Psyched Out Read online

  When the focus struck the hull of the ship, her knees buckled. Benliar held onto her and kept his mind mixed with hers, and he helped direct which talent she ran through which mind.

  The combination of efforts propelled the hulk of the cargo ship up and out of the atmosphere. Wimsah leaned into Benliar and kept the propulsion going until the councillor nearest the display confirmed that the ship was out of orbit and waiting for a tow to the space station.

  Her knees wobbled and a strange sound reached her ears. It was a joyous roar from the streets of the city. She finished shoring up all the minds and pulled back into her own head.

  The mix of Benliar and her own mind was a little fuzzy until she heard a screech and Spot arrived, settling on her shoulder. Her brain cleared and she stood up without having to cling to her mate.

  “Well, that was tiring.”

  He stroked her hair. “Well done, Wimsah. You saved thousands of lives.”

  “You could have done it without me.”

  He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. Without you psyching out the population, we would not have gotten the ship away from the atmosphere.”

  “What a polite term for it.”

  He grinned. “Thank you, I just came up with it.”

  She sighed and scratched Spot’s chin. He preened and extended his wings. He gave her an image of the bot wearing a sling with the babies in it.

  “Well, it seems Spot found a babysitter.”

  “Who?”

  “Roden.”

  “In the bot.”

  “Correct, and in the little one that looks like you. Those rainbow eyes are a giveaway.”

  Benliar grinned. “I think he is adorable.”

  “I am glad. I think he might become your companion as time goes on. We will see.” Wimsah swayed, and she could still hear pockets of laughter and cheers in the city.

  The councillors came up and congratulated them, shaking their hands and complimenting Wimsah on her impressive skills.

  She smiled and took the compliments for a few minutes before asking for a glass of water or some tea. Immediately, she and Benliar were ushered into the capitol building and treated to refreshments.

  When they were seated in a boardroom and the councillors were replaying the event on the screens, one turned to her and asked, “How do you do that?”

  She shrugged. “It is what I do. It is why I am here.”

  Benliar nodded, “Wimsah possesses one of the rarest psychic skills. It increased her visibility and brought her to Roden’s attention, and he brought me along to meet her.”

  “Would you give us your story, Wimsah?” One of the councillors looked eager; his rainbow eyes were bright.

  Benliar kissed the back of her hand, and she responded with a quick kiss to his lips.

  She smiled. “Ask me in a few years. My story is just getting started.”

  Epilogue

  Wimsah looked at the monitor and smiled, “She is adorable. You should be very proud, Trala.”

  Trala blushed. “We didn’t plan it, it just happened.”

  “How is Envix adapting?”

  “He is a little shocked but Resicor is delighted. She is handling it much better than I did.”

  Trala cuddled the small black and white Yaluthu to her and she smiled. “I can’t thank you enough. Yima is already a great addition to our family.”

  Wimsah looked at the Yaluthu that had flown across galaxies and sectors of space to be with its bondmate. Little Yima was Spot’s great granddaughter and she looked every inch the companion to a living planet.

  “How is Kroz doing?”

  Wimsah smiled, “He is doing everything that a seventeen-year-old should be doing. It still freaks me out a little when I look into his eyes.”

  “He is lovely and has a good head on his shoulders. You should be very proud.”

  “We are. Benliar is just as surprised as I am that our son has turned out well. I think Roden was hoping for a girl.”

  “Well, there is always the next one. When were you thinking?”

  Wimsah reached up and caressed Spot’s chest. “I was thinking that when Kroziar moves out, I will start thinking about the next one.”

  “You don’t want a bunch at the same time?”

  “It would be too hard on the babysitter.”

  Trala chuckled. “I have a huge list of those willing to babysit Yima.”

  “Yes, but she is cute and fluffy. Just wait until she is running around and setting fire to your furniture or levitating her least favourite vegetable across the table. Oh, wait, Yaluthu don’t do that.” Wimsah laughed.

  Yima chirped and Spot clicked back through the com.

  Wimsah got a mental image, and she snickered. “Don’t be surprised if your com is busy. Spot can and does call all of his descendants.”

  “You don’t mean…”

  “Oh, yes. The beaks aren’t decorative. They are very functional, and she knows what you know.” She stroked Spot again.

  “Where is your other half?”

  “He is off giving a lecture about interspecies mating. I am scheduled to meet up with him in thirty minutes and explain that everything he said was a lie.” Wimsah winked.

  “Talk to you soon, Wim.”

  “You too, Trala.” She disconnected the call and sighed. “Come on, Spot. Are you up for a flight?”

  He flexed his wings and rode her shoulder until they reached the roof. It had taken her a decade to learn how to fly and it was only because Benliar had finally opened part of his mind he had been keeping secret during an intimate moment. Now, she could fly on her own, but she still enjoyed being caught up in his arms, and she used every chance she could to have him fly her home. Even if she had plenty of energy to get herself anywhere she needed to be.

  She walked to the edge of the roof and fell, propelling herself upward with Spot at her side. After two decades on Roden, she was used to the people, the food and raising a child that had a multi-psychic talent and devastating good looks.

  Her mind was already calling her grandma, just to get her used to it.

  She circled the institute and slowly landed out front with Spot alighting on her shoulder. With long, even strides, she headed for the lecture hall and opened the door. The vids on the screen were of her and Benliar in a variety of clinches. Her black and white suit was always pristine and Benliar’s white and black suit matched.

  She walked up the pathway to the stage and applause greeted her. She kissed her husband, stroked her bird and spoke to the crowd. “Let me begin by saying, that I am Wimsah ni’Cavinagh ki’Huntrag, Avatar of Roden and everything my bondmate told you is a gross exaggeration.”

  Everyone in the room laughed, her mate took his seat with a grin and she continued the speech on why mating with an alien could be a good thing or a bad thing.

  When she concluded, she looked at her husband. “For me, I got lucky. I woke damaged and broken, and he gave me room to heal and enough time to do it. Not everyone will be as lucky and time will be a factor, but know what you want and what you don’t want, then throw that out and take the person that speaks to your soul.”

  The applause rang out again and Wimsah stroked Spot while Benliar came up to put his arm around her. Their little family had grown from those first days, but it still felt good to be standing together with goodwill aimed in their direction. Wimsah felt the distance that she had come in times like these, and she hugged her mate with all her strength. She would do more later, but they needed privacy for that. There were some things even the Yaluthu didn’t want to watch.

  Author’s Note

  Next up will be Burning Stone in which a woman with a fiery temper finds that her personal expression can turn deadly in a heartbeat.

  In the Citadel, she is assigned to a world-building unit and everything is going fine until her talent for heating the surface of a planet leads to awakening a Drai sleeper and she has to deal with the fallout of
her actions.

  Thanks for reading

  Viola Grace

  About the Author

  Viola Grace (aka Zenina Masters) is a Canadian sci-fi/paranormal romance writer with ambitions to keep writing for the rest of her life. She specializes in short stories because the thrill of discovery, of all those firsts, is what keeps her writing.

  An artist who enjoys a story that catches you up, whirls you around and sets you down with a smile on your face is all she endeavours to be. She prefers to leave the drama to those who are better suited to it, she always goes for the cheap laugh.

  Listening to readers has gotten her this far, and with her 300th short story looming before the end of 2014, she will continue to listen in the future.