Harry's Sacrifice (4 page)

“I’ll speak about my experiences prior to finding Callie. It’s well documented that I was clearly on my way to madness. Only knowing she lived and would one day be mine allowed me to go on as long as I did.”

“You knew she was your mate for some time?”

“I first visited her family’s ranch when she was a teenager. The moment I saw her, I knew—I hoped—she would be the one for me. Her family allowed me to touch her that first time, just to see if we could Hum. We did, and the memory of that sound sustained me for the years it took her to grow up. She and I communicated over a secure crystal I gave her and got to know each other in that time as friends. Her voice, her words, her open emotion steadied me when I otherwise would have descended into hopelessness.”

The Patriarch grew concerned by his words. The very real pain that showed on Davin’s face at just the memory of what he’d endured in those years was palpable. Ronin didn’t like the idea of subjecting his people to such uncertainty and despair, even though he didn’t quite understand it. He’d observed his human followers enough to know such things could be crippling. An otherwise sound body could be destroyed by emotions like fear, anxiety, sadness and all the other things that might come out of a return of feelings without the temperate companionship of a Resonance Mate.

“I performed the other tests when she was old enough,” Davin continued. “When the Council found out about her and tried to capture her, I was closer than I have ever been to losing it completely. Nothing and no one would stand in the way of my keeping her safe. I got to her first and put her in a safe location where we consummated our resonance. That was when I fully understood for perhaps the first time, what it meant—what it could mean—to resonate so perfectly with another being. The energy from that first union still flows through many of the crystals that were in the chamber when we joined.” The Chief Engineer gave a lopsided smile. “It probably wasn’t the best idea to hide away in a chamber full of untuned raw crystal.”

“I remember the power spike,” Ronin confirmed. “At the time, we had no idea what had caused it, of course. Not until you showed up in front of the Council days later.” He turned to look at the human. “I assume you are the same man who healed the Council crystal. That was an amazing piece of work. You have my admiration.”

“Thanks.” Rick nodded but his gaze still measured every word, every action. This was a man used to living hard. To have survived so long alone in the wilderness, his healer’s soul had generated a tough outer shell—that of a warrior. Ronin had seen it many times among the human survivors. He admired their resilience while at the same time felt an echo of guilt that his people and their actions were the reason behind it.

“Now,” Davin reclaimed his attention. “Perhaps you’d like to tell us who you really are. I checked your codes and they’re downright ancient, yet still active in the most classified databases. That alone has me curious, and your words to this point make me more so. Who are you?”

The words were close enough to the pre-arranged signal. Ceiling tiles burst as two bodies fell from above onto the conference table. They landed in a ready crouch, their faces shielded by the traditional clothing of the
Zxerah
.

Both Davin and Rick jumped to their feet, their reaction time good, but Ronin knew it would not have been fast enough to save either of their lives should this have been a true assassination mission. As it was, his people were not armed. They stood ready, but only to defend, not to attack.

Silence reigned as all within the room took stock of the altered situation.

“What is this?” Davin spoke first, demanding answers.

“A demonstration,” Ronin said. “Nothing more.” He signaled to the two newcomers to remove their headgear. “Proof of what and who I am and who I call members of my clan. My family.”

Rick cursed inwardly when the two black-clad figures dropped explosively from the ceiling. He was on his feet in seconds, but not fast enough. He cursed again.

Then the guy who’d introduced himself as Ronin signaled to the two newcomers. They pulled off their masks, revealing not the Alvian hit squad he’d expected, but rather two human faces—one male, and even more surprisingly, one female.

“You were supposed to come alone,” Davin accused.

“I did,” Ronin replied, gesturing with open hands. “These two have been here spying on you for more than a week. It is due, in part, to their reports that I’ve decided to contact you directly. To trust you.”

“More than a week?” Rick looked at the two humans standing at the ready. They showed no weapons or aggression. “No way.”

“Way.” The male stepped off the table in a fluid motion and leaned one hip against the edge as he stood between Rick and Ronin.

“Prove it,” Rick challenged, facing down the other man.

“All right. I’ll send you an image. Something no one else could have seen. Will that do it?”

Suspicious, Rick nodded. A second later, he felt a telepathic
knock
in his mind. He responded, allowing the promised image through his defensive shields.

A flash, nothing more, but the image was clearly of himself, Davin and Callie, making love in their private chamber. The view was from above, at a nearly impossible angle. Rick knew for a fact that there were no monitors of any kind in or near their private quarters. He made certain of that on a daily basis.

But there were heating and cooling ducts and crawl spaces above the ceilings—just like in this conference room. The newcomers had already demonstrated how vulnerable the design made them. The image the man had sent could only have come from firsthand observation from above. In fact, Rick remembered the exact occasion that had put the three of them in that particular naughty configuration.

A chill raced down his spine. At any moment, these people—these operatives—could have taken a shot. They could have killed him, Davin, or worst of all, Callie.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
Rick sent the message back to the man, who he now knew was telepathic. What other gifts he might have remained to be seen.

“Sorry, man, but I didn’t stay once I realized what y’all were up to. Just had to prove how serious this is.”

For some reason, Rick believed him. He didn’t trust him, but he believed him in this instance. Rick let it go as he looked over at Davin and nodded once.

“He’s been here a while.” Rick stood back and watched while his partner—a man he had come to respect in many ways—turned to deal with the alien.

“What are you?” Davin asked of the only other Alvian in the room.

Ronin stood, flanked by his operatives.

“We are
Zxerah
.”

“
Zxerah?
” Davin repeated, clearly shocked.

“What the heck is
Zxerah
?” Rick asked, apparently the only one in the room who didn’t know what the alien word meant.

“Like ninjas,” the woman spoke for the first time. “Only better.” She sent him a sassy smile as she sat on the edge of the conference table.

“Alvian ninjas? You’ve got to be kidding.”

The woman laughed and the sound was rich and clean. Her eyes sparkled with humor and her Asian features lit with something like happiness. Rick hadn’t seen such an open look on any human woman’s face, aside from those in the O’Hara family, in more years than he could count. That expression alone said a lot for the alien, and the care he took of his people.

“The
Zxerah
tradition started on Alvia Prime,” Ronin said. “But since arriving on Earth and encountering humans, I have extended our clan to include certain humans as well. It was always common among the Brotherhood to adopt new members into the clan in each generation. Those who proved themselves willing to learn, able to contribute, or simply in need of protection have long been welcomed among us to improve our bloodlines and our abilities.”

“But your sect was believed to have died out centuries ago,” Davin interjected. “I assume the Council is aware of your continued existence?”

“They are among the very few allowed to know.” Ronin inclined his head in acknowledgement. “And now I have decided to include you and your mates in that number. The time fast approaches when the
Zxerah
will most likely reveal our existence to the rest of the Alvian race, whether the Council likes it or not.”

“For what purpose?”

“For the purpose I stated earlier,” Ronin answered Davin’s accusatory tone. “As a race, we have lost our way. We need to reestablish a connection with our ancestral selves. We need some emotion in our lives. Living with and observing my human clan mates has convinced me this is the wisest course.”

“And who are you to decide the course of an entire race?” Davin challenged. Rick had never seen him so combative toward another Alvian—unless they’d earned it.

“I am the Patriarch.”

That announcement fell on the room like a ton of bricks. Rick wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but it was clearly something that meant a lot to Davin.

Rick was distracted by movement at the door. Sure enough, Callie had come to investigate. Undoubtedly, she’d felt the disturbance in her mates’ emotions. She was as sensitive—if not more sensitive—than her mother. Both women were strong empaths, bound closely to their men. Rick should have expected her to pick up on the mélange of emotions swirling around him and Davin.

Rick didn’t think there was any imminent threat in these
Zxerah
people, but he motioned for her to stay near the doorway just in case. She could be of some help here, reading the emotions of these newcomers. She’d probably be able to tell him if they were on the level or not, but he’d keep himself between her and these ninja wannabes. Just in case.

“Well, that explains the ancient codes you transmitted,” Davin said into the tense silence. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is mine, Chief Engineer. And I assume this is your mate?” His gaze shifted to Callie, still in the doorway.

She smiled tentatively. “I’m Callie. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You know perfectly well you are, sweetheart. I’m going to paddle your ass for not staying put like I asked you to.”
Rick sent the telepathic message privately to her and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow when she looked at him.

“With all the emotional energy you two were putting out, you expected me to stay hidden? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I am honored by your presence, Callie. I’ve heard much about your abilities. Many of my adopted clan members have strong psychic gifts, but few of them have any empathy at all. I’ve long been curious about how such a gift works.”

Callie leaned one shoulder against the door frame, looking casual. “I sense emotion. It’s what drew me here to check on my guys. Right now, I’m sensing suspicion, admiration and—thank you, but I’m taken—attraction from your friend over here.” She nodded toward the male operative who smiled back and winked. “You, on the other hand—” she looked at the female, “—have a mixture of curiosity, arrogance and a trace of insecurity in your mind right now. Don’t worry, we’re not the threat here, but we will defend ourselves and our people, so if it’s a fight you want, you’ll get one.”

“Duly noted,” the female replied with a look of respect. “And we didn’t come here to fight. If we had, you’d already be dead.”

“Assassins.” Davin broke his silence with the bald pronouncement. “Like Sinclair Prime, right? He was one of yours, wasn’t he?”

Ronin sighed. “He was, but he always made his own decisions in service of the Council. I am leader, not dictator. Sinclair Prime Past had already retired when the Council’s rogue elements reactivated him for that last mission—the failed strike against you. I, for one, am glad he chose to miss.”

“Me too,” Davin said with some alacrity. The joke was lost on the Alvian Patriarch, but Rick appreciated his partner’s wry humor. It was something they’d strived to develop as they worked and lived together, a family with Callie at its heart.

Rick noted the strange way he named the assassin they’d known as Sinclair Prime, the Alvian who had fled their society and now called himself Bill Sinclair. The Prime of each genetic line was a position that could and would change for various reasons. Most often, a Prime would die and a new Prime would move up from the second position. The previous Prime was then referred to as Prime Past. It was confusing to humans, but the Alvians seemed to understand it.

“I want more of my people—of all Alvians—to take the same treatment Sinclair Prime Past did. I want us to rediscover emotion. Before it’s too late.”

“You’re as cold as most Alvians—soldiers that is,” Callie remarked from the doorway. “You have a little more emotional depth than the rest of the race, but I still have a hard time reading you. I’ve spent time around some of your soldiers—Grady Prime in particular—and based on that experience, I believe you.”

Callie’s opinion mattered a lot to Rick. Even Alvians had some echoes of emotion she could read, and few could trick her. They simply didn’t understand how.

“So the
Zxerah
continue to exist as pet assassins for the Council,” Davin’s voice was cold with accusation. “No wonder they let you stay hidden. Your people make up the ghost squad, don’t they?”

“You are more astute than I was led to believe. This is a good thing if we are to be allies.”

“I don’t really see how we can help each other.” Davin sat down again, inviting the others to do the same. “But I’m willing to listen.”

Rick was curious as hell. He, like Davin, didn’t know what this alien had in mind, but he was intrigued. The show of force had convinced him of this man’s power. The undeniable humanity and good condition of the two operatives also spoke well for this so-called Patriarch. Rick still wondered what that title meant in relation to this guy and his band of pseudo-ninjas. He’d try to get a full explanation from Davin as soon as they were finished here.

Ronin, the Patriarch, sat and so did his two operatives, flanking him, relaxed but alert. Rick watched the two humans closely, looking for any sign they had been treated badly or were under some kind of compulsion. He couldn’t sense any visible traces of anything like that, which was reassuring.