Justice Keepers Saga - Books 4-6

Prologue-2

She did so and found a metal briefcase that he had left in the space underneath the glove box. “What"s this?” she asked with disdain in her voice. “Some attempt to win me over with a bribe?”

“Open it.”

Keeping the g*n on him, she reached over and set the briefcase on the passenger seat. She undid the snaps and pulled it open to reveal…pistols. Six of them stacked side by side. These were weapons identical to the one she had once seen Anna Lenai use.

Aamani frowned as she stared down at this treasure trove. “Leyrian weapons,” she said softly. “Your people have always been adamant that you would not share defensive technology. Why the change of heart?”

Grinning like the devil himself, Slade closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “It"s called an exchange, Aamani,” he teased. “I thought someone raised on this planet would be familiar with the concept.”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“Information.”

The tip of her g*n was just an inch away from his nose, and yet he didn"t seem to mind. Should she pull the trigger? Aamani had been briefed on the incident with Slade some months ago. He was persona non grata among the Justice Keepers now.

She could end his miserable existence here and now and still take the weapons. Her people could analyze them and learn how to make more. An alliance with this man would not end well; she was sure of that.

The grin on Slade"s face only widened as he sank into the cushion. “I can see the calculations in your head,” he said, staring up at the roof. “Should you kill me and just take the weapons? You"re welcome to try.”

Meaning she would fail.

Worst of all, she believed him. There was no doubt in her mind that if she tried to kill him, they would find her b****y corpse somewhere in this garage tomorrow morning. That left her with very few options.

Aamani turned her back on him.

Closing her eyes, she thumped her head against the seat cushion. “So what kind of information do you want?” she asked in a breathy whisper. “I am no longer in contact with your former compatriots.”

“Nothing so prosaic.”

He leaned forward between the driver and passenger"s seat, smiling like a madman. “I want you to keep me up to date on the political climate in your country,” he said softly. “Do that, and I will see that you are well-compensated.”

“Why would you want such information?”

His burst of soft laughter made her feel as if she had just amused Satan himself with a very stupid question. “Let"s be blunt with each other, Aamani,” he said. “You don"t approve of my people"s presence on your planet, and most of us don"t want to be here. It should be clear to the galaxy by now that there is no Overseer tech on this benighted little world. We can leave.”

“And you believe you can help me achieve this goal?”

“With your cooperation, yes.”

“Very well,” Aamani hissed. “Tell me what you want to know, and I will see what I can do.”

The cargo hold of the tiny ship that had carried him across the galaxy was cramped and packed with empty crates pressed up against the walls. There was just enough space in the middle of the room for a SlipGate.

The seven-foot-tall metal triangle stood silent and ominous, the sinuous grooves on its surface beginning to glow with eerie luminescence. Even though he fully understood the technology, anything of the Old Ones always left him a little uneasy.

Wesley spun around, turning his back on the thing.

The bubble formed around him, making every crate and box in this room seem to ripple as though caught in the heat of an August afternoon. Half a second later, he was yanked forward, pulled through an endless tunnel.

The bubble slid to a stop, and he found himself in a spacious room with hardwood floors and cream-coloured walls that had been decked out with African tribal masks. A single man stood demurely with hands folded over his waist, head bowed in respect. Of course, he was blurry to Wesley"s eyes.

The bubble popped.

“Mr. Pennfield,” Gilbert said. “It"s good to see you.”

Wesley felt his lips curl, then nodded to the other man. “I"ve been away too long,” he said, making his way across the room. “After four years, I"d imagine that things have fallen apart around here.”

Gilbert blushed, hanging his head as if it were a matter of personal shame. “Your company was dismantled after your departure,” he murmured. “However, most of your wealth was spread through the accounts of numerous aliases. We can resume our work at your convenience.”

“Excellent.”

“Are you well, sir?”

Pressing his lips together, Wesley stared up at the ceiling. He blinked through the lenses of his glasses. “Four years, Gilbert,” he said softly. “Four years exiled from this world and forced to witness Slade"s bumbling incompetence.”

“The Key, sir?”

Wesley turned on his heel, making his way toward a door in the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. “We will find it first,” he replied. “And when we do, we will be favoured by the Old Ones.”

He pushed the door open to reveal a large balcony ringed by an ornate stone railing. In the distance, he saw palm trees standing like shadows under the starry sky and heard waves crashing on the beach. Oahu was a truly beautiful at any time of year. This place would do until he could find a more permanent residence.

After four long years, Wesley Pennfield had come back to Earth.

The sun was high in the clear blue sky, shining down upon a field of yellow grass that stretched on for several dozen feet before ending in a chain-link fence. Beyond that, the back parking lot of James Polk High School stood in the shade of the towering three-story building.

Lifting a cigarette to his lips, Kevin Harmon closed his eyes and took a puff. “Bad enough I had to waste three days on this stupid project,” he muttered. “Why do I have to be the one to dig the hole?”

He turned around.

Amanda Simmons stood in front of him with her hands folded over her belly, her head bowed in respect. She was a pretty girl in a white, short-sleeved sundress with flowers on the skirt.

Her face was a perfect oval of pale skin framed by curly dark hair that fell to her shoulders. “Miss Sutherland said it was extra credit,” she mumbled. “She said burying the time capsule was a privilege.”

Kevin shut his eyes, turning his face up to the morning sun. He felt sweat prickle on his skin. “You want the credit even more than I do,” he muttered. “How "bout you go dig the damn hole?”

Of course, the question left her flustered, and she backed away from him to show her discomfort. The answer was pretty straight forward when you took a minute to think about it: Amanda wouldn"t be digging the hole because she was a girl. This was a very conservative school in a very conservative neighbourhood. Some things never changed.

He didn"t bother saying as much.

A tall boy in ripped jeans and a t-shirt that seemed to hang off his body, Kevin was considered good looking by most of the girls at this school. He"d even seen Amanda cast the odd glance in his direction when she thought he wasn"t looking. A few days working side by side with her made him realize that he actually enjoyed the attention. Only one problem: he was black, she was white, and this was a very conservative school.

The day was getting warmer with every passing second, and he very much wanted to get back to the cool, air-conditioned building. Miss Sutherland said that she would be along any moment now, but he saw no reason not to get started. He picked up the shovel.

Kevin had been the one to suggest burying the time capsule here. This small field behind the school was a hot spot for social activity. There was always someone sneaking back here for a cigarette or few minutes alone, and come lunch time, this area would be teeming with bodies until some teacher came along to make them all disperse.

There had even been cases of couples sneaking out here to have s*x. Why anybody would do something so stupid was beyond him; this little patch of grass was in full view of anyone who came out the school"s back entrance. People just seemed to gravitate to this spot. Even now, with most of the student body in class, he had been forced to chase away a couple preppies who had come out here to make out.

Digging the trowel of his shovel the ground, he uprooted a chunk of dirt and grass and tossed it aside. Already he could feel fatigue, but he kept digging. If he finished before Miss Sutherland returned, they could skip to the part where she said her little speech and then head back inside.

Amanda stood just a few feet away with fingers laced behind herself, refusing to look up at him. “We should probably wait,” she said softly. “Miss Sutherland would want to be here for this.”

Next to her, the large metal box that contained a few non-functioning iPods, some teen magazines and a poster of Holly Bop sat untouched in the grass. He couldn"t wait to leave the thing buried under three feet of dirt.

Wincing hard, Kevin wiped sweat off his brow with his fist. “You could help,” he said with a little more venom than he had intended. “Go back to the Janitor"s Room. You should be able to get another shovel.”

Amanda wilted.

He shoved the trowel of his shovel into the dirt and deepened the pit by a few more inches. His muscles were starting to ache, but the damn thing was almost large enough to hold the box. Just a few more minutes.

His shovel hit something squishy.

Scooping a bit of dirt up with the blade, he flung it aside to reveal…something. It looked like a thin layer of skin with pulsing veins. What in god"s name was it? He should have been frightened, but instead, he was curious.

Dropping to his knees in front of the hole, Kevin let his head hang. “Holy crap,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his short dark hair. “Amanda, go get a teacher. Someone should take a look at this.”

She turned and ran.

Kevin touched the sheet of skin with his fingertips, marveling at the soft, smooth texture. He would have expected something rough or slimy, but it wasn"t like that at all. On some level that he couldn"t understand, it felt like it belonged to him.

The skin began to rise, curling up on itself until it formed a sphere about the size of a tennis ball. When he picked it up, he realized that it was solid all the way through. This thing was…alive.

The ball lit up with soft white light, growing brighter and brighter until it seemed as if he held a small star in his palm. It flared once, then went dim again. Something about it tugged at him. This thing was his; he knew it. He had to get it away from here, had to put it someplace safe. He took off at a run before anyone could spot him.

his;