It Begins With the End Page 4

  She swallowed. "Do you always get what you want?"

  "Only if you toast with me." His intense focus fixed on her. He lifted his glass and waited.

  Raising the glass to her lips, the wine tasted sweet and crisp. She licked her lips as she considered him. "Aren't you supposed to be giving a speech or meeting with the dignitaries? Won't you be missed?"

  "The High Councilors will make sure they make the proper speeches. And I'll have plenty of time to circulate with the crowd later. As I said, I was afraid I offended you. High Tender vlor'Vardhal says I can be overbearing, and he reminded me of the cultural gap separating our people. It would be horrible if I'd offended the granddaughter of our host during our first official state function. I had to apologize if I made you uncomfortable back there."

  "That was considerate of you, but unnecessary." And as for making her uncomfortable, what did he think was happening now?

  "Nevertheless, you feel fine? No sniffles or sneezes?"

  That seemed off topic. Why did he care about sniffles and sneezes? "No, I just needed to work on my thesis assignment."

  He waved toward the console in the corner. "Am I to assume visitors from space are less interesting than discussing neural chemistry with your professor? What was it now—defining the mind versus the brain? Neural modeling in sub-dimensions?" He made his voice soft, interested even.

  How long had he been listening?

  "Neural processing. Not chemistry. My thesis is about how the mind uses the physical framework of the brain to work. And it's not that I find you uninteresting, but rather, I was excluded from the general conversation. My grandfather does that at these events, and as you've pointed out, I'm not much of a diplomat. I wanted to stretch my legs and check up on a few pressing concerns of my own." She gestured to the dark console. "Such as semester grades."

  "I see. Even during what some might consider the most exciting moment of our lives, the mundane tends to pull us back to reality."

  "Well, exciting would have been if you were green, three-eyed aliens with tentacles, but…"

  His smile seemed genuine as he inclined his head. "Are you saying that since we're human, we're boring?"

  "Not boring, just, not what I was expecting. I'm interested to see what your culture is like. After two thousand years, I'm curious to see how far it's diverged from ours."

  "I think you'll be pleased to find we're quite similar, but also vastly different. Two thousand years is a long time." The tone of his voice turned serious, warning her of something.

  "Different how? Do we have reason to fear you?" A spark of fear flared in her gut.

  His eyes narrowed. "Elise, there is always a reason to fear, but you must trust me when I say I have nothing but humanity's best interest at heart." He pushed a dessert plate toward her. "You have not tasted the dessert."

  "Neither have you. Do you include Earth as a part of humanity, then? If we’re similar yet different, that leaves a lot of room for interpretation."

  "You intrigue me. I'm not used to being challenged by a woman." His silver eyes bored into her. "But yes, we are all human."

  "I noticed there are no women in your party. Where are they?"

  He lifted his glass. "Not only intelligent, but wise. Perhaps that's why I find you so refreshing."

  "You deflect my questions the same way you deflected my grandfather's at dinner. Why won't you answer my question about your women?"

  "You're not put off by my position."

  "Well, that's because I grew up around my grandfather. Power doesn't affect me like other people. He's always been Gramps first. I'm sure he'll have something to say about showing proper respect later though. Like your High Tender what's-his-name, my grandfather often tells me I speak before thinking."

  That comment bought another genuine smile. It reached up to his eyes, making them sparkle in the subdued lighting. Neither of them spoke for a time.

  He broke the silence first. "Honestly, I find it refreshing." He twirled the wine glass between two fingers examining the golden liquid inside. "And his name is High Tender Marcus vlor'Vardhal, although you will refer to him as High Tender Marcus."

  At his words, her heart beat faster, her stomach knotted, and her breathing came just a little too fast. In trying to put the man off, she'd only drew his attention. "Emperor—"

  He tilted his head and regarded her with that cocky grin. His eyes lit with amusement as he shook his head. "Ah, please Elise, call me Gregor."

  Names meant more to the Vendel than she'd thought. It followed she shouldn't offend him by continuing to refuse his request. Ugh, her grandfather was so going to owe her after this state dinner.

  "Gregor," she corrected and watched him settle back in the chair. "If I've offended you, I'd like to offer my sincerest apologies."

  "No apologies required… Elise." The way he said her name sent shivers up her spine because of how he savored it, rolling the two syllables around in his mouth almost as if he was tasting them.

  She rubbed her neck, feeling self-conscious. With every breath, she could see her chest rise and fall, acutely aware of her low-cut gown and exposed cleavage. What she wouldn't give for a shawl to cover up. Gregor's eyes spent way too much time focused there rather than on her face.

  "I am hopeful you will consider our cultural exchange program. Your grandfather speaks highly of your skills."

  She blushed. "Perhaps he's too vocal."

  Gregor dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "He's proud of his granddaughter. What man wouldn't be?" He pointed to the console. "Take, for example, your thesis paper."

  Her thesis paper? "What about it?"

  "You'd be interested in our computer systems. Our technology is more biological than Earth's, but we use the sub-dimensions you mentioned with your professor in the framework of our computers. It will be easy for you to adapt to our technology." He arched a brow and waited for a response.

  Again, she wondered how long he had been listening before making his presence known. More shocking was that he understood any of it. She tipped her glass to her lips and took a deep swallow.

  He leaned forward to refill her wine.

  "Do you think you would be interested?"

  Despite her misgivings, she had to admit an interest. She'd been excited to be awarded a spot on the Jupiter mission, but knowing aliens existed, and other star systems were now within grasp… well that would be hard to pass up.

  She nodded. "Exactly how much did my grandfather say about me?"

  Gregor laughed. "He is very proud of you. The two of you seem close." His eyes pinched at that comment for some odd reason.

  Another sip of wine. Her glass was empty and her head spun. She set the glass down, unwilling to drink anymore. And her inner wrist still itched. She rubbed at the faint trail of fire flickering up her forearm.

  He leaned forward, his attention focused on her scratching. "What are you doing after dinner? We could discuss plans to bring you on board the Gambit." His eyebrows quirked up, but she refused to acknowledge the blatant proposition.

  She stared down at the thick carpet. Heat blossomed in her cheeks with his proximity. A peek through her lashes revealed just how close he was. His crisp, clean scent rolled off him making her want to press forward for a kiss. There was something else there too, an underlying spice that had her head spinning. The heat flaring in her wrist shot up her arm, breaking her trance.

  She bolted upright and shook her head. How did one say no to an Emperor? "Um… I don't think—"

  The door eased open and one of the large gladiator guards poked his head inside. "Sire, High Tender vlor'Vardhal requires your presence."

  Gregor turned toward the door with a resigned sigh. "It has been pleasant chatting with you, Elise. Perhaps another time. That is, if you're feeling well."

  She cringed, heart thundering in her chest. He should have scared her half to death, instead, she'd been leaning toward him, nearly begging for a kiss. What was wrong with her?

  Chapter Four

  Thursday, February 3, 2035:

  Elise woke the following morning with a lazy stretch and rolled over to gaze out her bedroom windows to look upon her private garden. Memories of last night flitted through her thoughts and churned her stomach.

  It was time to face her grandfather. After that conversation with the Emperor, she never returned to the banquet, but went home and straight to bed. She rolled out of bed and went in search of her grandfather, steeling herself to face his disappointment. He wasn't in his study, or anywhere else. She queried the house computer who informed her he was not at home. Confused, she sent a request to his virtual assistant to locate him.

  Moments later, bleary eyes peered back through the holo-mist. "Good morning, Elise."

  Good morning? Was that it? No yelling? No stern look of disapproval, or worse, disappointment? "Gramps, where are you?"

  He rubbed puffy eyes and squinted into the screen. "I'm at Commodore Armstrong's house."

  "You look tired."

  "I've been up all night."

  "Why?" Before he could respond, she added, "Gramps, I'm sorry I left the banquet, but…"

  "I'm tied up at the Armstrong's right now. Can we do this later?"

  "Yes, um… Why?"

  "Something happened. Elenor's sick. The doctor is with her now."

  "What's wrong?"

  "She can hardly breathe. She's spitting up blood, and when she cries…" He averted his eyes. His voice cracked with emotion. "Her tears are red. The doc doesn't know what's wrong."

  "I'll come right over."

  "I don't know about that."

  "Gramps, it's Elenor."

  The woman had raised her, and Elise had taken part of her name from Elenor, or at least that's what her mother had said. There was no way he could keep her away.

  "I'm coming. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

  He vented a heavy sigh. "She might appreciate that."

  She cut the connection and had their driver, Mark, take her to the Armstrong's house. Two hours later, thanks to a massive wreck closing the roads, they pulled up to Armstrong’s residence. Parked outside was an official coroner's van. Her gut clenched at the sight. She raced inside, heart pounding, hoping what her eyes were telling her couldn't be true.

  Her grandfather sat on the living room couch. A glass of Scotch hung in his hand, the amber liquid sloshing inside. He had his head cradled in his other hand and tears streaked down his face. Another cup of Scotch sat on the coffee table, untouched.

  "Dale's upstairs." He downed the contents of his glass. He waved outside, sloshing alcohol on the carpet. "The medical coroner's team arrived just before you."

  Boots shuffled behind her. She turned to see two men in white coveralls navigating the broad staircase with a black body bag. They placed it on a waiting stretcher. Dale descended the stairs behind the men. He walked them to the door, eyes staring vacantly ahead.

  She watched, stunned, as they loaded the bag into the white van and drove off. The entire scene was too surreal. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real.

  Dale came into the room, brushing past her, unseeing, and grabbed the glass on the table. He collapsed into the overstuffed rocker. The two men sat in stony silence. The Commodore of the Global Corps Space Agency, her future boss, hunched back further into his chair and drank, looking as if his world had ended.

  He sneezed and wiped his nose.

  "Dale, I'm so sorry." She cringed at how pathetic the words sounded the moment they spilled from her mouth. What a fool. His wife just died. Elenor was dead? None of this made sense.

  His gaze crossed hers momentarily before moving back down to the floor. She glanced at her grandfather, who shrugged and shook his head. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed.

  Dale downed the last drop of the Scotch. She took the glass from his shaking hand. After she poured him another two fingers of liquor, she refilled her grandfather's tumbler. The movement kept her busy and her mind from thinking about Elenor.

  She gazed out the window and tried to process what had happened while the two men dealt with their grief and she struggled to find hers. A numbness settled over her shoulders.

  Dale spent much of the morning and early afternoon drinking himself into a deep stupor. He passed out just before dinner, and Gramps stumbled off to the internet console to work.

  She went up to Elenor's room, her movements wooden and jerky. Sorting through Elenor's closet gave her something to do. She wanted to find the perfect dress for the burial. When her grandfather found her a few hours later she was curled up in a corner of the closet, sobbing into an expensive silk scarf. He sat beside her and hugged her tight.

  "Come, we need to head home. Help me pack a bag for Dale. I don't think he should be alone tonight." He sneezed.

  She jumped with concern. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh dear, excuse me. I seem to be catching a cold." He pointed to his forehead. "Sinuses blocked." He stood and offered her a hand up. Together they found what they needed and descended to find Dale stirring on the couch. With the help of Mark, they loaded Dale into the car and headed back to the Comwell Estate.

  Unease settled over her shoulders as a memory tickled. What had the Vendel Emperor said? Perhaps another time. That is, if you are feeling well.

  A coldness settled over her chest. With a shudder, she wrapped her hands around herself. Were the Vendel responsible for what happened to Elenor?

  She glanced at her grandfather, and then to Dale. Other than an occasional sneeze they both looked fine. And her grandfather suffered from allergies, but Elenor had sneezed at the banquet.

  She leaned over to her grandfather and whispered into his ear. "Gramps, I think they did this."

  "Who?"

  "The Vendel. Is anyone else sick?"

  Dale blinked bleary, red-lined eyes at her, overhearing her conversation. "What?"

  "We don't know," her grandfather said.

  Chapter Five

  Friday morning, February 4, 2035:

  The day began with a dull drizzle. Gramps’s head cold settled into his lungs. Elise worried over him, playing nursemaid, bringing hot tea and sandwiches, while he set up for an important meeting of state. Unsettled thoughts of Elenor flashed in her mind as she listened to him cough.

  Her hand shook as she placed the tea on the table beside him, and she tried to remember what he’d said about last night. Elenor had been fine at the banquet, then she didn't feel well. There was something about bloody tears.

  Elise cast a sideways glance at her grandfather as he finished his preparations and held back the urge to feel his forehead. When she suggested they call a doctor, he shooed her out with a glare.

  Moving to the guest wing, she checked on Dale. He refused to leave his rooms and come down for lunch. He too, coughed.

  Fisting her hands, she made a decision, and returned to her grandfather's study. Holo-mist filled the air, framing the faces of the world's leaders. Her grandfather pressed his lips into a hard line at her interruption and almost had her turning on her heels, but this couldn't wait.

  He muted the video feed with his finger. His red-lined eyes showed his intense fatigue, and the finger sandwiches she brought earlier remained untouched.

  "Elise, I'm very busy."

  "Listen, I think the Vendel made Elenor sick."

  A few of the faces hanging in holo-mist turned their attention to her, but none showed any surprise. She recognized some of them from the various state dinners she'd attended over the years. Her grandfather pointed to the door. "We can't be sure of that."

  "But…"

  "We're investigating all the options." He flicked his fingers in dismissal. His deep sigh turned into a fit of coughing.

  A step forward to comfort him was met with his raised hand. Palm out, he halted her advance. "Please. I need to pay attention to the meeting."

  "Gramps?" Why wouldn't he listen?

  "Why don't you call one of your friends? Or go to the flight line and practice your flight drills. Don't you have a competition coming up?"

  He wanted her to go stunt flying? Or call one of her friends? The last thing she wanted was to waste the day with fake trust-fund friends. While fun, the Air Race World Championships weren't for another four months. Her instructor was out of town on his honeymoon, and it wasn't like she would practice her aerobatics without him. While she loved maneuvering her small Corvus Racer through the air gates, how could she think about that when her grandfather was sick?

  Although, being stuck inside all day, knowing he'd be busy in his study with his meetings, made her want to leave. Dale wasn't helping matters either, not with shutting himself in with grief. Getting out was probably the best idea.

  Another name came to mind. This might be the perfect opportunity to meet up with Alice. She would take Elise's mind off aliens and the heavy miasma of grief settling over Comwell Estate. It took digging to find Alice's contact info. Soon though, the holo-mist formed into an image of her friend's round face and shock-white hair.

  "Elise! Hey! What's up?" Alice leaned toward the screen and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Have you been following the news? The bigwig Global Corps folk met the aliens at this uber-posh banquet. Now they're talking about sharing their technology. It's all biotech. Can you believe it?" Her bright blue eyes widened with excitement.

  "Well, I suppose…"

  Mention of the Vendel brought back an image of Gregor and an itching at her wrist. She rubbed the skin of her inner wrist remembering the odd electricity she felt every time he touched her.

  "Oh, come on, you're not even a little interested? Have you seen the vids? Talk about drool-worthy man-meat."

  "Where did you see pictures of the Vendel?"

  Not that her identity was a big secret, but people treated her differently after they found out her grandfather headed Global Corps. For once, she wanted to just be an ordinary person. Fingers crossed, she prayed there weren't any vid-feeds of her circulating out in the Internet at that event.