Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

T omlin scrubbed his hands again, trying to wash away the non-existent traces of blood, then forced himself to turn off the water. As he did he looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and he swore. They had assumed the faint blue shimmer that clearly revealed he was not entirely human.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on counting the beats of his heart, performing the same ritual his mother had taught him before he was even old enough to walk. When he opened his eyes, he looked completely human again. He didn't appear as calm and controlled as he usually did - his face tired and strained - but that, however, was something he could deal with.

Resisting the urge to wash his hands again, he straightened his collar and made sure that he had resumed his usual pristine appearance, then turned and walked out of the room without sparing a glance at the body on the floor. Marshall Thompson had provided the information he needed. His… friends were safe.

There would be no more strangers coming to their farm and threatening them and their mates. He regretted the necessity of his actions, but he owed no loyalty to this man. He had given his loyalty to S'kal when the big green male had jumped into a fight to protect him.

Normally, he could have handled the assailants on his own, but he was tired and sick of fighting his curse. He'd been on the verge of unleashing his other side when S'kal had appeared.

S'kal had not only assisted him, he had given him the opportunity for a new way of life. He'd stepped into the role of assistant, helping to manage the trading caravans that S'kal led to the frontier settlements outside the city.

He had enjoyed the change of scenery and handling the constant demands of the traders and it had satisfied him to provide for S'kal. It had made him feel… needed.

But then everything changed. S'kal had found his mate and decided to give up leading the caravans and settle down with a group of former warriors, warriors he had served with during a war on another planet. Even his trips to Port Cantor were no longer necessary once his brother H'zim was freed.

Somewhat to his surprise, he had also found a place for himself there, assisting with the operation of the farm. And then this threat had arisen. Marshall had tried to infiltrate the farm on at least three occasions and showed no compunction about threatening harm to any of the warriors or their mates.

Even worse, Tomlin had discovered that the Marshall's goal was to seek the source of the morchev. The purple jewels had little intrinsic value but they posed a very specific threat to anyone who had any type of psychic powers - people like him. The jewels could also be combined with another substance to create a psychic weapon that was capable of asserting control over the minds of others, even those without psychic talents.

He could not permit that to occur.

Fortunately, Marshall was a secretive bastard. His long years leading a double life as both a respected businessman and the leader of a large crime syndicate meant that he trusted no one. He had been trying to acquire both components, the morchev and the plebanium, in different deals and no other parties were aware of their combined use. The unfortunate fool who had first brought the possibility to Marshall's attention had been eliminated long ago. All of which meant that the farm and its inhabitants should be safe.

He slipped down the back stairway of the Thompson Tower paying no attention to the number of flights involved - his weariness was not physical - then paused just inside the concealed door panel. Now what? He needed to return to the farm and assure S'kal and the others that they were safe, but he felt uneasy about returning.

The contact with the jewels, even at a distance, and the necessity of gaining information from Marshall had weakened his control. Perhaps allowing himself to… care for others, to become involved in their lives, had also had an effect on his usual discipline.

I should take some time alone to reflect. And to rebuild my control.

Nodding to himself, he opened the door and immediately flinched at the assault on his senses. The concealed door opened onto a small back alley but it was only a short distance from the main thoroughfare and the usual cacophony of people and traffic filled the air. Brightly colored hover carts passed by the end of the alley intermixed with everyone from businessmen to shoppers. Even in this expensive business district the slight acrid tang of spaceship fuel mingled with the scent of flowers.

But he was reacting to more than just the normal impact on his enhanced senses. He could feel traces of the emotions of those hurrying about their daily business. He couldn't pick out anything specific but it was a constant low buzz like a swarm of tiny, stinging insects surrounding him.

Fuck. He hadn't experienced this level of awareness in many years.

Just ignore it, he told himself. I simply need to return to the flyer and leave the city.

He straightened his shoulders and strode down the alley and out onto the street. Fortunately, the buzz of emotions was no louder once he emerged and he did his best to walk confidently, knowing that he did not appear out of place in this primarily human section of the city.

But then someone brushed against him and he almost staggered as a wave of avarice washed over him. The male who had touched him was on his way to a business deal - a crooked business deal if he had interpreted the emotions correctly - and was full of delight and greed at the prospect of taking advantage of the one he was about to meet.

He swore again. If his control had eroded to the point where a mere touch from another left him exposed to their emotions, he was in deep trouble. Although he normally tried to avoid touch, a casual encounter was, or at least had been, relatively easy to control with any emotional residue from the other person muffled under years of training and discipline.

Training and discipline which were failing him now.

The businessman he'd encountered had already rushed away and he kept moving, doing his best to avoid any further encounters. He was both fast and agile even without resorting to any of his enhanced abilities but the city was crowded and taking extreme measures to avoid people was likely to draw attention that he did not want.

By the time he got to his flyer his hands were shaking and his mind was awash with unwanted emotions, so many of them harsh and painful. He climbed into the flyer and closed the door. Although the physical barrier was not enough to block out the ever louder buzz of the city, it gave him a feeling of protection. Once again he closed his eyes and performed the ritual, hoping to find some measure of peace.

After a frustratingly long time, he succeeded in muffling the press of emotions to the point where he felt in control once more. Despite his urge to leave the city, he had one more task to complete first. He pulled out the data chip he'd retrieved from Marshall's hidden safe, inserted it into the reader, and applied the encryption key he had… convinced Marshall to give him.

The contents were remarkably well organized and he skipped past the business information for now, searching for any additional information about either the morchev or the plebanium. Everything listed was the information he'd previously retrieved except for one item. Marshall had been tracking a study being done by a researcher at the Port Cantor university - not only tracking but subsidizing a grant under one of his shell companies. The researcher was investigating the properties of the morchev. While there was nothing to indicate that this Dr. E. Morgan had any interest in using the stones as part of a psychic weapon - or even that he was aware of their psychic properties - it would be best to be sure.

The doctor's lab was located about a half day's ride from the small town of Wainwright in the foothills of the mountains. He could get there more quickly if he used the flyer but due to issues with supplies and maintenance away from the city, they were not common and he didn't want to attract attention. He decided to take the flyer as far as the town and then ride the rest of the way.

He only hoped it would not be necessary to… silence the doctor the same way he'd had to silence Marshall.