Page 14

CHAPTER 14

ORION

I sit at the sidewalk café, a cup of black coffee cooling in front of me. The St. Louis Public Library looms across the street, its granite facade catching the afternoon sun. My eyes lock onto Luhr, his human disguise impeccable—sharp suit, slicked-back hair, the picture of a man who’s used to getting what he wants. He’s leaning against a lamppost, pretending to scroll through his phone, but I know better. He’s waiting for her.

Cora steps out of the library, arms laden with books. She’s playing her part perfectly, the studious intern with a curious mind. My earpiece crackles to life as I tap it.

“Luhr is stalking you,” I say, my voice low. “Just like we hoped.”

Her response is a whisper, barely audible over the street noise. “Let’s see if I can pull this off. Hope my acting is up to par.”

“You’ll do fine. Just remember, don’t seem too eager. Make him persuade you to take the job. Going to comm silence for now.”

I watch as Luhr approaches her, his movements smooth, calculated. He’s good, I’ll give him that. But Cora’s better.

“Need a hand with those, miss?” Luhr’s voice is smooth, almost too smooth. I can hear it through the earpiece, every word crisp.

Cora hesitates, just long enough to sell it. “Uh, sure. Thanks.” Her tone is cautious, guarded. Perfect.

He takes the books from her, his hands brushing hers just enough to make it seem accidental. “Heading to your car?”

“Yeah, it’s just over there.” She gestures toward the parking lot, and they start walking. I keep my eyes on them, sipping my coffee like any other patron.

When they reach her car, Luhr sets the books in the backseat. “You know, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been in the library a lot lately. Researching something important?”

Cora shrugs, playing it cool. “Just work stuff. My boss is… demanding.”

Luhr chuckles, a sound that’s meant to be disarming. “Sounds like a real taskmaster. How about a cup of coffee? My treat.”

She raises an eyebrow, feigning suspicion. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Neither am I. Just thought you might like a break. And maybe… I could use your help with something.”

“My help?” Cora crosses her arms, leaning against her car. “What kind of help?”

Luhr’s expression turns serious, his voice dropping. “Something far more dangerous than you’re used to. I need someone smart, someone who can think on their feet. Someone like you.”

Cora laughs, a light, dismissive sound. “You’re kidding, right? What, are you some kind of spy?”

“Not exactly.” He steps closer, his voice low. “But your boss, Orion Weller… he’s not who you think he is. He’s been lying to you from the start.”

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. Luhr’s taking the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Cora hesitates, then nods. “One cup of coffee. That’s all the time you get to explain yourself.”

“Fair enough.” Luhr gestures toward a nearby coffee shop, and they start walking. I stand, tossing a few bills on the table, and follow at a distance, blending into the crowd. This is where it gets interesting.

I watch from the café as Cora and Luhr sit at the coffee shop, their conversation playing through my earpiece. My jaw tightens when Luhr slides a photo across the table. I can’t see it, but I know what it is—me, in my Vakutan form, taken decades ago. Damn Grolgath and their meticulous record-keeping.

“This could be AI,” Cora says, her tone skeptical. Her fingers tap lightly on the table, a nervous tic I’ve come to recognize. “Or Photoshop. People fake stuff like this all the time.”

Luhr leans forward, his voice smooth but firm. “Check the timestamp. That photo was taken in the early ‘80s. Photoshop didn’t exist. Neither did AI.”

She picks up the photo, her eyebrows knitting together as she studies it. “So what, you’re saying my boss is some kind of… alien?”

“Not just any alien. Vakutan. A species of warriors who’ve been infiltrating Earth for years.” He pulls a small packet of coffee creamer from his pocket and slides it toward her. “This will dissolve his disguise. Use it somewhere public. Expose him.”

Cora’s laugh is sharp, almost mocking. “And why would I do that? How do I know this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to poison a business rival?”

He leans back, spreading his hands. “You don’t. But ask yourself—why would I go to all this trouble just to take him out? He’s dangerous, Cora. You’re helping, whether you realize it or not.”

I mutter under my breath, my fingers tightening around my coffee cup. Don’t overplay it, Cora. Don’t push him too far.

She drums her fingers on the table again, her expression thoughtful. “So, what, I just pour this in his coffee and watch him turn into a lizard man? And if it’s all fake, I end up looking like an idiot?”

Luhr smirks, a calculated move. “It’s not fake. But if it’ll ease your mind…” He picks up the creamer, rips it open, and pours it into his own coffee. He takes a sip, his eyes locked on hers. “See? Harmless to humans.”

Cora glances at the creamer, then back at him. “Fine. I’ll do it. But if this is some kind of stunt, I’m turning you into the cops. Got it?”

“Fair enough.” He stands, smoothing his suit. “You’ll thank me later.”

I tap my earpiece as he walks away. “Cora, maintain radio silence. Two men are following you. Probably Luhr’s lackeys.”

She doesn’t respond, but I see her tense as she picks up her purse and heads for the door. My eyes flick to the two men—bulky, nondescript, the kind of muscle Luhr would hire. They trail her at a distance, their movements casual but deliberate.

I finish my coffee, my mind racing. Cora’s handling this better than I expected, but she’s walking a tightrope. One misstep, and Luhr will know she’s playing him. I stand, tossing a few bills on the table, and follow her at a distance. If those goons so much as look at her wrong, I’ll make sure they regret it.

Cora’s in control—for now. But I’m not taking any chances.

I watch as Cora disappears into her parents’ house, her two shadows lingering for a moment before sauntering off down the street. My instincts scream to follow her, to make sure she’s safe, but I know better. She’s playing her part, and I need to play mine. So I turn my attention to the thugs.

They’re not subtle, these two. Big shoulders, heavier steps than they should have for guys trying to blend in. They head toward the Soulard district, and I’m half a block behind, my image inducer keeping me inconspicuous. The neon lights of a strip club flash ahead, and sure enough, they duck inside.

I follow, the bass of the music hitting me like a physical force. The place is dimly lit, the air thick with perfume and sweat. I slide into a shadowed corner, my eyes locked on the thugs as they settle into a booth. A few minutes later, Lars walks in, all slick smiles and an ice-cream-white suit that practically screams “I’m here to cause trouble.”

I adjust my earpiece, activating the lip-reading program I’ve had installed since the ‘90s. It’s not perfect, but it’s close enough.

“She took the bait.” Lars’ voice is smooth, confident. “The creamer’s in her hands. She’ll use it.”

One of the thugs leans forward, his voice a growl. “You sure she’s not playing us? She’s sharp, that one.”

Lars smirks, swirling the drink in his hand. “Sharp, sure. But desperate. She’ll do it. And when she does…” He trails off, but the menace in his voice is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade.

My jaw tightens. They’re talking about poison, something deadly to Vakutans. Clever bastards. But they’re not clever enough to know we’re onto them. I’m about to slip out when a woman in a barely-there outfit slides into view.

“Hey, big guy,” she purrs. “You look like you could use some company.”

I glance at her, then at the booth where Lars and his goons are still talking. Drawing attention to myself is the last thing I need. “Sure,” I say, pulling out a wad of cash. “Just a dance.”

She leads me to a chair, her hips swaying like she’s practiced it a thousand times. She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that, but she’s not Cora. Nothing about this does anything for me. Still, I keep my eyes on Lars, my lips curling into a smirk as he laughs at some joke one of his thugs makes.

When the dance is over, I slip the woman an extra hundred and head for the door. The cool night air hits me like a relief, and I tap my earpiece. “Cora, status?”

Her voice comes through, sharp and amused. “Safe and sound. Apparently, so are you. How was the lap dance?”

I freeze, then groan. “You heard that?”

“Every grinding, awkward second of it.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth there that makes my chest tighten. “Don’t worry, big guy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Just part of the job. You’re the only woman who can make me lose my cool.”

“Good to know. Now get back here. I’ve got poison to pour into your coffee, remember?”

I laugh, the sound genuine despite the tension. “On my way.”