Guardians of the Portals (21 page)

“The choppers. How?” Why he felt the need to fill in the blanks was a mystery, but the Portals had been his reason for living, his sacred trust. As a guardian he exercised immense power and assumed a terrible burden of responsibility, something hard-wired into his being. For as long as he drew breath, discharging his oath took precedence over everything.

And if I concentrate on honor and duty then maybe I won’t think about her ... maybe.

“Ah, yes, I suppose you are curious about that.” Gunnarr settled back in the chair, content that he was on solid footing as the cat was already out of that bag and he had nothing to lose in revealing what too many people already knew.

“We warded the Portals ... rather, Eirik did as he was the most gifted—more so than the rest of us.” Gunnarr looked out the window, gathering his thoughts. “We needed neutral access points. Despite our precautions—all those efforts to mask our passage through this dimension—we weren’t always successful. And our people suffered terribly, the Inquisition repeated over and over throughout recorded history. We required bolt-holes for when conditions in our dimension became untenable. And, even more, we needed a way to tap into a breeding population to maintain our numbers and seek out others like us.”

“I know all this.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, technology had the potential to be the bane of our existence. Humanoid populations spread throughout the dimensions, with varying levels of ... what should we call it?”

“Sophistication?”

“Exactly. The risk that other worlds might acquire advanced technology and possibly use it against us simply wasn’t worth the risk. Our scientists developed the means to disable most devices, not all of course, but enough to discourage anyone from playing arms dealer to the universe.”

“Did it work?”

“For the most part. It discouraged the more entrepreneurial amongst the clans. We are, if nothing else, a practical group. Even your uncle will look to the bottom line when push comes to shove.”

“How many know?”

Impressed that his son paid close attention despite being in obvious pain, he explained, “As few as possible, our chief scientists of course, Eirik, myself, Tyr and Lorne. Some of the lower ranks have access to certain elements, but generally we guard this knowledge with a blood oath.”

––––––––

C
lenching his fists, Trey struggled to rise. “You risked everything to secure,” he choked on Caitlin’s name, “the asset.” He couldn’t risk uttering it; the pain and loss was still too raw. He needed to keep his options open and avoid revealing the one secret that no one seemed privy to—his bonding to a mate. “Why is ... was she so important?”

“She’s a shape-shifter, full blown. And I can attest to that, though I did not get to see it for myself, but Knutr did.” Gunnarr rose from his seat and paced the room. “Think about it. Eirik’s people have the technology to genetically manipulate for specific traits. To shape-shift? The applications are mind-boggling. To have the means to truly mask our identities in whatever dimension we care to traverse? It would free us from our incarceration, in this dimension and that land of ice we now call home.”

“You both agreed to this course of action?”

“Of course not. But we have convergent interests, and our paths crossed on occasion. Do you think your uncle would pass up an opportunity for such a prize in favour of pursuing petty disagreements?”

Trey hissed in pain. His head spun with each stabbing shock to his system. He had misjudged everyone’s motivations, played his version of the boy scout, do-gooder role to perfection. He’d bought all the lies because he needed something in his life, a higher purpose to fill the empty spaces. He’d been called ‘soul-less’. Even Caitlin thought him a demon—a devil—at first. His mate knew him better than he knew himself.

He barely heard his father barking into the intercom as he floated in and out of consciousness. He thought he was lost, adrift and hollow—without purpose, without a reason to live. He’d been wrong, about so many things. Eirik was no better than his father. They had the same goals, the same bottom line. His uncle just managed to hide his pursuits with elegant phrases and misdirection. The end result was still manipulation and control. His father had never lied to him. He might not agree with his ends or his means, but at least he knew where he stood.

Gunnarr pointed to the medics moving a gurney into position and growled, “I want him under surveillance twenty-four-seven, two per shift. Not one of you goes home until he is functional. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

Gunnarr anxiously watched the men load his son onto the gurney and wheel him out of the office. He’d given Trey just enough to wet his curiosity and perhaps trigger the one thing that would guide him back to his rightful place by his side. He still had the small matter of Bryn’s death and the clan’s expectations for resolution. If he worked it right, he could secure the sympathy vote for a grieving father and a disabled son—surely punishment enough for all involved.

He went back to his desk and placed a call.

“Eirik. He’ll live. But I don’t know if he’ll have full use of that leg. I’ve got every medic at my disposal working on it. Uh-huh. Yeah, whatever your people can do. I know. I’ll have my admin give you daily updates. All right.”

He checked his watch, then went to the window, staring sightlessly at the parking lot far below.

“Capo?”

“Ah, there you are. Have you located...?” Gunnarr paused when he saw the man’s expression. “What is it?”

“We found the other chopper.”

“So spit it out, Kieran. I have enough on my mind. I don’t need to play twenty questions.”

Kieran grimaced and took a step back. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

****

“M
a’am, if you’ll follow me please.” The orderly led the way into a small office off the observation chamber.

Caitlin followed with difficulty. Her muscles still felt weak, unused. They’d removed the feeding tube the day before but her throat still ached and she could only utter barely audible grunts.

“Please take a seat.” The orderly waved to a hard plastic chair. She sank into it gratefully.

“How are you today, my dear?” Eirik entered, leaning heavily on his cane. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

Caitlin smiled weakly. The older man had a courtly way about him that she’d grown fond of. His daily visits had been a welcome fixture in her topsy-turvy world.

Eirik sat on bench set against the far wall. “I’m sorry we don’t have more comfortable accommodations. As you now realize, your safety hinges on keeping your, uh, whereabouts a secret.” He shook his head and frowned. “That little odyssey of yours stirred up a hornet’s nest. We had to deactivate a potentially valuable Portal. And our little secret, the one we’ve guarded from time immemorial? You understand how important it is to safeguard indigenous species from exploitation.”

Caitlin nodded. The older man had explained, candidly and without apparent reservation, the function of the Portals and why oversight was so critical to the stability of all the dimensions.

“So far we seem to have containment.” He bowed his head so she couldn’t fathom his concern.

She croaked, “Why can’t I get better?”

Eirik shrugged, “We don’t know. Theoretically you should be responding to the nutrients and physical therapy. However, you were subjected to an alien environment for an extended period. In truth, no one has ever spent that much time in an alternate dimension such as that one. We have no metrics by which to measure adaptation to such extreme conditions.” He ignored the ‘least of all a human’ aspect of that equation.

“My father?”

“Not to fear. He is alive. I’m assuming he’s well. But he is incarcerated and shall remain so indefinitely.”

“K-kieran. How is he?” Though her throat burned, the need for information flamed hotter than physical discomfort. She needed to understand what these people wanted from her. She’d been treated with nothing but kindness and respect—and obvious concern for her welfare—but that did not preclude ulterior motives.

“I have no additional information, I’m afraid. We have limited contact with the organization, as you know. Of course, we monitor communications but that can have limited utility in this day and age. Counter measures. You understand.”

She didn’t but she had little reason to doubt what she heard. There was one last question, but she’d been too weak and frightened to contemplate voicing it. When Eirik had told her Trey lay near death and had gone into surgery, she’d collapsed into a coma. She knew, on a level defying rational explanation, that her disintegration—the gradual wasting away—could only be due to her separation from his energies, his essence. Each breath was one step closer to her last. When he left the world, so would she.

“What’s wrong, Caitlin? Are you tired?”

“No, just worried.”

“Ah, yes. Trey. Well, I do have some hopeful news. He is recovering. However, there are complications and perhaps more surgeries. I have my people keeping an eye on the situation.”

Caitlin’s body tensed and wavered, as relief washed over her like a tidal wave. She fought to control her face, forcing her features into a mask of casual interest. Given their enforced isolation and intimacy over an extended period of time, they would suspect that some kind of relationship had developed. Instinctively she understood that this was a secret she must take to her grave.

Eirik looked at her kindly, then sighed. “I wish there were an easier way to tell you this, Caitlin.” She sat up straight and stared hard at him. “You asked us to help you find your mother.”

Caitlin waited, knowing the truth before the old man muttered the words. “I regret to tell you, your mother died.”

She bowed her head and rasped, “How?”

“We have it on good authority that she may have encountered hostile forces.”

Caitlin raised her eyebrows. Those hostile forces had to be Greyfalcon, the group that held her father hostage. The group that had destroyed her brother with drugs and God only knew what else. Dry-eyed, she raised her eyes to find only concern and sadness on the old man’s face. She silently prepared herself for what was to come.

“This is difficult. Trey was my right hand, my confidant. But he made some bad decisions that resulted in your mother coming under fire from a retrieval squad sent to reacquire her.”

“Greyfalcon.”

“Yes. They recognized her unique talents and wished to explore how best to place her in their program. I do not have particulars. All I know is that she was wounded.”

Caitlin allowed the tears, and regret, to flow. She’d thought her mother had abandoned them. She’d been wrong once again. Nothing was as it seemed.

“Trey?”

“Ah, yes. He, uh, can heal. It is one of his very unique talents. From what I understand he took her through a Portal, then left her for his own reasons. I’m afraid she succumbed to her wounds.”

Caitlin could not process the information. She knew of his healing powers, knew he could have put her mother in stasis as he’d done for her. Why would he not save her? Eirik approached, his body old and bent and weary from grief. Clearly he did not understand either.

He murmured, “We’ll probably never know why he did what he did. I’m sure he had his reasons. All I know is that he stole you away from us. Unforgivable.” He patted her hand. “Come. You look tired and you must try to eat some solid food.”

Caitlin followed Eirik into the corridor where the orderly took her elbow and guided her back to her cell.

****

“Y
ou look well, Ma’am.”

“Please, call me Caty.”

“Yes’m, I mean ... Caty. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

Caitlin waved the young man off. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the weak sun. After the weeks of heat in that hell dimension, the cool autumn breezes cascading off the forested slopes caressed her skin with a delicious tingle. She loved New England in the fall. The leaves had yet to turn but it would not be long. They’d had a hard frost the night before, leaving the rushes and grass coated in an icy splendour. She switched the cane to her left hand. Walking was easier now, her body not so debilitated, but it was still hard to eat much at a sitting. Eirik had gone off to tend to his business and other interests. The orderly-with-no-name saw to her needs. She hadn’t asked, nor did she particularly care what he was called. She’d had enough of the name game.

Caitlin wandered down a deer path, content to breath in the clear, crisp air—a balm to her tortured lungs. Though Trey—or demon as she was wont to call him when she thought of him at all—had healed the rib, her lungs had yet to assume full functioning. She suspected the transformation to an alternative respiratory function had something to do with it. She would need to study human anatomy if she were to explore how her system could make such unearthly alterations. She’d avoided changing, though the lab rats had watched her like a hawk. Perhaps they thought she could shape-shift into a field mouse and escape through some crack in the wall. How ridiculous.

The void and the emptiness continued to consume her, leaving her perpetually hungry but unfulfilled no matter how much she ate. The link pulsed like a phantom limb, severed, with her mind and body at odds with a soul that had abandoned her to perpetual agony and despair. At first she’d resented not dying, perverse as that seemed to her rational side. Now she revelled in the half-life, each moment a waking nightmare of exquisitely fashioned torture. Pain. It had been her welcomed reality and ultimately her path to such pleasure she still ached for the feel of it. She had sparred with the devil, with his lust and alien temptations. She’d entered the arena naked, naïve, but a child no longer.

She wandered down to the cabin, stopping to admire the sturdy construction, and noticed a van parked on the sandy drive to the right of the wrap-around porch. Eirik. She grinned with pleasure. She had missed the old fellow. He was good company. Gentle and always concerned for her welfare, he never pushed or asked for more than she was capable of offering.

“Eirik,” she called out and waved.