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The redhead slammed into one of the guards beating the couple, but the youngest guard grabbed her from behind. The girl fought to break free but was overpowered.

“Peder, no. No!” the female farmer shouted, trying to shove her husband off her. “Let them hit me! You’ve just recovered from pneumonia. You can’t take any more blows.”

But the husband shushed her, hugging her tightly to protect her.

“The king could have thrown you out to the wilderness and fed you to the beast. Your son stepped into this forbidden place and caused the realm of Nirvana great trouble,” the queen said. “But I’m merciful.” She looked at the wheelchair wearily, then at the gate. “I will let you stay.”

The bulky guard raised his boot, about to stomp the male farmer’s head. His wife shrieked in horror while the guards guffawed at her reaction. She threw her hands over her husband’s head helplessly.

BL7 swooped down with a roar.

The bulky guard stopped in his tracks. Everyone looked up at the sky, spellbound. The king recovered first. Lucienne lip-read his shouting, “The outsiders have come! Kill them! Kill them all!” He then motioned for his wife and son to follow him as he scurried back toward town.

The guards pulled out their daggers. “They can come, but they won’t go back!” the lead guard vowed.

The youngest guard broke into a cruel grin. “My dagger wants the taste of new blood.”

“Be aware,” Lucienne turned to her crew, “the natives want a war.”

“Then they’ll have it,” the soldiers answered.

With a boom, BL7 landed twenty yards before the royal family, cutting off their retreat. The machine’s triangle door slid open. Orlando led the commandos out. The warriors advanced with automatic rifles before them. Lucienne stepped out of the aircraft after her soldiers.

The king swung his arm in the air and shouted in French. “Take them down!”

The guards wielded their long daggers and charged.

“I need them alive,” Lucienne told her men, “if possible.”

Vladimir hacked his sanjiegun in the air, and rushed toward the guards with a battle cry. Slinging their automatic weaponry over their shoulders, Orlando and Cam, a giant commando at seven-feet-one-inch, drew their combat knives. Duncan, a member of the team that rescued Lucienne from Tibet, caught up with Vladimir.

The two sides crashed; the sound of clashing steel echoed.

Lucienne made her way toward the king and queen. She knew her men hated the idea of her facing a threat without them by her side, but they were too busy to mind her now. They’d complain later, and that was fine.

Three feet from the king, Lucienne stopped. Producing an ID badge from the pocket of her leather jacket, she held it up. “My name is Lucienne Lam, an agent from the Geographic & Abnormal Weather Investigation Institute. We’re here to investigate abnormal climatic activities in this area.”

The king spat. “This is my land. You’re not granted entrance!”

“This land is on the soil of the United States of America. Every American can come and go freely in the fifty states.” Lucienne let hercold smile carry weight. As a child, Jed had trained her how to make a look kill, and the king, who was double her age, cringed. Lucienne dove into his opponent’s mind. The king and his people had never heard of the United States. How long had they been isolated?

“The United States—” the king paused.

“—of America,” Lucienne offered.

“—has no claims or rights to my realm,” the king hissed, his eyes burning with spite. “As for you, nasty little girl, kneel and beg, and perhaps I’ll spare your life and make you my house servant.”

“You’re a fool,” Lucienne said.

The king lunged, swinging his stout arm at Lucienne, aiming for her face.

Faster than a bullet, Lucienne caught the king’s wrist, gave it a yank, and used the heavy man’s weight against him. The king flew over Lucienne’s shoulder and collapsed to the ground with a thud, a groan, and a stunned look.

“A nice girl might put up with you.” Lucienne stepped her booted foot on the king’s neck. “But as you said, I am not one.” Despite the king’s hands being free, he couldn’t move an inch. Her acupoints meridian held him immobile.

“Black magic!” the queen cried.

“Give me a break, lady,” said Lucienne. Ignoring the queen’s whimper, she turned to check on her warriors. The battle had quieted. Six of the king’s guards were on the ground, unconscious or semi-conscious. The other three who remained standing were held by Orlando and his men, their blades against the guards’ throats. With an easy grin, Vladimir sauntered toward her, a lock of hair drenched in sweat dangling at the corner of his bright hazel eye.