Jak Koke - Stranger souls

Ryan liked her instinctively. "I wasn't intending to flatter," he said, "though I will if it'll help." He laughed. "This is important, Jane. Please, just do what you can."

A cartoon smile drew itself across Jane's icon. "I'm on it, Quicksilver."

"Thanks." The line went dead.

The jet landed about an hour later, coming into a Washington that had been nearly closed down by riots and martial law. Dunkelzahn's death had caused outbreaks of rioting across the UCAS. All the major cities had been affected. On one side, there were many taking out their frustration because they'd idolized the dragon. And on the other, those who hated him were celebrating his demise by destroying property, looting, and fighting his supporters.

The new president, Kyle Haeffner, had declared martial law in the Federal District just a few hours earlier, calling in the Knight Errant and Ares Arms security forces to help the FedPols quash the rioters. So far, according to Nadja, they'd made little progress.

National Airport was eerily quiet as Ryan made his way from the jet, across the tarmac to a private helo. It was mid-morning, the sun hot in the sweaty Washington sky. Too hot for comfort. Air traffic seemed extremely light, and while security personnel were abundant, the regular airport workers were sparse.

Abruptly, automatic gunfire sputtered in the distance. Ryan spun to assess the situation, suddenly feeling exposed. Out in the open. But Brooks and her guards surrounded Ryan and Nadja. And the gunfire, he realized, had come from more than a kilometer away. He'd heard it distinctly, but his hearing was better than the others'.

My abilities are slowly returning, he thought. Of course I don't even know what they were. I can't remember my training.

Nadja was greeted by some corp suits, and she spoke with them for a few minutes before continuing on to the 'copter. Maybe they were from the government. Ryan couldn't tell. Nadja gave them some instructions about removing and handling the cargo on the jet. A few things of Dunkelzahn's were going to be given out the next day after the reading of the dragon's Last Will and Testament.

The flight to the Watergate Hotel was short. Nadja normally stayed at Dunkelzahn's estate in Georgetown, but the reading of the will was scheduled to take place in the Watergate Grand Ballroom tomorrow. With the rioting, they figured it would be safer to avoid unnecessary traveling.

Ryan convinced the pilot to fly past the front of the Watergate once before swinging around and landing on the roof. He wanted to see the blast site. He hoped it would spark something inside him, memories or emotions, feelings about Dunkelzahn.

The area was surrounded by a crowd of people-tourists, mourners, media hounds, and even worshippers who considered Dunkelzahn a martyred saint. The blast crater was

larger than Ryan expected, a massive hole in the center of the boulevard, isolated by temporary construction fencing.

Above the crater hovered a prismatic cloud that looked to be made of light and energy. It writhed and morphed, roiling like an undulating droplet of oil trapped inside an invisible sphere of water. It was obviously magical in nature, and Ryan could actually see its astral reflection when he concentrated.

It looked exactly the same in astral space.

That, he knew, was very strange. Even frightening. It was as though the fabric of physical space had been torn away just at this spot. As though the barrier to astral space had been eliminated here, so that this manastorm, as they called it, looked the same in both planes of reality. Why else would it give off light in the physical world?

Ryan was just speculating. It was an unknown phenomenon, and even Nadja's best sources had yet to determine its true nature. He was disappointed that seeing it did not help him remember. All it did was leave him with a sense of awe and wonder at the power of something that could destroy a great dragon like Dunkelzahn.

The helo took them to the rooftop, and from there hotel security escorted them to a suite. The space was elegant and simple, large with a living room and office, plus two bedrooms. After Nadja had dispatched all the suits and corporate types, she asked security to step outside to give her and Ryan some privacy. Then she sat on the couch and took off her shoes. "I hate these fragging things," she said.

Ryan smiled. It was the first time he'd heard her speak with anything less than perfectly proper language, and he found it endearing. She was letting her facade slide away for him, a gesture of intimacy. He sat down next to her. "Do you want me to massage your feet?"

She smiled. "Don't start something you're not prepared to finish."

Ryan picked up one of her feet and set it in his lap. Her skin was cool under the calluses of his palms. He rubbed them, putting pressure on the muscles, focusing, trying to force them to loosen. To relax. He found he could make his hands grow hot if he tried, and he suspected that this ability was based in magic.

Nadja sank back into the cushions. "What happened to you in Aztlan?" she asked.

"I don't remember much. Some sort of personality transfer. Thomas Roxborough wanted to use my body for his mind."

"I'm sorry."

"Does it bother you?"

Nadja thought for a minute. "I don't know if you're Ryan or not."

"Tell me about Ryan… about myself."

Nadja smiled. "We're connected, you and I," she said. "There's something fundamental that bonds us to each other, something that will never change. I don't know what it is, really, but even Dunkelzahn assured me it was true. It often manifests as luck, sometimes as premonitions, dreams, and such." Nadja shook her head. "Am I making any sense at all?"

Ryan didn't answer. He was overcome with the sensations of her-the tenor of her voice, the animal essence in her smell. The slight disarray of her hair, stray ebony strands floating over her face. The delicate freckling on the bridge of her nose could only be seen up close, and it was this accumulation of tiny flaws-the endearing defects in her perfection-that reached into the base of his brain and kindled a desperate lust for her.

He breathed deeply, drinking in the smell of her as his skin tightened. As he felt pressure in his groin and the faint tingle of anticipated pleasure.

She touched his arm with her fingertips. "How much do you remember?" she asked.

"About us?"

Nadja nodded.

"I don't remember that much," Ryan said. "But I sense a great deal." "What do you sense?"

"That we care for each other, that we're intimate, probably lovers. That we have a deep relationship besides that."

Ryan was barely finished with the sentence when she pulled him down against her, moving her face close to his. "Right in one," she whispered, shifting her hips to take the

weight of his. He came into her embrace, his broad chest against hers, crushing her into the cushions of the couch.

She looked up into his eyes, ran her delicate hands through his hair. She blinked in slow motion, so close he saw his own irises reflected on the surface of her pupils. Her hands reached up under his shirt and dug into the broad muscles on his back as he placed gentle nibbling kisses against her throat, up along the back of her delicate jaw, to her pointed ear.

He raised himself up to look at her, and she stared into his eyes, brushed her lips lightly against his. He focused on the curve of her upper lip as he kissed her, as she parted her mouth and sought out his tongue with hers. The taste of her sparked recognition in Ryan, so familiar. So exquisite.

She pulled away slightly, teasing him. But Ryan caught her mouth with his, kissing her hard. A brutal loss of restraint, before backing off into a softer, deeper kiss. He was desperate for her. "I must have you now," he said.