Zealot, Page 2

  As she busied herself with the inventory, her mind began to wander. When Raina called that morning, she’d sounded odd, anxious, as if she needed something for which she was hesitant to ask. Indigo had been too angry for explanations, but now that her temper had cooled, she was curious. She pulled out her phone and activated Raina’s number. The call went right to voicemail, so Indigo just hung up. It was too soon to let her off the hook anyway. Raina should know better than scaring her loved ones to death.

  She turned back to the stacked boxes and continued unpacking the newly arrived items. Mundane tasks always unleashed Indigo’s imagination, but lately her daydreams had taken on unusual themes. She considered herself a free spirit, like her mother and grandmother. So why were her dreams and fantasies filled with scenes of domestic bliss, a doting husband and energetic kids, backyard barbeques and lavish Christmas mornings?

  With a frustrated sigh, she forced the speculation to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, the restlessness remained. She felt as if something important was missing from her life and she couldn’t understand the discontent. She did not need a man to complete her. The concept went against everything she’d been taught, everything she’d claimed since puberty.

  She squared her shoulders and refocused on her surroundings. She was an entrepreneur, a successful business woman who answered to no one and directed her own path. A white picket fence had never been in her future. She was too unconventional and too stubborn to share her life with any man. Besides, she’d never encountered a man impressive enough to tempt her from her wicked ways. A smile curved her lips as the final thought renewed her determination.

  The front door opened and Indigo looked over the shoulder-high display cases, hoping Pam Winstrom was running ahead of schedule. Instead, a stranger entered the shop, a tall, dark, jaw-dropping stranger. Mile-wide shoulders gave way to biceps that stretched the material of his T-shirt. The display cases blocked her view from mid-chest down, but what she could see was certainly impressive.

  Impressive enough to tempt you from your wicked ways? Her inner voice mocked as her heart thudded wildly in her chest.

  She dragged her gaze to his face with a guilty smile. If a man had stared at her body the way she’d just ogled this stranger, she’d have called him on his rude behavior. But his features weren’t any less distracting. With a strong jawline and sculpted cheekbones, well-shaped nose and sensual lips, handsome was an inadequate description of his appeal. This man was stunning.

  “Hi there.” She recovered enough to sound almost professional. “Are you after something specific or would you just like to look around?”

  He moved to the end of the aisle, likely to get a better look at her. It was only fair, after all. She hadn’t been the least bit subtle about her visual inspection. His movements were fluid and strong, surprisingly graceful despite his size. Muscular men tended to lumber. This man…stalked like a mighty lion patrolling the Serengeti.

  “My profession requires optimum fitness and stamina. I’m always looking for new health aids.” His eyes were so dark they didn’t look real.

  Fitness and stamina? Her guilty smile spread into a flirtatious grin. That made him sound like a gigolo. Or was that just her naughty mind wanting to turn him into her own private toy? She wasn’t in the market for a husband, but a scorching affair with a mysterious stranger was much more appealing than inventory. “Your accent is fascinating. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything quite like it before.”

  He walked toward her, his stride rolling. “I’ve lived many places all over the world.”

  She moved in front of the stacked boxes, so nothing separated them. “I was going to be polite, but now I have to know. What do you do for a living?” Many women were intimidated by aggressive men. Indigo had always found them amusing. The more seductive they became, the more outrageously she flirted. It didn’t take long for them to realize she wasn’t impressed by their posturing and move on to more susceptible prey.

  “I do anything my employer requires of me.” There was enough challenge in his deep tone to make the statement provocative.

  A chuckle escaped her throat as she tilted her head to the side. The practiced motion sent her long hair swishing over her shoulder and across one of her breasts. “What are your rates? I can think of all sorts of things I’d require of you.”

  “This store’s nice, but I doubt you could afford me. Besides, you look like the sort of woman who can get most anything she wants with a wink and a smile.”

  She couldn’t decide if she was flattered or insulted, so she didn’t respond.

  With a bold, yet careful motion, he reached out and caught a lock of her hair. He seemed fascinated by the colorful strands. She couldn’t blame him really. Her hair color changed with her mood and she’d been particularly moody lately. The waist-length mass was primarily cobalt blue, the same color as her eyes. But accent strands in teal and hot pink added contrast and dimension.

  “What’s your name?” His deep voice flowed over the question as his fingers caressed her hair.

  She searched his dark eyes as she debated what to tell him. This was a fitness emporium in a college town. Many of her customers were well-built and good looking, so why was so captivated by this one? Okay, maybe he took the concept a step or two farther than the others, but she was never at a loss for words. Never.

  “Do you want me to guess?” He smiled and she waited for warmth to fill his eyes, but they remained endlessly dark, yet flat, shielded.

  She eased her hair out of his light grasp and took a step back. Something wasn’t right here. She didn’t feel overtly threatened, but his appeal was fading the longer she looked into his emotionless eyes. “I’ll give you a twenty dollar store credit if you get it right in three tries or less.”

  “All right.” He crossed his arms over his chest and visually swept her from head to toe. “You’re obviously fond of color, but you don’t look like a Blue. Scarlett?”

  “Sorry. That’s strike one.” She held up her index finger.

  “Something less obvious then. How about Jade?”

  “Strike two.” She held up two fingers and couldn’t help but smile. This was too easy.

  “Hello, Indigo.” He punctuated the taunt with a knee-melting smile.

  She made a fist and glared at him. “Someone told you.”

  “I know your cousin Raina,” he admitted. “You don’t have to honor the bet.”

  “A bet’s a bet. I was the one presuming I had you beat.” Despite her offer, he didn’t seem interested in her merchandise. His gaze remained fixed on her. “Raina didn’t mention you the last time I spoke with her. Of course, I didn’t give her much time to talk. Am I allowed to know your name, or are you on some secret mission?”

  His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Secret mission? I thought you’d decided I was an escort.”

  “If you know Raina, you’re not an escort. There’s simply no place on earth her path would cross with someone who makes a living having sex.”

  One of his eyebrows arched and he whispered, “Maybe we didn’t meet on Earth.”

  Her heart lurched and she sucked in a breath as awareness sizzled around them. It was a joke. It had to be a joke. So why wasn’t he smiling? “You don’t look like a professor. How’d you meet Raina?”

  The front door opened again, but the stranger blocked her view. Without turning around, he raised his hand and made a fist as if to signal the person behind him.

  All she saw was a blur of black and then someone collided with the stranger’s back. He lunged forward, helplessly tackling Indigo as the force propelled him to the floor. His strong arms wrapped around her and he managed to twist so they landed on their sides. For one confusing instant, their bodies pressed together and their faces were so close she could feel his warm breath on her lips. But fear and anger tore through the pause, spoiling the moment of tingling awareness. He released her and sprang back to his feet, agile as an acrobat.


  She huddled on the floor, instinctively drawing her knees toward her chest. What the hell was going on?

  The tall stranger shouted in a language she didn’t understand, but the other man’s only response was a punch to the face. The first man bobbed fast enough to minimize the impact, which seemed to enrage his companion. The second man was half a head shorter than the first. The smaller man was mostly concealed by a black sweatshirt, stocking cap, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

  Sunglasses retaliated with a spin kick that caught Tall Man in the chest. Tall Man caught his ankle with both hands, but Sunglasses managed to twist out of his grasp and still land on his feet. Damn. They looked like stuntmen rehearsing for an action sequence. And it wasn’t just their physical prowess. There was no conviction behind the blows, no real menace.

  Tall Man growled another warning Indigo couldn’t understand. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. Shouldn’t she run or at least call the cops? Even as the thought branded her a fool, all she could do was sit there and watch them. They obviously knew each other. This wasn’t an attempted robbery, more like a family squabble. At worst, a barroom brawl.

  Tall Man clenched his fists and bent his knees, obviously preparing to charge.

  “You tear up my store and I’ll kick your ass.” She gave Tall Man’s boot a firm kick to make sure he was paying attention. One misplaced tackle could send the entire display case crashing over, which would likely topple the next one too.

  “I will not ‘standby’ while you indulge in a flirtation. Chandar is still suffering.” Sunglasses didn’t seem to realize he’d spoken in English, but Tall Man whipped his head around as if to gage her reaction.

  She shot him a confused look, but said nothing.

  Tall Man’s stance gradually relaxed as he glanced at his companion. “That’s not why I told you to standby.” He turned back to her and asked, “How much do you already know?”

  The import in his tone sent her heart racing all over again. She scrambled to her feet, unwilling to face this sitting down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do.” He moved closer and she backed up, right into the stack of boxes. “Danvier, take off your hat and glasses. I think the rest of our performance is unnecessary.”

  Sunglasses moved closer, dragging the stocking cap off his head as he approached. His thick silver braid was tucked down into the back of the sweatshirt. He removed his sunglasses and she gasped. Shimmering silver rings separated his light blue irises from the black of his pupils. Swallowing was awkward, but she couldn’t speak with the massive lump in her throat. “You’re a harbinger.” All of the descriptions in Mimi’s journals were detailed, but nothing could adequately capture the power emanating from this stern-faced man. She looked at the tall stranger. “Who are you? Do you really know Raina?”

  “My name is Zilor Nox and, yes, I know your cousin. She’s currently aboard our ship.”

  Indigo covered her mouth with her hand as she fought for composure. “You’re both Rodytes?” Never in a million years had she expected to utter those words to real people. She’d thought her grandmother had been swept up in something beyond her control. There had been no indication in the journal entries that the aliens would return. “W-why are you here? Does Raina want to be on your ship or is she a prisoner?”

  “You’re in no danger,” the harbinger assured. “Nor is Raina. In fact, we need your help.”

  The door opened again and Indigo lunged to the side so she could see past the two men. Pam Winstrom waved at her, a semi-plastic smile curving her lips.

  “I’ll be right back.” Indigo wasn’t sure the men would let her leave, but neither made a move to stop her. What had Zilor meant about their performance not being necessary and why would Rodytes need her help? They traveled between star systems, for God’s sake. How could she help them?

  She retrieved the package from behind the counter and handed it to Pam. “You’re all set.” It took all her acting ability to look and sound casual.

  “Thanks for doing this. My entire week is going to be insane. I have no idea when I’d have time to swing by here again.”

  “Not a problem. I’m glad I could help.”

  Pam waved again then hurried out the door.

  She’d been so consumed by her busy schedule that she hadn’t even noticed that two aliens were standing half a shop away. That said a lot about humans. It was easy to keep secrets when everyone was entirely self-absorbed.

  Her steps lagged as she returned to her uninvited guests. This was her chance if she wanted to call for help or run out the back. But she wasn’t really afraid of them, more like conflicted. She was quickly realizing that believing that something was real and being confronted by the reality of those beliefs was two very different things.

  “Sorry about that. How can I help you?” She asked the question all the time, but it had never felt so cumbersome.

  “Raina told us that you have healing abilities.” Zilor spoke carefully, as if he were choosing each word with a specific purpose. “Is this true? Are you able to heal?”

  “It’s a form of healing, but it’s kind of hard to explain. I can’t mend broken bones or seal a laceration. I help people overcome emotional issues and neutralize destructive energy. They do most of the work. I’m more like a guide.”

  “What sorts of ailments have you cured with your techniques?” the harbinger wanted to know.

  Zilor had said his name. It was Dan-something, but Indigo had been too shocked to absorb the detail. “I work with a lot of veterans who suffer from PTSD.”

  “Have you ever treated the victim of sexual violence?”

  Zilor’s question upset the harbinger so much that he turned around and walked away. Was he the victim? No. He’d said a woman’s name. Was she his wife or a relative? “I have. Several, with varying degrees of success.” She looked at the harbinger. He stood at the front windows, staring out into the street, hands buried in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “If the victim isn’t ready to work with me, I won’t be able to accomplish anything.”

  “Danvier isn’t the patient. You’d be working with his sister, Chandar.”

  Indigo nodded, but her concern remained. “And is Chandar ready to work with a therapist? There are unusual elements to what I do, but primarily that’s what I am.”

  “We come from a world that accepts the existence of magic,” Zilor reminded. “Explain exactly what you’re able to do.”

  Even her patients didn’t understand exactly what she did. They knew she was unusually perceptive, but they didn’t know why. And more importantly, they didn’t care about the specifics, only the results. “I’ve known people who can see auras, but I’ve never met one who can manipulate them. That’s sort of what I do. What I see is more like fiber optics. I see strands of colored energy flowing around and through people. When a person is subjected to traumatic events the fibers become tangled, blocked, and the flow of energy is constricted. I help them face their fears and banish their demons while I untangle these energy conduits.”

  “This skill is known to us. We call what you see soul strands,” Zilor told her.

  “She’s a soul seer?” Apparently, Danvier had been following the conversation. He turned from the window and returned to where they stood in the middle of the aisle. “Even on Bilarri, where everyone can manipulate magic, the gift is extremely rare.”

  His suspicious tone brought her shoulders up. “Why would I lie?” She’d only been completely honest with these two because she’d thought they’d understand. Apparently, skepticism wasn’t reserved for humans. “How would I know about soul strands if I was lying to you?”

  Zilor stepped toward her, lightly touching her arm. “He meant no insult. It’s our responsibility to verify what we’re told.”

  “Read my strands.” Challenge rang through Danvier’s tone, but his expression revealed nothing more. “Tell me what you see.”

  Indigo hated preforming on command, but kno
wing these two likely knew more about her gift than she did was damn good incentive. Besides, proving doubters wrong always felt wonderful. Her life seldom allowed her to reveal the true scope of her gift.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. The harbinger stared back at her with obvious expectation, so she let his face blur and focused on the space surrounding him. For a tense moment nothing happened. She took another slow breath and silenced each thought as it popped into her mind. She needed to be open and empty for her gift to flow. It couldn’t be forced or manipulated. Gradually, Danvier’s strands appeared, becoming more vivid and distinct as her concentration increased.

  “Your strands are unusually bright.” She tried out the word and found it felt right on her tongue. She saw soul strands. She was a soul seer. Knowing the proper title for her ability didn’t do her much good. No one on Earth would believe that such a thing existed regardless of what it was called. “The brightness isn’t surprising considering the power that flows through you. And your powers are unusually strong, aren’t they?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  She allowed herself a knowing smile. “There’s an unusual amount of green in your strands, which I’ve found most often in prideful people.”

  “I am not prideful,” Danvier objected, sounding horribly offended. “I’m confident. There’s a difference.”

  Zilor laughed then waved her onward. “Ignore him. You’re right on target. Go on.”

  She studied the tangled cluster of strands near his heart. Strands flowed in continual circles. Each revolution took roughly a year. So if she divided the strands into twelve equal segments, she could estimate when a trauma occurred. There was a dense concentration of black within the past few weeks, but threads of the discoloration flowed through the entire ring. “You just found out about what happened to Chandar, but it’s been going on for a long time, months. No, I think years.”

  “Enough.” Danvier’s strands blinked off as if he’d flipped a switch.

  “How did you do that?”