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  A Touch of Mayhem

  A Magic, New Mexico Novel

  GERI FOSTER

  Thank You

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for buying my book, A Touch of Mayhem. I know that vendors are filled with many authors and books and the choices are limitless. I’m flattered that you chose my book.

  If you’d like to learn when I publish new books, please sign up for my newsletter. Again, I appreciate your interest and I hope you enjoy Altair and Penelope’s story.

  Sincerely,

  Geri Foster

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  Chapter One

  Planet Maxuasa

  ltair leaned heavily against his starship, ten feet away from the man he was determined to bring to justice. His chest heaved as he fought to breathe the thin air on planet Maxuasa. Gavrie, on the other hand, was born of the three-mooned world and had no difficulty in his native environment. Altair’s head spun and his vision blurred.

  Looking down at his Walstader 51-D, Altair knew the power source was too low to fire off another round. Damn, he hated when that happened. The uniform he wore would protect him to a certain degree, but not in the case of a direct blast from the creature’s weapon.

  Should Gavrie realize he was practically harmless, except for his SAM knife, and decide to come after him with his Wiper, Altair would be dead in a matter of seconds. Somehow he had to draw him into the open before time ran out.

  “Give up, Gavrie,” he shouted between wheezes. “King Layas won’t stop until you’re captured and punished for murdering hundreds of people on his planet.”

  “Get off my planet, Altair. I am not going anywhere with you or anyone else.” Gavrie’s voice sounded strong and determined. Sure, he needed little air and his small lungs were full of lifesaving oxygen. Altair lowered his head, brushed the dampness from his brow and fought for his next breath. Scrubbing his palm down the leg of his uniform, he gritted his teeth. He had to find a way to either bring Gavrie in, or kill him and be done with it.

  “You’re not the first Vion warrior the old king has sent me. They have all failed.”

  “I always get the job done.” He swiped the sweat from his eyes. “Your friends are dead and you don’t have long to live.”

  “Not in this atmosphere,” Gavrie shouted. “By now your lungs must be on fire. I can easily stay where I am and let the atmosphere kill you. I will not have to lift a finger.”

  “Don’t worry about me, you lizard looking bastard. Spend what time you have left making peace with your creator.”

  Gavrie laughed like a damned jackal. “There is no peace for me. I am a condemned man.”

  “Then give up and let’s get this over with.”

  “So you can kill me?”

  “I told you, my job is to return you alive.”

  “So I can die at King Laya’s hands? I do not think so.”

  Using his starship as a shield, Altair slid down to sit on the hard, deserted surface of the planet. Looking its vastness, Altair rested his arm on his raised knee and lowered his head. There had to be a way out. He had known that capturing Gavrie and his gang would be tough, but he hadn’t expected the mission to go so awry.

  From the beginning, the operation stunk like a burnt Macnica. While those were his favorite trees, when set on fire they could stink up a house and empty the rooms in seconds.

  The King had demanded that Altair find Gavrie and his gang of murderers and return them to Planet F-Star-6. According to witnesses, Gavrie and his men had landed their stolen aircraft then quickly went about terrorizing an out cropping of villages.

  By the time word had traveled to his planet, Vion, and its forces dispatched, many native people under the king’s protection had been slaughtered, their homes looted and burned to the ground. Their children missing.

  At the time of the massacre, Altair was in another solar system cleaning up a mess made by several Briceling rebels who refused to accept their planet’s legally appointed leader. After quickly bringing them under control, his squadron returned to home base. That’s when he learned that several troopers before him had failed to arrest the Maxuasans.

  Altair had been specifically bred to be a warrior while most Vions were born naturally between a man and women at a prearranged time. However, those bred to produce warriors were the exception.

  Every year, embryos were genetically created from warriors and powerful women. After fertilization, the embryos were grown in petri dishes. At birth, they were given to the military and trained to serve and protect. He was the product of such a genetically created process.

  Naturally born Vions never fought.

  Looking out over the vast barren landscape, Altair realized that Gavrie had proven to be much craftier than he’d first imagined. But, as one who took failure personally, Altair didn’t intend to leave this planet with Gavrie and his cohorts a free men.

  Besides, the king expected no less from his high commander.

  That damn Maxuasan must’ve sensed he was out of both breath and ammunition, for he emerged from behind the stone ruins and showed himself for the first time. “You need to surrender, my friend,” he said arrogantly.

  “We stopped being friends the minute you landed on F-Star-6 and hurt King Layas’s people. I can’t let anyone get away with that. Not even a man who once called himself friend.” Altair struggled to his feet, unwilling to have to look up at the man he once shared too many glasses of smire with. “This ends here.”

  “You’re out of everything. There is so little oxygen in your lungs that your head must be killing you.” Gavrie’s scaly lips split into a mocking grin and his split tongue flickered out several times. “You can barely see.”

  Gavrie spoke the truth. It had taken all his strength to stand and face him bravely. Still, his knees wobbled and his hands shook as his body began shutting down. The Walstader 51-D strapped to his right arm was useless and heavy.

  “You worry too much about me and too little about yourself,” Altair reminded him. “I’m not out of the game yet.”

  Gavrie chuckled. “I’m going to enjoy killing you almost as much as I did Ifor.”

  Altair flinched as pain stabbed a dagger deep into his chest. Ifor had been as much of a father to him as any soldier could ever dream. More like a man who really cared about him. His death would not go unpunished.

  As Gavrie drew closer, Altair released his grip on the useless weapon. The once powerful Blaster fell to the dusty ground with a dull thud. The weight from his empty Law Enforcer gone, he felt and better able to move around.

  “Where are the children?” Altair asked.

  “I sold them to the Sinsurburs.” Gavrie grinned, showing his sharp, pointed teeth. He was in a good mood today. Then again, killing always gave him pleasure. “They don’t pay much for slaves, but they do have the most beautiful woman in the Star Zone.”

  Anger forced Altair to stagger backward until his hand rested on the warm metal fuselage of his starship. Outraged, Altair growled, “You sold those children into slavery... for sex?”

  Gavrie’s grin turned cocky. “All the sex I wanted, with anyone I wanted.”

  In a warped kind of way, Altair could believe Gavrie was that de
sperate for females. After all, most species refused to lay with a lizard skinned Zontka.

  “Those you kidnapped will suffer all their lives,” Altair said. “They’ll be worked to death.”

  “Too bad.” Gavrie shrugged and held up his arms. “I do what I have to do.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t so ugly, you wouldn’t have to pay such a high price for sex.”

  Scowling, Gavrie raised his gun and pointed it directly at Altair. While self-sacrifice had been hammered into his head since he learned to talk, he usually had enough tricks up his sleeve to where he never actually considered his own death. Could this be the day?

  The hard steel of his Sam knife pressed against his palm. He rarely missed at this range. As Gavrie approached, Altair’s arm came up, and he whipped the knife forward with the speed and accuracy of an expert.

  The long blade struck his enemy with enough force to knock him off his feet when it sliced into his shoulder. Not enough to kill him, but the blow was sufficient to make him drop his weapon.

  With Gavrie on the ground, Altair sprayed him with Mustala. The aerosol drug would make him sleep until they arrived back on Vion. Then the outlaw would pay for his crimes and this mess would be over.

  Chapter Two

  Magic, New Mexico

  enelope Stubblefield, known to most as Mystic Star, set up her table and carefully spread out the silk cloth over its top. Enough material draped softly down the front to conceal her jeans clad legs. After adjusting her chair and opening the blinds, she flipped the sign on the glass door from closed to open.

  Tourists would be coming soon and she wanted to make sure everything was ready for the day’s business. Even before she entered, Penelope sensed Topper was close by. “Tell my fortune,” the eccentric older woman demanded. For no apparent reason, Topper’s purple eyes always made Penelope stare. Perhaps she imagined there was more behind that gaze than just that unusual color. She and Topper could both read minds, but neither could read the other’s. Penelope found that strange, to say the least.

  But, like most things in Magic, the word strange described most of the residents. Topper was also a very powerful witch who loved to play pranks and was known lovingly as the resident matchmaker.

  “You know I can’t read you.”

  “I know you read minds.” Topper leaned forward and closed her eyes. “What am I thinking?”

  Penelope hid a grin. “That you have to pee.”

  Topper’s eyes blinked open and she straightened. Shooting her a stern look, the eccentric woman said. “Why did you say that? I was thinking about the sheriff, Theo, and those mischief-making Twins, Joseph and Jonah.”

  The sheriff and the Twins were on most minds in town for various reasons. Personally, Penelope loved them. They’d been very kind in her hour of need.

  Huffing out a stream of smoke, Topper, flipped her bright red hair then abruptly turned and stalked off into the distance. She watched as Topper disappeared into the crowd.

  Magic attracted those considered strange and unusual. They’d came to hide from reporters, scientists, and nosey people. In her case, Penelope actually was hiding from a regular human. Well, maybe not so human.

  She’d been placed in Magic as part of the Witness Protection Plan. She was due to testify at the trial of one of the heads of a major drug cartel. She’d witnessed him murder a woman and her young child. Penelope’s only hope of staying alive was to blend in with those around her.

  What better place for a mind reader than Magic?

  She allowed the cool satiny smoothness of her purple robe to glide over her tee shirt and jeans. Twisting her blond hair up tightly, Penelope slipped on her long black wig and adjusted it neatly on her head, her robe’s billowy sleeves swept gracefully across the table as she sat.

  Mystic Star, the psychic and palm reader, was now ready for business. The tourist season was in full swing, which meant she would be telling fortunes for at least ten hours a day. She loved what she did, but not being completely honest with people upset her and often filled her with guilt.

  Didn’t they realize no one could foretell what was going to happen? The Fates took care of that and they didn’t share with outsiders. Penelope could simply read minds. That, in fact, was nothing spectacular for her family tree. Her entire bloodline could do that, a fact that rarely allowed her or her siblings to get away with much their parents didn’t know about.

  Luckily, they resided in Sedona and they visited her often.

  She’d grown up the youngest in a very large, loud, and happy home. Hence, the reason she came to Magic. Penelope would never subject her family to danger. And right now, being around her could cost them their lives if she were found out.

  Her clan was wonderful, but so was not having someone around to constantly give you advice. Not to mention how upset they usually became when she didn’t follow their guidance. They all wanted what was best for her. Unfortunately, that didn’t always mean that was what Penelope wanted.

  The little bell above her door sounded and her friend, Evelyn, came in wearing a welcoming smile. “Good morning,” she called out. “Ready for business?”

  Evelyn owned the small shop next door where she did people’s horoscopes. As a Gemini with Capricorn rising, she knew her stuff. Plus, she was a Dream Walker, one who could help people suffering from night terrors.

  Setting down a paper cup full of steaming coffee, she scooted it closer to Penelope. Smiling, Evelyn took a sip of her own brew, her eyes dancing with mischief. Evelyn was quite the prankster.

  “If you messed with my coffee, I’ll kill you,” Penelope said with a smile.

  Evelyn held out her hand. “I’d never be that crazy.”

  Taking the warm brew, Penelope inhaled deeply then smiled. “Thank you so much. I wouldn’t get far today without this.”

  “Me neither. We drank a little too much wine last night and stayed up way too late to have to work today.”

  “Agreed.” Penelope took a sip then closed her eyes. “This is heavenly.”

  “Yes,” Evelyn said. “It is. Today’s horoscope says you’ll be busy with plenty of opportunities to help people.”

  “Great, just what I need after a late night.”

  The tinkling bell signaled her friend’s departure. Penelope hoped she had time to finish her coffee before the first customer arrived.

  Chapter Three

  Planet Vion

  ltair delivered his prisoner to the authorities then headed for the barracks. The weather had been beautiful lately and on his planet that was unusual. They could go from sunshine, to rain, to snow in a matter of hours.

  Since he was a high commander, he had his own rooms. Not ideally cozy, but he wasn’t a man used to those kinds of surroundings. He’d been raised in a garrison, so his living quarters were a step up from the norm.

  Removing all the weapons he’d recharged on his starship, he placed them in a chest nearby for safe-keeping. Stripping off his brown uniform jacket and his extra hip gun, he fell into a chair, exhausted. Home at last.

  Head back, he sucked in several gulps of air, rewarding his tortured lungs with plenty of fresh air. While on Maxuasa, Altair constantly felt like he was suffocating. His breather was useless there because of the lack of humidity and he’d just as soon never go back.

  Just as he was about to get up and pour himself a glass of smire, one of his soldiers pounded on his door and announced, “The Prince of Vion, Ronic.”

  Altair came to his feet as the prince, whom he’d known since childhood, entered his quarters. Ignoring all formalities, Altair stared at the tall, handsome man and smiled. “What could be so important that it drags your lazy hide out of the castle?”

  Ronic put his hands behind his back and looked glum. “I’m worried, dear friend.”

  Altair didn’t like the sound of that. Stepping closer, he asked. “What about?”

  Ronic dismissed the guard and slumped in the only comfortable chair in the room. “My princess.”

>   Ronic never talked about his impending marriage, no matter how much smire they drank. He honestly didn’t know if the idea of marriage appealed to Ronic or not. Perhaps he resented his father’s ultimatum, or that the war counsel had interfered with his choice of a life mate. They’d decided that the joining of two warring planets in marriage would bring about peace.

  “What about her?” Altair asked, not really sure he wanted the prince to pour out his heart like a schoolgirl.

  Ronic looked up, his face tense, his mouth hard. “I’ve heard she’s uglier than a norkeit.”

  Altair inwardly smiled. The insect was quite ugly and pesky. Norkeits were big and black, with huge eyes and hard-shelled bodies. Vions hated them.

  “That’s one hideous bug.” Altair laughed. “I remember, when we were kids, you couldn’t step on them because of the crunch they made.”

  Ronic shivered, made a face, and jumped to his feet. “See why I’m concerned?”

  Altair shook his head and sobered. “No, I don’t.” He put his hand on the prince’s shoulder, who matched him in height and age. “People lie all the time. Other than your father, no one on this planet has seen her before. How would they know?”

  “We’ve all seen their soldiers,” he countered, “and they are beastly.”

  Yes, they were indeed. They were foul, hideous looking, robotic creatures that were hard to kill. However, the combatants were also genetically engineered to engage in battle. “You can’t judge your future wife by a cyborg soldier. You’ve met the king. He wasn’t homely.”

  “But no one has ever seen a female from there.”

  “So? How do they know she’s ugly?” Altair tapped him on the chest. “You must stop thinking the worse. What if she’s beautiful?”