Obsidian Gate - Chapter Six

*Here's the next installment. It's been a pretty busy month but I'll get back to posting when I can. Did some edits on Chapter Four and I hope this is enjoyable*


Chapter Six:
If ever there was a time for a miracle...

“New York City, Center of the universe.
Times are shitty, but I’m pretty sure they can’t get worse.
It’s a pleasure to know, when you’re singing the “hit the road” blues,
that anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be...
a pleasure cruise” - from Rent

- Earth -

Sunlight seeped in faintly through two small windows in Danthias Silverbow’s cell and, though both were set nearly seven feet up in their respective locations, the elf squinted painfully, as what little light there was managed to somehow reflect at just the right angle so that it glinted directly into Dan’s hypersensitive eyes. The lycan twisted and jerked, seeking a better position, and cursed his bonds in every language he knew when moving proved impossible.
He had tried everything. Every dirty trick, every sly maneuver, every useless test, and mental exercise he knew had been considered, attempted, and then rejected. The cops had not found the lock pick sets Dan had had surgically implanted into his skin, however, being tightly bound from the moment of his arrest, the elf had been unable to reach them or even twist enough to tear one loose. He couldn’t speak the cops’ language and Danthias was acutely, painfully aware that he wasn’t talking his way out of this one. The looks on the faces of the men who had brought him here had told him that much. In fact, his silken, glib tongue would probably only earn him a muzzle to go with his current restraints and those were tedious enough. Even had those been removed, he was weaponless, armorless, and bereft of his usual equipment, tricks, and traps, stranded in a strange place with no immediate way out. He didn’t even have his sunglasses.
Being confined had not only given Danthias plenty of time to examine his current situation, evaluate his options, and curse his abominable luck, but also to contemplate and take in his bleak surroundings. Though he had berated himself for a weak fool, the elf had to admit that it was through no lack of his trying to get out of it that he was stuck in his current dilemma.
All four walls of Dan’s cell were solid metal, several feet thick, and the material smelled like a strengthened adamantine alloy with high silver content. It was nigh unbreakable and ten times the strength of tungsten but the elf had been unable to resist the urge to attempt smashing it anyway. Everywhere the metal touched it burned and the entire cell and all its equipment had been made out of the same stuff, purposefully for containing lycanthropes, vampires, any creature with superhuman strength and a vulnerability to silver. Dan was guessing this one was mostly for vampires, as the small slit windows in the door and the back wall could be shut and bolted to prevent light from entering the cell.
Dan jerked, irritated, at his bonds and glared at them furiously for all the good it did him. A slender metal collar adorned with only a blinking green light graced the elf’s slim neck, connected to the wall by an immobile rod. Both were of the same strange alloy as the rest of the cell and hadn’t budged. Between the collar, the metal, and the drugs that had been injected into the elf’s system, Dan itched all over and was absolutely miserable.
The elf knew instinctively somehow that the drugs and silver were meant to reinforce the power of the annoying electronic collar. The trio were sapping his strength, preventing him from Changing, neutralizing what little magical talent he had, and keeping him docile. The drugs made it hard, at times, to form one coherent thought after another but Dan managed, as best he could, to focus and try to stave off the drugs’ effects. His head felt fuzzy and with his bonds, he was effectively helpless. His hands and feet were both shackled together, a bar running between them, so that Danthias could not raise his hand above his waist and, with a bar connecting each set of shackles to the wall, Dan was as close to immobile and helpless as he had ever been. Dan was thoroughly convinced that, at this particular moment, all of his gods hated him. Even pacing to brood over his misery and ponder a possible route of escape was denied him. He was trapped, a tiger in a cage, and the cruel irony of that thought stung Dan to the core.
The elf jerked out of his melancholy brooding over his fate, as the sound of keys in a lock echoed in the lonely cell. The door opened, admitting a diminutive woman in a blue police uniform. Dan offered her a wan, dispirited smile, and she gave him a fairly warm one in return, full of sympathy.
The policewoman was reasonably attractive, in her mid-to-late twenties, with a pixie-like, youthful face made up of high cheekbones, pouty, pink lips, and large, expressive blue eyes that made her look like a China doll. Her skin was a mild, healthy tan and her dark, sandy blonde/light brown hair was cut boyishly short, page boy style, a very flattering look for her slender, athletic frame.
The woman approached Danthias slowly, a kind, tolerant smile on her face, and proceeded to very carefully, very cautiously, release him from his bonds. The elf was wary but, as this woman was the only one, thus far, out of all the policemen at the station to approach him without fear or hostility, Dan guardedly obeyed her pantomimed instructions. As soon as his hands were released, the elf collapsed, gasping, as the woman caught him. The woman was slight, barely coming up to Dan’s chin, but she managed to support him while she fiddled with his manacles and lead him gently toward a sparkling clean chamber pot. Danthias found that the shackles at ankles and wrists now had just enough slack for him to be able to hobble a bit and do his business. Necessity took him, as soon as the woman helped him to his seat and pulled a curtain around him. When he was done he made a bit of noise to attract her attention and the woman lead him to a small washbasin, giving him as much time as he needed to brush his teeth, wash his face, and comb his hair, before sitting him down at a small table.
She shackled Dan briefly to it, long enough to hit the button that emptied the chamber pot and bring him a large tray of hot, delicious smelling food. There was not a word of complaint from her about her duties and she smiled as Dan eyed the roast beef and vegetables hungrily. Oblivious to the fact that it would do him little good nutritionally, Danthias wolfed down every last morsel of food, hoping to stave off starvation long enough to get a real meal. The meat was blood rare, which helped some, but the elf knew he would need much more before too long. When he had finished eating, Dan was allowed to wander around for a few minutes and stretch his legs. Then, he was lead over to a small cot in the corner of the cell and reattached to the wall by his ankles. It was somewhat uncomfortable but Dan found he had just enough give in all his bonds to lie down. Weariness overtook him and he was asleep before the woman left with the tray.
For two hours Dan slumbered. The rest rejuvinated him enough that he didn’t even complain when the policewoman returned to reshackle him to the wall in his original position, though she seemed to do so with great reluctance. Danthias wracked his brain for a solution to his dilemma, trying to make as much use of his wits as he could before they returned to give him another series of injections. He, of course, hissed, snarled, struggled, and generally put up as much of a fuss as he could but the shackles prevented much. The outcome was pretty much inevitable, given the amount of police in the room and Dan’s limited mobility, but the stranded lycan still took insane pleasure from making the attempt and from the fear he saw on the faces of the policemen who came in to inject him. Served them right, as far as Dan was concerned. It wasn’t long before he was left alone again, the drugs once again beginning their debilitating effect. Danthias kept coherent for as long as he could and tried to remain calm throughout it all, though his feral instincts were screaming for freedom. For the moment, the elf was coming up negative for any bright escape plans, however, within him, a small, slender spire of hope remained. He allowed a tired smile to play on his face and concentrated. If there was one thing Danthias Silverbow knew about luck, even his own cursed, bad kind of luck, it couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, the wheel of fortune would spin and Danthias fully intended to turn it to his advantage. After all, being stuck on the bottom, there was no place for him to go but up. It was only a matter of time.

2.

O’Brian and Landen parked their vehicle in their registered spot and rushed inside the police station, a faint gust of air precluding them. O’Brian’s tough features were drawn into harsh lines and his lips were set in a thin line of anger. Parts of the confession that Tobias Simms had given them had really riled Aiden up and he was determined to see that justice was done. He looked like a bomb ready to explode and Landen pitied the first person to draw his attention.
O’Brian flung the doors of the precinct open, fury blazing from his eyes, as he stormed into the main part of the building. All sound, motion, and activity stopped dead, cops staring blatantly, as O’Brian marched straight towards the Captain’s office. No one could ever remember Aiden O’Brian losing it this badly and everyone was frantic to learn the cause of it but not a single person even made a motion towards the Captain’s office door, as O’Brian slammed through it.
Landen merely headed for the main entrance, hoping to meet the Lees and their party. He left O’Brian to scream and holler his frustration, praying Aiden would be smart enough to control himself so that he at least had a job when it was all said and done. Fending off any would be questioners with a look, Landen walked towards the front and sincerely hoped this case wasn’t about to get as ugly as it looked.
Captain Tanaka jerked his head up as the door to his office flew open. His black, slanted eyes narrowed a bit when he saw the expression on O’Brian’s face and sat back in his seat, arms crossed.
“Something I can help you with?” Tanaka inquired.
Whatever else could be said about Mason Tanaka, he was not easily intimidated. His neat, short, salt and pepper black hair and plain, but nice, brown suit and tie weren’t the slightest bit ruffled from O’Brian’s aggression. He didn’t even blink. The white walls and unrelieved darkness of his mahagony desk formed a great armored barrier most days but this time it wouldn’t be enough. O’Brian refused to allow the Captain’s perturbation to stop his tirade. He looked right into the man’s lined face and leaned into the desk, his hands in front of him.
“What the Hell’s goin’ on, Mase?” he exclaimed, “Russell and Ewald jus’ fingered a man Landen an’ I need for an important investigation.”
“The lycan,” Tanaka said, nodding in sudden understanding, “That boy’s been nothin’ but trouble since they brought ‘em in here. No one speaks his language an’ we’re havin’ a deuce of a time figurin’ out what language he does speak so we can get someone t’read ‘em his rights. He won’t talk t’anyone, ‘cept t’curse an’ yell at ‘em an’ he even spit on Ewald when he went t’catalogue his possessions.”
“Can’t say I blame ‘em, after how Ewald treated ‘em,” O’Brian muttered, though not loud enough to interrupt the Captain’s spiel.
“He plastered the ink from his print sheet all over Russell’s face an’ didn’t even cooperate enough t’flatten his hands so we could get a good set o’prints t’run,” Tanaka growled, “He won’t eat anything we give ‘em, he literally snarls at any officer that gets too close, an’ it took five men t’hold ‘em down t’give ‘em the LACE injections.”
O’Brian just tried to keep his mouth shut. The LACE or Lycanthrope Aggression Control Enhancer injections were meant to prevent a lycan from suddenly shifting and going berserk on any arresting officers. It was a powerful mixture of sedative, adrenaline blockers, and muscle relaxers. Personally, O’Brian thought it was damn near illegal to subject anyone to that kind of treatment but it had saved many officers’ lives with its effectiveness and he just waited patiently, as the Captain finished ranting.
“We still haven’t got a decent set of prints on ‘em, he wouldn’t sit still for his mug shots,” he was saying, “Kept turnin’ away or makin’ faces at the camera. He trashed the line up room when those boys came in t’i.d. ‘em. Ewald and Russell are both threatenin’ t’shoot ‘em just t’get ‘em outta their misery an’ the only officer he’s let anywhere near him is Fraser.”
Colleen Fraser was a fairly new recruit to the force, a little pixie of a woman with a heart of gold. O’Brian wasn’t surprised at the stranger’s reaction to her.
“Maybe he can sense who means ‘em harm,” O’Brian said, “It’s not my fault Ewald and Russell have shit fer manners when it comes t’paranormals.”
Tanaka just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten.
“Be that as it may, they’re good officers an’ that boy assaulted them,” he said, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just let that boy rot in his cell. He’s been nothin’ but trouble an’ those boys hired a lawyer. He’s been threatenin’ all sorts o’ lawsuits if we don’t get ‘em t’court.”
“He didn’t attack them, Mase,” O’Brian said, “You didn’t see how fucked up he was. Those boys shot ‘em with silver bullets, for Christ’s sake. Silver, Mase. That’s illegal as all Hell an’ you know it. I just need a chance t’prove he’s innocent.”
“You got proof?” Tanaka asked quietly, the good cop in him taking over.
“I got some people might be able t’collaborate his story,” he replied, “They can testify t’the severity of his wounds an’ t’the treatment he was given when arrested, not t’mention the fact they might be able t’prove those boys knew what he was an’ came after him intentionally. I’m tellin’ ya, this was a textbook hate crime.”
“Several of my officers have bruised ribs an’ Corchoran’s gonna have a black eye for days,” Tanaka replied sternly, “This had better be good.”
“I got a witness who’s willin’ t’give up everything he knows in exchange for a lighter sentence,” O’Brian pleaded, “He admitted, on record, that he an’ those boys attacked that lycan an’ he’s willin’ t’rat the rest of ‘em out.”
“You got his statement handy?” Tanaka demanded.
“Right here,” O’Brian replied, handing over the paperwork gladly, “Got it on tape, too, in case you wanna play it back.”
Mason seemed to take forever to look over what O’Brian and Landen had pieced together. By the time he had finished looking over what the two officers had gathered and had listened to the tape of the confession, his brows were knit together in concentration and thought. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he folded his hands together in a little steeple and spun around in his chair to face O’Brian.
“What do you want from me?” he asked quietly.
“I need t’talk t’the boys that tagged ‘em,” O’Brian said, “Let me an’ Landen question ‘em. I’m pretty sure we can crack ‘em an’ find out what’s really goin’ on.”
“They’re still in the interrogation room with that lawyer o’ theirs an’ Russell an’ Ewald,” Tanaka said, “Your boy threw quite a fit when we took ‘im in there t’i.d. ‘im.”
“I can imagine,” O’Brian said, unable to help but smile a little, as he calmed down. He was really beginning to like this kid.
“Go, question those boys but try t’keep it civil an’ keep that kid outta trouble,” Tanaka said, “He causes one more outburst around here an’ I’ll shoot ‘im myself.”
“Do I have your permission t’bring my civvie witnesses t’help?” O’Brian asked, “They might be able t’i.d. the attackers.”
“Don’t push it, O’Brian,” Tanaka replied.
“One o’them thought she understood ‘im,” the officer said, “Kid’s gonna have t’have an interpreter if he’s gonna make it through this.”
“Fine,” Tanaka sighed, “Keep ‘em under control an’ low profile. They cause ripples, they leave, an’ I don’t give a damn whether you need ‘em or not.”
“Right, boss.”
O’Brian smiled, privately triumphant and muttered his thanks, as he closed the door behind him. Squaring his shoulders, O’Brian headed towards the interrogation rooms to inform Ewald and Russell that they would be having visitors later. He could hardly stop the grin that slowly began to dominate his face. It was going to be fun seeing Ewald’s face when he told them and it was high time that he found the truth.

3.

Landen reached the front entrance just as Alexandra, Sarah , Marissa, and Charlie were being buzzed in by the officer on duty. He waited patiently, while the officer frisked them, checked in all their weapons, and checked their permits. Light streamed in through the glass doors, bright sunshine to duck behind light clouds. Another perfect day to begin another perfect investigation.
“Yeah, right,” Landen thought, with a rueful snort, “If O’Brian an’ I still have badges when this’s done, I’m gonna be surprised.”
“So what’s the sitch?” Alex demanded, her black Nikes making no sound on the green linoleum floor, “They manage t’book ‘im yet?”
She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that almost every male head in the room had turned at her entrance, watching her in those tight, black jeans. Landen smiled, shaking his head, as two younger officers managed to nearly knock themselves unconscious while trying to exit the building and oggle Alexandra at the same time.
“They haven’t officially charged ‘im with anything, yet, but the Cap’s out for blood,” Landen finally said, “Word is your boyfriend’s a real handful.”
“He is not mah boyfriend,” Al shot indignantly, eyes flashing, “Ah’m just concerned’s all.”
“Riiiight,” Landen retorted, “Lee, since when don’t you chase after young studs in leather an’ silk?”
Before Alex could get all huffy, Landen turned his attention to the rest of the small group, pointedly ignoring her irritated glare.
“We need t’get you guys signed in, pronto,” he said, trying to hide how nervous he really was.
“You expectin’ trouble?” Marissa asked.
“Could be,” Landen replied, “Tension on this one’s a doozey.”
“I called a friend o’ mine on the way here,” Charlie said, looking over at Landen, “Jonas Swift is one o’ the best lawyers in the biz an’ he don’t mind pro bono work.”
“He okay with the paranormal angle?” Landen asked.
“Couldn’t be more sympathetic.”
“Great, that boy’s gonna need all the help he can get.”
The quintet made their way towards the front desk, brushing past the hustle of officers coming and going. As they approached the main desk, the brunette woman sitting behind it looked up and smiled, an almost comical gesture, as she was buried under several hundred pounds of desk and paperwork. Before Landen could even reach for a pen to sign in his guests, he noticed Ewald heading his direction, face like a thundercloud about to explode, with O’Brian right on his heels, both more angry than Landen had seen in a while.
“Great,” Landen muttered, just as Ewald reached them. Ewald's face was turning an ugly red from rage.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.
“Nice t’see you too, Ewald,” Landen replied sunnily, his most winning smile coming out, “Don’t you have supposed witnesses t’question?”
“What the Hell do ya think yer doin’?” Ewald demanded again.
“Checking these good people in,” Landen replied, irritated, “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
“Like Hell you are!”
Instantly, it was as if time stopped and the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. The quintet on their way to the cells glared at Ewald, Marissa openly growling, barely holding on to their tempers.
“They’re vigilantes, for Christ’s sake!” Ewald was screaming, “Goddamn p.i.’s an’ yer gonna let them get their greasy, freak paws all over this case!”
“As I recall, that would be the Captain’s call, not yours,” Landen pointed out.
“These freak shows got no place bein’ here!” Ewald continued to rave, “We’re runnin’ an investigation, not some sideshow circus act!”
“We ain’t the freaks around here!,” Marissa suddenly spat, “Why don’t you go find some doughnuts t’eat or some car t’chase! Go play in traffic an‘ let the real cops do their job.”
“Bite me, you mutie -” Ewald began, but froze when he saw the look on Landen’s face.
“Finish that sentence an’ I’ll have you reported fer harassment an’ discrimination,” Landen said coldly, all traces of his smile gone, “Yer jus’ jealous ‘cause she’s got more balls than you ever will an’ fer the record, she’s a lycan, not a mutant, you arrogant, racist prick.”
Ewald looked on the verge of another scathing remark but the looks on faces all around stopped him cold. Charlie was cracking his knuckles threateningly and his face was made of stone. Sarah was barely holding Marissa back but the look on her face said she really was only doing it out of reflex. Alex, meanwhile, had her arms folded and was staring Ewald down coldly. From behind him, O’Brian, also barely controlling his anger, laid a hand on Ewald’s shoulder and snapped at him.
“If you don’t like the situation, talk to the Captain,” he said, “but we got a pissed off, hurt lycan t’deal with who doesn’t even know what’s happening t’him. These women’re multilingual. One of ‘em’s bound t’find a way t’communicate with him an’ Marissa here can handle ‘em if he gets outta hand. We need t’read ‘im his rights an’ find out what really happened. These people treated his wounds, heard the shots. They can help, which is more than you’ve done.”
“I tried,” Ewald said, simply, “We tried t’get him an interpreter but he’s fought us at every turn.”
“You did not try hard enough,” Sarah informed him coldly, “You are supposed to be a policeman. Act like it.”
“No kiddin’!” Al snapped, “Ain’t no wonder he didn’t cooperate! Ah wouldn’t either if someone treated me like a monster ‘stead of a person!”
“I don’t need a lecture from you two!” Ewald snapped and was about to come out with something else when Landen stopped him.
“Just shut up, Ewald!” he said, “They’re right. You put yer personal feelings ahead o’ yer job an’ it’s ruined you. Now get out of our sight!”
Ewald glared, face straining in an effort to control himself. He looked about to say something truly scathing but O’Brian put a hand on his shoulder and simply shook his head. That was all the cue Ewald needed. He stomped off in the direction of the interrogation room like a little kid that had been chased off the playground. The group could not help but smile a wee bit of satisfaction. As they gathered around the front desk, signing in their names, another young man approached. He stepped up beside the group and called out to the receptionist in a jovial voice.
“Excuse me, my name’s Jonas Swift, I’m here for a pro bono case,” he said, then, noticing Charlie and the others, his eyes opened wide.
“How ya doin’, Jonas?” Charlie said, his face splitting open in a big grin, “How’s yer dad?”
“Just fine; he wants to know when you’re coming to dinner again,” Jonas replied, shaking Charlie’s hand and smiling broadly.
“You tell ‘im as soon’s this mess’s over,” the bartender replied warmly.
The other members of the crew silently assessed this newcomer with keen eyes, wondering whether he would be an asset in this case or not. Swift was tall, attractive, somewhere in his early thirties with a classic tan. From the plain gold band on his left ring finger to the tan suede shoes he wore, he exuded confidence and class. He also looked like he’d been damn convincing in a courtroom.
“You two know each other?” Landen asked, looking from Swift to Charlie, curious but not entirely surprised.
“Charlie and my father served together in ‘Nam,” Swift replied, “I’ve known him for years.”
“You know everybody!” Landen exclaimed, looking over at Charlie. The bartender merely shrugged.
Looking at Swift, O’Brian said,
“We’re arranging t’go talk with yer client now,” he said, “I’m Detective O’Brian, this’s my partner, Detective Landen, an’ this’s Alexandra Lee, Sarah Lee, and Marissa Li Fang; They’re special consultants on this case with the Sirens Detective Agency.”
Swift shook each of their hands in turn warmly, smiling a little as he heard the names.
“Charlie talks about “his girls” all the time,” Jonas said, “It’s nice to meet some of his “angels” in person, finally.”
Alex and the other women laughed, rolling their eyes. It was common knowledge that Charlie Hutton just somehow had a knack for helping pretty young women down on their luck by cleaning them up and giving them employment. Most of those he had helped had stayed loyal to Charlie, working for him long after they’d made enough to make their own way. This had lead some to jokingly dub Charlie’s female employees “Charlie’s Angels” and the name had stuck. Since every member of the Sirens had, at one time or another, made use of Charlie’s spare room, none of them could argue the nickname.
“Fill me in on what you know," Swift said, softly.
O‘Brian and Landen, ignoring attempts to amend statements or butt in by the Sirens, gave the lawyer what they had. Avoiding the stares that Ewald’s earlier temper tantrum had drawn, Alex and the group quickly signed themselves in and headed deep into the recesses of the building. The young woman could only pray that the lycan could hold on until they had sorted this terrible mess out and walked with determination towards the cell that the guards on duty pointed out to them, not without a sneer. It was going to be a long shot but Alex knew they could do it.

4.

Danthias snapped out of his self imposed malaise, fighting off the ennui of the drugs coursing through his system, long enough to hear the door to his cell area slam open. He jerked his head up enough to see the tiny female police officer enter the room. Behind her was a man he didn’t recognize, followed immediately by two he did, the same officers that had tried to help him at the hospital. As if to further brighten his mood, the larger man in white and black and the three gorgeous women from the hospital followed. Dan’s eyes instantly locked with the midnight blue ones of the woman who had captivated him. She was smiling and Dan found himself hoping, just a tiny bit, that his luck was turning, that somehow, this woman was here to help him.
Alexandra, meanwhile, felt her heart skip a beat, as she saw the handsome stranger. He looked even more hopeless and pathetic, if that were possible, than he had before. Deep circles and subtle lines had etched their way into the elf’s face, making him look drawn and haggard. Alex’s heart did a flip flop and she rounded on Officer Fraser, who had ushered them in.
“Why’s he all trussed up like ‘dat?” she demanded, her Southern accent deceptively silky, despite the menacing undertones.
“Captain’s orders,” she said, “He gave everyone such a hard time when he was brought in, Captain wanted him secured; Wasn’t my choice, believe me.”
“Unchain him,” Alex said, eyes narrowing.
“What?” Fraser said, uncertain.
“I do not believe my sister stuttered,” Sarah Lee said, her tone almost cold, “Those bonds are barbaric and cruel. This young man has done nothing to deserve this.”
Fraser stared at Sarah incredulously, then glanced at O’Brian and Landen. O’Brian nodded slightly and Fraser unlocked the doors to the cell without another word. Silently, she set up the long table Danthias had eaten at earlier and ushered police, detectives, and the lawyer all into the cell, pulling out some metal folding chairs. After making sure all the chairs were far enough away from where the lycan was to sit that no hostage situation could develop, Fraser retreated long enough to produce coffee, water, doughnuts, and some chips. Then, she quietly set about the task of undoing the lycan’s bonds.
Danthias, glad of being able to move, offered the woman absolutely no trouble, giving her an encouraging little smile. Fraser quickly unlocked him and replaced his bonds with ones that were just as strong but far less restrictive. Being bound hand and foot by cuffs was imminently preferable to being strapped to the wall, even if the elf still had to endure the godsforsaken collar. Fraser quietly left the room, locking the door behind her and Dan faced the motley group that appeared to be his rescuers.
Landen smiled gently over at the young lycan, who was regarding him skeptically, and picked up the pitcher of water on the table, gesturing towards a glass. The lycan nodded, catching his meaning immediately, and grinned a little. Alexandra, from her side, caught that grin and thought she had never seen anything so bright and charming in her entire life. As Landen handed the young man his drink and he sipped it thoughtfully, Alex had to reign in her wandering mind and hormones.
“’Dis one’s dangerous,” she mused, forcing herself to focus on the events at hand. It would not do to get distracted.
Landen, still smiling, glanced over at the lycan and asked,
“What’s yer name, Kid?”
The lycan’s smile lessened slightly in confusion. Dan knew what language it was, even felt as if he had been asked that same question before numerous times in numerous forms, yet his limited comprehension robbed him of any ability to respond. Though he had a good ear and was getting used to the strange flow of this odd speech, he was forced to make an apologetic, noncommital shrug.
The young man in the suit seemed to sigh in frustration and Dan wracked his brain hard then suddenly perked up, as he remembered something very important. Speaking as slowly and clearly as he could, the elf stumbled thorough what he hoped was a passable greeting in Latin. Instantly, to his amazement and delight, the gorgeous woman with the blue eyes smiled and perked up as well.
“Hello there,” she responded, her Latin nearly flawless, especially next to Dan’s clumsy utterances, “Can you communicate effectively in this language?”
“No,” Dan replied, regretfully, “My Latin’s horrible.”
The young woman smiled, obviously understanding, and leaned back towards the woman in red that Dan had saved earlier that day. There was a brief exchange between them, a nonverbal signal of some kind, then, Danthias got the shock of his life. He had grown up learning the bare basic facts surrounding psionics, the powers of the mind. The elf’s education had been very excellent for his social standing and, while he had little to no psionic talent himself, Zantriel, his best friend, was a telepath and the two of them had developed a psychic rappor, strengthened by Zan’s talent and the deep friendship between the two of them. Even so, the brush of another consciousness against his own was somewhat of a shock. Had his mind been a house, it would rather have felt like someone politely knocking on the door.
Concentrating, Dan focused on the source of the sensation. Slowly, he was able to perceive his own energy and simply let himself see what there was to see.
Dan’s jaw dropped.
He could see his own psychic aura, a hazy, silvery sheen ghosting out from his body towards the red clad woman. The woman, however, glowed. There was no other word for it. She shone like a second sun, bright, crimson light pouring out of her so luminous that Dan feared he’d be blinded if he stared too long.
The telepath’s aura clouded his for a moment, then he heard her voice in his head, clear as day, thoughts, images, and concepts forming words as easily as if she were speaking to him out loud.
“Hello there,” she said, smiling, as she echoed the blue eyed angel’s greeting, “You seem to be in quite a bit of trouble.”
“So it would seem,” Dan replied, “Can you help me?”
“It is not a matter of “can I?” but one of “will I?,” she replied gently, “and, as you helped me yesterday, it would be rather ungrateful of me not to. Incidentally, I do believe I can help you but it will require you to trust me. Do you think you will be able to do that?”
Dan’s reply was immediate and without reservation.

5.

Sarah turned back to her companions, smiling a little.
“I have made contact with him,” she said, “He has agreed to let me help him.”
“How?” Landen asked.
“I am going to “facilitate” his learning of English,” Sarah replied calmly.
“You can do that?” Swift, the lawyer, said, sounding surprised.
“Have you not seen The Matrix?” Sarah said teasingly, “To a telepath, the mind is no more than a very sophisticated computer. With the correct connections and codes, one can easily download information from one computer to another. Mind to mind information transferal works basically the same way.”
“I was not aware you were a telepath,” Swift said, giving her a considering look.
“I do not advertise the fact,” Sarah said simply.
“Are you sure this’s legal?” O’Brian asked quietly.
Sarah regarded him thoughtfully.
“He has given consent and we do not have all night to decipher what my sister has assured us is poor Latin,” she replied, “Besides, I cannot maintain mental contact all night long. It would be too draining on the both of us and he does not have much more facility with telepathy than he does with Latin. This is the fastest way.”
“If that’s what you call the fastest mode of speech, Lee, than you really scare me,” Landen said.
“You had better hope so,” the young woman retorted tartly, “The freedom of this young man depends on it.”