A Glint of Light Read online

  It was about as far away as it could be from ship’s operations and the CIC.

  Both things made it easier to restrict access, and catalogue anyone who ventured too close to the Barrier tanks or any of the other high security holding cells.

  They’d recently increased security measures on the area yet again, primarily as a result of input from the Sword. Balidor suspected that had much to do with the recent trip to Dubai, as well as fears of an infiltration by Shadow targeting Cass or Feigran or both of them.

  Whatever the Sword’s exact reasoning, the engine room––which had been separated from the high-security zone by four or five layers of security already––now had a few more layers added to it, some of them by the Sword personally. That included a number of Barrier-trip traps, as well as several organic-binary or “OBE” force-fields placed at strategic points leading in and out of that part of the ship.

  Balidor knew the Sword was nervous. He was nervous now that they had the entire set of the Four in their custody. He was nervous about the weaknesses Shadow had recently exposed in Dehgoies’ own light.

  He was also worried about his wife’s safety.

  He was just was worried about Lily, his and Allie’s daughter.

  He likely also worried about his son, Maygar, being a target.

  In any case, they’d finished with those additional measures only a few weeks earlier. New, individualized passkeys and Barrier codes had been distributed to every member of the security staff, in addition to DNA and iris-scan idents––two more features added to security down here that were now cut off from the security system as a whole.

  He’d also restricted the list of those cleared to work down here.

  Both things––having a separate security protocol and unnetworked system in this part of the ship, and restricting those with clearance––kept traffic to a bare minimum, and reduced unauthorized visits to zero, even among those making up the infiltration and military teams.

  Only a handful of individuals had unrestricted access to any part of the ship.

  Balidor was one of those.

  The others were Revik the Sword himself, Alyson, Tarsi, Wreg.

  Jon now had mostly unrestricted access again, too.

  He’d regained that access under Revik’s new security specs, so he’d only had it for a little less than a month.

  For a while, Jon had hovered in a semi-restricted access zone, simply because Cassandra had messed with his mind once before, before they’d taken her prisoner. As a result of Cass overpowering Jon’s mind and aleimi, their team had suffered a serious hit––the worst hit they’d received since Vash was murdered in front of them.

  Allie had been taken prisoner by Cass and her master, Shadow.

  Allie had nearly been killed as a result.

  Her and Revik’s child had been stolen.

  Balidor knew that same incident was only one among many fueling the fury he could now see in Jon’s eyes, and feel pulsing off Jon’s aleimic light.

  That some of Jon’s anger stemmed from self-blame over that same incident meant little to either of them––especially now.

  Exhaling from where he sat, with Jon half-hovering aggressively over him, clearly expecting him to explain himself, Balidor drummed his fingers on the surface of the oval table that took up most of the windowless room.

  “Jon––” he began, not hiding his impatience.

  But Jon couldn’t even make it past that.

  “She’s fucking dangerous, ‘Dor!” he snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. “Do you really not get that?”

  When Balidor didn’t answer, the tall, light-eyed seer let out a disbelieving sound, something between a snort and an exclamation.

  Still glaring at Balidor, Jon stepped back, folding his arms.

  “If I told Revik what I caught you doing in there, he’d have a fucking coronary. You know that, right? He’d flip the fuck out––”

  “Jon,” Balidor said. “Calm down.”

  “Fuck you, calm down! What are you doing with her? What the fuck game are you playing, ‘Dori? What are you doing with her?”

  Jon looked him straight in the face, breathing harder as he waited for Balidor to answer. His flecked, hazel eyes held enough, both in charge and emotion, that Balidor hesitated, gauging what he could see and feel there.

  Even apart from Jon’s guilt around what happened to Allie, feelings about Cass ran strong. Balidor knew they ran strong.

  They ran exceptionally strong among the people who’d known her the longest.

  Jon, Allie, Revik––the three of them, especially, wouldn’t be able to be rational about this. As Allie’s adoptive brother, Jon grew up with Cassandra. She’d been family to him. She’d been family to all of them before she got kidnapped and recruited by Shadow.

  They’d all had ringside seats to Cass’s betrayal.

  They were all still dealing with that betrayal’s aftermath.

  Balidor knew emotions there were still raw.

  Maybe they would always be raw.

  He also knew they’d loved her.

  All of them had loved her––Revik, too.

  “You know what I’m doing,” Balidor said, quiet.

  Jon stared at him.

  His eyes shifted then, holding disbelief, mixed with an anger that still continued to grow.

  Balidor saw something else there, too.

  Something that might have been––

  “It’s not hope,” Jon said, his voice close to a threat. “Don’t you dare try to pull on those strings with me, Balidor. You know what she did to Allie. You know what she did to Revik, hell, to me! To you, for fuck’s sake––”

  “Yes, Jon,” Balidor said, his voice equally warning. “I do know.”

  “Then what the fuck are you doing?”

  Balidor felt his caution slide away.

  As it did, it turned into something dangerously close to anger.

  “What am I doing?” Balidor’s jaw hardened.

  Looking up, he leaned forward over the table, staring up at Jon.

  “Why didn’t you ask Allie that question, when it was Revik in there?” he said, that anger leaking into his voice. “Why didn’t you ask the question when it was Revik shackled to that wall? Is it only mass murderers who are owed your empathy, Jon? Or are you going to tell me the crimes committed by Cassandra over the past two years are so much worse than those committed by your sister’s husband over the past one hundred? Is your childhood friend so much more evil than Syrimne d’Gaos that she deserves nothing from any of us?”

  Jon just stared at him at first, disbelief coloring his face.

  Then, clearly thinking about Balidor’s words, he scowled.

  Jon clicked at him, folding his arms over his chest, his jaw hardening.

  The armored shirt made him look bigger, Balidor noted.

  Even so, the other male had grown more muscular again, too.

  Jon must be working out with the ex-Rebels these days, the ones who treated the exercise room like some kind of temple. The male’s chest looked twice the size Balidor remembered from when they’d first met in India all those years ago––much less from Cass’s memories of Jon from San Francisco.

  He was starting to look a hell of a lot like his mate, Wreg.

  Still, Balidor couldn’t help but see the younger Jon superimposed over that image––the human Jon, the one who wore thick glasses and peered through microscopes, who patiently looked out for Cass and Allie when they were kids, even as he fought his own battles in the local human schools. Jon had been teased and bullied relentlessly as a child and teen. He’d been teased as much as Allie herself had been, and often more violently.

  They teased him for his glasses. They teased him for his intelligence and sensitivity. They bullied him over his sexuality. They bullied him for his size.

  They bullied him over his willingness to fight back.

  Shaking off the image of that younger Jon with an effort, Balidor lowered his voic
e.

  “Brother,” he said, exhaling. “I didn’t tell anyone for this very reason.”

  “What reason is that?” Jon snapped. “The one where she slits your fucking throat after she convinces you to trust her? Or the one where she uses you as a means of contacting Shadow to tell him exactly where we are?”

  “Shadow doesn’t need Cass for that,” Balidor reminded him flatly.

  “No,” Jon said, not missing a beat. “But it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t hurt in helping him coordinate an attack from the inside, either… using a goddamned telekinetic seer who’s already tried to kill us all multiple times, and nearly succeeded with Allie.”

  Balidor stared up at him, his jaw hard.

  He bit his tongue, forcing himself to remain silent when he saw the look on the other male’s face. Now wasn’t the time to escalate this.

  Balidor was more than aware Jon held his fate in his hands.

  More to the point, Jon held Cass’s fate in his hands.

  Like Jon said, if he decided to tell Revik what Balidor had been up to, it was one hundred percent likely Balidor’s little experiment with War Cassandra would be summarily ended.

  Shifting his weight between his feet where he stood, Jon exhaled sharply when Balidor didn’t speak. Then, as if with an effort, he lowered his voice, dropping some of the anger from it when he next spoke.

  “What are you doing man? Are you really not going to tell me?”

  “I already did tell you––”

  “You haven’t told me shit!”

  Balidor gave him a flat look. “You understand me perfectly well, Jon.”

  “You can’t really think you can reach her––”

  “Why not?” Balidor snapped, slamming his own hand on the table. “Why the hell not, Jon? We reached Revik, and he was arguably much further gone than––”

  “Allie was bonded to Revik,” Jon said, staring at him incredulously. “It’s not the same thing and you know it! Allie had a direct line into Revik’s light. He couldn’t get rid of her if he tried… and frankly, he didn’t try very hard. It was only a matter of time before she wore him down. Mostly because, at the end of the day, Revik didn’t want to keep her out. He wanted her in his light, whatever his bark and bite at the time––”

  “I know that,” Balidor began angrily. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to right now, Jon? The situation doesn’t need to be identical in order for me to––”

  “Identical?” Jon stared at him incredulously. “Dude, they’re a million fucking miles apart. They’re not even in the same solar system.”

  Silence fell between them.

  For a long-feeling few minutes, Balidor stared down at the metal table.

  When his light had finally calmed, he cleared his throat.

  “So you think she cannot be helped? Cass?” Balidor gestured smoothly, his voice neutral, despite his jaw still hurting from clenching it. “You are so sure it cannot be done that no one should even make the effort? That I cannot possibly ever reach her… that no one can reach her… no matter how long we try, or how many methods are employed?”

  “I think that’s a black hole, man,” Jon said, incredulity back in his voice. “I think she doesn’t want to come back.”

  “I am the head of the Adhipan, Jon,” Balidor said, again fighting anger. “Believe it or not, I have some experience in this. Moreover––”

  “I don’t give a fuck who you are, or how insanely talented you are,” Jon said, incredulous again. “You’re not her mate, Balidor.”

  Staring down at him, Jon clicked under his breath.

  “…Jesus. Do I need to draw a map for you, ‘Dor? If you think you’re making progress with her, you’re deluding yourself. She’s fucking with you, man. I guarantee it.”

  Balidor fell silent.

  Even so, anger once more seethed off his light.

  After a few more seconds, Jon exhaled in frustration.

  “Look… ‘Dori.” He subdued his voice. “I’m not cracking on your mad skills. I’m not. She was good at this kind of thing even when we were kids. You don’t understand the childhood she had, the kinds of survival skills she had to learn in order to––”

  “I understand better than you think.”

  Hearing the coldness of his own tone, Balidor fell silent.

  He found himself remembering the night with Yarli.

  It occurred to him in the same breath that he was dangerously close to losing his shit on Jon, too.

  The thought made him frown––and pause.

  For a moment he only sat there, watching emotion coil and spark through his own light, not even trying to dial it back so much as to catalogue it, to understand it in full. He knew the image of his own drunk father still echoed somewhere in the back of his mind.

  He knew it was clouding things, as much as Cass was herself.

  Normally, he valued Jon’s opinion.

  More than most.

  More than that of a lot of Adhipan seers he’d worked with over the years.

  Even as Balidor thought it, Jon walked over to him, slumping in the padded chair next to his. Balidor hadn’t yet looked up when the other man laid a hand on his arm, pulsing warmth and light through his skin.

  It was a seer’s gesture of affection, done so naturally it made Balidor jump.

  It also caused him to look up, which is perhaps what Jon wanted.

  “‘Dori,” Jon said, his voice holding an overt concern. “What’s this about? What’s going on with you right now?”

  Balidor blinked at him, confused by the sudden warmth.

  Then he found himself thinking about Jon’s question.

  “What is it about?” he said, his voice still verging on aggressive. “She’s an intermediary, Jon. Moreover, she’s one of the Four. I can’t just let her––”

  “Let her what?” Jon cut in. “She already did it, ‘Dor. She already walked that path. As far as I know, she’s never wanted help from any of us. She’s never given the slightest indication she even feels bad about what she did, regardless of––”

  “I know that,” Balidor snapped, cutting him off in turn. “But gaos, Jon. It’s not just about some Adhipan arrogance, or some holier-than-though certainty that I can reach her, when no one else can. It’s more than that. She’s more than that. She was, anyway. She was…”

  Trailing, he bit the inside of his cheek, stopping himself.

  Then he said it anyway.

  “…She was my friend,” he said, clenching his jaw. “She was my friend, Jon, and she was yours. And Allie’s. And Revik’s. She was the one who found Feigran. She fought side by side with all of us, despite her disadvantages. She was part of our team. Moreover, what happened to her wasn’t her fault. We owe her, goddamn it. Just as much as we owed it to Revik. More, perhaps, since Revik had longer to come back on his own––”

  “Revik was a child when Menlim got to him,” Jon reminded him.

  “And Cassandra was a child when her father got to her,” Balidor said, giving him a hard look. “How do you think Menlim got so far into her mind, Jon, if not by exploiting the trauma that already lived there? Do you think you are just magically better than her, that it didn’t happen to you? Or to me, for fuck’s sake? Or to your sister?”

  Seeing anger rise back to Jon’s eyes, Balidor cut him off before he could speak.

  “I am not excusing it,” he said, his voice hard. “I know there is always an excuse. Evil always has a reason. I know it means nothing, at the end of the day… not without her willingness to change. But I don’t like leaving people behind. Not without at least fucking trying. And none of you has tried with her. Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

  Again, anger rose to Jon’s eyes.

  Balidor raised a hand, giving him a warning look.

  “I understand why, brother… I do,” he said, that warning reaching his voice. “That was in no way an accusation. It was simply a statement of fact. I know none of you can do it. That is why
I decided to do it myself.”

  Jon closed his mouth.

  As he did, some of the anger leeched from his expression. Even so, he continued to frown, that scrutiny back in his hazel eyes.

  Balidor took a breath, adding, “My question is this. If none of you are in a position to try, for all the reasons you could no-doubt state, why not let me do it? What can the possible harm be in my trying, as long as I take reasonable precautions?”

  Jon looked at him, his expression openly skeptical.

  “And?” he said after a pause.

  “And, what?”

  “You’re not going to tell me?” Jon said. “The rest of it?”

  Balidor felt that tightness return to his chest.

  “The rest of what?”

  “The rest of your goddamned reason, Balidor.”

  “I just did tell you,” he said coldly.

  That time, he felt his own evasion.

  He knew Jon felt it, too.

  The other male just looked at him, though.

  Then he nodded, letting out a clicking sigh.

  “How long, ‘Dori?” Jon said then.

  “How long, what?”

  “How long have you been doing this? Working with her like this?”

  Balidor felt his jaw tighten, even as he wondered why he felt the need to answer to Jon at all. Technically, Jon worked for him. At the very least, Jon worked for Wreg, who was the closest thing Balidor had to a peer on the ship, under the auspices of the Bridge’s team.

  Both of them worked for Revik.

  All of them, Revik included, worked for Allie.

  Which was the crux of it, really.

  Jon’s closeness to Allie had always given him an ambiguous status, above and beyond whatever role they assigned him.

  Whether by blood or not, Jon was her brother.

  Jon was brother to Alyson the Bridge.

  Thinking about that now, Balidor frowned.

  He didn’t know if it was the other male’s relationship to his boss, or simply that he feared who Jon might tell. Whichever it was, Balidor did find himself answering to Jon.

  Leaning back in his bolted-down chair, he exhaled in annoyance first.