Path of the Stray: Quantum Encryption Bk 1

By Kim Falconer

A fast-paced story of fantasy and occult adventure, astrology and martial arts ... this trilogy tells past and future stories of characters we met in the Quantum Enchantment trilogy.
the magical lands of Gaela are on the brink of war when tryn Bistoria fi nds herself trapped in the taboo caves above Corsanon. As she and her familiar escape, a terrible power is unleashed from another time. On a distant Earth, Janis the 'techno-witch' must hide Jarrod from those who want to destroy him. But in the crossover to Gaela with the shape-shifting Lupins, Jarrod and a stray pup disappear. In a desperate search, Janis' daughter Ruby learns what must be done if everyone is to survive. Praise for Kim Falconer'one of the best fantasy books I've read in ages!' traci Harding, author of the Ancient Future, on the Spell of Rosette 'an utterly unique and thrillingly complex story of magic and science as you've never read before' GoodReads on Strange Attractors

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Aug 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9780730492719

Kim Falconer

Kim Falconer is a bestselling speculative fiction author with nine published novels. Her work is described as contemporary, dark and compelling, romantic, provocative, and supercharged with high-intensity action. Originally from California, she lives on the far eastern coast of Australia with a house full of kids, and two extraordinary spotted cats.    To find out more, visit Kim on her website and web portal.   You can also follow her on:  Facebook Instagram  Twitter  Google+  Pinterest       

Book preview

PROLOGUE

‘Can we get more light in here?’ Rosette peered into the shadows.

I see perfectly. Drayco sneezed. Books, scrolls, tools, rugs. A desk. Old paintings the wrong way up. He sniffed the air. Rats live here. I shall call Gratch.

‘No, Drayco!’ Jarrod and Rosette said at the same time.

‘Please wait!’ Rosette roughed his cheeks. ‘Let me have a look around before you bring that terror.’

He’s young. It is healthy for him to have so much energy.

‘Healthy for him, but not for us.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘What’s under here?’

Jarrod lifted the lantern higher. ‘Find something?’

‘Maybe. Help me with these rugs.’

They’d been sorting through the chamber all afternoon. It was packed with crates, trunks and shelves, dismantled bed frames, old pillows and rugs. Perhaps it had been living quarters once, or a large study, but this section of the catacombs beneath Los Loma was now abandoned. Rosette remembered it though, thanks to Kreshkali.

She’d been running from the Queen of the Underworld, hounded by the Lupins (or so she’d thought) and she’d squeezed through a crack that led to this passageway. There’d been no time or inclination to explore it then, but now with her apprenticeship complete she had the chance to take a second look.

‘It’s a chest.’ She rolled up her sleeves and twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head.

‘Like the other ones we found, full of old rats’ nests and rotting linen?’ Jarrod asked.

‘This is different—black teak. And look at the carvings!’

‘That’s unusual.’

‘Teak would have to come from the Islands, and Ra’hana Iti hasn’t traded with Los Loma for hundreds of years. It’s older than the others, whatever’s inside.’

He encircled her waist and kissed her. ‘Let’s open it and find out.’

Drayco sniffed the wood. Not Ra’hana Iti.

‘Where then?’

It’s from the Dumarkian Woods. He sat with his tail curled tight around his legs.

‘I wonder how it ended up here?’ Rosette ran her hand over the carved wood. ‘The design is beautiful. Temple cats, and…’ She bent closer. ‘What are these?’

‘Symbols?’ Jarrod narrowed his eyes. ‘Much like the ones on the temple ruins in Dumarka.’

They looked at each other and began pulling the rugs off and dragging them to the other side of the room. Drayco leapt aside. The rugs were well worn, the weave almost threadbare in places. The room had been heavily trafficked long ago but the rugs had held their colours—bright green, violet and red. Rosette gave them a cursory glance. They could wait; the chest was what she was after.

‘It’s locked,’ she said when the last rug was removed.

Jarrod felt the heavy padlock and chain. ‘Can you manage, or shall I call for Kreshkali?’

‘I can manage!’

She sat next to the chest and ran her hand across the top. It was a dark wood, smooth as glass and carved with temple cats, ravens and trees. There were symbols—astrological signs, she could see now—bordering the edges. The hinges were brass and also beautifully etched. ‘It’s certainly from Temple Dumarka,’ she said, reluctant to take her hand away. She scooted closer and examined the lock.

Drayco sniffed the air. He comes. His voice brushed across her mind. He’s hungry.

‘Oh dear.’ Rosette turned towards the door.

A young black temple cat with enormous paws and grey tabby-striped legs bounded into the room. He didn’t stop to get his bearings or commune with her and Jarrod (or ask permission to enter, as he’d been taught). He rushed in, leapt over the rugs, knocked into a crate, tipped over shelves and launched onto Drayco—snarling like a wildcat.

‘Gratch!’ Grayson called from the hallway. He stuck his head in and cringed. Books and stacks of crockery had crashed to the floor. Looseleaf papers went flying. They floated like autumn leaves to the ground. ‘Gratch, respect. Remember?’

Gratch didn’t respond. He was wrestling the slightly larger Drayco who rolled inside his skin to get out of the hold. Drayco took a single swipe and the younger temple cat was pinned to the floor. Both purred and Drayco licked Gratch’s face.

‘We came to see if you needed any help,’ Grayson said.

‘Thanks.’ Rosette looked around the room. ‘Much appreciated.’

Grayson righted the shelves and picked up the books. ‘What’s in the chest?’

‘We were about to find out.’ Rosette returned to her task.

Gratch and Drayco rolled and pounced and attacked each other while more crates clattered to the ground. They hit the carpets and the room filled with dust.

Dray. Maybe take your son for a hunt, do you think? A good run up the side of the mountain. Is Teg about? Or Maluka? They’d probably love it too.

The felines continued to tussle.

Rosette stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loud and sharp like a bird of prey. The temple cats froze, their eyes going to her without their heads moving.

‘Out!’ She clapped her hands. ‘Go run it off!’

Gratch sprang to his feet and Drayco shook as if he’d been doused. We shall go and greet the night, Maudi.

‘Good idea.’

They took off and disappeared down the passageway. The dust settled and the room went quiet. Rosette winked at Grayson. She knew what it was like raising a temple cat at that age.

‘Back before moonrise,’ Grayson called after them. ‘We journey in the morning, remember.’

‘You have work to do at Treeon?’ Jarrod asked.

‘Plenty this time of year. All the initiates will be lining up for their first tattoos.’

‘It’s ten days until the new moon, though,’ Rosette said. ‘Going early?’

‘We’re taking the long way around Mt Pele and down the coast from Morzone. Getting in some scenery.’

‘You mean getting in some privacy.’ Jarrod chuckled.

Grayson shrugged. ‘Maluka and I don’t have much time on our own, what with…’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Jarrod said. ‘I know what that’s like too.’ He raised his brows at Rosette. ‘Ready to have a look?’

‘I am.’

The men drew closer as Rosette tested the energy around the lock. ‘There’s a spell,’ she whispered and leaned in as if she could hear it murmuring.

Grayson and Jarrod moved closer. She could feel their body heat and their curiosity.

‘Give me some room, please?’

‘Of course,’ Jarrod said. He righted a couple of crates in the corner and the men were soon in conversation, their voices a low buzz.

Rosette returned to the lock. The spell’s vibration was subtle, a frequency not unlike the hum of a tiny bee. As she listened it was drowned out by laughter. ‘Do you mind?’ She shot a glance towards Jarrod and Grayson. ‘I can’t do this with your chatter!’

‘Shall I wait for you in the dining hall?’ Grayson asked.

‘Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need help.’

I’ll go too, love, Jarrod said directly to her mind. It’ll give you some time with that box by yourself. He bent to kiss her. ‘I want a look though, when you get to the treasures.’

She laughed. ‘It’s probably another linen press or a box of very old wine.’

‘Probably.’ Jarrod followed Grayson out the door.

Rosette waited until their footsteps faded before turning back to the chest. ‘Now, my beauty,’ she said, her finger tracing the outline of the symbols. ‘It’s just you and me. Show me what you’ve been protecting all these years.’

She closed her eyes and held the lock lightly. There was a distinct whirl and it swept her into a memory from years ago when she’d entered the gates of Temple Los Loma on Earth for the first time. She’d been technically dead—out of her body and very confused. But she remembered that energy, the spell on the place. It was Luka Paree’s and Janis Richter’s magic, and so was this.

She spun in the whirlwind of the spell, her hair whipping and arms flaying. She allowed it to feel who she was. ‘You know me,’ she said above the wind. ‘You do!’ Her voice was swept away.

Maudi! Danger?

It’s all right, Drayco. I’m opening the lock…or it’s opening me. I’m not sure which.

Do you need help?

I’m fine, sweetheart. It just wants to know who I am. Rosette felt a tingling as if she was being lightly touched, everywhere, all at once. ‘I am the same blood,’ she said to the spell. ‘Hear me. See me. I am kin.’ She repeated the words until the wind died down.

Her hair fell back to her sides; her earrings no longer chimed. She caught her breath and willed her heart rate to slow down. In her hands lay the open lock. The chain came away and she coiled it like a snake on the floor. ‘Thank you, my treasure. I shall have a peek.’ She got to her feet and opened the lid. The hinges creaked and the scent of amber and cherry blossoms brushed her face.

Anything useful? Drayco asked. He’d not wandered far from her mind even though he’d already led Gratch to the mountain’s snowline.

Rosette exhaled. Looks like more linen, she said as she sifted through the contents. The top layer was sheets and pillowcases, towels and tablecloths, all muslin and very soft. She took them out and looked deeper. And clothes.

Will they fit? Drayco asked.

She took out a pair of leggings and shook them. I actually think they might. The material was odd—a light canvas, the colour stonewashed blue. Strange. There were tops, and a jacket with a hood lined with fur. She smelled it. Not fur, but it was made to look so. Chills washed down her spine. ‘Whose clothes were these?’ she whispered.

Next she found lace-up boots with heels higher than the soles, packets of tea (still fresh) and a sealed box of green sticks. Some kind of glue? There was a string of brightly coloured beads and a bag with a zipper (she’d seen this kind of construction on Earth). Inside it were artist pencils and pens like Grayson used. She took each item out and examined it before setting it aside. More things lay beneath—scented candles (yellow and smelling of honey), a leather belt and a pair of black woollen socks. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she got to the bottom of the chest. There were two items left: a roll of satin containing a pendant on a gold chain, and a leather-bound book.

The pendant was beautiful, a crystal-like dark blue spiral. It reminded her of the inside of the conch shells that washed up on the shores of Lister Bay. She held it up to the light. It was the colour of raven feathers; not black but shades of blue and iridescent green. At just the right angle it appeared to have a rainbow trapped inside. ‘Kreshkali will want to take a look at this. And Jarrod.’ She laid it down on top of the muslin cloth. ‘And what have we here?’ The last item in the chest—the book—looked decidedly like a grimoire.

It was bound with dark leather, the corners tooled with astrological symbols—the signs of the zodiac and the planets. These, unlike the ones on the trunk, were immediately recognisable. The pages were gilded in gold. Her fingers itched. Would it be protected by a spell too?

A grimoire was a witch’s diary. It usually contained astrological charts and data, transits—maps of the past, present and future—and basic delineations, exploratory ideas and notes (especially if the grimoire belonged to a high priestess). There were often lists of entities and methods of spell casting, charms, enchantments, summonings and banishments. It could be filled with local herb lore, ancient poetry, alchemy, the mixing of medicaments and the making of talismans. If the witch had a familiar there might be personal notes about her relationship with it. The grimoire was sacred—untouchable by others during the witch’s life and often interred with the body or destroyed at death. This book had been neither burned nor buried. Judging by the age of the chest, the owner had to be long gone.

Maudi?

It’s a grimoire, Drayco…I think.

Will you open it?

She stared at the bottom of the chest. I shall. Rosette reached for the book. ‘Come share your secrets with me?’

The book was light in her hand, the leather binding soft. She brought the lantern closer and opened the first page. It read:

Ruby Richter

Treeon Temple

Summer Solstice Initiation

‘Ruby Richter?’ she whispered. ‘Janis’ daughter?’ Drayco, these things belonged to my ancestor.

Then they are yours now.

Ruby was her great-great-grandmother and then some, from many generations back. When no spell bit her hand she turned the page and read on.

My father began it all—he and his noble ideas about bringing back the Grey Wolf. So many species had died, it was understandable. There were growing concerns about humanity’s survival as well. I’m sure that’s why he, Dr Luka Paree, got the funding. That and a little help from Janis. My mother was involved, more than she ever told me. I see it now.

I also see why Luka chose the Grey Wolf DNA for his experiments. They were recently extinct and the cryo-zoo was well stocked with samples. Surrogates weren’t a problem—plenty of dogs still left on Earth—and then there was the other reason…the one never discussed. Wolf DNA was a close match to human, though in the beginning, even Luka didn’t realise how closely paired they would become…or where it would lead.

Hours later, all but one lantern had winked out. Rosette was hunched in a corner, reading by the stub of a beeswax candle. Drayco dozed on the pile of rugs, his breathing slow and hypnotic in the dark. She placed the leather bookmark between the pages and stretched. Her stomach growled.

You missed dinner, Maudi. Shall we have an early breakfast? Drayco yawned as he sent her the message.

‘What time is it?’

Dawn.

‘Are the chefs up yet?’

Must be. I smell bread rising, corn cakes and forest berries. No meat.

‘You have a very good nose.’ She wrapped the grimoire in a cloth. ‘What about Jarrod? Is he up?’

He comes.

Rosette looked to the door as Jarrod walked in.

‘Good read?’ he asked.

She wrapped her arms around him, keeping hold of the book. ‘It’s Ruby Richter’s grimoire. She put her life down in these pages.’

‘Janis’ daughter?’

‘Did you know her?’

He shook his head. ‘She was born after I came to Gaela. I knew her father though.’

‘Did you know about the Lupins? The engineering? The crossing?’

‘Not much of that got into my data files. I remember when the first litters were born but I was elsewhere when they were moved to Gaela.’

‘It’s all here.’ She held the book in both hands. ‘Ruby was elderly when she finished this grimoire. She came back to Gaela in the end. It sounds like there was much trouble on Earth, and trouble here with the Lupins and the temple wars. Why didn’t you know her? You were here on Gaela too.’

‘That’s a bit of a story in itself.’

‘What do you mean? Where were you?’

He hesitated. ‘Timbali, more or less.’ His eyes shot past her to the spiral pendant.

She handed it to him. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

Jarrod held it to the light. ‘How did you end up here?’ he whispered. His face softened for a moment before he turned to Rosette. ‘I never thought I’d see it again.’

‘Maybe Ruby explains that too, but it can wait. Breakfast can’t. I’m starved and I want to see Grayson and Maluka off, and Gratch of course.’

Drayco got up and stretched.

Jarrod bent down and kissed her lips. ‘Tonight then. We’ll read her grimoire together.’

‘You can provide the missing chapters.’

‘Between me and Ruby, I think you’ll have the whole story.’

‘Perfect.’ She took his hand and led him out the door.

EARTH

21ST CENTURY

CHAPTER 1

Luka reached into the cryogenic vat, white smoke pouring over the side like a waterfall. ‘Knife, please.’

‘Short or long?’ his assistant asked.

‘It’s a slide case, Sal, not a neural pathway.’

‘Short then?’

‘Please.’

She slapped the handle into his open palm.

He cut the straps and retrieved the vacuum-sealed box. It was heavy, lined with tungsten, and more than ice cold. These samples had been in the cryo-zoo for the last fifty years; a –150 degree Celsius storage tank—the final resting place for hundreds of extinct species. He strained to lift the box out. He wasn’t fit for this.

Unfit for which? he wondered. The lifting or the pressure? He’d gotten his grant to run the Species Retrieval Program—a dream of a lifetime. Now he had to deliver. It felt like the funding board was glaring at him from above, drumming their fingers, checking their watches.

He straightened his back. Luka Paree was a tall man with dark hair and darker eyes. Some said his thoughts were dark as well—he preferred ‘contemplative’. Smart and handsome, for a scientist, they said, but he didn’t care about that. His focus, his primary intention, was on the Species Retrieval Program. He wanted it to succeed. The future of the planet depended on it.

‘Switch to UV, Sal.’

The lights flickered, turning the room blue-white, like the inside of a glacier and about as warm. He placed the cryo container on the wet bench, scanning the date and code. It was the box of Grey Wolf DNA—the last one. His hands shook as he sliced the transparent freeze-wrap. It was like thin skin. He peeled it back and it melted into an aqueous jell. Frost bit through his latex gloves. He wanted to blow into his hands, rub them together, but that would contaminate the sterile field. He took out the first slide and held it to the light. ‘Alpha female 34? That can’t have been what they called you.’ He rubbed his thumb over the crystals and saw where her name had been scratched into the glass. ‘Celia.’ He closed his eyes, a line from a sixteenth-century play coming to mind.

Thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. ‘I’m guessing you were no cur,’ he said aloud.

‘What’s that, Doctor?’

He ignored the question. ‘Beautiful Celia…if Mother Earth be willing, I will bring you back.’

Mother Earth was willing, but she had a price.

Two years later…

‘What are the odds this time, Dr Paree?’ Sal asked.

His face flushed in spite of the low temperature in the lab. He tried not to think of the repeated failures but there they were, parading across his mind. ‘Very good odds,’ he lied to her, to himself.

She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, indicating the ASSIST administration level—the Allied States Stanford Institute of Science and Technology granting body had offices twenty storeys up. ‘Pressure from above?’

‘You could say that.’

Our decision is final. The words from the funding director echoed in his head. He couldn’t avoid them. This is your last chance unless you show us something new. Luka didn’t have anything fresh to add to his next application. Everything he thought of was innovative but none of the tests showed promise.

‘Maybe we’ll get lucky.’ Sal shrugged and went back to her work.

‘Maybe.’

Luka needed more than luck. His superior, Declan Black, head of R&D, had called him that morning. The man’s voice had been soft, like cottonwool over a knife tip. Luka knew what was underneath that tone in the same way he knew there was blood under skin. Dr Black had questioned him, in that soft voice, asking why there were no results to show for the millions of dollars spent.

‘Black’s threatening to terminate the program,’ Luka said, surprised at how calmly the words came out. The project was hanging out the top floor window by its heels, it was slipping through his hands, but he talked as if it were nothing more consequential than today’s specials board at the cafeteria.

‘It’s Black’s own fault if he feels the pinch,’ Sal said.

His assistant had no sense of propriety, but she was right. As department head, Black had promised results to the funding board—results that Luka had not produced. Yet. Luka had reminded him there were never any guarantees, which did nothing to smooth the situation. Dr Black’s threats had come through the com system like a poisonous gas. Luka had coughed, reasoned and appeased. When that hadn’t helped, he’d cleared his throat and begged.

‘It has to work,’ Luka said again under his breath.

‘Or we’re out of a job?’ Sal didn’t look up.

The prospect of unemployment didn’t appear to worry her. She would have no trouble finding work in a different department. For him, it would mean demotion and—worse—the end of a dream.

‘If it doesn’t work, we’re out of more than a job.’ He switched on his microscope and adjusted the stage. ‘Last chance, Celia,’ he whispered. ‘If you have any suggestions, I’m open. I’m listening.’

‘Need me this afternoon?’ Sal asked. She was already shrugging out of her lab coat.

‘How many surrogate eggs are ready?’

She tried to stifle a groan and pulled her coat back on. ‘Thirteen.’

‘Lucky thirteen, is it? Prepare the cultures, please, before you go.’ He returned to his work, not listening to her reply. The voice of Declan Black rang in his head. Last chance, Paree, or we’re putting you on the dins.

The dinoflagellates—the project developed to counteract the blue-green algae blooms that were sucking oxygen out of the sea. Luka was opposed to it and cited many instances where introducing new species, let alone genetically altered and adaptive species, into the ecosystem had deleterious results—unpredictable results! He shook his head. It occurred to him he was doing the same with the wolves. But they belonged here once and if this works it will be our template. If I bring the Grey Wolf back, other species will follow—even humans, if it becomes necessary.

That had been his edge for the most recent funding application. They would need a blueprint for bringing humankind back from the brink and he planned on providing it.

‘Last chance,’ he said again, like a chant, a prayer.

It wasn’t for lack of viable DNA the project had failed. He had all the samples he could ever want, thanks to the cryogenic-zoo established at the turn of the last century. There were abundant canine eggs as well—dogs were not endangered, though the way the slummers were trapping and eating them he didn’t know how long that would last. For now there were plenty of dog ova and Luka had perfected the technique of removing the chromosomes and replacing them with the DNA from his samples of Canis lupus—with ‘Celia’, the last Grey Wolf.

He could engineer the embryos easily enough and transplant them into the surrogate mothers. Getting that far was not the problem. But they didn’t take. Of the hundreds attempted only seven viable pregnancies had occurred. Of those seven, none carried to term. No live births.

What am I doing wrong?

He had been asking this question more and more frequently and although he spent most waking hours looking for answers in the lab, he was beginning to think he needed a wider perspective. Luka handed Sal a box of slides. ‘Catalogue these, will you? I’ll start fresh in the morning.’ He switched off his microscope. ‘Mind those go back in before they thaw.’

‘Embryos only?’ she asked.

He frowned. ‘Not this time.’

‘Something else in mind?’

‘Maybe. I need to think on it. See you tomorrow.’

Luka left, not catching her response. It might have been another question or perhaps a simple nod. He didn’t speculate. His mind was already elsewhere; the desire for fresh air and a broader view preoccupied him. He clipped down the hall, heading for the kennel. The girls could do with a run, though I doubt the air will be fresh. It hadn’t been so in decades. The term no longer applied in a literal sense but people used it anyway—a force of habit. Now it simply meant outside air—nothing to do with breathability.

Muffled barks met him at the door. How did they know? His scent was locked out by the vacuum seal, but the dogs could always tell when he was coming. Luka smiled, running his palm over the scanner and releasing the latch. ‘Who wants to get out of here?’ he asked.

Three dogs—all female Siberian husky and Alsatian crosses—jumped against the chain-link mesh. They sang a chorus of wild yips and barks. It was the sound of joy, and also anxiety, hope and enthusiasm—joy because it was him, anxiety because of their caged lives, hope because he had come, and enthusiasm because they knew everything was about to change. They never failed to anticipate an outing, sometimes before Luka even thought of it. Was it telepathy? Precognition? He wasn’t sure. He opened their runs and they rushed out, a stream of fur and tails and paws. They sat in front of him, spring-loaded, bottoms not quite on the ground, ears pricked.

‘I take it all of you do?’

Glass-breaking barks answered him.

He motioned for silence while he got their leashes and buckled on the collars. Instantly they were on all fours, straining towards the door. He pulled them back, made them sit again.

‘Listen, darlings,’ he said.

Their eyes locked onto his. Whines escaped their lips.

‘Remember the drill? Be sedate. Contained. Not a peep. We will stride past the security posts without raising a brow.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We don’t have authorisation for this little outing. No signed papers. Get it?’

How much of his words the dogs understood he didn’t know, but they obliged, walking in front of him, leashes firm but not strained. They ignored the security guards when Luka scanned out, keeping their heads high, eyes focused on the door to the outside world—the gateway to freedom. Ten more steps. Keep it together.

‘Out for a walk?’ the security officer queried.

‘And some fresh air,’ Luka said.

‘No masks needed this afternoon. Lucky.’

When did we start thinking it was luck that controlled the smog levels? ‘Very lucky,’ Luka agreed.

The guard waved them through.

The dogs remained calm as they navigated the underground parking lot. They headed as one for the spiral stairs that led to the lower levels. They spotted Luka’s restored Jeep parked amongst hundreds of modern vehicles, an icon from the past in a sea of jellybean bubbles—red, yellow, blue, orange and green. No black or white. If cars were an extension of ego identity, it said a lot about the masses.

The girls led him straight to his black Jeep. When he opened the passenger door, they hopped in and took their places, two in the back, one in the front, eyes glued to the windscreen. Their legs trembled. A few whimpers escaped at the end of gaping yawns—camouflage for the roiling emotions contained inside them.

He didn’t tell his passengers where they were going. If he said the word beach, they would explode: fur, flesh and bone. They’d bound over the seats and howl out the windows and lick their chops, barking all the way to the dunes. He’d made that mistake once and didn’t care to repeat it. Let them think it might be a vet check. That was best. They’d smell the surf soon enough, even through the reek of decay.

It amazed him how much of his language these animals understood. If only they could tell him what he was doing wrong, what was missing in his attempts. Would they know? Could there be some kind of canine insight to save the project? He’d glimpsed strands of DNA in the wolf blood that suggested it might be so. It looked like a genetic history, a string of memories stretching back to the beginning of time. Was that possible? If it was, could he unravel it?

He shifted gears, reversing out of his park. The dogs’ eyes shone in the rear-vision mirror—brown-and-blue orbs set deep in black masks. They were sad eyes, the excitement only a temporary relief from a deeper despair. The world’s in trouble when dogs are no longer happy. The surrogates would be the first to go if the project was terminated. Could they sense that too?

The beach wasn’t far, a half hour’s drive south-west of the ASSIST complex if he skirted the city of Half Moon Bay. He avoided the CBD whenever possible. It was a wasteland of toppled high-rises, refuse, slums and slummers—people left to scrape a living off the streets. Bulldozers cleared the main arteries periodically. They shoved the makeshift dwellings into heaps, sometimes with people still in them. The slummers rebelled, but what good were clubs and tyre irons against laser rifles? Luka didn’t go that way, even when traffic reports gave the green light.

Instead he took the longer road to the coast, winding past desiccated hills, rusted cars, abandoned warehouses and cracked bomb shelters. What the brief skirmish between world powers started, the recent earthquakes had finished. Strange how ASSIST could grow so powerful in the aftermath of destruction.

Luka downshifted before merging into the bypass lane. There was little traffic this time of day. The driving permits were getting stricter, and few could afford a vehicle, jellybean or otherwise—few not employed by ASSIST anyway. The roads had been built for more prosperous times when the economy was stable and free enterprise flourished. They were built for democracy, or at least a semblance of it.

These days transport freighters and monorails moved the masses. It was good for Luka, and anyone else who had the privilege of private ownership; questionable for everyone else who did not. He couldn’t imagine being squashed into some of those people movers. How many muggings and murders occurred in transit? More than were ever reported, he was sure of that. He looked again in the rear-view mirror. Would he make a difference? Would his research help this world? Did his kind deserve to prevail?

Luka rolled down the windows when the dogs began to pant. A good long run would give them all a sense of release. Let freedom sing. Maybe somewhere among the dunes and pounding surf he would find inspiration. He tightened his grip on the wheel. It wasn’t materialising anywhere else.

Luka couldn’t keep repeating the steps he’d been taking—the ones that ended in failure. He had to try something new, something risky perhaps, something not yet thought of, if he were to discover the missing piece to his puzzle. He frowned, the glimmer of an idea crossing his mind. ‘Missing piece…like a missing link?’ He laughed. ‘What an interesting concept.’ He made a mental note to go through his library when he got home. There was a very old hardcover textbook, Le Sang du Loup-garou, tucked away in the back shelves. He’d passed it by, thinking it was too archaic, but maybe it did have something to offer.

When they hit the dirt road, leaving the twisted metal world behind, there was no question of them going to the vet’s. The dogs knew where they were headed—polluted outlets, decimated dunes and putrid swamps. In other words, pure golden fun. They burst into barks and yaps.

‘Nearly there,’ he said. The sound of his voice was drowned in dog songs.

Luka drove parallel to the headland, avoiding the potholes as the Jeep bounced along. Their destination was the old sandmining lot where huge trucks and machinery had parked decades ago. Rusted-out chassis and burnt tyres still lay about, half buried in silt. Amazingly, some foliage still survived. Small oaks and ironbarks stood among the deadwood just beyond the four metre high barbed-wire fence. As if the barricade itself wasn’t enough of a deterrent, there were signs placed every ten metres, red letters on black boards. Caution. Warning. No entry. Go back. Their official purpose was to prevent the public from coming into contact with the toxic outflows. Luka suspected it was more to provide ASSIST employees with their own private access to the coast—enter at your own risk, of course. Staff had to sign waivers but no one complained. It was the beach.

He ran his ID through the scanner. The boom lifted and he drove into the empty parking lot. The dogs spilled out like boxes from an overstuffed closet and took off towards the dunes, legs spinning, sand flying.

‘No water!’ he shouted. ‘No drains.’

They yipped their response and vanished, leaving a stampede of paw prints in the powdery silt.

‘And back by dark!’ He laughed aloud and followed them at a jog. He hoped to glimpse the sunset before the fog rolled in. The dogs raced flat out down the shore, careful not to touch the water. They knew. They’d been burned before.

They were brilliant beasts, his surrogates, handpicked by him when he first received funding for his project. He’d had high hopes then—to clone the last Grey Wolf and bring the species back from extinction. It had been a boyhood dream—the one that drove him through medical school, graduate degree, residency and eventually to his fortunate placement in the most innovative and sophisticated ASSIST complex in the Allied States. They were actually building quantum computers a few floors up—cutting-edge research.

Luka had achieved all he wanted, everything he dreamed of—the position, the staff, the funding. Everything but the results. His ambition to halt extinction, reversing it for any species (even humankind), had yet to be realised. This morning was the first time he had felt like giving up. Maybe it couldn’t be done.

The dogs disappeared over a dune. ‘Enjoy your run, my darlings.’

He didn’t want to think about what would happen to them if this project was shut down. The acquittal board would want to see tagged bodies in the morgue before incineration, not a box of dust afterwards. It would be hard to fake but he would find a way, if he could. He slowed to a walk and climbed the nearest dune, not wanting to miss the view.

‘Just in time.’

The tide was out, making the U-shaped bay look twice its size. Reefs were exposed and dead fish floated in the tidal pools. He pinched his nose until he realised the wind was blowing offshore. The waves washed in and out. The dark sand and mounds of rotting seaweed turned crimson as the sun dropped to the horizon. Luka’s body was bathed in red light.

‘In spite of it all, you’re still beautiful,’ he whispered to the world.

He watched the clouds take on the form of a giant open book, the sun setting in the gutter, illuminating the pages. The golden light hung there like a frozen moment of time, as if waiting for his mind to catch up—waiting for him to grasp the essence of what he saw. When the fog bank rose behind it, it took the shape of a wolf running across the horizon, a wolf running for its life. There was a message there—some significance—but he couldn’t grasp it. Instead he simply watched the sun go down.

CHAPTER 2

Janis sat at the picnic table sipping ginger and chamomile tea—ginger to settle her stomach and chamomile to calm her nerves. She pushed her short dark hair off her face with delicate hands, but the wind blew it straight back. Being a Virgo was double edged and it cut both ways today. One moment she focused on the angle of light filtering through the jacarandas, their fragrant blossoms turning the path into a lavender carpet. The next moment she considered how fifty billion quibits could line the ‘pi stack’ of a DNA molecule, facilitating quantum entanglements at a sub-cellular level.

There has to be a method to embed my nano-devices. The thought floated around in her head before it popped like a bubble. What am I not seeing? In the midst of her reflections, the back door slammed.

‘Mum?’

‘Out here, Loni.’

‘He did it again!’ Her daughter came down the path and the velvet blossoms were crushed beneath bare feet. They released their bouquet, light and sweet, without complaint.

‘Damien?’ Janis asked.

Loni pulled out a chair, startling the cat from its nap. She shooed it aside. ‘He’s narcissistic, self-serving, officious…’ She plopped down, her long legs stretching out under the table. Layloni was a tall girl, longer limbed than her mother. Bigger boned. She took after her father, right down to her freckled nose and ginger-tinted hair. Loni’s features were a constant reminder of him although Janis hadn’t seen the man since his daughter was born.

Janis smiled. ‘He’s an Aries, Loni. What’s the problem?’

‘He’s the problem!’

‘Or is there simply a difference in your orientations?’

Layloni crossed her arms. ‘What do you mean?’

‘As a Libra, you see the world from another perspective. You interpret through…’

‘Relationships, I know.’ Layloni slumped deeper into the chair. She trained her eyes on the table, focusing until it started to smoke. The cat arched and hissed at her.

‘Don’t bore holes, dear,’ Janis said, touching her arm lightly. ‘That’s the only wooden table we have left.’

Loni closed her eyes and the smoke floated away on the breeze.

Janis swept the cinders on to the ground. Her daughter’s talents in witchcraft were wild and unpredictable, like her moods.

‘You can help, Mum.’

‘Not the love spell again. We’ve talked about this…’

‘He just needs a little nudge.’

Janis covered her mouth. ‘Off a cliff, perhaps.’

Loni’s green eyes filled with tears. ‘Please, Mum. I know you can do it.’

‘Loni, whether I can do it or not isn’t the point. I’ve no interest in tampering with other people’s realities, particularly his.’

‘Why not?’

Janis poured her daughter a cup of tea. ‘Please tell me they’ve discussed the chaos theory in your physics class? The butterfly effect?’

‘Yes.’ Loni said the word as if it weighed heavily. ‘It’s the sensitive dependence on initial conditions aspect of the chaos theory. Effectively, a butterfly flits its wings somewhere inane like Oklahoma and it causes an avalanche in…I don’t know…Timbuktu.’

‘So you understand the concept.’

‘Of course. But this is just a little thing. A nudge in my direction is all I ask.’

‘And butterflies are huge?’

‘Please, Mum?’

Janis removed her glasses and polished them with her shirttail. When she’d put them back on, she took Loni’s hand. ‘Why not focus on what you enjoy about him and stop putting so much energy into the gripes? The negative attention is making matters worse.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Stop thinking about why he upsets you and find something to appreciate.’

‘Like what?’

‘Whatever captivates you. Whatever makes you smile when you think of him.’

Loni lifted her face. ‘His body. It’s good. Strong, athletic, expressive.’

‘That’s a start. Anything else?’

‘I like his dark complexion—long hair, dark eyes like yours.’ She smiled at her mother.

‘Is this attraction only skin deep?’

‘There’re other things…’

Janis waited. ‘Such as?’

‘He’s always got a solution. You know? A way to fix things when others are stuck.’

‘Good.’

‘And he’s not afraid of eye contact. That’s the best. He listens with his eyes focused on my face, not my boobs.’

Janis laughed. ‘Great. Make a list.’

Loni frowned. ‘This will help?’

‘I think so. Yes.’

The tabby cat jumped on the table and pressed his head into Janis’ shoulder. She scratched his chin before scooping him into her lap. ‘Coming for a ride with me?’ she asked her daughter. ‘Corsair needs a workout.’

‘Ugh.’

‘He’s beautiful to ride! Such a smooth gait.’

‘Smooth if he doesn’t buck you out of the saddle. Seriously, Mum, what’s with that horse?’

‘He needs a little more work…’

‘You’ve been saying that for three years.’ She laughed. ‘If I ride him, will you help with Damien?’

‘I’ll help you get to the core of your intention.’

‘A spell!’

‘You can call it that, if it makes you happy.’

‘It does.’ Layloni kissed her mother’s cheek and dashed towards the house. ‘I’ll get my boots.’ A few moments later she popped her head around the doorframe. ‘You mind riding alone, Mum? Damien rang. He’s coming over with homework.’

Janis smiled. ‘Working already…you start dinner though.’

Her only answer was the sound of the screen door slamming.

Janis held the horses back. She was riding her mare, Ebony, and leading the three-year-old colt, Corsair. They were both itching for a run, the younger horse pulling ahead, but she had to clear the rocky coves before they could have their gallop. They picked their way around stagnant pools, careful to keep out of the surf. After a few more bends the bay opened out into a long sandy stretch. She eased up on the reins and clicked her tongue.

The horses took off, hooves pounding the hard-packed sand. Their stride lengthened as they thundered along. Janis leaned forward in the saddle, the speed exhilarating. She let the reins glide over the mare’s crested neck and kept a grip on Corsair’s lead with her other hand. The colt charged ahead in spite of the pace. ‘No more oats for you, big boy,’ she said, tugging him back. The wind whisked her words away.

She should have been riding the younger animal. Should? Where did that word come from? In her training as a witch, there was no should. Still, Corsair would have been easier to control if she’d been on him—in theory. She laughed. For all her skill and experience, he was barely manageable. She’d never been thrown so many times from a horse with such an otherwise sweet disposition. His unruliness baffled her. He was a free spirit, through and through. ‘Easy now. We still have the dunes to cross. You’ll run yourself out.’

Janis settled the mare into a trot and gave a few quick tugs on Corsair’s halter rope, veering away from the water as the tide swept in. After half an hour of ploughing up and down the deep sandhills, she eased them both to a jog, turned around and headed home.

‘Magnificent!’ She patted the mare’s neck and then Corsair’s. ‘Just look at the view.’

In the fading light, the dunes sat like giant mounds of brown sugar. The sea had turned indigo shot through with gold, crimson and rose. The colours merged at the horizon, clouds and water mirror images of each other. The wind shifted offshore, blowing away the foetid odours. What a relief.

The seas stank, mostly from the chronic algal blooms. Plankton was choking the ecosystem—a blanket of death, they called it. If the oceans died, all life on Earth would follow. She didn’t want to dwell on that thought. ASSIST had a few ideas on how to correct the problem and rumours were flying around like blind bats. The dinoflagellate project was tagged top priority. It could save the planet, so they said. Janis had her reservations. She didn’t want to think about those either. Instead, she focused on the horizon. Global pollution was hell on the environment but it did make for spectacular sunsets—a welcome contrast to the sterile laboratories of ASSIST where she spent much of her time. As she watched, the evening fog gathered over the sea.

She kept the mare on the firm wet sand, forcing Corsair to trot through the loose depths that bordered the kelp wrack. Finally he stopped pulling ahead and jogged along steadily, his nose parallel with her right knee, where it belonged. She eased them down to a walk.

‘We’ll make a gentleman of you yet, Corsair.’

Her mare picked a path around the boulders that jutted out of the sand. It was a sweeping horseshoe bay but the dunes were eroded and landslides often blocked the way, forcing them closer to the water. Fortunately the tide was still low. Horsehide, as tough as it was, couldn’t tolerate sea water for very long; it ulcerated the skin. No wonder so many fish were dying; it was like living in an acid bath. With that thought the sun dissolved and the fog rolled in. Soon the coast was a thick grey blanket, like the inside of a cloud.

Janis shivered. ‘What was that?’ She turned to catch a movement behind. The horses’ heads went up and she shortened her reins. A dark streak dashed in front of them. The mare spooked, every muscle taut, feet planted after she leapt to the side. Corsair reared and his front hooves missed her shoulder by a fraction as they pawed the air. The mare sidestepped towards the shore, her neck arched, nostrils flaring.

‘Steady now, my beauties,’ Janis said. She managed to keep them out of the surf. ‘I don’t know what that was, but there’s nothing to be afraid of.’ She hoped she was right. Whatever belonged to that shadow was large and fast. ASSIST had put up warnings about feral dogs in the area. Could it be one? She twisted around in the saddle and glimpsed it again—a flash of movement disappearing behind the dunes.

Corsair lunged, this time pulling the lead through her hand. The rope burned across her palm and she let go. The colt bolted down the beach. Ebony pranced on the spot, her hindquarters bunched, desperate to follow. Janis held her back, trying to identify the shadow, but it was gone.

When she eased up on the reins the mare took off after Corsair. He’d disappeared into the mist. ‘At least you’re headed in the right direction.’ She cringed at the thought of what might happen if he got onto the main road. The dunes were fenced, but there were gaps where the erosion had cut through. Corsair might take a short cut, looking for the fastest way home. There were also toxic drains to avoid. The outflow followed cracks and ravines made by recent earthquakes. The bogs weren’t always easy to spot and the tremors had pushed giant slabs of granite up from the sand, making jags and bends in the once gentle coast.

‘This is no place for a loose horse.’

Janis rounded a bend and pulled her mare to a walk. Up ahead, barely discernible in the failing light, she spotted Corsair, his black coat a contrast to his four white socks. She squinted. Someone was leading him.

The horses nickered to each other, the greeting amplified by the still air. She halted and dried her glasses on her shirttail. When she slipped them back on she tried to identify the man with Corsair. He came into focus as they approached but she didn’t recognise him. He was middle-aged, tall, fit. Attractive, she noticed without really thinking about it. He had a confident stride and Corsair followed quietly. She willed her face not to redden. How could she have let the colt get loose?

The man stopped in front of her. ‘This is your horse, I’m guessing.’ His features lifted when he smiled. It was a genuine look. Not condescending, not judging. Nice.

She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. ‘We had a fright and he took off. I can’t believe you caught him.’

He handed her the lead. ‘It was no problem. He’s a lamb.’

‘Not always.’

He winked. ‘I have a way with animals.’

She looked at Corsair. His eyes were placid, one hind leg cocked. Droplets of water beaded each strand of his forelock. He blinked his long lashes and rubbed his face on her thigh. ‘I can see that,’ she said. She stretched out her hand. ‘I’m Janis Richter.’ She nodded to her mount. ‘This is Ebony, and the colt’s called Corsair. Thanks for returning him.’

He took her hand. ‘Dr Janis Richter?’ His grip was warm, strong.

She nodded.

‘What a pleasure to meet you.’ He still had her hand. ‘The techno-witch herself.’

‘And you are?’

‘Luka Paree. We’ve passed in the halls.’

Her eyebrows knitted. ‘What floor?’

He looked over his shoulder but didn’t reply.

‘Is it a secret?’ she asked.

‘Not at all.’

Janis waited.

‘Ninth floor—special projects.’

She whistled. ‘Species retrieval?’

‘I’m working with canine DNA,’ he said.

‘Why? Dogs are the one thing we still have plenty of.’

He took a deep breath. ‘It’s a template for…’

Her face lit up. ‘Grey Wolves? I heard about the grant. Excellent!’

‘Thanks. It is excellent, but don’t get too excited. I’m on my last leg of funding—one more extension at most. Seems they want to see results or they’re shutting it down.’

She pulled Corsair back when he started to wander. ‘That’s a pressure cooker.’

He looked away for a moment. ‘I’ve got a few ideas left.’

She wanted to say good luck but it felt empty so she said nothing at all.

‘You’re working with quantum computers, aren’t you?’ Luka asked.

‘I’m developing a new approach to technology—devices at the nano-level. It’s promising, so far.’

‘Nano-level devices?’

‘Tiny.’ She held her thumb and forefinger a