Her question had put him between a rock and a hard place, but now wasn’t the time to begin lying to cover his own ass. An attraction had simmered between them from the beginning. It was one he wanted to follow through on despite the bizarre circumstances that had brought them together.
But if she was going to trust him, really trust him, he’d have to tell her the absolute truth. That way he could still satisfy the requirements of his job without betraying her trust. It would be a delicate balancing act to manage, but with a little finesse and luck he could pull it off.
Blake reached for her hand. Her flesh felt warm and firm underneath his palm. The connection between them was so strong he could practically feel the sparks. Her body heat seemed to enter straight into his veins, spreading like molten lava. “Had I known, I would have done things a lot differently,” he admitted.
Gwen didn’t look as if she liked the sound of that, but she nodded. She swallowed hard and moistened her lips. “Oh?”
Blake reached up, stroking a strand of hair away from her face. “I would have tried to make it more special, you know? Been a little more gentle with you.”
Anxiety creased Gwen’s smooth forehead. For a brief moment her fingers tightened around his. “It was good.” She gave him an apologetic look before gently slipping her hand out of his. “But I don’t think it’s anything that should happen again. As much as we might want it, we’re really on different sides of the fence. I’ve got to protect myself.” She pulled a deep breath. “And I’ve got to protect my family.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Gwen’s throat worked briefly. “Thanks.” She turned her head toward the window, cutting him out of her view. “Guess we should go.”
There. Just like that she’d cut him off. He was trying to be cool; however, a part of him was fuming at her reaction. But in a way it was almost a relief. He wouldn’t have to lie to his superiors when he reported no progress. He could do so with a clear conscience. It was easier to do the job when his loyalty wasn’t divided.
Blake shifted the car back into gear. “Don’t want the others to think we got lost.”
It took them a few minutes to catch up with the rest of the group, partly due to the fact he was unfamiliar with the massive compound. The building housing prisoners was low and nondescript, marked only a by a sign with DETENTION stenciled across its face.
Tessa, Kenneth, and Addison all waited in the main foyer with accompanying agents. All three shot Blake a suspicious look as they hurried to catch up, but said nothing. Putting Gwen between them, the sisters made sure Blake couldn’t get anywhere near her.
They’re going to cut me off at the pass,
he told himself. In a way he didn’t like the thought of that. He’d enjoyed his time with Gwen last night, and would like to spend more time with her. Not necessarily in bed, either.
Kenneth looked around sharply, his eyes questioning. “Explain to me what we’re supposed to be doing,” he demanded again as they followed an agent down a long narrow passage.
“We’d like for Tessa to talk to the Mer women, see if they have any information that can help us find the rest of the fugitives.”
“That makes sense,” he grunted.
Blake resisted a smile. “We’d like to think so.”
The agent in front led them into a large area outfitted with a two-way mirror in the wall. Through the mirror, everyone could see a table and a couple of chairs sitting inside an adjoining room. For the moment it was empty.
Dennis Thompson ambled up to them. “They aren’t being very cooperative.”
“I doubt you’d get anything out of them since they hate humans,” Tessa commented.
Thompson blanched. “Yes, we’ve figured out we’re not anyone they want to deal with. We’re doing our best to accommodate them with reasonable comfort, but they’ve refused all food offered. I’m afraid they’re on a hunger strike of some kind.”
“What have you offered them?” Addison asked.
Thompson shrugged. “We’ve tried a variety of normal foods, along with fruits, vegetables, and even seafood. Both raw and uncooked.”
Tessa shook her head. “They don’t eat with their mouths,” she informed the director. “In their world, they’ve moved beyond physical needs. They draw the energy they need to feed their bodies from crystals. In a sense it makes them immortal.”
Thompson’s eyes widened. “Is that even possible?”
Tessa nodded. “Unfortunately it is. But it comes at a price. Their search to lengthen their life spans meant they had to drain the life out of Ishaldi.”
Thompson offered a crooked smile. By the look on his face, the newly discovered species was turning out to be a lot more complicated than he’d bargained on. “Amazing. So if we give them stones—crystals—they will be able to feed themselves?”
“Yes. And since they have no soul-stones, they can’t manifest the energy they draw in outside their own bodies.”
Thompson’s eyes gravitated to the simple pendant hanging around Tessa’s neck. “But you can?”
All three of the Lonike sister raised their hands toward their necklaces. “Yes,” Tessa answered.
Addison narrowed her eyes. “And the only reason we haven’t blasted your asses to pieces is because we’re peaceful Mer.”
Gwen elbowed her younger sister in the side. “Addison, please. That’s not the way it works.” She directed a beaming smile toward the director. “We don’t blast anyone with our Mercraft. To use the D’ema is strictly forbidden.”
Blake shifted uncomfortably in his place. He dimly recalled hearing this word the day they’d been attacked on Little Mer.
Death magic
, he remembered Tessa explaining. As if in response, his injured arm gave him a little reminder twinge. He’d had a firsthand glimpse of what the Mer could do with those crystals, and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end a second time.
Director Thompson had the good sense not to hit the panic button. “I’m taking you at your word that you’ll be on your best behavior,” he told the women. His gaze narrowed, sharpened. “At this time we want our relationship with the Mer people to remain friendly and peaceful.”
Giving Addison a surreptitious pinch, Gwen stepped up to take the lead. “And we’re absolutely committed to prove that we are not a threat—not now or in future times. Whatever you need us to do, we’re willing.”
Kenneth stepped up and interrupted her. “To a point,” he said, wrapping one protective arm around his wife’s slender waist. “My wife and her sisters may be willing to cooperate, but keep in mind there are limits. And I’m certainly not bending over and spreading my ass cheeks so you guys can look up my butt.”
Director Thompson frowned at him. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”
“You do that,” Kenneth snapped back. “I seem to recall the constitution saying something about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Gwen mentally held her breath. If things kept going the way they were, human-Mer relations would soon deteriorate to the point of no return. Thanks to Queen Magaera’s soldiers, her entire species was skating on thin ice. Their invasion of Little Mer had been committed with hostile intent. They’d come prepared to kill anyone who stood in their way of recovering Tessa. Had things gone their way that day, Lucky might not have been the only casualty. There was no doubt in her mind everyone around Tessa would have faced immediate extermination.
Thompson gave him a sour smile. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with national security,” he reminded, “you’re in the clear.”
“We’re not a threat,” Gwen reiterated.
Addison glanced toward the two-way mirror. “They’re bringing one in,” she announced.
Gwen tried not to wince as one of the Mer women who’d attacked them was led into the room. Gone was the tight-fitting fish-leather suit, replaced now with a plain green jumpsuit with PRISONER stenciled across the front in large yellow lettering. Hands in cuffs, the woman was barefoot. Despite her captivity, a look of hate mingling with defiance lingered in her narrow eyes.
Gwen clenched a hand at her side in an attempt to keep herself calm. An unsettling thought wiggled through her brain.
That could be one of us
. The few days she’d spent in restraints were enough for her. She never wanted to be that helpless again.
“This is the one you identified as Doma Chiara, correct?” Thompson asked.
Clearly shocked by the change in the woman, Tessa nodded. “That’s what I knew her by, in Ishaldi.”
“If you don’t mind, we’d like you to attempt to communicate with her,” Blake Whittaker said. “Anything you could get her to say might be helpful.”
Tessa nodded. “I understand.”
One of the agents opened a door leading into the interrogation room. “If you’ll come this way.”
Tessa slipped out of Kenneth’s embrace. “Stay here, babe,” she said.
Gwen stepped up. “I’m coming with you,” she said, speaking in a voice far stronger than how she felt inside.
Blake gave his superior a look. “Okay?”
Thompson waved them on. “She’s restrained. I think we have her under control.”
Nodding, Whittaker escorted them into the small chamber.
Doma Chiara eyed them with a combination of suspicion and hostility.
Gwen forced herself not to flinch, staring back at this creature that was, for all intents and purposes, totally alien from herself. Despite the fact that Chiara was handcuffed, she still didn’t trust the woman.
Tessa took a seat opposite Chiara and the agent guarding the prisoner. Blake Whittaker stood at the end of the table. That left Gwen to hover behind Tessa.
Chiara’s eyes narrowed in recognition at Gwen, clearly remembering the psychic fight they’d had a few days ago. A low growl of disgust broke from her throat.
Tessa glanced to Whittaker. “What do I say?”
Whittaker thought a moment. “Ask her if she feels she is being well treated?”
Tessa relayed the question.
No answer.
“Try speaking to her in our language,” Gwen prompted. “She doesn’t have a soul-stone to help her read the psychic vibrations, and her grasp of English probably isn’t that solid yet.”
Tessa nodded. “Good point.” She asked the question again, this time speaking in the Mer tongue.
The words sounded odd to Gwen’s ears, probably because it had been so long since she’s heard it spoken. When they were smaller, their mother had often communicated in the lyrical language. The girls had picked up bits and pieces, enough that they could talk amongst themselves as long as the conversation remained simple.
To her surprise, she heard Chiara give an answer.
“They starve us,” the Mer said.
Tessa translated the brief answer for the humans in the room.
Whittaker nodded his understanding. “Tell her that we will make every effort to provide what she requires to sustain her body. Ask her if she’s able to eat normal food.”
Tessa spoke to Chiara again. Her dexterity with the Mer tongue was slow and a little clumsy, but she was able to make herself understood.
Chiara made a face. “To eat with the mouth is for the lessers. We have moved beyond the physical.”
The two women had a brief conversation. Gwen followed as well as she could, picking up on the fact that Chiara would rather starve than belittle herself by eating like a human.
She leaned toward Blake, relaying the information. Tessa was trying to talk some sense into the woman, but Chiara refused to listen. The Mer had stated she would rather die than accept anything touched by human hands.
Blake rolled his eyes. “God, why do they have to be so dense?”
Gwen bristled. “She’s not stupid. It’s simply the belief she was raised with. In her mind humans are a lesser species and she will treat them as such, even though she’s the one in chains.”
“Can’t she see how much easier it would go for her if only she’d cooperate?” he groused.
Gwen shrugged her shoulders. “Try telling her that.”
“Well, before she starves herself to death, ask her if Massey is still alive.”
Tessa asked the question.
The obstinate woman lifted her chin. “He wisely serves my queen,” she answered in haughty but perfect English. “One day you will all bow before my lady and tremble as she walks among you.”
Blake’s brows shot up. “Ah, so you do understand us.”
Chiara bared her teeth. “Of course. Yours is a simple language.”
He shrugged. “Guess that means I can speak for myself.”
Chiara turned her head. “Perhaps I shall not listen to you, lesser.” She was a woman obviously used to wielding her disdain like a blade to cut lower beings to their knees.
Blake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Perhaps you should. My people seek to make contact with your queen and we’d like to be able to do so peacefully, without further causalities. If you could help us do that, we would be willing to provide the sustenance you need to sustain yourself.”
Doma Chiara’s lips rolled back in another feral snarl. “I refuse to betray my queen,” she spat.
Blake tipped back his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Listen, it’s time for some straight talk,” he said, speaking slowly but precisely. “Right now the Mer are considered an enemy of my people. If we have to go after your queen, hunt her down, then there’s going to be trouble. Maybe more trouble than she’s prepared to handle.” He paused. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A grim smile touched Chiara’s saturnine features. “As a soldier I understand the ways of war, its losses and gains,” she answered, imitating his precise manner. “You are saying she should surrender because our kind are presently outnumbered.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a surrender, per se,” he said. “Perhaps more of a diplomatic meeting. Something that would allow us to assess the needs of her people now that they are emerging from Ishaldi.”
Chiara stared at him long and hard. By the look on her face she wasn’t a woman who would tolerate beating around the bush. “The waters of earth were ours a long time before humans learned to build the fragile shells that would carry them from land to land,” she said coldly. “The waters belong to the Mer, and my queen will accept nothing less.”