Body Master (7 page)

Seneca slapped the file shut, hid it in her top drawer, and put her head in her hands. God, she was tired. She was sick and tired of running in place. How was she going to fix this? How was she going to convince the idiots who controlled XCEL that a Shifter did not belong in an organization designed to neutralize them? It would seem obvious, but then again, this was the government she was dealing with.

And to be fair, Shifters weren’t much different than humans. And humans had managed to find plenty of reasons to turn on their own. Which led her to the more pressing question: What was Dempsey’s reason for turning on his own? She’d pondered it until her head ached and still could find no good reason. She supposed she could just ask him, but chances were very good he wouldn’t tell her the truth anyway. Which meant the free-floating anxiety she had been feeling for the past two days wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

There was a shuffle at the door, and she braced herself for Dempsey before looking up. Instead, it was Ken Price, almost as bad. He waltzed in without asking, all starched shirt and creased pants. Only an office manager could get away with that look around here.

He put his hands on Dempsey’s desk and leaned forward until she could smell his expensive cologne, which, like his ego, rolled over her in a nauseating wave.

“I hear you’ve been working nonstop, girl. How about you and me go out tonight?” he said with the supreme confidence of a man who didn’t know any better.

How about if the “girl ” tosses your sorry ass down the trash chute?
“I’m working every night this week, Price. Sorry.”

“Okay, I can do breakfast,” he replied with a wink. “Even better. I make a hell of an omelet.”

If he didn’t handle most of her paperwork, she’d tell him exactly where to go. Usually, Riley ran interference for her, but he was gone. She clenched her fist under the desk. Playing along was worth whatever it cost. Paperwork was its own private hell. So she said, “As you probably noticed, this is not a good week for me.”

She sensed the change in him as he frowned. “It’s that new guy, isn’t it?” He pushed off the desk and stood up, his face turning crimson with resentment. “Christ, that didn’t take long.”

Okay, now she was mad. Through clenched teeth, she said very carefully, “It’s not him. It’s me. I’m busy.”

“It’s just one date. It’s not like you have so many other options,” Price said.

Now she wanted her gun. To hell with paperwork, to hell with being nice. “I said no, Price. Get a hint.”

“You think you’re so fucking hot,” he said. “One of these days, you’re number’s going to be up.”

She stood and pointed at the door. “Get out of my office before
your
number comes up, Price.”

“Is there a problem?”

Both of them looked over to find Dempsey dominating the doorway holding two cups of coffee. He wore jeans, a T-shirt, his leather jacket, and a visibly large Glock 39 underneath it. His gaze pinned Price, and Seneca could see the office manager stiffen. She’d seen Dempsey mad at her, but not like this. This almost scared
her
.

Price twitched and then squared his shoulders. “We were talking. You interrupted us.”

Dempsey’s gaze flicked to hers, and she pursed her lips. His eyes narrowed at Price. “You’re at my desk.”

Price stumbled a little as he moved away from the desk and carefully maneuvered around Dempsey at the door. Just before he walked out, he looked at her and said, “We’ll talk later.”

Dempsey kicked the door closed. “Price isn’t very bright, is he?”

She sat back down and mumbled, “No, but he
is
persistent.”

Dempsey handed her one of the two cups he brought in, and she said, “Thank you.” It was for more than the coffee, but she didn’t know how to say it without looking like she couldn’t handle herself with the office staff. The truth was, she sucked at the finer points of politics. Her only two methods were shutting up or shooting.

He took his seat. “Find everything you wanted in my file?”

She looked at him over the rim of her mug. “No.”

One corner of his mouth rose. “You could always just ask me.”

Hey, he offered. She set her coffee down and crossed her arms. “Okay. Let’s start with where you got your skin?”

Dempsey leaned back in his chair. “A dead man.”

His answer sent a shiver through her. “Was he dead before or after you took his skin?”

He smiled back. “Sorry to ruin your night, but I wasn’t the one who killed him. Found him dead in a ravine. Been there for a while. Gunshot to the head. Must have pissed someone off. Maybe it was you.”

She replied, “A funny partner. Just what I need. He must not have looked too healthy after being dead in the open for a week.”

“As long as the DNA is still viable, we can use it,” he replied without blinking.

Her stomach turned. “That’s disgusting.” And more than a little scary. How many people were buried in grave sites around the country? At this rate, she’d never sleep.

“It’s what we do. The only way we can survive. I didn’t ask to be a Shifter,” he said.

He sipped his coffee as if sucking the DNA from some dead guy was the most normal thing in the world. She collected her thoughts and asked the next question, “I’d hate to think there are more of you, but do you have any family I should be worried about?”

She noticed that his fingers tightened around the handle. His voice rasped. “Irrelevant. Next question.”

Ooo, she’d hit a nerve, and she tucked it away for future use. “Okay, here’s a good one. If we come face-to-face with Dillinger, will you be able to kill one of your own? No mention of doing that in your file.”

Dempsey didn’t move a muscle for a few moments, and Seneca realized she may have just crossed some strange forbidden Shifter line. Finally, he set down his cup carefully and pushed forward in his chair so their eyes met over the desks. The air around her stilled as he spoke low and slow. “Don’t worry about me, partner. I’m an agent first.”

He said it like he meant it, but that free- floating anxiety was firmly in place. “I just want to make sure you don’t change your mind about why you’re here.”

“How could I forget? Finished?” he asked.

“Not yet. Why are you here?”

Dempsey’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

That was true, but not the reason. “What do Shifters want?”

His expression softened just a little. “A home.”

Then you’re out of luck here,
she thought. Just then, MacGregor opened the door and came in. Dempsey kept his gaze on her as he sat back in his chair.

“Thanks for knocking,” Seneca said, even though she was almost grateful for the interruption.

MacGregor stood with his hands on his hips. “It’s my place. Got personal business? Do it somewhere else. Now what did you want to talk about?”

Seneca cast a quick glance at Dempsey, who remained silent. Didn’t look like he was going to jump in and explain. Fine. “Bart says a guy named Skinman is selling DNA to Shifters underground. In the tunnels under the city.”

MacGregor crossed his arms over his generous belly. “Skinman? Nice name.” He looked at Dempsey. “What do you know about him?”

“It’s an occupation, not a name. For Shifters, a Skinman is a necessity when you have to blend in with the locals. It’s not as easy as you might think finding healthy DNA. So a Skinman sets up shop, collects DNA, and sells it,” he said. “But if this Skinman is killing off the homeless population to harvest their DNA, someone is going to discover his operation sooner or later.”

MacGregor let out a sigh. “I’ll notify the local authorities to let us know if they find any bodies underground.”

Seneca added, “And ask them to compile a list of missing homeless people. They rarely get reported, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

MacGregor nodded. “How fast can they replicate, Max?”

He shrugged. “With sufficient energy, an experienced Shifter can roll over in a few days. Individual parts of the human anatomy, as quickly as a few hours.”

“We have to stop this guy,” Seneca said. “Like now. I think Dillinger might have gotten his DNA from Skinman. I want to go underground.”

She watched as MacGregor considered it and hoped he understood how urgent this request was. She had to put Skinman out of business, because if she didn’t, no one else would be able to.

“Dillinger is your first priority,” he finally said. “After you bring him in, you can go after Skinman.”

Those weren’t the orders she wanted, and she exchanged an unhappy look with Dempsey. Then MacGregor looked at his watch and opened the door. “Roll call in thirty minutes. I’ll have information by then. Don’t be late.”

Max followed Seneca for roll call and sat next to her in the back. The small room was jammed with XCEL agents throwing things at one another and telling raunchy jokes over long tables and chairs that faced a podium at the front. He noted that Seneca was the only female in the room.

Seneca watched the other agents, silently taking everything in and probably remembering every detail. Times like this he almost liked her. “You’re quiet.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said and smiled.

He eyed her. “Expecting me to crack?”

She turned to him, and brown eyes met his. “I don’t think you crack.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or something else. Probably something else. He wouldn’t get any respect from her. Not yet. “So this is where you get the scoop on Shifters?”

“Anything we know is an advantage. None of us want to die.”

“Same here,” he said and smiled when she gave him an annoyed look.

The door at the back of the room flung open, and MacGregor stormed in. He slapped a pile of folders on the podium and swore as he tried to turn on the overhead equipment until someone came to his rescue.

“That man is going to have a heart attack someday,” Dempsey murmured.

“Hey, he’s mellowed,” Seneca replied. “You should have seen him a year ago.”

Finally, MacGregor yelled, and the dull roar settled down.

“Pay attention, people,” he barked. “This could save your ass tonight.”

He punched the remote and brought up a screen with a printout on it. “Our latest intel says that we now have over eight hundred Shifters in Manhattan. That’s a big influx of a few hundred in the past month.”

A murmur filled the room as MacGregor wrestled with the remote to bring up the next screen, a graph that showed one XCEL agent for every ten Shifters.

“Which means, we need more men,” MacGregor said. He nodded in Seneca’s direction. “Or women. Or dogs. Get your friends and relatives to come in and sign up for the best god-damn job there is.”

That got a chuckle out of the room.

“We believe the reason for the influx is a new source of DNA. Our homeless population. You’ll all get a list and photos of folks reported missing in the past three months. If you see one of them roaming the streets, call it in.”

Then the screen went black, and MacGregor swore as he tried to bring it back. Finally, he threw the remote in the corner and it broke in two. He gripped the sides of the podium. “We also got more info on their DNA structures. As you know, they can tap into any DNA source—hair, skin, blood, bones, saliva, even sperm—to build the basic structure. A good Shifter can completely convert in two days. After that, they are pretty much stuck with the structure, although with some experimentation, they may be able to play with eye color, skin color, yadda, yadda.”

Someone yelled out, “Does that mean they can change their dick size?” The room erupted in laughter.

MacGregor pointed to him. “Leave it to the small-dicked man in the back to ask that one.” The laughter got louder.

Max crossed his arms, not laughing. He wondered what humans would think if Shifters had meetings about them.
We’ve ascertained that the vast majority of humans are arrogant, greedy, and completely intolerant.

“The research boys have recalibrated all your disrupters with new patterns,” MacGregor continued. “They should work like a charm for a few weeks. After that, we’re back to square one.”

The agents clapped in response, and MacGregor raised his hand. “You’re going to like this one even better. I have it on the best authority a state job can buy that you’ll be getting your hot little hands on a new weapon. As you know, Shifters are sensitive to UVC light. Screws with their ability to shift and turns them inside-out, which means they can’t shift in sunlight. So some pointy-headed lab coat finally figured out that we can exploit that. We’re going to be the test agency for a new UVC grenade.”

A roar of approval went up as Max’s gut tightened.

“Well, don’t get too excited,” MacGregor said. “Effects will only last about fifteen seconds. The good news is that unlike our disrupter weapons, it affects every Shifter at once in an unobstructed area. It should incapacitate them long enough for you to tranquilize or take them out, whichever comes first.”