Parallel Heat (18 page)

Sighing, she closed her eyes again and was surprised when Kelsey gave her hand a light squeeze. The second time around it was even easier to link up with Kelsey and within a moment she heard her voice, warm and friendly inside her head.
He’s a nice-looking guy.

Kelsey, please
, she sidestepped,
I’ve got a job to do in here.

Inside of you
, Thea huffed.
Okay? I’ve got work to do inside of you—which is mostly about helping you, don’t forget.

I know you don’t like me
, Kelsey told her matter-of-factly.

Thea, don’t try and deny it. I know you don’t like me,
Kelsey pressed.
And that’s okay.

But I hope someday, some time,
the human persisted,
you’ll consider being my friend. We are cousins now, you know.

Thea was speechless. Dumbfounded. Angry. Here she’d dreaded forming a link with the woman—for this very reason, the profound intimacy of it—and somehow Kelsey had slid right past all her natural protective barriers by declaring her interest in friendship. There was nothing to say at all. Thea grunted and proceeded in her quest.

 
Marco squatted off to the side watching Thea work. She had an intense, adorable scowl knitting her blond eyebrows together. He smiled to himself, thinking of how she’d made him move to the side. An intuitive was aware of the people around them at any time; Thea was highly aware of him, he knew it. He felt it every single time they were in a room together. Something electric and important always seemed to attract them. Something beyond the moment that was the source of all the memories.

He stared into the powerful coiling unit, watching the undulating energy. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful—the shimmering colors, the knowledge that Thea was a similar being of pure energy when in her most natural state. He shivered, lost in the swirling power, just drawn to it. Unable to look away. He stood, stepping closer. Maybe he could touch it . . . because he had to. All of a sudden there was nothing nearly so important as getting closer. And closer.

I’m possessed
, Marco thought foggily, laughing. With a quick glance across the room he noticed that Scott Dillon had been drawn toward the unit and bore a trancelike expression on his face. Marco shook his head, wanting to step back, but it was as if an iron hand had riveted him to that precise spot on the floor. ‘‘Dillon,’’ he called out, but the name came out elongated, distorted, and strange. As if Marco had a terrible fever that made everything slow down inside his brain.

‘‘Diiiilllllonnnn,’’ he tried again, his mouth feeling like rubber. But Dillon was laughing, a strange doubled-over kind of thing as if he were blind drunk.

Must be a gas,
Marco thought dimly.
The unit is leaking gas. Gassssssssssssss.

He sank to his knees, groping at the floor.
The queen! Must save queen!

Struggling to turn, he reached a long, distended arm awkwardly behind him.
Get queen out! Theaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

But at that precise moment, the floor opened up beneath them all, a rush of wind and light knocking him face-first onto the chamber floor again, suspended over the roaring abyss. Marco was spread-eagle facedown, but it wasn’t the hard floor that met him. It was wind and air and light, as if he were hurtling through time and space. A glowing oval the color of cobalt encircled him. Seemed to circle time itself as he was catapulted across the expanse of his memories. Like earlier, he saw Thearnsk again, only this time he was in the palace courtyard, playing. He wasn’t allowed to be there, the prince might see. And the young crown prince
did
see him that day, the one and only time Marco ever met the man who would be his king. Marco was five then, Jared seven. Sabrina had scolded him.

He saw Sabrina scolding him now, same as if she were in the room. Then he and Riley were getting drunk back in their apartment in Santa Fe. That image dissolved, slingshotting across the glowing blue oval and he landed in a bar somewhere, a real dive of a place. His forehead hurt like hell, and when he lifted his fingers to touch the eyebrow, he felt warm, sticky blood.
Where the fuck am I?
Marco wondered, glancing around. There were picnic tables scattered around the dingy bar, ringed by the glowing sapphire energy of the mitres chamber.

It was some kind of memory—only he’d never lived this one. And then in walked Thea, coquettish and raw, her blond curls loose down her back. Something dead in her eyes, though. Something off. He got a killer erection suddenly, just from watching her stroll across that damn bar. Then, with the elastic, audible
snap
of time he found himself tumbling in her arms, making love in some low-rent motel room.

You’re a virgin
, she panted.

This wasn’t his Thea. This was the darker one—the one from his memories. And he was much darker too. Ugly, wrong, black-hearted. He’d betrayed someone he loved dearly. Who was it? He could almost remember.

Thea straddled him, tossed her head back with laughter and he plunged through the wind and light, finding himself kneeling. Begging. It was Jared! Marco was begging in front of his king, begging for mercy and forgiveness.

You kissed my wife!
Jared shouted.
Did I
misunderstand
that?

Oh, in All’s name
no!
Not that, not his king. Not his beloved queen. Marco began to shake all over, grasping at the floor, flailing through time and space as he catapulted from dimension to dimension.

It’s the mitres
, he thought weakly.
We’ve opened the mitres.

 
‘‘Okay, I don’t even want to think about how much power is locked inside your head,’’ Thea said, eyeing Kelsey warily. The human seemed pretty nonchalant given Thea’s resounding failure at data retrieval. Jared was going to be quite displeased. She clearly didn’t understand the ramifications of the data’s apparent
fusion
with her mind.

Kelsey stared down at Marco and Scott, each of whom had passed out cold on the floor. ‘‘You guess it’s that dimensional illness again?’’ she asked, and resumed pacing to and fro; for the past few minutes she’d practically been doing laps around the coiling unit.

‘‘It has to be,’’ Thea agreed, thinking of the mystic experience she herself had just undergone.

‘‘What did you feel? While the portal opened?’’ Kelsey asked curiously. Unlike the rest of them, her body was coursing with energy, alive and electric. She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet, and even her face glowed.

Thea wiped a rivulet of sweat from her forehead. The whole chamber had heated up by multiple degrees since their entry. ‘‘Thea?’’ Kelsey prompted her when she didn’t answer. ‘‘What did you see?’’

‘‘I’m not sure,’’ Thea said, dodging the question. She had no intention of telling Kelsey Bennett what she’d just glimpsed in the cross-dimensions. ‘‘But one thing we do know—that data in your head refuses to be removed.’’

Kelsey’s expression grew slightly troubled, but then she smiled again. ‘‘Maybe so, but I feel fan-freaking-
tastic!
’’ She snaked her hands up and down her body to demonstrate. ‘‘It’s like my skin is alive. It’s like this whole
room
is alive.’’ She strode toward the cylinder, staring into it. ‘‘And it’s like just being here is where I belong.’’

‘‘Kelsey,’’ Thea told her softly, ‘‘you’re frightening me a bit. The mitres seems to be having some kind of . . . effect on you.’’

‘‘It is! It’s setting me on
fire!
’’ Kelsey did a little spin, sort of like she was in the midst of a
walsak
dance, throwing both hands into the air. It was extremely uncharacteristic behavior, at least from what Thea already knew of the smart, stable-tempered human. Kelsey always seemed so intelligent and determined. At this particular moment she was unbalanced and giddy.

Thea’s heart began to hammer. She didn’t like Kelsey’s reaction, not at all. It wasn’t the pure joy on her queen’s face, or the thrilled reaction in her body—it was that her exhilaration stemmed solely from her proximity to the mitres. The same weaponry that was controlled by the data codes stuck inside her brain.

‘‘I’m going to get these guys up,’’ Thea pronounced, gesturing toward Marco and Scott, ‘‘and get you out of here, Kelsey. Fast.’’

What she didn’t say was that after what she’d seen and felt in the slipstream, the unfolding spiral of memories and images from their past—and shared future—she felt suddenly very protective of Kelsey Wells Bennett.

Nothing could happen to her queen.

Chapter Thirteen

The mission was taking far too long. Jared glanced at his watch, perhaps for the hundredth time since the transport had left bearing his wife and trusted lieutenants. They should have returned hours ago; in retrospect, he wished he had chosen to accompany them, risks be damned. This waiting was as endless as a trek across the
Maerhtka
lands: Time seemed to stretch on and on and on, without a word about their safety. Perhaps Lieutenant Dillon didn’t realize that his party had been away for almost five hours now, or perhaps it was the only way to accomplish the job, with this extra time. But with daybreak imminent, he needed his wife and the others back now.

He stood in the control room that serviced the hangar and launch deck, staring out at the ready fighters and the engineers going through checks. The flight controllers kept him apprised of the transport’s trajectory. He probably should have called the aircraft back on deck—would have done so, if he’d realized the team would be gone for more than four hours. It was never a good idea to keep any of their craft on a flight for longer than necessary, but the transport was stealthy, and especially at night there was no way the US military would detect it.

‘‘No word from Dillon?’’ he asked the main controller.

The man stared at his computer screen and verified what Jared already knew. ‘‘No, sir. Still no contact.’’

‘‘How do the fuel levels look?’’ Jared stared over the man’s shoulder at the display monitor.

‘‘Getting low, but we’re okay so far,’’ the man advised him, then spun in his chair to face him, awaiting further instructions.

Jared sighed. ‘‘Keep me posted, then.’’ He strode toward the door, but was unable to shake a growing sense that something in this mission was going very wrong. Turning back toward the controller, he hesitated.

‘‘Sir?’’ the man inquired.

Jared rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘‘How long would it take to get a second transport out there, just in case we need it?’’

‘‘We can launch in five.’’ Again, Jared felt a dark wave of precognition roll over his senses. He wasn’t sure why—or if they’d need the craft at all—but he issued the launch command anyway.

 
Scott Dillon sputtered curses under his breath, unable to believe that the chamber had created some kind of time warp. His watch didn’t say six A.M.—none of the others’ watches did either—but here, on the exterior of the chamber, daylight had begun to crack the morning sky. They were running out of time for the transport to meet them at the lift point.

On the path behind him, the other three hiked in his wake, and Scott surveyed the surrounding landscape through his night-vision goggles circumspectly. With Jared’s recent crash in the same vicinity, the US military activity had been high, making this mission risky to begin with, but now? They were losing the advantage of darkness, and he wasn’t at all pleased with the jeopardy it placed them all in.

He’d signaled the transport moments before, but they were nearing the trailhead without any sign of the craft’s approach. Again, not good. That would mean exposure at the open area along the lake. Mentally he scrolled through strategy; where to fall back, where to wait. How to protect the queen, first and foremost.

Ahead, he located a giant boulder and pegged it as the safest area of coverage where they could await the craft. Dropping low onto his haunches, he demonstrated for the others the best way to proceed. At that precise moment, an ear-splitting noise rent the early morning light. ‘‘Get down!’’ Scott called, waving his team to the ground. ‘‘Down, down!’’

Another crack of gunfire came then, followed immediately by the answering whir of a bullet right over his shoulder; at that precise moment it seemed as if holy hell broke loose.

 
‘‘The first transport seems to be having a malfunction, sir,’’ the controller advised Jared. He wished he could claim surprise. ‘‘According to their instrumentation, they have a fuel line leak and have to turn back now—or they won’t make it back.’’

Only moments before had the transport’s captain finally heard from Scott Dillon; the team was ready for pickup—and now, the craft couldn’t reach them. ‘‘How long ago did we launch the other transport?’’

‘‘It’s within ten minutes of the drop site, sir.’’

‘‘Ten minutes. Good.’’ Jared just prayed there weren’t any issues on the ground. Ten minutes was like an eternity in hell if you needed immediate pickup.

 
They were never going to make it out alive, not a one of them, if Scott didn’t come up with some sort of strategy in the next thirty seconds. Marco had Kelsey prone on the ground, beneath his body, firing off rounds at the exact same time. Thea crouched at Scott’s right side, pulse rifle gripped in both hands, letting loose quick, sputtering rounds without hesitation.

But it didn’t take a military genius to realize they were cornered and outflanked by a far superior force. They were only a small band of four; the guns turned on them had to belong to a force of ten or more soldiers.

Scott’s mind whirled, grasping at possibilities, and at last he arrived at the only workable strategy that just might save the others. ‘‘Thea,’’ he said, reloading as he talked, ‘‘you’re going to lead the others back up the trail, toward the other side of the chamber. I’ll cover you down here. There’s a flat area around the ledge, it’ll be tricky, but the transport can get you there.’’