Free Soulwalker by Erica Lawson Page A

moment of truth. The unit had turned on her, and she was on her own. Tarris was strong, but was she strong enough to defeat them all? The group split to approach from opposite sides to force their leader to choose.
    Tarris was cornered, trapped in a body that wouldn’t do her bidding. Malevolent forces circled ominously, and her only defenses were her soul and her courage. Rya enveloped her and lifted her broken body with ease.
    A light suddenly appeared in the room and seemed to be the only avenue open to her. Rya stepped toward the light even though it would “blind” her. She placed Tarris down carefully before her form dissolved away to nothingness. Rya had been blinded, and now Tarris was completely helpless…
    “Arrloovarite?”
    “Huh?” The word didn’t make sense.
    “Are… you… all right?” The words were enunciated crisply, and their meaning now understood, but Tarris didn’t pay heed to them. She was struck by the beautiful woman hovering over her. Those eyes—rich sapphires that glistened in the harsh light— burrowed into her like twin needles. She could feel the pain, but she couldn’t turn away.
    “Errr… yeah. I suppose. Where am I?”
    “Home… you are home.” The voice was low and seductive, uttered by a woman Tarris estimated to be in her mid to late thirties. Short, black locks framed her oval face, the ragged fringe touching the dark elegant eyebrows. She took Tarris’s breath away.
     
    Tarris woke up drenched in sweat. What did it all mean? This was her second such dream. Was it a portent or wishful thinking? Her hand crossed her brow. Life was too much today, and so she sought solace in sleep as the drug flowed through her tired body.
    Some hours later, the sedative wore off and left her with that familiar lethargy “hangover,” She rubbed her face with her hands. What was she going to do for two weeks? Lying around looking at the ceiling was a recipe for weight gain.
    She suspected she would be a frequent visitor to the Archives and the park, both of which gave her much pleasure, but she couldn’t spend two solid weeks there. Even that was a waste for her enforced holiday. No, she would save those delights as rewards for accomplishing something more mundane. But the unit was her life. Nothing else existed for her. No hobbies, no distractions… no partner. She was alone. She had no one to blame but herself for her enforced celibacy, but she wasn’t going to be pitied for the sake of a little companionship. Rule Seven in her handbook was one she steadfastly stuck to.
     
    Rule Seven in her Survival Handbook: Never start anything you can’t finish.
     
    She rose slowly from the bed. Some days her patience was tested by the slow, deliberate nature of her home aids. This was one of those days. She moved the wheelchair quietly across the carpet to her computer and booted it up. She tried to remember the article she had read the other night. It had been put off while her attention had been focused on her work. Now that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was the ideal opportunity to follow up on it without the distraction of her profession to interrupt her.
    Tarris wheeled over to the far corner and withdrew her Silencer for the conversation to come. She had to know, but the few intervening days to see the practitioner were going to be unbearable. “Hello?” a voice said. The screen was blank but the computer confirmed the connection.
    “Hello? Who is this?” The voice was low and hypnotic and triggered a response in Tarris.
    “This is Tarris Waite. I called you the other night and left a message. Is there something wrong with your monitor?”
    “I’m sorry, the screen has shorted out. How can I help you?”
    “As I mentioned earlier, I was interested in your work on nerve regeneration.”
    “Are you from the Council?” Tarris could hear the suspicion in the tantalizing voice.
    “No. I’m a private citizen.”
    “How did you get hold of my paper then? As far as I’m