“You came in neutral,” Stephan corrected. “Not the same thing.”
“I’ve never attempted anything like that. I wouldn’t even know where to start!”
“As Stephan said, that’s why I’m here.” Jessie’s gaze was shrewd, calculating. “Are you willing to try?”
As if she had a choice? “What do you want me to do?”
“Close your eyes.” Jessie’s soft voice took on an almost hypnotic quality. “Concentrate on the darkness and the sound of my voice. Take deep, slow breaths.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Pain ripped through her, as sharp as a knife. She swore vehemently. “Get me some damn painkillers or I’m out of here.”
As threats went, it was pretty lame—not only because she was strapped down, but because her leg was as numb as her arm, and any sort of quick movement would be nigh on impossible anyway.
“No,” Stephan said, his voice abrupt, harsh. “Painkillers will dilute your ability to concentrate.”
She glared at him. She was really beginning to dislike the man. Yet it was easy to see why he, rather than Gabriel, ran both the SIU and the Federation. “So does pain, buddy, believe me.”
Jessie squeezed Sam’s fingers lightly. “This won’t take long, as long as you concentrate. Then we can let the medical help in.”
Meaning they were going to keep her in confinement until they’d thoroughly checked her story? Bastards. And that fact, if nothing else, hardened her resolve. She’d meant what she’d said before—she’d had enough of these people. She wanted out, wanted to go back to the State Police. At least there she’d be treated a little more fairly—even if she had shot her partner.
“Let’s get on with it, then.” She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing aches in her body.
“Bring Gabriel’s image to your mind. Concentrate on it.”
She frowned and did as Jessie asked. Gabriel’s image swam through her mind, its focus blurred, distant.
“Concentrate,” Jessie whispered. “Imagine your mind as a hand, capable of reaching out and touching him.”
Sweat trickled into Sam’s closed eyes, stinging. She tried to ignore it. Gabriel’s image went in and out of focus, as if viewed with some ill-adjusted lens.
“Reach for the image, Samantha. Reach out and touch him.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. There was some sort of barrier between them, preventing her from reaching across. A fence of her making, not his.
“Focus on the image, Samantha. Focus until you can feel his presence within every fiber of your being. Then let your mind touch his.”
She concentrated on the blurred image, willing it to become clear. Sweat trickled through her hair, along the side of her face. Abruptly, the image became focused, and she was there, sharing his mind, his thoughts. His eyes.
The ground sped underneath them. They arrowed toward a doorway, heart pumping as fast as their wings. Behind them, the air shuddered with sound. Heat sizzled. They soared upward. The shot hit the wall, spraying metal through the air. They flew through the doorway and into the open skies. Freedom, if they could get clear fast enough. Another shot. Again, they dodged. But this time the shot hit, exploding through wing and muscle and bone.
Agony surged through every fiber and tore her mind from his. She screamed, then darkness hit and she lapsed into unconsciousness.
When awareness returned, it was again to the sensation of someone shaking her shoulder.
It should have hurt, but it didn’t. She frowned. Gabriel had been shot, not her. He was alive; that much she knew. For how much longer was anyone’s guess—and there wasn’t one damn thing she’d seen that could help them in any way.
“Samantha, open your eyes and look at me,” Jessie demanded, her voice cracked with worry.
She opened her eyes and said, “He was shot while trying to escape. That’s all I know, all I saw.” All she felt.
“Fuck.” Stephan thrust a hand through his hair. “There has to have been something you saw that can help us find him.”
“He was in a warehouse of some kind. It was abandoned.”
“Which leaves us with probably a thousand choices citywide,” Jessie commented, her expression worried as she glanced up at Stephan. “How much manpower can you muster?”
“Not nearly enough, quickly enough,” Stephan muttered, and resumed his pacing. “Even if we pull in the Federation operatives, it’ll still take hours.”
In which time Gabriel could have bled to death if he didn’t get medical help. The phone rang in the brief silence.
Stephan grabbed the receiver almost savagely. “Byrne here.”
He listened quietly for several minutes and then said, “Get all available teams down there immediately, but don’t move until I join them.”
He hung up and swung round, his expression an odd mixture of anger and surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d ordered a break team for Whittiker?”
“When did I have the chance? I was shot and dragged down here for questioning. I don’t believe I was given much of a chance to say anything.” She hesitated, more to keep her growing tide of anger in check than anything else. Stephan was not someone whose bad side she wanted to get on. “Why? Have they got an address out of him?”
“Yes. A warehouse in Altona.” He pressed a button on the side of the phone. “Security, cancel the medics and take Agent Ryan straight down to medical. I want a twenty-four-hour guard placed on her.”
“Gee, nice to know that I’m trusted.”
Stephan barely glanced at her as he walked toward the door. “Until I check out your story thoroughly, you will remain under guard.”
And if they didn’t find Gabriel at the warehouse address Orrin had given them, she was in big trouble. That much was obvious.
The door opened. Three gray-clad security officers strode in.
“Barnes, I want full identity tests taken on anyone entering the building.”
Barnes, a big man with craggy features, frowned. “That’ll cause a bit of hostility, sir.”
“I don’t care. Just do it.”
Barnes nodded and stepped aside as two medical officers came in, guiding a gurney between them.
“I’ll let you know what happens,” Jessie said to Sam, then rose and stepped away as the two doctors approached.
One shoved a needle none too gently into her arm. Thankfully, it was her numb arm, she thought wryly. After a few seconds, the throbbing aches that assailed her body began to ease and her eyes grew heavy.
The doctors picked her up and placed her onto the gurney. The last thing she saw was Stephan handing Jessie a laser rifle as he walked from the room.
—
She dreamt again of the white room. This time Joe’s shadow was less indistinct, more man-shaped than merely a blot of darkness.
“You called to me again. Why?” His voice held just a hint of annoyance.
She shrugged. “It’s not as if I do this consciously. It just happens.”
“Nothing just happens, Samantha. You reach out because you wish to talk. But your timing right now is not the best.”
“Why? What does a street bum have to do that is so important?”
His amusement washed over her. “Who said I was a street bum?”
“That’s the image you present to the world, isn’t it?”
“It is. But I am not what I appear. You’d best remember that.”
The soft warning sent a chill down her spine. She knew nothing about this man, who, conversely, seemed to know so much about her. She didn’t even know if she could trust him. And yet, he’d saved her life, had given her somewhere to live when she most needed it and had come to this room when she called—even if she wasn’t aware that she had called.
His sigh was a breeze that stirred past her hair. “What troubles you?”
“I did a search on the pin. It led me to Mary Elliot.”
“Did it, now?” There was no surprise in his voice. He’d obviously known a
ll along where it would lead.
“She kept confusing me with a woman named Josephine. Kept insisting I had a brother named Joshua.”
“And do you?”
His shadow swirled slowly around her. Though he appeared relaxed, she could almost taste his tension.
“I have dreamt about Joshua, but I don’t know who he is.” She studied the shadowed form in front of her for a second. “Just as I don’t know who you are. You might be Joshua, for all I know.”
“I might. I might not.”
“And the answer will be found in here,” she retorted, lightly touching her chest, just above her heart. “When I am ready to find it.”
She sensed more than saw his smile. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
“What a surprise.” She stared at the ceiling for several seconds. Though the bright light was harsh, it did not hurt her eyes or make them water. “Am I a product of Hopeworth?”
His essence stilled. “I have said before that I cannot provide you with answers. You must seek them yourself.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Will not.”
She nodded. He knew more than he would ever tell; that much was obvious. “I met with a General Frank Lloyd yesterday.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
His smile swirled around her. “As I said before, I know more than you comprehend.”
She didn’t bother raging against his obtuse answer, simply because it wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I have a feeling the general and I will meet again.”
Joe’s shadow began to move. Agitation stirred the still air. “Be wary of the general. He sees more than most men.”
“That’s because he’s not exactly a man, is he?”
Joe hesitated. “No, he is not. He is a product of Hopeworth, born and bred to do the bidding of the military. He is not someone you want anything to do with.”
She rubbed her arms. On that, at least, they agreed. “I may not have any choice in the matter.”
Concern churned around her. “You had a premonition?”
“Maybe.”
“Then get the hell away from here. Leave the state, if that’s what it takes.”
“I can’t. At least not until I know my partner is safe.”
“Your partner? The man who has been trying to get rid of you?” He made no attempt to disguise the derision in his voice.
“Yeah, that one.” She shrugged. “He saved my life. Now his life is in danger.”
“Then find him and get far away from the general.”
“Finding him is the problem. His sister seems to think we have formed some sort of mind bond, but when I tried to find him through it, all I got were his emotions and pain.”
Joe didn’t answer immediately, though his essence continued to swirl around her. “Your talents are only now truly developing—and as yet, no one can be really sure which way that development will head. One thing is obvious, though. It will not be standard.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Another riddle?”
“No. A simple truth.” He hesitated. “Maybe this linking with Stern, at least on your side, is one springing more from emotional than rational thought. Perhaps your ability is empathic rather than telepathic.”
“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”
Again she felt his smile. “This is very different. This is something neither of us can really stop or control.”
“Why not?”
“The answers will—”
“Yeah,” she retorted. “I know the rest of the rhyme, so don’t bother.”
“If you wish to find your partner, leave tonight and go to where he was last seen.”
She frowned. “Why tonight?”
“It storms.”
“Yeah? So?”
Impatience ran around her. “Just go, and you will see. For now, I must go.”
His essence, and the white room, fled. She woke suddenly. Rain pelted against the window to the right of her bed. Lightning cut across the night, and the power of it stirred the air, filling her soul. She breathed deeply. Every pore seemed to tingle with the storm’s energy.
From beyond the doorway came the sound of footsteps, a tattoo that was both angry and impatient. Jessie appeared. Water dripped from her burgundy coat, splashing across the tiles as she walked over to Sam’s bed.
“What happened?” Inane question, when all she had to do was look into Jessie’s eyes and see the answer. They hadn’t found Gabriel.
“We found his wristcom, but nothing else. There was no clue as to where they might have gone.”
Sam rubbed her forehead. Joe had told her to go to the warehouse. Though she had no idea why, she wasn’t about to doubt him. Not when Gabriel’s life might be at risk.
“Where’s Director Byrne?”
“Interviewing Whittiker again.”
She almost felt sorry for Orrin. Almost. “You have to take me to that warehouse.”
Jessie frowned. “Samantha, you’re in no condition—”
“Yeah, right,” she snapped back. “Like you were so concerned about my condition down in the holding cell.”
Jessie had the grace to look uncomfortable.
“Do you want to save your brother or not?” she continued.
“Of course I do. But you can’t even walk.”
“That was hours ago. I’m better now.” Even if she wasn’t, she had no intention of mentioning it. She owed Gabriel—though certainly not any of his damn relations—and she intended to repay that debt. Then she’d be free to leave and get back to a normal life, with normal people.
But could anything ever be normal when her discovery of her true nature was only just beginning? Deep down, she suspected not.
Indecision rolled across Jessie’s face. “Stephan’s ordered that you be kept here. That under no circumstances are you to be allowed to leave.”
Obviously he had plans to cross-examine her again if Orrin failed to deliver. “I think I may be able to find Gabriel, but I need to get out of here now. I can’t wait for Stephan.”
“I’m not SIU. I can’t countermand Stephan’s orders.”
“Then call him. Tell him if he wants to find his goddamn brother, he has to trust me, and he has to release me.”
“I don’t think he’ll listen.”
“Try.”
Jessie nodded and walked from the room. Sam stripped the covers away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Her right leg, from thigh to knee, was a scarred, red mess. But at least it was a healing scarred, red mess. Though the skin pinched slightly when she moved, it didn’t seem to restrict her. Nor did it hurt. She rotated her shoulder. Again, though there was a definite tightness in the skin, she could move it without pain. How was this possible only a few hours after being shot? She didn’t know, and right now she didn’t really care.
All that mattered was getting to Gabriel before time ran out.
She padded across the cell to get her clothes, the tiles cold under her feet. She dressed quickly, then went back to bed—just in case one of the med staff walked in before the clearance came through for her to be up and about.
But come through it did.
Ten minutes later, she walked out of the building and into the power of the rain-swept night.
GABRIEL WOKE TO THE SOUND of pacing—short, vicious steps that spoke of anger and frustration more eloquently than any words.
He lay on the floor of an office of some kind. The star-shaped base of a chair sat less than a foot away from his head. Beyond that, he could see the sturdy metal legs of a desk. The carpet underneath him rubbed almost harshly against his skin, and it was a practical gray color. It was the sort of hard-wearing carpet they used in state-owned buildings and in housing developments.
That he was no longer in the warehouse was obvious. He shifted fractionally, trying to see the rest of the room. Bad move. Pain shot through his body, a red wave of heat that left him not only gasping for air b
ut soaked in sweat.
The tattoo beat of violence hesitated and then headed his way. Boots appeared before him, wavering in and out of focus. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake the sweat from his vision, then opened them again. The boots were still there. Black and practical. The kind worn by the State Police force.
He looked up. Even that slight movement forced new rivulets of sweat to run down his forehead.
Rose stared down at him, her eyes as dark as the night-dark window at her back. “Good to see you’re finally awake, Assistant Director.”
Despite the cheerfulness of her tone, the fury in her eyes suggested all had not gone well.
“I wish I could say the same.”
Her smile was thin, bitter. “The arm hurts a little, does it?”
She nudged it with the tip of her boot. Pain tore through his body, and he gritted his teeth against the scream that tore at his throat. He glared at her through the drips of sweat. “Bitch.”
“Yes, I am.” She laughed and turned away. “You didn’t tell me about your partner, Assistant Director.”
Something cold ran through him. Rose had shot Sam. “You didn’t ask.”
“True.” Rose leaned against the front of the desk, contemplating him silently for a few moments. “What is she? I was under the impression she was a changer, but her survival of the Jadrone suggests a shifter of some kind. One who is sensitive to others of her kind.”
“Something like that.” It was obvious from the annoyance etched into Rose’s features that Sam had managed to stop her, and had been shot for her efforts. At least she wasn’t dead—he would have known if she were.
“It’s unfortunate, you know, as it calls for a change in plans.”
And he was supposed to be sorry about that? Anything that sidetracked this woman’s mad schemes had to be a good thing. “Try my shape again. You never know. You might get through a second time.”
“I am not a fool, Assistant Director. Please don’t treat me like one.”
There was no point in replying. He carefully ran his fingers up his injured arm until he found the laser wound. The cut felt clean, but his arm was definitely broken. Which was no real problem, because his shapechanger bones healed extraordinarily fast. He just had to set the bones straight, and the healing would begin. He could also feel an ominous damp patch under his right shoulder, but he had no idea where that blood was coming from.