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paddle your ass for not staying put like I asked you to.” Rick sent the telepathic message privately to her and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow when she looked at him.
    “With all the emotional energy you two were putting out, you expected me to stay hidden? You’ve got to be kidding.”
    “I am honored by your presence, Callie. I’ve heard much about your abilities. Many of my adopted clan members have strong psychic gifts, but few of them have any empathy at all. I’ve long been curious about how such a gift works.”
    Callie leaned one shoulder against the door frame, looking casual. “I sense emotion. It’s what drew me here to check on my guys. Right now, I’m sensing suspicion, admiration and—thank you, but I’m taken—attraction from your friend over here.” She nodded toward the male operative who smiled back and winked. “You, on the other hand—” she looked at the female, “—have a mixture of curiosity, arrogance and a trace of insecurity in your mind right now. Don’t worry, we’re not the threat here, but we will defend ourselves and our people, so if it’s a fight you want, you’ll get one.”
    “Duly noted,” the female replied with a look of respect. “And we didn’t come here to fight. If we had, you’d already be dead.”
    “Assassins.” Davin broke his silence with the bald pronouncement. “Like Sinclair Prime, right? He was one of yours, wasn’t he?”
    Ronin sighed. “He was, but he always made his own decisions in service of the Council. I am leader, not dictator. Sinclair Prime Past had already retired when the Council’s rogue elements reactivated him for that last mission—the failed strike against you. I, for one, am glad he chose to miss.”
    “Me too,” Davin said with some alacrity. The joke was lost on the Alvian Patriarch, but Rick appreciated his partner’s wry humor. It was something they’d strived to develop as they worked and lived together, a family with Callie at its heart.
    Rick noted the strange way he named the assassin they’d known as Sinclair Prime, the Alvian who had fled their society and now called himself Bill Sinclair. The Prime of each genetic line was a position that could and would change for various reasons. Most often, a Prime would die and a new Prime would move up from the second position. The previous Prime was then referred to as Prime Past. It was confusing to humans, but the Alvians seemed to understand it.
    “I want more of my people—of all Alvians—to take the same treatment Sinclair Prime Past did. I want us to rediscover emotion. Before it’s too late.”
    “You’re as cold as most Alvians—soldiers that is,” Callie remarked from the doorway. “You have a little more emotional depth than the rest of the race, but I still have a hard time reading you. I’ve spent time around some of your soldiers—Grady Prime in particular—and based on that experience, I believe you.”
    Callie’s opinion mattered a lot to Rick. Even Alvians had some echoes of emotion she could read, and few could trick her. They simply didn’t understand how.
    “So the Zxerah continue to exist as pet assassins for the Council,” Davin’s voice was cold with accusation. “No wonder they let you stay hidden. Your people make up the ghost squad, don’t they?”
    “You are more astute than I was led to believe. This is a good thing if we are to be allies.”
    “I don’t really see how we can help each other.” Davin sat down again, inviting the others to do the same. “But I’m willing to listen.”
    Rick was curious as hell. He, like Davin, didn’t know what this alien had in mind, but he was intrigued. The show of force had convinced him of this man’s power. The undeniable humanity and good condition of the two operatives also spoke well for this so-called Patriarch. Rick still wondered what that title meant in relation to this guy and his band of pseudo-ninjas. He’d try to get a full explanation from Davin as soon as they