Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Viola Grace
Word Count :16736
Publication Date :2019-06-21
Series : Team Eight: Origins#2
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-4874-2611-8
Seeing her own future takes on a new intensity when she is ordered to become a hero.
Lore began life on a restrictive world where her options for a future were rapidly running out. With the help of family, she escaped and started a new life with her son.
Six years later, the world and organization that gave her sanctuary want something from her. They want her gift to work for them.
Seeing the details of her entire future and history has always been something to adapt to. Using it for the greater good is something she does on the sly, and crafting suits for heroes is something she does for family.
Her life is full, but it is about to become everything she ever imagined. She has seen it all happening, after all.
Lore finished the last stitch in the alteration and set the dress down. “Now, Madam Rhynol, you know that this isn’t going to withstand your talent.”
The woman flexed her grey hands, and delicate fur rippled upward from her fingertips. “Miz Lore, it has so far. You always seem to be able to put it back together.”
The shop was busy. Spring had sprung, and the ladies were enjoying the good weather. With that enjoyment came sundresses, maxi dresses, and a lot of business for the Altered Talent Emporium.
Lore had opened the shop to cater to the everyday talent who just needed to ask a bit more from their clothing.
“You could start going to the armourer. They would be able to offer you the magnetic seams.” Lore got up and checked the swing of the dress while the waves of fur rippled and faded.
“Meh, their waiting lists are months long, and by the time they fit me, I have changed size again.” Madam Rhynol turned and flared her skirt in the mirror. “Your adjustments last me three seasons until I shoot up over winter.”
Lore grinned and prepared the bill. “I am not even going to ask why you are wearing this dress in winter. Come back in summer with some winter gear, and I will set it for at least two seasons.”
“You do such good work. I count us lucky to have your shop in the neighbourhood. With your skills, you could have gone for the big leagues.”
Lore handed over the payment pad. “That is exactly what I didn’t want.”
One ocular scan later and Madam Rhynol was heading for the door with a bag containing the clothing she had walked in with. The wind blew her skirt up and around, but she walked with a grin on her face. Cold wasn’t an issue when you were covered with fur.
Lore sighed. “She does love that dress.”
Her vision blurred, and she saw three more years before the dress shredded. It was amazing what sewing one of her own hairs into the hem could do for her foresight.
Her wrist unit chimed, and she straightened. “Well, ladies, I am off. Demer, don’t do anything with that rotational joint until I get in after the weekend.”
The sole male in the room waved his hand. “Yes, Miz. Just go. Taxo is waiting.”
Lore smiled, made sure she wasn’t wearing any stray thread, and headed out of her shop and to her cycle. She fired it up and raced through miles of back alleys before she skidded to a halt in front of her son’s school.
She was leaning against the bike when the doors burst open, and children streamed out. Taxo flew toward her, and she caught him in her arms. “Hey, squirt. How has school been?”
He covered her face with kisses before leaning back. “Do I really get to spend the weekend with you?”
“Yup. You have control over your flight, have a good grasp of what it takes to be a good citizen, and you don’t wet the bed. That means you can bunk with me. Here is your helmet.”
Taxo sighed and pulled his helmet on over his pointed ears. He grinned up at her from within the confines of his new headgear. “It fits my ears, Mom.”
“That is the idea, Taxo. Now, do we want to head out for dinner, or do you want to drop off your homework first?”
“I want to drop off the homework.” He pressed his chest toward her, and the pack he was wearing wedged her ribs.
“Right. Wings tucked in?”
“Yup! Can you go the long way really fast?”
She grinned as she pulled her own helmet on. “I can. Can you hold on really tight and not flare your wings?”
She fired the cycle up, and he gripped her jacket tight. “Then, my boy, hold on.”
The other students and parents getting weekend visitation were staring as she pulled a wheelie and accelerated out of the lot.
Finding every unoccupied lane in the city was part of her foresight. She shifted easily from left to right, aiming for the open patches in traffic and punching through them.
The speakers in their helmets let her hear every shriek and squeal that her son emitted. She didn’t do anything dangerous, but she extended the route by a few blocks.
The lane behind the shop was in a good neighbourhood with plenty of cams and a low crime rate. Lore had chosen it for Taxo, or at least for the days when Taxo could visit.
As she parked, she helped him to the ground. “I have a surprise for you.”
He pulled off his helmet and fluffed his rich gold hair. His wings came out from their snug position on his spine, and they extended in a luxurious stretch. They were as elegantly gold as the rest of him.
“I do love surprises.” He looked far wiser than his seven years.
She pulled her helmet off and pulled him to her side as she opened the back door. “I know you do.”
They set the helmets in their cubbies and walked up the steps to the apartment over the shop.
He ran to his room and neatly unpacked his books. With his school uniform on and a cheeky grin, he demanded, “Where is the surprise?”
She beckoned him in and took his hand, walking to the old cupboard and opening it. A snug set of stairs were new.
Taxo looked at her with an excited smile. “It goes up?”
“It goes up.” She followed her son up the steps and through the upper exit.
The roof of their building had been turned into a year-round playground and landing pad for her flying son.
“I have the permits downstairs, so you can do takeoff and landing here whenever you like.”
He turned to her, and his wide purple eyes watered. “Really?”