UNEARTHED

  By

  C. J. Barry

  * * *

  NO ESCAPE

  “Let’s start over,” he said.

  Tess glared at him. Fine with her.

  She shot off the wall and blew by him. This time he didn’t try to stop her; he simply stood there with his hands on his hips. When she got past him, she found out why. In a flash of movement, a robot appeared, hovering about three feet off the floor in front of the main door. Tess skidded to a stop and stared. The metal monster stared back. His metal form was covered in panels and arms and lights that flashed just like Christmas tree lights—half a suit of armor that looked just human enough to scare the living daylights out of her.

  Tess spun around to face Cohl. He appeared more annoyed now than amused. As if he were the one in trouble.

  “I told you, don’t bother.” His voice was low and steely.

  Tess stood as tall as her five-foot-four frame would take her and gathered her courage. Thrusting her chin out, she challenged, “I can swim.”

  He looked at her in puzzlement, then laughed aloud. Turning, he pressed a panel behind him. A huge section of the wall slid up, revealing endless black space and stars. In the center of the window hung one very brown, very alien-looking planet.

  He smiled. “Yes, but can you fly?”

  * * *

  * * *

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful family: Ed, Rachel and Ryan.

  * * *

  LOVE SPELLŽ

  May 2003

  Published by

  Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  276 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY

  Copyright Š 2003 by C. J. Barry

  ISBN 0-505-52540-2

  The name “Love Spell” and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com.

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe my deepest gratitude to all those who believed in me: Christopher Keeslar—my terrific editor—and the great staff at Dorchester Publishing for making this book the best it could be; the Purple Pens for their unrelenting support, emotional fortitude and treasured friendship; the CNY Romance Writers for patience and guidance, with special thanks to Gayle Callen; my dedicated critique partners Lisa, Patti, Joyce, co-workers and cyberfriends; the ladies at the Chittenango Library for researching all my morbid questions without once calling the police; the kind souls in the Lollies, the FF&P chapter, and the Romance Writers of America; Susan Grant for clearing the way and fielding more newbie e-mails than any one person should have to; Maggie Shayne for her generous heart and paranormal wisdom; Adleen and the late John P. Barry; my siblings Tom G. Dishaw, Chris Walker and Cheri Revai; and my parents, Tom and Jean Dishaw, for their undying confidence and love.

  And finally, my husband Ed for understanding when I leave Earth for hours at a time and always welcoming me back, my son Ryan for lending his spaceship models and action figures for choreography purposes, and my daughter Rachel for her joyful spirit and timely hugs.

  Thank you all for helping me to reach the stars.

  * * *

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Earth, present day

  Staring down the wrong end of the gun, Tess MacKenzie realized something she hadn’t thought was possible: This lousy day could get worse.

  “You heard me, lady. Hand over the cash. I know you just got paid.”

  Tess tore her eyes away from the gun to the face of the man pointing it at her. The back alley of Sonny’s Bar and Grill was a stupid place to be alone at 3:00 a.m. on a Saturday night. Stupid, dark, and smelly. You never knew what kind of vermin you’d find crawling around. The two-legged variety she stared at now was proof-positive. She squinted at her assailant in the faint moonlight. All she could imagine was a beer keg on legs—and even that was a compliment. She wondered how he’d got so round eating with just those half-dozen teeth.

  She forced a casual smile. “Sorry. Sonny said it was a slow night. He couldn’t pay me and the band until tomorrow.”

  Keg-on-legs snorted. “Nice try. I saw Sonny hand ya the money, honey. Now it’s mine.” His few teeth glinted as he smiled.

  Tess glared at him. Damn it, she needed that three hundred bucks. The rent was due, the recording studio was holding her CD hostage for payment, and her car was on its last legs.

  But hey, it could be worse. She could be getting mugged by a filthy little varmint in the back alley of the tackiest gin joint in upstate New York.

  “Are you gonna hand it over nice-like, or am I gonna hafta come get it from you?”

  Tess shuddered at the thought. There was just enough light to see the filthy hand holding the gun, and she didn’t need that hand any closer.

  Grumbling, she reached into her purse to get the cash from the night’s gig and vowed that this was the last time her manager was going to book something in the middle of God’s country. She didn’t care how desperate they were for money; from now on, she was sticking to radio appearances and recording studios.

  Her hand struck something hard and cold. Hair spray. She paused. It could work. All she needed were a few seconds to duck around the side of the building and head for the all-night diner across the street.

  Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal and found its top. She swallowed hard and yanked the canister out of her bag, pushing the nozzle and aiming for the mugger’s head.

  Keg-on-legs jumped back, grabbing at his face where the spray stung his eyes. Tess spun and ran wildly, with Keg-on-legs swearing and stumbling behind her. He recovered quickly and moved faster than she could have imagined on those stubby legs.

  Damn. She’d thought she would have more time. Oh God, don’t shoot me.

  By now he was cursing behind her, calling out in precise, disgusting terms just how much trouble she was going to be in when he got his hands on her.

  Tess rounded the corner of the building and ran right into a big man who caught her in his arms.

  Yes! Help had arrived.

  “He’s got a gun!” she gasped as she glanced up into the stranger’s face. If she hadn’t been so pumped up with adrenaline, she would have fallen over. Wow. What good-looking cavalry. The man was tall and gorgeous with a killer smile.

  Keg-on-legs rounded the corner right behind her and skidded to a halt, aiming his gun with both hands at first Tess, then the stranger. Breathing heavily, he shouted, “Don’t move, I don’t wanna kill nobody. I just want the money.”

  The stranger eyed him thoughtfully. Tess couldn’t pull her gaze away from his shadowed face, so calm and relaxed. Didn’t he realize there was a gun pointed at him? Her eyes widened. She’d almost forgotten—there was a gun pointed at her, too.

  “Would you like me to neutralize him, sir?”

  Tess jumped at the strange new voice emanating from the darkness. It sounded somehow both mechanical and human. It also sounded well, bored. Bored?

  “Please,” the stranger drawled.

  A beam of light flashed from somewhere behind him. It hit Keg-on-legs square in the chest, and the mugger crumpled quietly to a pile on the ground.

  Tess gaped—first at the incapacitated man in the dirt and then up at her savior. The stranger’s eyes narrowed, watching her every move. She backed away with feet of lead. That was when she saw the bizarre silver apparition behind him, hovering in midair. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen on Earth.

  In detached horror, she watched as the thing turned its sights on her. Was it a robot? Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

  “I’d like you to come with me,” the stranger said.

  Tess’s mouth went dry. Good Lord. Wasn’t a mugging enough tonight? “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass.”

  The robot slipped closer, and with growing panic she added, “Just so you know, I can scream really well.”

  The stranger’s smile faded. “I’m afraid that won’t do.” He turned and nodded to his metal monster.

  The last thing Tess saw in the burst of light was the stranger’s golden eyes.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  She wasn’t at all what he had expected.

  Cohl stretched his legs, propped his feet up on an examination table, and regarded his sleeping captive from across his starship’s med center.

  Was it really her voice he’d followed across the galaxy, her song broadcast out on the airwaves into space? He had listened to that song over and over again on his six-day journey to her planet. During those long nights, the picture of the woman he envisioned singing it had shifted and settled. With that pure voice, she would be an angel, fair and delicate; a gentle and innocent creature in need of protection.

  Cohl crossed his arms over his chest. That’s definitely not what he had found. Not exactly.

  Any woman who would attempt to fend off a much larger attacker and a lethal weapon with nothing more than a can of compressed air was all fighter. He had seen the flash in her eyes just before Pitz stunned her—the quick turn from gratitude to betrayal to anger. He would have his hands full convincing her that she was the answer to his mission and the salvation of millions.

  He dropped his feet to the floor and rested his elbows on his thighs. There was another problem. She was simply bewitching. Since yesterday, he’d spent far too many hours in this med center watching her.

  He studied her face. There was something about her, something familiar in the light auburn hair with its fiery red edge. Something comfortable about the petite, well-shaped body. Something exciting in those lively, green eyes that had gazed up at him in relief when she first saw him.

  No, she wasn’t what Cohl had expected at all. And that was the real problem.

  Behind him, the med center door slid open and shut. He didn’t turn to see who entered. The only crew member on board who didn’t walk on the floor was Pitz. The robot clicked and whirred as it hovered to a halt behind him.

  “Are you sure we have the right woman?” Cohl asked without taking his eyes off her.

  Pitz gave the mechanical equivalent of a woeful sigh. “Yes, sir. I have checked the voice-match over one million times. This is the woman we seek.”

  Cohl turned and faced the machine he’d known his entire life. All the robot’s systems appeared functioning at capacity: lights winked and blinked across Pitz’s humanlike shape from his head to the metal skirt over his hips that covered his hover mechanism and turbo propulsion. Hidden within that metal body was a lethal assortment of weaponry and data-processing capabilities—all of which Cohl had seen in action. Pitz was a formidable ally and a loyal friend.

  “Any sign of the Traka-Sou this time?”

  “None. We must have lost them in that last set of maneuvers over Earth,” Pitz responded. “An unorthodox use of the hyperspace, sir. Well done.”

  Cohl cast the robot a sharp glance. “Don’t get too relaxed. The Traka-Sou won’t give up that easily. Especially if they find out we have her. This is no time to get sloppy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pitz replied. “I will notify the crew to remain on alert.”

  “Are we on schedule to meet with Zain?”

  Pitz computed that. “Yes, we will be at the rendezvous point at the agreed-upon time. Will he?”

  “Captain Zain Masters? Late? Never. Not unless he’s dead.”

  “Pardon my doubt, sir, but do you really believe that he can find the location of the Demisian Amulet? Although it is a popular legend, there is no actual proof of its existence. And, Captain Masters is only human.”

  Cohl laughed aloud and shook his head. “Pitz, don’t ever say that to him. If Zain says he knows where it is, then he does. Period.”

  He watched Tess, momentarily distracted by the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. “Were you able to access the computer networks back on Earth?”

  “Of course,” Pitz said haughtily. “Their artificial-intelligence systems are positively primordial.”

  “What did you find on her?”

  Pitz settled into a monotone recital of statistics: “Her name is Tess Elisa MacKenzie. She is twenty-nine Earth years old, Earth years being approximate to our Standard years. She grew up in and resides in Marley Comers, a small town with a population of 5,326.”

  The robot paused. “Do you want her physical characteristics and dimensions?”

  “I have eyes,” Cohl muttered. He probably knew more about her physical statistics than Pitz did.

  Indifferently, Pitz continued. “She lives alone and is unmated. She worked in her parents’ private enterprise until they were killed in a vehicle accident last year. Since their deaths, she has begun pursuing a singing and entertainment career with moderate success.”

  Cohl shook his head. “Moderate. Apparently, her own people don’t know how unique her voice is.”

  “One is never fully appreciated by one’s peers,” Pitz complained.

  Cohl eyed him warily and redirected the conversation before the robot could lapse into melodramatic self-indulgence. “What else?”

  “Compared to the norm for her race, her financial situation is abysmal. She owns nothing of significant value and, in fact, owes more than she is worth.”

  Cohl narrowed his eyes. So that was the reason she’d fought off an armed attacker in a back alley—the man was after her credits. It burned Cohl that she might have gotten herself killed for something so insignificant.

  “Would you care for a list of her possessions, sir?”

  “No,” Cohl decided. “You said she worked in her parents’ enterprise. How long?”

  “Since she was a child.”

  Cohl leaned back in his chair. “Any siblings?”

  Pitz clicked softly. “She has a brother and a sister. They left Marley Comers to attend institutes of higher education and did not return. Both reside elsewhere.”

  “So she stayed and helped her parents,” Cohl guessed, rubbing his chin. “A sense of duty and responsibility. That’s good. It’s just what I was hoping for.”

  “I do not see the association,” Pitz commented. “What does that have to do with our mission?”

  Cohl smiled. “Everything. When can we revive her?”

  The robot whirred over to the med center console and plugged in. After a few seconds, he reported, “She has completed phase one and two of the language translation interface. Phase three is still running. Estimated completion time: two hours.”

  “Are you sure this won’t harm her? We’ve never tried to interface our language patterns onto an Earth human be-fore.” Cohl glanced at the neural halo around Tess’s head.

  “Her subconscious can handle the interface. It is no different than learning a second language. The process is simply accelerated,” Pitz answered. He added in a droll tone, “Although, she may have a slight headache from cerebral over-exertion.”

  “I can sympathize with that,” Cohl muttered, rubbing his own head. “The English language is a mess. I may never recover from that interface.”

  “Just remember that she will only comprehend our fundamental language. Slang terms and proper names will still be a mystery to her.”

  “It goes both ways,” Cohl reminded him.

  Pitz snorted. “Not for me. I know everything.”

  Cohl chuckled. He’d consider Pitz arrogant if it weren’t for the fact that the robot was right.

  He stood up. “I’ll be on the bridge. Contact me when you’re ready to bring her around. We should move her to regular crew quarters. I don’t want her waking up here.”

  He took one final look at Tess before walking out.

  The first hint of consciousness floated through Tess like a warm, muzzy fog. Voices faded in and out. She didn’t even try to understand them. Life was wonderful. No thoughts, no worries.

  Someone said her name—a male voice, low and sexy. She hummed softly. He sounded good-looking. The term stuck in her mind. Good-looking. She had seen someone like that recently.

  Reality invaded in a nightmarish rush.

  The stranger. That voice. Those golden eyes.

  Tess broke through the fog in a violent lunge. Lights blinded her. Hands held her down.

  “Easy, Tess,” a deep voice soothed.

  She fought; but the hands were strong, the arms attached to them powerful. Her eyes adjusted enough to concentrate on their owner: the stranger with the beautiful eyes. He had a beautiful smile, too.

  “You!” she snapped. “What have you done to me? Where am I? And what the hell is going on?”

  His smile widened, but his hands remained firm. “Pitz, I’d say she’s recovered nicely,” he said.

  Tess tried to kick him where her mother had always told her to, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate and her foot ended up glancing off the stranger’s kneecap. He released her with a grunt. She leaped from the bed and stumbled toward a closed door. Her kick had the desired effect, but that effect lasted much less time than she’d have liked. The stranger grabbed her by the wrists and backed her against a wall, pinning her like a bug on a board.

  “I told you to put the restraints on her, sir. Females are so unpredictable.”

  That bored mechanical voice stopped Tess cold. She recognized it as that of the metal monster from the alley; the one she’d hoped was nothing more than a bad dream. She struggled with renewed effort, her fear growing. “You shot me, you bucket of bolts!”

  The creature answered with a surprisingly human snort. “Hardly. Just a small dose of charged particles. Enough to incapacitate you.”

  “You better hope I never get my hands on a can opener, pal,” Tess muttered. She became painfully aware of her captor’s strength, and her exhaustion from fighting him. All he had to do was stand there. Then she realized he wasn’t trying to hurt her, only hold her still.

 

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