by Kathy Reichs
I ignored him. The more I thought about it, the more I believed in what I was saying.
We did need a purpose. Could this be it?
“Hey, why not?” Hi shrugged. “We know the twins, and they seem all right. And it’s only a missing persons’ case anyway. What are you afraid of, Devers?”
“The unknown,” Shelton snapped. “Jail. Being dissected by Navy Seals.”
He petulantly kicked a rock. I crossed my arms, waiting.
Shelton removed his glasses and ran a hand across his face. Finally, he sighed. “I guess we could help out a little. Can’t see the harm in that.”
“So what’s the plan?” Hi cracked his knuckles. “Head into North Charleston and shake down some perps? Buy hand grenades? I’ve mapped out the first couple verses of a Virals theme song, so—”
“The Gable house,” I said. “The report said the family relocated, probably so the cops can tear it part. No one should be there. Let’s snoop around a little.”
“Arrgh.” Shelton pressed both fists to his skull. “More midnight black ops. We’ve done so much B and E this last year, we should apply for college credit. I think my black sweat pants are dirty, and I don’t—”
“No, doofus. Let’s go right now. If the Gable family isn’t staying there, the house should be deserted. Hi, can you—”
“On it.” Hi began tapping his iPhone. A moment, then, “Daniel Island. Nice digs, too, not that I’m surprised. The lot borders the Wando River.”
“Waterfront,” Shelton said quietly. “They probably have a dock.”
“Easiest way to avoid detection,” Hi added in a singsong voice.
Both boys looked at me.
There was no way around it. We needed Ben. He had the damn boat.
“Fine.” I practically growled. “Text him.”
Shelton punched in the message. His iPhone buzzed back in moments.
“Ben’s in.” Shelton rolled his eyes. “Snarky as hell, but he’ll pick us up at the Morris dock.”
“Getting the band back together!” Hi tossed Shelton a high five, then aimed one my way. “Look out, world!”
I raised my palm in reluctant acceptance.
Look on the bright side. We’ll do this at full pack strength.
If only I knew how to feel about that.
Sewee’s nose kissed the Gables’ private dock.
Ben killed the engine and running lights. Shouldering my pack, I vaulted the port rail and tied off the bowline while Shelton and Hi tightened the stern ropes. Vessel secured, Ben and Coop leaped to join us and we hurried down the planks.
The sun was setting in a fiery tangerine ball, giving a hint of cover. I prayed the neighbors wouldn’t notice our boat, but it was a risk we had to take. Thankfully, the Gable property was tucked into a tree-lined cove that blocked an easy view by passing watercraft.
An hour earlier I’d managed to beg off dinner. Kit and Whitney had accepted my study group explanation without too much fuss. After all, I’d promised to be home by eight. What trouble could I possibly get into?
Daniel Island is all the way across Charleston Harbor from Morris. An affluent four-thousand-acre planned community situated between the Cooper and Wando Rivers, the pricey real estate had only recently been developed. In addition to residential neighborhoods, the islet boasts a swanky golf club, its own schools, churches, and parks, and a vibrant little downtown featuring boutiques, restaurants, and high-end office space.
Fresh, conspicuously green, and close to downtown, Daniel Island had quickly become a coveted address. It’s where I’d live, if given the choice. With my friends close by, of course.
We halted in the shadow of a boat shed at the end of the dock.
“You guys ready?” I whispered.
A round of nods. Coop sat back on his hind legs with an expectant look.
“We shouldn’t have brought the freaking wolfdog,” Shelton griped. “We can’t take him inside the house. What if he barks? Decides to chase rabbits?”
“Coop will stand guard,” I assured him. “Plus, he amplifies our flare powers. That might come in handy, don’t cha think?”
Assuming they work properly. Or at all.
I brushed the unpleasant thought aside. To pull off this home invasion, we had to use our powers. There was no way around it. Lucy and Peter needed our help.
We’d just have to be vigilant to any . . . irregularities.
“Enough talk.” Ben’s eyes already gleamed. “We need to be quick. If anyone spots Sewee before we get back, we’re cooked.”
I ignored Ben. My current strategy was to pretend he wasn’t there.
Closing my eyes, I tripped the mental breaker.
SNAP.
Fire. Ice. The opposing forces sent waves thrumming through my body.
Raw energy balled within my chest, compressing and compounding until I felt ready to explode. The power raged. Primal. Bestial. Something ancient, yet newborn at the same time. The intensity was unlike anything I’d felt before.
Shelton dropped to a knee, bathed in sweat. “What . . . what . . .”
Hiram shook, his lips moving soundlessly.
“Amazing.” Ben staggered sideways, steadying himself against the shed.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Every muscle in my body had seized.
The maelstrom peaked, then shattered like a dropped vase. Darts of adrenaline circumnavigated my nervous system.
My canine DNA rose from its hiding place. Stretched it paws.
Every sense hummed. The world around me sharpened to a laser-like precision unlike anything my species was built to experience.
My eyes cut like diamonds. I scanned the cove, searching for signs of movement. Detected none. My ears picked out a ticking clock inside a neighboring house, fifty yards away. Distant car horns blared inside my head.
I flexed my fingers, reveling in their sudden dexterity. My arms and legs throbbed with energy. Lifting my nose, I sniffed, read the panic sweat dripping from the other Virals.
Except Ben.
He reeked of something else entirely. A sweet, musky scent. My mind made connections, though I didn’t understand how, or why.
Was it . . . hunger? Joy? Triumph? I couldn’t be sure.
“That was . . . intense.” Hi’s voice cracked on the last word.
“We haven’t flared all together in a while.” Shelton pocketed his spectacles. “Tory’s right. The powers are getting . . . wilder. Almost rabid.”
Sister-Friend.
I glanced down. Coop was at my side, tail wagging. I rubbed his snout.
Hello, Coop.
The boys jumped. Six golden eyes shot to me.
I grinned. Shut my eyes once more.
Stilling my thoughts, I delved deep into my subconscious. Visualized the hidden connections between our minds.
I knew they were there. Had learned that much about our powers.
Wherever we went, whatever we did, telepathic bonds linked us. Viral to Viral. Those bonds were the essence of what made us a pack.
A web sprang to life—flaming cords, stretching between us in a fiery grid, dancing and humming with vitality.
So much easier than before.
Guided by instinct, I . . . reached somehow, gripping the gleaming ropes with my consciousness, overlaying my thoughts in a manner I can’t fully explain. My spirit soared as I imbedded myself into our shared thought matrix.
I sent a message.
Hello to you guys, too.
“Oh, man.” Shelton grabbed his head. “I’m never going to get used to that.”
“Is it like before?” Hi asked, wide-eyed. “Can you see through our eyes? Read our thoughts?”
“She better not.” Ben took a step back down the dock.
“Relax.” Cradled inside this magnificent
oneness, I felt totally at ease.
Just like before.
I tried to untether my mind from my body. At the same time, I willed the flaming cords to grow and expand. Transform into conduits through which my thoughts could pass.
No good. Something blocked the flow.
I couldn’t create the tunnels. My mind wouldn’t travel.
I don’t understand.
The links were discernible. My pack was assembled. Everything felt in place.
But I couldn’t force the union. The pack refused to coalesce.
The bonds connecting us thrummed wildly, like guitar strings wound too tight.
Frustrated, I concentrated on the wolfdog, knowing he focused our power.
Coop’s ears perked. His gaze locked on to mine.
One last time, I tried to force the mind-meld, picturing the Virals as an extension of Coop. The effort failed. I couldn’t untie the pack.
“Tory?”
My lids opened. Hi was waving a hand in front of my face.
“I can’t connect our thoughts. I don’t understand it. I can’t even hear yours.”
“Sounds perfect.” Ben jabbed a thumb at the house. “Can we get on with it?”
I nodded. He was right. We had a task to complete.
But this isn’t over.
Kneeling beside Coop, I ruffled his fur. A surge of love flowed along our bond.
“Stay here, boy.” Holding my palm before his nose. “Keep watch for anyone approaching the house.”
I felt a flash of annoyance from Coop. He snorted, then pawed the wooden planks.
“No back talk.”
Taking his head in my hands, I forced the wolfdog to meet my gaze.
Stay. Watch. Please.
I released him. Coop whined softly, but circled three times and sat.
Watch. Guard.
Impressions more than words.
“Good boy. See you in a few.”
A small backyard stretched to the rear of the Gables’ white stucco house. We crossed it quickly, then waited for Shelton to pick the back-door lock.
“Come on, maestro.” Hi was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Work your magic.”
Click.
“Gotcha.” Shelton took a breath. “Here goes. Be ready to haul ass if an alarm goes off.”
Cringing, he turned the knob, then slowly eased the door open.
Nothing. No wailing sirens. No flashing lights. The system was deactivated.
“Move!” I hurried everyone inside, leaving the door cracked for a quick getaway.
Unleashing my flare senses, I searched for any sign of occupancy.
Just because a house is supposed to be empty, doesn’t mean it is.
Flaring, I heard a ticking clock. Purring AC. Tiny feet scritch-scratching inside the stucco walls. Sand mice. They’re everywhere on the islands.
The Gables need an exterminator.
“Nobody’s here,” Shelton said at last. “At least, nobody that’s breathing.”
I exhaled. If Shelton’s ears gave the all-clear, then I was satisfied.
We stood inside a large kitchen with a central island. A breakfast nook hooked off to the right. Beyond it, a narrow back staircase rose to the second floor. To the left of the island, a pair of doorways accessed the rest of the ground floor.
“Let’s split up,” Ben suggested. “Shelton and I will look down here.”
“Hiram and I will check upstairs.” I spoke as though the two-pronged approach was my idea. Technically, I still wasn’t speaking to Ben.
I led Hi up to the second level. A long hallway ran the length of the house, ending at a closed door. Two additional doors spaced each side. In the center of the corridor, a wide staircase descended to the foyer and front door.
“I’ll take this side.” Pointing left. “You sweep the other.”
Hi nodded. I moved to the first room and slipped inside.
The square chamber was small, with a single window. Desk. Computer. Bookshelf. File Cabinet. Clearly a home office. The room’s most notable feature was how immaculate it was. Clear desktop. Empty trash can. Not a displaced pen or paper clip. The carpet still had vacuum lines. I wondered if anyone ever went in there.
Forgoing the lights in case of any watchful neighbors, I prowled in the growing gloom, trusting my flare vision to pierce the shadows. Senses on high alert, I poked around—opening drawers, jiggling handles, checking the closet—but quickly moved on. I’d seen nothing relating to either twin.
Back in the hallway, I bumped into Hi.
“Office,” I said.
“Guest bedroom,” he replied. “These people sure like Pottery Barn.”
My next door accessed a much larger chamber, with bay windows overlooking the water. A king-sized bed occupied stage center, heaped with lacy throw pillows. A Katy Perry CD was resting on the bedside table.
Sensing I’d found Lucy’s domain, I closed the drapes and flipped a wall switch.
The card had been found in there. Her room required a thorough examination.
The first thing I noticed was pink. Everywhere. Walls, sheets, bedspread, even a lighter shade for the plush wall-to-wall carpeting. Blech.
The furniture was elegant and tasteful. Simple wooden pieces, painted white—bed, side tables, dresser, bureau, bookcase, desk. A private bathroom split the far wall, next to a large walk-in closet. Framed prints adorned the walls. Monet. Dalí. Van Gogh. Classics, all, but highly impersonal. An easel and violin stood in the corner. A day bench curved beneath each window.
I crossed to the dresser, where a handful of framed pictures were aligned in a row. Lucy and Peter playing violin. Lucy smiling as she received an award. A Gable family portrait. Lucy’s yearbook photograph.
As I looked around, two things bothered me.
First, Lucy’s room was as spotless as the office. Either these people were neat freaks, or they had one hell of a maid.
Second, The room lacked . . . character. It was cold, and impersonal, like a hotel suite. Beyond the violin, I saw nothing that made me think of Lucy Gable, the person.
Get to work, I chided myself. Not everyone is Hiram.
Harnessing my flare senses, I inspected the bedroom from top to bottom. I rifled the dresser, checked inside the desk and bureau, crawled under the bed, and even snooped behind the bookcase and headboard. Everywhere a personal item could be stashed.
But what I was hunting?
More weird cards? A note? Signs of foul play?
I didn’t know, and so far my probe had turned up diddly-squat.
Opening the closet, I received my first surprise—a giant Ryan Gosling poster taped to the back of the door.
“That’s more like it.” I took a moment to admire the artwork.
Finally, a little spark. Some evidence that Lucy had a normal human personality.
But why was it hidden in there?
World’s Sexiest Man aside, the remainder of the closet disappointed—nothing but pricey clothes, Bolton Prep unis, and more shoes than four girls could wear. No box full of love letters, no trashed Google Maps printouts, no secret diary filled with shocking revelations, stashed inside a winter coat pocket.
My spirits sank. I began to worry I’d forced us here for no reason.
A quick search of Lucy’s bathroom drew a similar blank. Sighing, I slapped off the light and stepped back into the hall. Hi was exiting the door at the end of the corridor.
“Media room.” His golden eyes gleamed in the darkness. “A total snoozer. Although somebody bought The Last Airbender on Blu-ray, which might be the worst purchase ever.”
“Is that the last door?”
Hi nodded. “I already checked Peter’s room. Other than being the lamest sleeping chamber ever conceived, there’s nothing suspicious. Not that I
know what I’m doing. Because I don’t, FYI.”
I suppressed a sigh. “I trust your instincts. I got the same vibe from Lucy’s room. It’s a little weird. Other than a few framed pictures, the place felt like a high-end corporate rental or something.”
“We may need to face the fact that the Gable twins are the two most boring people on earth.” Hi paused. “Though Peter did have a pretty killer CD collection. White Stripes. Nine Inch Nails. Death Cab. He keeps it under his bed, though, which is kinda bizarre.”
“Huh.”
Under his bed? And Lucy hung her poster in the closet. What was that all about?
“Did you find anything like Señor Snake Scarf?” Hi asked.
I shook my head. “Based on her room, I can’t believe that card belongs to Lucy.”
“Let’s check with Shelton and Ben,” Hi suggested. “Maybe they found something downstairs.” But he didn’t sound optimistic.
I’d taken one step down the main staircase when an image arrowed into my head.
Cooper. Inside. Scratching at a thick wooden door.
I stumbled, nearly fell. Hi grabbed my arm to prevent a header down the stairs.
“Tory?”
“I’m . . . okay.” The image faded, but I knew what it meant. “Hurry. Coop’s inside the house. He wants to show me something.”
“Your dog just spoke to you, inside your head?” Hi shivered. “Crazy sauce.”
“Just come on!”
I felt an electric charge in my nerves.
Coop had sent me a message. The image was only part of it.
The wolfdog’s nose had caught something we’d missed.
A harsh, coppery scent.
One I had no trouble identifying.
Cooper was on the trail of blood.
Shelton and Ben were waiting at the foot of the stairs.
“We found zilch,” Shelton grumbled. “What are we even doing here?”
Ben jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “That way is the living room, den, and dining room. Everything’s completely normal. We were about to recheck the kitchen, since we don’t know what else to do.”
“There’s a second passage off the kitchen,” I said. “Coop’s there.”
“Coop?” Shelton’s hands flew up. “What’s he doing in the house?”
