“Ya know, G-pa E sounds great.” He laughed, pulling Jorie into a headlock and knuckle-rubbing her head. “What will you call my father Enlil?”
“G–G-pa E. Duh.” She giggled, wiggling out of his hold.
****
“What’s a chortal?” With Jorie and Sargon both performing tasks, Jess turned to Shane, asking one of the zillion questions she must have at this point.
“It’s an anchored port, Beauty,” Shane explained. “Two points in space held together by electromagnetic energy.” Pulling her to him, her back against his chest, he rested his chin on top of her hair, drawing her scent into his lungs. “We port by using our psychic energy to manipulate electromagnetic energy into a fold in space. Then we step from the beginning fold—the place we’re at—into the place we want. The port destination is safest when we use a blood bond. It can also come from geographical knowledge. Either way, we can only port our own body mass without a boost of some sort. When I took you from the Ryu, I tapped into your psychic energy, through your blood, to port us both to Gil’s.
“A chortal is a direct port between two locations that can be traveled using very little psychic energy. We Volaticus can’t create a chortal without help. There are two other species besides Volaticus that are psychically enlightened. The Tellus, who live primarily below ground, create electromagnetic fields. The other, called Aquaties, live mainly in water. They control tides and currents, lending a chortal gravity and stability. When Volaticus combine their ability to manipulate with the energies of the other two species, we can create a stable fold for quick transportation. Most chortals go directly to the headquarters of the Symbiotic of Species Council, the SOSC. From there you can access others that can take you all over the globe and guarantee that you come out in a safe location. There are a few chortals that travel between hospes, too. Healing places. ” Ninlil added
“You have hospitals?” Jess’s curiosity peaked.
Shane chuckled into her hair. “It beats a vet.” He tossed her earlier sarcasm back and received an elbow to his ribs in payment. Only awarding her a small grunt, Shane chuckled harder.
“The chortal will be used to transport the prisoners to headquarters,” Nin quirked a lip at their antics. “They will ensure that any help we may need can get here quickly and safely.”
“
Shane, you better still have Jess with you.”
Jerika’s voice filled Shane’s mind through his mentoring blood-bond.
“
She’s right here. What’s up?”
Shane answered
“
She needs to get in touch with her peeps. Gil’s story is holding. Aymee and Eric are fine with me teaching her classes while she goes off, exploring her sexuality with you and all. Her mom, not so much. She’s starting to freak about not being able to reach her. She’s threatening to fly home from Japan and file a missing person report.”
“
That was the story Gil told them?”
He wondered how Jess was going to take to that story.
“
Hell no, he made them think it was their idea and they talked her into going.”
She laughed.
“He’s genius. But it’s not working on the mom.”
“
All right. I’ll talk to her. Maybe we’ll port in for a face-to-face.”
“
That would be best,”
Jerika agreed, still chuckling.
“
Umm, Beauty.”
Shane conveyed his and Jerika’s conversation to her.
“WHAT?” she snapped, bringing everyone’s attention to her. “Asshole.” Jess marched over to Gil and batted her hand up the back of his head.
“What’d I do?” Gil scooted away from her.
“‘Exploring my sexuality! That was the best you could come up with!” Following his retreat, she flicked him in the ear.
“Ah, come on now, lil Jess. I made ’em think they had ta talk ya into it.” He retreated backward toward the stairs, trying to escape Jess’s attack. “Not like ya was easy or nothin.’” He didn’t try to hide the amusement in his voice.
“Dumb-ass. My foster mom isn’t buying your load. What would you like me to tell her?” Jess poked her finger into his chest. Shane looked up and saw that Jorie and Ediku were headed down the stairs, effectively blocking Gil’s escape.
“It was Aymee’s fault.” Laughing, Gil deflected blame. “She’s gorgeous. I think she wanted ta throw me down on sight. I simply responded ta the images she had in her head. I cunna think. I just pushed her ta think she needed ta encourage ya ta explore all that glorious smut runnin’ through her mind fer yourself. Then I transferred the suggestion ta Eric. ’Course, I left off the fantasy Aymee had starrin’ moi from Eric’s mind. At least I spared the kid from questionin’ his sexual orientation.”
Shane wondered how much of all that poor Jorie was actually getting. Jess was going to kick Gil’s ass for corrupting the kid. She was fearless. He almost felt sorry for Gil. Almost.
“That sounds like B.S. to me, Jess,” Jorie added from two steps above Gil, leaning in to flick Gil’s ear exactly as Jess had a moment before.
“No gangin’ up, ya two. Ya gonna help me here, Edik?” Gil pleaded.
“If my granddaughters want to kick your ass, cousin, they’ve got my full support.” Ediku put his arm around Jorie’s neck and smiled from ear to ear. Shane noted the stunned expressions of both Gil and the others who had followed the action into the hallway below. “You’re my granddaughter too, Jess,” Ediku announced. Jess looked back at him, her look the most stunned of all.
****
Sargon passed glasses of blood-wine to everyone except Jess. Jorie had made her a CPT drink instead. She left the cup sitting; between Shane and Jorie, her iron levels were fine. It was nice of Jorie to consider her, though.
As the group crowded into Moira’s office, Ediku and Jorie brought the family up to speed on what they were able to deduce from the portrait and the diaries. Jess’s heart broke when she saw the flash of pain that passed across Enlil’s face upon seeing Etana’s diaries in the glass case. She wasn’t the only one to notice. Nin, sitting between Enlil and Sargon, had taken Enlil’s hand and squeezed it in sympathy.
It became readily apparent that Ediku and Jorie were well on their way to establishing a relationship. That may have caused Jess some envy if she didn’t feel the same connection developing between herself and Enlil.
My great-grandfather
, she thought with a smile. It was a relief to learn that, aside from a mother and father, it was customary to address family members by name rather than title, a concept Jorie was resistant to. She preferred calling Ediku G-pa E and Enlil G-G-Pa En. Even Ninlil and Sargon were G-Auntie Nin and G-Uncle Sargie.
Though worried for her mother, Jorie was endearing by nature. She’d spent the entire conversation braiding Jess’s hair. This had kept her from tapping her chin. Jess had been amazed to learn that she and Jorie were the same age.
“The SOSC is mobilizing to recover Moira. Even the Oracles are giving their seal of approval, which means the Fates are behind us. Good thing, since the family lost the ability to get to her as a group.” Ninlil brought them all back to task.
“I dunna think we coulda gotten ta her that way,” Gil began. “If I get what y’all are sayin’, she ain’t psychic. Jorie’s bond is parent-child. I think Lil Jess’s portin’ was geographical. Her mother brought her the first time, an’ she’s been comin’ back ta the exact spot ev’r since.” Jess nodded, confirming Gil’s theory. “Jorie coulda maybe ported by herself ta her mom’s location. Young as she is, that ain’t fer sure. Plus none of us is goin’ ta let that child go alone.”
“Has your mother woken up yet?” Ediku asked Jorie, who shook her head. “Do you think she is hurt in any way?” Again Jorie shook her head.
“I have faith in my mom. She knows what she’s doing.” Jorie gave a determined nod.
Jess hoped Jorie was right. She felt terrible, like she should be doing something to bring Moira home, but she knew the Elven were working on a plan. The best thing she could do was get home and take care of Gil’s mess with Ellen.
Chapter Eighteen
Moira woke to an unfamiliar, sterile smell. She could almost taste the ammonia that had been used. The room was too bright, every inch glowing in an effort to blind her, or maybe it was just the effects of her headache. Never having been psychic, she had never ported before.
The pallet she was lying on wasn’t hard or particularly soft, a padded, waterproof material much like leather without seams. Not wanting those watching to realize she’d awakened yet, she took advantage of the fetal position she’d been left in and reached to her calf to make sure the implant she’d had surgically placed there was undisturbed. Smiling, she squeezing the unnoticed pouches under the skin, activating the time-release flow of CPT and sulfur into her bloodstream.
She’d hoped Jorie would be older and Jess would have Become before going into this mission. The timing really sucked. Thankfully she had gotten her final message to Sara and Napoleon before Fualth—Mason, Mussolini, Castro, whatever he was calling himself these days—had taken her.
Concentrating on a meditative hum in her mind, she invoked a calm peace, both for herself and for Jorie’s benefit. Time to let them know she was awake. Time to quit hiding. Time to get proactive instead of reactive. Moira was sick of living in fear. Sick of going to sleep at night knowing there were women out there suffering the same assault that Marja had endured before Moira and Napoleon could find, help, and rescue her.
Stretching, she took a moment to check over the other items implanted within her body, running her fingers through her hair with only a brief pause to check the GPS unit behind her ear. Once she turned it on, that would be the call to the cavalry to retrieve her. If this turned out to be a blood and breeding lab, she would do everything she could to save as many as she could and make the location known.
The two pouches that were designed to activate should her heart stop for any reason had also not been tampered with. Each contained a relatively harmless agent, unless the two combined; then they became volatile. If she died, her body would effectively self-destruct. It was her own invention, perfected over the last twenty-six years.
This specific organization, under the direction of Fualth, had made several captures of Heredity bloodline women, women who were members in her support groups. They’d also made attempts on many of her Hulven members. None of those attempts had been successful. The Hulven had been able to port into the underground networks and disappear into different social communities.
Her back against the wall, she wrapped her arms around her knees, calling the music from
The Phantom of the Opera
soundtrack into her mind. She was well into the second act when a familiar voice came through the intercom. “What is in your blood?” Ignoring the voice, she continued to concentrate on every detail of the play. “Answer me, female,” the voice demanded.
Fualth made several more unheeded attempts to get her to respond. He finally went silent. When she had replayed the entire play in her mind’s eye, Moira started visualizing
Sweeney Todd
next. During the song, “The Worst Pies in London,” the wall swung open.
Moira expected to see Mason/Fualth, but it was Sofia who entered. Her features were pale, her brown eyes dulled. Moira could still see the red marks where Fualth had bitten her. Those marks should have healed before now. It seemed Fualth had nearly depleted the blood supply of this disciple. “I’ve been sent in to obtain a blood sample.” She knelt beside Moira. “Are you going to give me a hard time?”
Remaining unresponsive, Moira continued to work Sweeney Todd in her mind. Sofia took one of Moira’s arms and laid it across her lap without resistance from Moira. Making a show of “accidentally” breaking a needle, the female withdrew a new needle from her pocket, replacing the broken needle. The whole set-up dropped, and Sofia made a big show of trying to find it after it rolled away. Despite her curiosity Moira never let her mind waver from
Sweeney Todd
.
Retrieving the syringe, Sofia knelt beside her again. Inserting the needle into Moira’s vein, she sat back as if watching it fill the pint bag. Then she began to speak.
“If he were watching he would have yelled at me for that display,” Sofia whispered, just loud enough for Moira to hear, low enough not to be picked up by the microphones. At least Moira hoped so for Sofia’s sake. “While I do this, I am going to tell you a story.” Moira continued to be unresponsive, unconcerned about the blood sample. It would show nothing toxic.
She strained to hear when Sofia began to weave her tale. “There was a woman with an extra line in the palm of her hand, a Heredity line. Such a small indicator that a woman’s body could be used horrifically to make little monsters from big monsters, the woman was kept continuously pregnant. After giving birth to two girls and a boy, all Hulven, her body gave out and she died.”
Sofia pulled out a nail file and looked at her fingernails, pretending boredom. “The children were raised in a commune-like nest. Taught to hate the mother who gave birth to them for being a less valuable species. The big monsters pounded into the children that they weren’t as good as the big monsters because their mother was human. So weak a species, she couldn’t even live to raise them. Be good, work hard, be obedient, don’t ask questions; prove you’re more than your birthright. The three children were encouraged to challenge each other, compete with each other, and they did, demonstrating blind loyalty to the big monsters. Friendships were discouraged. Acknowledging a family bond between siblings was a sign of weakness. The youth were working under a false ideal, believing that if they just tried hard enough, just behaved, someday they would be valued members of the nest.”