A certain, bone-deep dread settled like stones in my stomach, weighting me to the cement beneath my feet. The keys dangled useless in my hands. Suddenly, I was back in the bar and Mel’s words were replaying over and over in my head.
He’s not human. He’s not human.
Shocked and absolutely stupefied, I watched the man raise his arm. At the same time, the driver’s door opened and Mel’s head popped out, as if the man had called out to her, but I hadn’t heard him over the pounding of my heart. I opened my mouth to yell out to Mel, but the air filled with electricity, raising the tiny hairs all over my body. Overhead lights flickered and then in a rapid succession, they blew one after another, showering sparks like raindrops. Each mini explosion was like a gunshot, silencing my shriek as I jumped back, knocking into the hood of my car.
Darkness descended, but it only lasted a second. An unnatural, intense whitish-blue light lit up the front part of the parking garage and—
oh God
—it was coming from the man. Like lightning, it came from within him, radiating from his shoulder and spreading down his arm, twisting and crackling until it reached his palm.
Mel screamed in the same instant I yelled for her.
The pulse of light shot from his hand, arcing like lightning. It struck the back of her car. My heart stopped. The keys fell from my hands.
Whitish-blue light swallowed Mel’s car. For a second, the air stilled and everything went silent. Heat rolled back in violent waves and the light flared, blinding for a second before the explosion rocked through the parking garage.
Chapter 2
The call came in seconds before I was to board the private jet bound for the backwoods of West Virginia. I almost ignored it, because when the goddamn cell rang, it was always a load of shit I didn’t want to deal with.
But “didn’t want” and “had to” were never in agreement.
Yanking the damn thing out of the duffel bag, I didn’t look at the caller ID before I answered. Not like it could be a lot of people. “What?”
There was a pause on the other end, and I could picture the stick-up-his-ass officer displaying his pissy face. “That’s a very impolite way to answer the phone,” Officer Zombro said.
“And here’s another impolite thing for you.” I leaned against the wall, eyeing the plane on the tarmac. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Officer Zombro bit out the next words. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but let—”
“I know exactly who and what I’m talking to. Get to the point. I have a plane to catch.”
“You can say good-bye to your travel plans, because we have a job for you.”
My hand tightened around the cell phone and I heard the fragile plastic groan. Son of a bitch. With great effort, I forced my grip to loosen. I’d lost many of my cells in the past this way.
Zombro took my silence as submission. “One of the satellites picked up a high-frequency blast of energy over Boulder.”
Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Early evidence is indicating that this was an unsanctioned display of the Source. Since there is a community of Luxen in that area, we will be in need of your assistance.”
I opened my eyes slowly. Off in the horizon, the last of the sun dipped over the mountain, casting an orangey glow over the flat, sandstone rocks. Tiny bits of the rock gleamed in the fading light. Fucking beta quartz.
“Hunter? Did you hear me?”
Zombro’s voice grated on my self-control, something I never had a really good handle on in the first place. I kicked off the wall. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“You’re the closest one to Boulder. The pilot has been given instructions. Get there and await further contact.”
Before I could say “Fuck off,” Zombro disconnected the call. The little rat bastard liked doing that. Being the one to end the call gave the fucking twerp some kind of sense of power. Annoying, yes, but seriously laughable. In Zombro’s wildest dreams, he could never be as ruthlessly strong or deadly as me, and the officer knew it.
I shook out my shoulders, but the tension lingered deep in my muscles. Casting a glance back at the hangar, my eyes narrowed in a clear, potent warning.
Another of my kind drifted further into the shadows, backing off so quickly I had to think he was clever and valued his life. Making sure the other wasn’t going to try anything, I didn’t turn my back until I was confident the other remained where it hid.
My hands curled into fists as I itched to shed this skin. I was partial to this human form, but this was one of those moments where I just wanted to be in my true form, free of assholes calling me in because the government had to keep up appearances. As if they really were able to maintain control over the Luxen population. If that were the case, there’d be no need for me.
I’d most likely be dead or locked up in a lab somewhere, getting probed—and not in the fun way.
Instead, I was this—whatever
this
was.
This whole new lease-on-life bullshit was getting old quick. Sitting around, behaving, and being the Department of Defense’s bitch was not in my nature. Somehow it was in Lore’s, but my brother had always been a bit…different or touched, depending on how I looked at it.
And that was how I ended up here, ready to do this job, because Lore had asked me to step away, to get out of the war, and Lore had begged. Our kind never begged. But that plea had come as we stood over the body of our sister.
And so here I was.
The pilot stuck his head out the loading door, visibly swallowing. Humans were always uncomfortable around our kind. A sixth sense warned them that they were coming as close to death as possible just by being in our presence.
Could be worse, I thought, as I grabbed my duffel bag. If I wasn’t going home, at least I was getting to kill a Luxen.
…
“I’ve told you everything I know—and it sounds crazy, I get that, but it’s not going to change no matter how many times I repeat it.”
Detective Jones sat back, readjusting the tie around his thick neck. The man’s jowls had gone from pink to code red since he walked into the room. “Miss Cross, I know you’ve had a traumatic experience—”
“I saw my friend get blown up in her car!” My voice caught. I cleared my throat, but my eyes still burned. “So, yes, that was pretty damn traumatic, but it doesn’t change what I saw tonight.”
“And this man—what did he look like again?”
Exhausted, I placed my hands on the deep brown table. “I’ve told you and the officers before you. He was tall—”
“How tall, Miss Cross?” Detective Jones leaned forward, his stomach sucking in his belt in the process. “You’re pretty short, so a lot of people may seem tall to you.”
What the hell? I shook my head, too frustrated to be offended. I gave him a description once more and he scribbled in his little notebook. I was sure he was just doodling. I had been at the police department for over five hours, recounting everything I had seen and heard tonight. Part of me was numb, couldn’t process what had really happened, because Mel…Mel couldn’t be dead. The other part was hyperaware of every creak of the chair when the detective shifted his weight, of the flickering fluorescent lights that reminded me of those horrifying moments in the parking garage, and of every sore muscle and bruised skin that had taken the brunt of my fall.
I couldn’t believe I was alive.
The explosion had knocked me flat on my ass and any extra cushioning I had down there hadn’t softened the blow. My ears had rung for a straight two hours and I could still smell the burned scent of twisted metal…and skin.
Oh God…
I shuddered and reached for the plastic cup of water. Gulping it down, it did nothing to get rid of the metallic taste in the back of my throat. Taking a deep breath, I looked up and met the aging detective’s eyes. “I’m telling you, the man blew up her car. I don’t know how he did it, but he did. And before that, Mel…” I pressed my lips together. “Mel was afraid.”
“And you’re saying that she was afraid of Senator Vanderson’s sons?” A dubious look crossed his heavy face. “That she witnessed him doing something abnormal that morning. Can you tell me exactly what she told you?”
I stared at him, furious that they were making me go through all of this again. Like they were trying to catch me in a lie, which was insane, because who would make something like this up? I sat back, thrusting my hands through my hair. The only thing keeping me here was the hope that I could somehow help find the people responsible for Mel’s death.
I had overheard the officers earlier, when they’d left the door cracked open. There had only been
pieces
of Mel left. That was it. An entire life reduced to pieces.
Sick to my stomach, I told the detective everything Mel had told me, adding in the panicked phone calls and how nervous she’d been at the bar. “I’m a guidance counselor at the high school—”
“You don’t look old enough.” His bushy brows furrowed.
“I graduated two years ago and I’ve been working at the school for about a year,” I explained tiredly. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“I believe you,” he said, and surprise shot through me like an arrow. He rose, picking up his notepad. “I believe that you’re sincerely convinced of what you saw and I want to help you. And I’m going to help you, but maybe after a few days, when everything has had a chance to sink in, you’ll be able to think about things more clearly.”
Anger tore through me like a barb-tipped chain. I shot from the chair, surprised that I could even move that fast after everything, but fury gave back some of my waning strength. “What I’m telling you isn’t going to change! No matter how many days have passed.”
Ignoring the outburst, he gestured for me to sit. “It’s just going to be a few more minutes and we’ll have an officer take you home, okay? The garage is still shut down. We hope to be able to let people reclaim their vehicles in the next day or so.”
A burst of defiance hit me and I briefly considered bum
-
rushing the out
-
of
-
shape detective. There was a good chance I could take him, but the urge seeped out of me like air leaking from a balloon. I collapsed on the chair, too angry and too tired.
The detective stopped at the door, frowning. “I do have one more question for you, Miss Cross.”
I glanced at him, doubting it would be anything relevant.
“You mentioned a name—started with a D? Did your friend say anything else about that?”
“You mean the Daedalus?” When the detective nodded, my shoulders slumped. “She said something about that and Project or Operation Eagle, but I don’t remember
…
I don’t think so. When can I leave?”
Detective Jones stared at me hard for a moment and then forced a tight-lipped smile. “It will only be a few more minutes.”
He left, closing the gray door behind him. In the silence that followed, I almost broke. Using whatever strength I had left, I closed my eyes and started counting back from one hundred. Losing it here wouldn’t help my cause. The officers already thought I had a screw loose. By the time I reached thirty, I opened my eyes. They stung.
Reaching for the purse I’d been lucky to find in all the chaos, I dug out my cell. Tapping on the screen, I realized that the thing was dead. Couldn’t have been the battery because I had charged it earlier at work. I tossed it back in the bag with a sigh.
Time crept by and I was tortured by a thousand what
-
ifs. What if I took Mel more seriously? What if we had stayed in the bar? What if I insisted Mel ride with me? Sitting up, I smoothed my hands down my face. Pressure built in my chest, ripping open old wounds from when Mom had been murdered for the twenty dollars that she carried in her purse
,
and slicing deep, fresh ones.
The door opened and I jumped a little in my seat. I expected either the officers who had responded to the garage or the detective, but I didn’t recognize the two men who walked in.
Both were dressed in black suits. The first one was older, his face heavily lined and pockmarked. Patches of gray colored his temples. The one behind him was younger
,
baby faced
,
and probably no more than a few years older than me.
“Miss Cross?” The older officer spoke first, pulling a badge out from the breast of his jacket, flashing it quickly. “My name is Officer Zombro. We’re from Homeland Security.”
I sat a little straighter, but wasn’t surprised. Cars blowing up usually brought out the feds.
Officer Zombro sat in the seat the detective had kept warm. “I know you’re really tired and this has been a long, terrible night, but we’re going to need to take a few more minutes of your time
,
and then we’re going to take you home. Okay?”
I wilted in the uncomfortable metal chair, but nodded.
The younger officer strode around the table, sitting on the edge closest to me. He smiled
,
and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “My name is Jonathan Richards. My partner and I would like to express our sincerest sympathies for the loss of your friend tonight.”
“Thank you
.
” I choked on the words.
The smile was compassionate, but never quite reaching his eyes. Probably due to the job. How many times have they sat in a room like this, speaking to a witness of a horrific crime?
“And we know you’ve been over the events of tonight many times, but we really need you to do it again.” The somber expression on Officer Zombro’s face hadn’t changed from the moment he walked in. “We like to hear things firsthand.”
I sat back in the chair, eyes cast down. I didn’t even protest. The sooner I got this over with, the quicker I could get out of the stale air that smelled of burned coffee. I repeated the events for the umpteenth time.
“Did your friend have a close relationship with Phillip Vanderson?” asked Officer Richards.
I wondered if casual sex was considered a close relationship. “They’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks. She didn’t really know him before then. I mean, everyone knew who he and his brother were, but we didn’t run in the same circles growing up. Phillip and Elijah went to a private school and…” I trailed off. None of that mattered.
Richards nodded reassuringly. “And she never stated anything before tonight? Mentioned anything out of the norm?”
I shook my head. “Today was the first, but she knew I didn’t approve of the…uh, relationship. The brothers have a reputation around here.”
Both of the officers seemed to be aware of their rough and rowdy playboy ways because they didn’t press the issue. Zombro leaned forward, dropping his elbows on his bent knees. “She said the brothers were arguing
,
and then she saw Phillip start to…glow?”
Hearing it didn’t make it sound any less crazy than saying it. “I didn’t believe her, but then I saw the guy in the garage and what he did.”
They asked a couple more questions about what I’d seen in the garage, routine questions that had already been asked, but they kept going back to the senator. Enough times that I started to wonder if they were at least thinking that the boys had something to do with what happened. When the questions finally wound down, another hour and a half had passed and the black and white clock on the wall showed that it was past one in the morning.
“Do you have any idea what your friend believed she saw on Phillip’s balcony this morning?” Zombro asked.