her—maybe
because
he’d rescued her or maybe it was because she’d seen the photograph tacked to his dashboard. It was of him laughing with a tall
blonde woman who stood in his arms with no hint of fear on her face, though the man who’d introduced himself as Isaac was at least as big and as muscled as Malachai.

Whatever it was, she’d given in to her need to be clean of the ugliness of what had been done to her by showering far too long in the shower inside the living quarters of his cab. She’d probably emptied his water tank, but he hadn’t knocked on the door to tell her to get out. Instead, when she finally came out, it was to see he’d left a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt for her to change into.

His clothes would’ve fallen off her, but these kind of fit after she tucked the T-shirt into the sweatpants in a very unglamorous move and tightened the drawstring, then rolled up the bottoms of the pants.

Clearly, the clothes belonged to a taller, healthier woman. The laughing blonde? The idea made Leila happy, though both Isaac and the woman were strangers to her. And she needed to think thoughts of happiness right now. It was all that was keeping her from shattering, her psyche held together by a single fragile thread.

When she came to peek out at Isaac, he glanced back at her with a cheek-creasing smile. “You know,” he said before turning his attention back to the road, “you’re not the first girl I’ve rescued.”

The part of Leila that had kept her sane in the darkness scowled. “I’m a woman, not a girl.”

“Jessie was mouthy, too.” So much emotion in his voice as he touched his fingers to the photograph. “She drives big rigs now. Drives me crazy, too.”

“I’m a scientist,” Leila found herself telling him, and in so doing, reclaimed a part of her lost self. “I study the creatures that call the ocean home.”

Isaac whistled. “Smart.” His tone changed on the next words, became rough. “Those assholes hurt you pretty bad.” He nodded up ahead. “You need medical help from your people?”

She could see the gleaming white all-terrain vehicle through the windscreen, the landscape beyond painted by cloudy late-afternoon light. “Are you sure those people are mine?”

“Some guy called Malachai confirmed it.”

Her eyes threatened to fill with tears.

Malachai wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He was Miane’s and Miane protected her people, no matter how distant they were or how small their relative importance to the rest of the world. Each and every member of BlackSea was important to Miane.

Crawling up to sit in the passenger seat, she forced herself to say, “I could ride with them. They’re going really fast.” Only she didn’t know them and Isaac was safe. Isaac had a beard like her father and he loved a woman with blonde hair and freckles scattered over her nose and across the tops of her cheeks.