Fire's Touch (The Enlightened Species Book Three) (2 page)

Through the glass of the door he saw Mattie tap her fingers to her thigh, a sign that she felt it was safe for him to use the small pulse of psychic energy it would require for him to establish a telepathic bridge to communicate with her. Tellus weren’t telepaths—there wasn't a way for them to have a fully private conversation the way he could with a blood-bonded Volaticus. If another member of the enlightened species wanted to listen in, they could. Either way, they would know the communication was happening.

“What do you see?”
he asked Mattie, initiating the telepathic bridge.

“One of them is leaning in the far corner watching everyone; the other must have picked up an empty cup out of the trash and is harassing an employee. I don't know, Conlon. I'd bet everyone in the establishment is human. The girl being harassed has her hair in a headband, making it difficult to see her skull muscles.”
Something about what Mattie was seeing didn't sit right with her. “
It's possible she is Volaticus, but if I can't identify her as one, how could the trappers? Oh, shit. She’s picking up on our conversation. She’s looking straight at me and ignoring the tracker. He and his buddy just noticed me too.”

If the tracker made Mattie, their investigation was blown, and Mattie would be in danger. Conlon sent out an energy search, seeking any non-typical human mental barriers or shields. Touching against the two human trackers, he could tell that both males had at some point worked with a Volaticus on creating the mental barriers. It pissed him off that all of the humans he'd encountered trapping, killing, or slave-trading the enlightened species had been tampered with by one of his kind. Though Volaticus weren't nearly the war-hungry species they had once been, nor were they as war-hungry as humanity, they still had the highest number of rogues amongst their numbers of all the enlightened species.

There.
He touched on the mental shield of the blossoming psychic energy typical of a newly Become human/Elven hybrid female, way too young to be living amongst humanity. Easily, too easily he pushed past the newly formed mental shield into her Hulven psyche. Son of a bitch. The female had snuck away from the local nest to work this job in secret. That stupid risk could cost her, big time.

“
Okay, the men didn't pay me any mind. The female is trying to concentrate on her job, but the guy is pointedly distracting her. I think they may be trying to get her fired … yep, her supervisor is getting involved … Damn, I guess that's smart on their part, one less chance of her being missed if they take her.”
The reasoning in Mattie's evaluation of the situation rang true. No way he could walk away—there was little doubt the trappers knew the female’s species.

Volaticus Hulven females where the most highly sought prize amongst the scum of the world’s lowly ranks, bringing the swiftest and highest profit. Unlike pureblood, anemic Elven, Hulven almost always had iron-rich blood. And the females were highly fertile, retaining the ability for human ovulation in addition to estrus.

Hulven matured at the same rate as human children, making them nearly impossible to differentiate until Becoming in their mid-twenties. Many of them were never discovered by the SOSC, being captured by trappers and sold into the seedy underworld of the slave markets or to rogues, where they were caged into blood and breeding programs.

That would be the fate of this female if Conlon and Mattie didn't act to protect her from her impetuousness. He listened to the girl’s private thoughts and verbal exchange with the trapper through the telepathic bridge he'd created to her mind.

Eww. Refill a nasty single-serve cup for a discounted price! What an asshole. Doesn't he get I am lead barista? I don't take orders or deal with customers.
The girl's unspoken annoyance with the trapper amused Conlon. To her credit, she tried to be polite.

“I'm sorry, sir, we don't refill paper cups. It's unsanitary for us, and the cup becomes dangerous for the customer. The refillable mugs we do take must be clean. We aren't allowed to wash them. Also, we don't discount for refills so that’s moot. You do need to wait in line and order at the counter” … Damn it, what was that last order? I don't need this jerk distracting me. “Sorry, Nettie, could you repeat that?”

The guy interrupted again, making the female miss the order for the second time. “
Well, that's bullshit,”
the trapper snapped at her loudly.

Swearing at me, yelling at me? Oh, hell no,
the girl thought while saying,
“What’s bullshit, buddy, is you want me to do your damn dishes then give you a discount for it.”
Conlon snorted out a laugh. She was a spunky Hulven, but she didn't realize she was playing into the trapper’s hands.

The girl’s manager, standing right behind her, cleared her throat.
“I'll handle this. What kind and size of coffee would you like, sir? It's on the house.”

Oh, just great. The bitch already hates me. Her syrupy sweet, totally fake face makes me want to punch her.
The girl’s thoughts brought Conlon another smile.

With his replacements due any second, he made his presence known to her. “
Listen up, youngster. My name is Conlon Einar, and the female by the door is my partner, Mattie. The man harassing you and his colleague standing in the far corner are trappers.”
He growled in frustration when the female slammed her not-so-underdeveloped-after-all mental shield up, effectively rejecting him from her mind.

Thankfully he had kept the bridge open for Mattie to be able to hear his conversation with the girl.
“She's headed out the back door at a dead run,”
Mattie announced.

Motherfucker. Sure enough, one of the men pushed passed Mattie to get out the door with his cohort right behind him. Mattie, hot on their heels, tackled the one in the rear, but the first guy kept running toward the alleyway that would give him access to the rear of the building.

There was no way Conlon could port directly behind the building without knowing what was on the other side. Looking up, he pinpointed the flat roof of the business next to the coffee shop. With a psychic pulse of energy and a thought, he folded the space between him and the roof and stepped through the port to overlook the rear employee parking lot. If anyone had been watching, they would think he vanished into thin air, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. Below, the door burst open and out ran the female. She looked right then left. Conlon felt her energy ripple as she ported to safety. He hoped this would be a valuable lesson for her. Conlon ported from the roof to the back end of the alley, blocking the escape of the man who got away from Mattie as he rounded the building. The human held a military-style knife in one hand and a taser wand in the other.

Realizing he had nowhere to go, the trapper triggered the taser wand, a stream of electricity visible along its length. Conlon could smell the man's fear and panic like acid in his nose. Trappers knew to steer clear of warriors when they encountered them, only electing to fight when faced with no other alternative.

The man’s suicidal choices were few. Truth be known, Conlon expected him to turn and run back down the alley where Mattie waited for him. She'd already neutralized his cohort.

With rolling, graceful stealth, Mattie shifted into a black panther, sidling along the buildings with her shadow behind the man. Conlon grinned; she was an impatient little Tellus. His grin morphed to a growl at the whistling sound of the trapper waving the wand back and forth in front of his body like a fencing sword.

“Bring it, scumbag.” The guy’s knuckles were white on the hand that gripped the knife, and then the idiot charged.

Conlon shook his head, pulled the Glock 9 mm with the silencer from the holster under his arm, and fired. The bloom of blood at the guys shoulder declared he hit his mark, and the wand dropped to the pavement as Mattie pounced from behind. The stunned look on the guy’s face just before he face-planted with a two-hundred-pound panther on his back, knocking him out, was priceless. Human weapons worked well on humans.

Slipping the Glock back into the holster, he shrugged out of his jacket, laying it over the shoulders of the feline form. Mattie shifted back, holding the front of the jacket closed for modesty. A female Aquatie carrying Mattie's clothes and a Hulven male with the other trapper thrown over his shoulder strode toward them.

“Are we late?” the Aquatie asked with a grin.

Mattie quirked her eyebrow in question as she took her offered clothes.

“Nope, you're just in time to do clean up, and you’ll have to do the interrogations,” Conlon stated. He expected them to groan, but they both nodded agreeably when he gave them the details of the altercation. He turned to his confused partner. “I didn't get a chance to tell you before, we've been re-assigned.”

“No way.” She stomped her foot like an impertinent child. “This is our take-down … And I didn’t kill them for a change.” A soft blush turned her mocha cheeks a peach color.

Conlon had grown up around Tellus colonies. Mattie was heir to the throne of her mother, Queen Della, yet he couldn’t imagine anyone less Queen-like than Mattie. Della was never intimidated, always controlled, rigid, stable, and objective. Though a fierce warrior, Mattie was reckless, impulsive, stubborn, witty, and fun with people she knew, but shy, broody, and withdrawn with strangers.

“Orders, Mattie.” Conlon grinned at her. She pursed her lips, slipped her arms into his jacket and snapped it up with a huff as she followed him, moping.

****

“Stacey, the threats are directed at you, not Johnny.” Cassie stood with her hands on her hips. Her mahogany brown hair swung from a high ponytail down her back. Her cheeks flamed red under her dark, mocha skin tone, showing her angry frustration. “Someone tried to shoot you last night, for hells sake. If you're bound and determined to go on this trip, at least take your full security detail. Hire more guards to stay here if you think it's necessary.”

“Tried and failed … get the hell over it already. I’ll do whatever I want.” Stacey threw clothes from her closest onto the bed next to her suitcase. “Besides, I wouldn't have time to get proper background checks done. I want people here that I trust.” The last thing she needed was to worry about more people getting hurt simply by being in her presence.

She and Cassie had been having the same argument since Stacey's decision to do a surprise inspection on her companies. She'd be damned before she allowed those rogue assholes to force her back into hiding. She'd spent her whole life under the threat of kidnapping because of her family’s wealth. Johnny's safety was far more important than her own, so she was only taking three of her guards and her personal head of security with her. She trusted him, plus she had her terrifyingly volatile ability now, and she could port if need be. The naive “human” girl the rogues captured five years ago had died in her cage. Stacey had no intention of raising her from the grave or living in crippling fear. Plus new people stressed her out. What if the stress made her …

Cassie stepped back toward the bedroom doorway before dropping her next bombshell. “Well, like it or not, I called the SOSC this morning. They are sending a couple of warriors to accompany you. If you won't cover your ass, then I will. Let me know if you want my
resignation
.” She turned and exited the room.

Damn it!
If anyone else had talked to her like that, they’d be fired on the spot. Stacey scowled at the two guards standing outside her bedroom with amused looks on their faces. Fucking Cassie! Her job was to protect and care for Johnny, not meddle in Stacey's life. The only reason she had kept Cassie on staff after she'd shrugged off the SOSC's shroud of protection was because Cassie had been a volunteer the night Stacey was freed from the rogues’ breeding lab. Bet the rock stars Cassie used to work for didn't put up with her telling them what they could and couldn't do.

Worse than that … Cassie was the closest thing to a
friend
Stacey had. That should be reason enough to fire her. Friends are a weakness that Stacey sure as shit didn’t need … or want. Being a mother left her enough of a vulnerability. Only with Johnny did she allow her softer side to show. Cassie was the only person who knew of Stacey’s ability. She understood Stacey’s fear of harming Johnny and enabled Stacey to have a relationship with her son.

She had every intention of traveling mainstream and taking her personal guards by private jet to the impromptu meetings. Now, she almost felt like psychically porting and ditching the whole lot of them just to make a point. She wasn't a prisoner and she wouldn't be dictated to by a Tellus female under her employ. Yes, these trips put her at a higher risk, using her given name in person rather than by email and Skype the way she usually ran her business, but it was necessary to keep the CEOs of her companies on their toes. Her father had instilled the need to be a presence if you wanted to remain effective. Stacey made sure to do that at least once every four to six months.

For the first few years after her rescue she didn't, and her father's corporation had been severely mismanaged. Between her pregnancy and her fear, she stayed cooped up until she couldn’t take it. Most of the females rescued that night didn’t understand Stacey’s independence. They were so traumatized from the time they’d spent in the breeding and blood labs that they were just happy to be safe. For a while Stacey had felt to same way. The community was soothing, tranquil … mind-numbing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate what the Symbiosis of Species Council had done for her. Everything a horrifically victimized person could ever need to heal on every level had been made available to the survivors over the last five years. But Stacey wasn't like
them
.

She had had a full life before the rogues fucked it up and captured her. Hell, she thought she was human. Pampered and loved by her parents, surrounded by a loving household staff and friends, she had everything and anything she could ever want. Her only obligation was the hours her father spent grooming her to take over the conglomerate giant corporation he had built from the ground up. Her parents had tried to have children for twenty years before adopting her in their mid-forties. At sixty-seven, her father had been pushing her hard so he could retire and enjoy time with her mother. They had no clue their half-Elven, half-human daughter would cost them their lives.