Free The Forever Drug by Lisa Smedman Page A

instinctively watching for signs of danger. He was very much the alpha male; I pictured him as the leader of his pack. I could tell he felt comfortable in his body, in tune with every sinew and muscle. And yet he didn't rely on his body alone. Despite the fact that his suit was elegantly cut, I could see a small bulge under his left arm that suggested he was carrying a holstered weapon.
    I shifted my vision to the astral plane for a moment, and recognized in his aura the distinctive coloration of an adept—someone who used his innate magical abilities to hone his body into a weapon. There was a dead spot in his aura, just over his left ear. Probably a cybernetic implant of some sort. But his eyes were his own; the gold irises were indeed vanity lenses.
    The elf handed Jane a small blue rectangle: a ticket. Because I was viewing it astrally, I couldn't read the destination printed on it, but I knew that blue was used for one-way trip tickets. They were going ... somewhere. And not coming back.
    I switched my vision back to the physical world. Too late: Jane had already pocketed the ticket.
    Jane looked around the station with a slight frown creasing her brow. "I've been here before," she said in the soft voice of someone trying to remember a fading dream. "But it was different, then. They used chalk to write down the departure times, and the trains were ... different. They ran on metal wheels, and had a rhythm. They gave off smoke..."
    She blinked, as if trying to remember more.
    "That was in another lifetime, Mareth'riel."
    I repeated the word silently to myself: Mareth'riel. It sounded elven. Was it Jane's name? I didn't think it was just a term of endearment, but even if it was, it sounded as if the elf knew Jane well. At the very least, he knew of her delusions—of her belief that she had lived in centuries past—and was humoring them.
    The elf raised his arm and consulted a wristwatch— gold, of course—then spoke again. "Only ten minutes until our train leaves, Mareth'riel. We should board it now."
    As Jane followed willingly behind him, my heart pounded. How was I to stop her? More to the point, should I stop her? What if the elf was a friend or relative who had learned that Jane was in Halifax, suffering from memory loss, and had come to take her home again?
    No, it didn't scan. A friend wouldn't drug Haley to get to Jane. A friend would have waited until Gem or I returned home, explained who he was, and then asked us to hold Haley while he collected Jane. The elf had obviously expected Jane to be in full command of her faculties, to put up a fight. That's why he'd brought the drug along. The fact that her loss of memory made her completely trusting was an unexpected bonus. He'd only had to drug Haley.
    How had he known where to find Jane? He didn't recognize me—his penetrating gaze had already slid past me once, and he'd discounted me as a non-threat. He didn't know who I was, that it was my home he'd stolen Jane away from.
    I followed Jane and the elf to the escalator that led up the maglev trains. As the stairs rose inexorably toward the platform, my mind raced. I had no idea how I was going to stop them from boarding the train—how I was going to get Jane away from the elf before the maglev's doors closed behind them.
    The escalator beside us, less than a meter away, carried people coming down from the platform. They stared at me with bored or tired expressions, not really seeing me as I looked wildly about, searching for inspiration.
    Then I heard the sound of Music Man at the top of the escalator. At the same time, I heard a maglev train slide into the station, and saw the elf wince at its high-pitched whine. That told me what kind of cybernetic implant was in his ear. And it gave me an idea.
    Music Man still owed me one. I'd saved his hoop one night, after a group of gangers decided they liked the music that a punching bag made, and took turns using their fists and feet on his body. I'd been on patrol