you.”
“Gee, sounds like home.”
“Are you feeling neglected?” he teased. “You haven’t declared a social alliance since we left Ontariese. Why not?”
“I don’t mix work with pleasure. Just like you.”
“I can’t allow anything to distract me.” He wanted to see if Hydran’s scanners would detect the micro-transmitter Al had given him before the briefing. “She’s got to have my full attention.”
“She? Don’t you mean they ? There’s more than one Ontarian down there from what I hear.”
Trey didn’t bother to defend the slip. Krysta was very much on his mind and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Vee and Gerr couldn’t contact her without triggering Hydran’s alarms, but Trey had made Krysta promise she would call out to them if she needed assistance.
“There are over two hundred Ontarians. Are you up for another adventure?”
“Am I ever! ”
When Trey arrived at the Center he was ushered directly to Dr. Hydran’s office. He sat in one of the chairs arranged in front of the large white desk and tried to look relaxed. Where was Krysta? What had Hydran done to her? Had she been allowed to heal Belle?
Trey had never suffered waiting well. A woman walked into the office a short time later. She held herself proudly erect. The stately grace inherent in her movements made her pale blue lab-coat seem out of place. Who was she? What was her association with Hydran?
Stealing glances at Trey, she placed a device on Hydran’s desk and assembled the pieces. Light gleamed off her rich brown hair, which was pulled back from her face and twisted into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. When Trey finally managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes, he saw they were the same powder blue as her uniform.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“Dr. Stacey. Dr. Corra Stacey.”
She turned her attention from the device and looked him full in the face. Trey flashed his most charming smile, but her expression didn’t change. She was older than he’d first thought and the interest in her gaze was entirely scientific.
“Would you permit me to run some scans on you, Mr. Darrin? I’ve a vast database, yet I’ve been unable to match some of your characteristics with those —”
“He’s not here for you to study, Corra.” Hydran cut her off as he came bustling into the office. Without another word, he activated the holographic projector Corra had just assembled.
Trey watched the image dispassionately, thinking Hydran was proving he’d allowed Krysta to heal Belle. But Krysta was jarred into a Mystic trance, her body trembled, her features twisted with terror. She was seeing a vision. Trey scrambled for the appropriate reaction. How would a person who had never seen a Mystic trance before react? A nervous laugh? Disbelief? Indifference? He leaned closer, studying the image from several angles.
“Is this for real?” His masked gaze darted from Hydran to the woman and back.
“Watch,” was all Hydran said.
Others rushed in. Elderly twins followed by half a dozen females. They surrounded Krysta in a protective circle. Krysta collapsed into their arms. Had they expected her to fall? “Does she do this often?”
“Listen,” Hydran snapped.
Krysta’s voice sounded odd. Shocked, Trey recognized Ontarian inflexion in her pronunciation as she spoke the prophecy. But how was that possible? She didn’t speak Ontarian, at least not consciously.
His gaze moved to Hydran. Did he understand what was happening?
Falling back into his role, Trey drawled, “Not much of a poet, is she?”
Corra chuckled. Hydran shot her an angry glare.
“That wasn’t a poem. It’s prophecy.”
Trey damned the black film covering his eyes, subtly distorting his vision. He wanted to judge every nuance of Hydran’s expression. Did he believe his own words or was he simply seeing if Mr. Darrin would?
“A prophecy?” Trey laughed. “Yeah, right. You antagonize a person with paranormal abilities and suddenly she’s a
“Gee, sounds like home.”
“Are you feeling neglected?” he teased. “You haven’t declared a social alliance since we left Ontariese. Why not?”
“I don’t mix work with pleasure. Just like you.”
“I can’t allow anything to distract me.” He wanted to see if Hydran’s scanners would detect the micro-transmitter Al had given him before the briefing. “She’s got to have my full attention.”
“She? Don’t you mean they ? There’s more than one Ontarian down there from what I hear.”
Trey didn’t bother to defend the slip. Krysta was very much on his mind and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Vee and Gerr couldn’t contact her without triggering Hydran’s alarms, but Trey had made Krysta promise she would call out to them if she needed assistance.
“There are over two hundred Ontarians. Are you up for another adventure?”
“Am I ever! ”
When Trey arrived at the Center he was ushered directly to Dr. Hydran’s office. He sat in one of the chairs arranged in front of the large white desk and tried to look relaxed. Where was Krysta? What had Hydran done to her? Had she been allowed to heal Belle?
Trey had never suffered waiting well. A woman walked into the office a short time later. She held herself proudly erect. The stately grace inherent in her movements made her pale blue lab-coat seem out of place. Who was she? What was her association with Hydran?
Stealing glances at Trey, she placed a device on Hydran’s desk and assembled the pieces. Light gleamed off her rich brown hair, which was pulled back from her face and twisted into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. When Trey finally managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes, he saw they were the same powder blue as her uniform.
“Do you have a name?” he asked.
“Dr. Stacey. Dr. Corra Stacey.”
She turned her attention from the device and looked him full in the face. Trey flashed his most charming smile, but her expression didn’t change. She was older than he’d first thought and the interest in her gaze was entirely scientific.
“Would you permit me to run some scans on you, Mr. Darrin? I’ve a vast database, yet I’ve been unable to match some of your characteristics with those —”
“He’s not here for you to study, Corra.” Hydran cut her off as he came bustling into the office. Without another word, he activated the holographic projector Corra had just assembled.
Trey watched the image dispassionately, thinking Hydran was proving he’d allowed Krysta to heal Belle. But Krysta was jarred into a Mystic trance, her body trembled, her features twisted with terror. She was seeing a vision. Trey scrambled for the appropriate reaction. How would a person who had never seen a Mystic trance before react? A nervous laugh? Disbelief? Indifference? He leaned closer, studying the image from several angles.
“Is this for real?” His masked gaze darted from Hydran to the woman and back.
“Watch,” was all Hydran said.
Others rushed in. Elderly twins followed by half a dozen females. They surrounded Krysta in a protective circle. Krysta collapsed into their arms. Had they expected her to fall? “Does she do this often?”
“Listen,” Hydran snapped.
Krysta’s voice sounded odd. Shocked, Trey recognized Ontarian inflexion in her pronunciation as she spoke the prophecy. But how was that possible? She didn’t speak Ontarian, at least not consciously.
His gaze moved to Hydran. Did he understand what was happening?
Falling back into his role, Trey drawled, “Not much of a poet, is she?”
Corra chuckled. Hydran shot her an angry glare.
“That wasn’t a poem. It’s prophecy.”
Trey damned the black film covering his eyes, subtly distorting his vision. He wanted to judge every nuance of Hydran’s expression. Did he believe his own words or was he simply seeing if Mr. Darrin would?
“A prophecy?” Trey laughed. “Yeah, right. You antagonize a person with paranormal abilities and suddenly she’s a
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