Field operatives of SWORD – Special Warfare Operations and Reconnaissance Division – are called Wraiths. There are fewer than fifty actively serving in the United Orion Empire, carrying out missions too dangerous or too difficult for anyone else.
As the name implies, Wraiths are ghosts in the Empire: recruited as children, erased from public records, and rechristened with code names. Agent Hailey Ramirez is Comet, the seventy-fourth Wraith ever created. With cranial implants, enhanced body parts, and years of intense training, the girl who was Hailey is no more. Hailey’s Comet now, and Comet’s a super-human.
PREVIEW of Hailey’s Comet, book one
Hailey didn’t realize she was being watched. She kept her attention on the balding merchant as she innocently strolled by the displays he’d put on the sidewalk in front of his shop. Hailey remained calm, casual, certain he didn’t suspect her of any evil intent.
Her mocha-hued fingers feathered along the clothes racks. She’d made sure to clean her hair, face, hands, and nails so she didn’t look like a street urchin. At fourteen, she had the smarts and skills borne of necessity. Brushing her shoulder-length black hair behind one ear, she checked sizes.
The merchant didn’t seem to suspect anything, but the well-dressed, forty-something woman across the street did. She studied Hailey as she drank tea in a sidewalk café, not even trying to hide her interest in the girl.
If Hailey had known she was under surveillance, she might have aborted her mission. Oblivious to the woman stalking her, she watched the merchant for her chance. As soon as his back was turned, Hailey snatched two t-shirts and a pair of pants and scurried away, hugging the clothes to her chest.
Clipping a knee on the table leg in her rush, the stylish woman left the café and tracked the teen around the corner of the next block. Because she had followed Hailey several times in the past few days, she knew exactly where the girl was going. The woman side-stepped into an alley, then took off running to reach the apartment building on D Street before the girl. Quickly getting her breathing under control, she stood casually in front of the building’s side entrance, pretending to look for something in her satchel just as Hailey appeared with the stolen clothes. The teen tried to pass unnoticed, but the woman bumped into her and knocked her off balance. “Oh, excuse me, young lady. Didn’t see you there.”
“That’s okay,” Hailey answered. “Excuse me, I need to get inside. My mommy is expecting me home.”
“Your mommy,” the woman said, looking down at the young teen with the darkest brown eyes Hailey had ever seen. She studied Hailey carefully, now that she saw her up close, and focused on Hailey’s ankles. Though Hailey barely showed signs of puberty, she had experienced a growth spurt that left her pants too short.
The woman’s gaze returned to Hailey’s face. She tilted her head. “How did you do that?” she asked. Hailey had adopted a doe-eyed expression that took three years off her face, seemed to be no more than ten or eleven years old.
“Do what?” Hailey smiled innocently at the woman blocking her way. “Oh no. I just remembered. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. Oooh, my mommy is gonna kill me!”
“Didn’t your mommy teach you not to steal?”
Hailey flustered for just a second. She looked at the clothes in her hands. “My mom, uh, paid ahead. She sent me to pick these up.” When the woman arched her eyebrow, Hailey switched strategies. Forcing tears to pool in her eyes, she pled, “Please let me go home. You’re scaring me.”
The savvy woman laughed lightly. “That’s really good. Almost believable.”
Hailey actually managed to make tears roll down her cheeks. “Why won’t you let me go inside? I want my mommy!” She buried her face in the stolen clothes and cried.
“Give it a rest, kid. I’m here to make you an offer,” the woman said, stepping out of her way and giving Hailey the choice to go inside to her hiding place or stay outside with the stranger who wanted to make her an offer. She lifted her face and looked at the woman who introduced herself as “Mango.”
“You’re a fruit?” the teen asked unemotionally and back in possession of her fourteen-year-old face.
“I’m a government agent. Mango is my code name.”
“Pfft!” Hailey replied. “Right. A secret agent wants to make me an offer. More likely you’re a fixer who wants me to steal for you. You’re not the first one to try it.”
“How long have you been out here on your own?”
“Few years.”
“Got a name?” Mango inquired, watching her closely for signs of lying.
“Have you?” Hailey challenged.
Mango’s eyebrows shot up, but then she smiled. “I do, indeed. But I prefer Mango.”
“Why?” Hailey scoffed. “That’s a stupid code name.”
Mango’s smiled faded as she stared darkly into Hailey’s eyes. “If you knew how I got it, you wouldn’t say that to me.” Hailey took a step back and Mango’s hint of a smile returned. “So, kid, what’s your name?”
“Hailey.”
Mango nodded, satisfied. “Okay, Hailey. Let’s go get a pizza and talk things over, shall we?”
“O…kay,” she replied, not sure what she was getting into, but unable to pass up a free, pre-dumpster meal.
“Great. But first, you’re going to return those clothes. Stealing is wrong,” Mango lectured.
Hailey didn’t have the bandwidth to consider whether her actions were right or wrong; surviving on the streets of Fansha was the beginning and end of her priorities.
Then Mango added, “Besides, if you take me up on my offer, you’ll get much better clothes.”
Mango ordered a pizza that Hailey selected off the menu. She insisted the girl choose some kind of vegetable to go with her meal, so Hailey opted for the salad bar, piling her plate high with all sorts of red, orange, and green veggies. “You eat all that and you won’t have room for the pizza.”
“I can skip it, if you want,” Hailey said, threatening to dump the plate into the trash.
“For goodness sake, just sit down and eat already.” Mango put her own salad together and joined Hailey in a booth. The red faux-leather bench seats had seen better days. Hailey’s seat sported a tear that exposed the guts of the cushion. The old wooden table was a canvas for carved graffiti. Hailey had seen older kids going in and out of the pizzeria. It was a local hangout for teens who had tablets in their backpacks and cash cards in their wallets. Having neither, Hailey usually waited in the alley for their leftovers to be discarded with the trash.
She’d never eaten inside this restaurant – or any restaurant – but decided Mango didn’t need to know that. She looked at the sophisticated woman’s salad.
“No mangos, huh? Not into cannibalism?” Hailey laughed at her own joke.
“Super funny,” Mango replied, deadpan. She took a bite of her salad.
“So, what’s this offer?” Hailey asked, eating with two hands and talking with her mouth full.
“Ever heard of a fork?”
Hailey dropped her hands to the table and chewed on the enormous amount of food in her mouth.
Mango sighed. “Okay. Listen up. Number one. Use your mouth for only one thing at a time. Either eat or talk, not both. Two. Slow down. There’s no time limit here. Small bites. Got it?” Hailey didn’t answer. She just chewed her vegetables cow-like. “And please shut your mouth when there’s food inside.” Mango turned her head to the side and gagged momentarily. “Three. You eat pizza with your hands, assuming you washed them. You eat salad with a fork.” She held out a fork for Hailey to use. Hailey stared at it.
“Whts wrngg wit usng mm hnds?” she asked, ignoring all the manners Mango had just explained.
Mango put a hand over her mouth. “I’m gonna puke.”
“Now that’s disgust-ting,” Hailey replied, a piece of carrot falling out of her mouth. Mango closed her eyes.
“I’m going to eat over there,” she stated, picking up her plate and leaving Hailey alone in the booth. Hailey shrugged and swallowed her mouthful.
After Hailey had her fill of salad and pizza, Mango had the leftovers packed into a box. She handed it to Hailey, picked up her satchel, and stood to leave. “I thought you were going to make me an offer,” Hailey reminded her.
“I’m not sure anymore. You couldn’t follow one of my instructions. That won’t fly in my business. I don’t think you’re the one I need after all. Good luck, Hailey.” Mango turned to leave.
Hailey watched Mango leave the pizzeria. She picked up the leftover pizza and ran after her. “Mango!” she called. “Mango! Wait.”
With a sly smile hidden from Hailey, Mango stopped walking. She neutralized her face and turned around. “What?”
“Uh, I wanted to… say… thank you for the dinner,” Hailey improvised.
“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Hailey,” Mango said, turning and walking again.
“Wait!” Hailey blurted.
Mango stopped again and turned around. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, waiting for Hailey to say something.
Hailey – just a desperate girl hoping for something more than the street urchin life she was living – breathed heavily a few times, then said, “Please, can I hear the offer? I’ll eat nicer next time.”
As if Hailey’s pleading was the thing she had been waiting for, Mango softened. She took a step toward the girl. “How would you like to have a code name?”
Hailey grimaced. “Does it have to be a fruit?”
Mango laughed, then put a hand on Hailey’s shoulder and started walking with her. “I work for SWORD, Specialized Warfare Operations and Reconnaissance Division for the United Orion Empire.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Not a lot of people do, kid. But I think you might qualify for our most exclusive training. It’s not easy, but you’d get private quarters, plenty of food, clothes and a tablet… want to hear more?”
A smile spread across Hailey’s face, but she reined it in, trying to play it cool. “I guess so.”
