Blood of Dawn

by Tami Dane

  “I’ll wait right here.”

  And wait I did. I waited for eons. At least, that’s how it felt. I watched black-clothed SWAT officers come in. I watched them go out.

  Finally Chief Peyton returned. “All right. We have a plan.”

  I hoped it didn’t involve shooting Damen upon sight. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

  “Protocol calls for you to be removed from the case immediately. But there’s a bit of a problem with that. The car’s driver has been in contact with the owner, and she has agreed to meet with me, only if you are present. So you’re coming along. But you will not take any action whatsoever without my clearing it. You won’t even breathe without permission. Got it?”

  “Message received.”

  “Sloan, I warn you, this is serious. You’re straddling a very fine line here. I don’t want to see you ruin your life over one small misstep. Trust me. Do what I say.”

  “Okay.”

  We left the SWAT mobile together and boarded the limo. I watched the congregation around my house disperse as we rolled down the street, past landmarks that had become familiar to me. Behind us, a small caravan of unmarked police cars followed.

  The chief, sitting across from me, looked a little uncomfortable in the limo. “I understand your father set up this meeting. But when we arrive, I need you to let me do the talking. You’re a fly on the wall. Got it?”

  “Sure.” I thumbed over my shoulder. “You might want to call off the troops. We won’t be able to enter Her—erm, Mrs. Sylver’s property with them following.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  While the chief placed a call to Forrester, I checked my phone. No call from Katie yet. My insides twisted. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea, sneaking her out of the house? Maybe she was safer there? She’d already been hurt once. Speaking of that, I needed to find out how that had happened. If Damen hadn’t been responsible, then who or what had been?

  “I appreciate your help with this situation,” I said after the chief ended her call, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve done a lot of good work for the bureau since you started. I don’t want to see someone with so much promise fall into an ugly mess.”

  She said absolutely nothing the rest of the ride.

  I stared out the window. At one point, just as we passed a Walmart, a deep shadow engulfed the car. It didn’t last long, no more than a split second, and then we were driving along a winding country road, flanked on both sides by heavy forest. And the caravan behind us—gone. I had a feeling this road wasn’t on any map or GPS. The chief, busy poking buttons on her cell phone, hadn’t noticed a thing. Just like I hadn’t the first time I’d paid a visit to Willow Hill with Damen.

  When the car pulled up the long, U-shaped drive, I unfastened my seat belt. My heart was thudding so hard—I could count the beats.

  “Hildur Sylver is an eccentric woman,” I warned. “Not like anyone I’ve met before.”

  “Eccentric or not, her son is wanted for questioning. We need her to talk.”

  I was pretty sure the chief wasn’t going to get what she was after. Not if she approached the queen like that. We debarked and the car rolled away. At the front entry, the uniformed guard opened the door for us.

  We stepped inside.

  My gaze went up.

  The mural was gone.

  I checked out the walls.

  The paintings were gone too.

  The queen, looking arthritic and bent, shuffled into the foyer, pushing a walker. This was the queen I’d seen at my parents’ wedding. “Welcome,” she said, motioning to a small sitting area off to the side. “Agent Peyton, won’t you have a seat. Miss Skye.” Her eyes twinkled as she greeted me.

  I nodded, keeping my expression sober.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” the chief said. She sat, and I took the chair next to her. “We need to ask you some questions about your son.”

  Her Majesty lifted a bent finger. “Before I answer a single question, I must speak with Miss Skye. In private.”

  Chief Peyton stood. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

  The queen studied the chief for a handful of beats. “Then I’m sorry, our business here is done.” The queen stood as well.

  I was torn. I didn’t want to see this whole thing fall apart. I had a feeling Her Majesty had information we needed. “It’s okay,” I said. “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my superior.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. Clearly, she didn’t want to say anything in front of the chief. A lengthy, very painful silence followed. The chief stared at the queen; the queen stared right back. They reminded me of two cats that had just discovered each other and weren’t sure if they should fight or not.

  “Very well.” The queen took her seat again. “I have a message for you. Your friend lost track of Damen.”

  “Damn it,” I mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t hear me. That made this interview that much more important. “Thank you for relaying the information.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Do you know whether she’s safe?” I asked.

  “I assume she is. I haven’t heard otherwise.” To the chief, she said, “As you will soon discover, tracking my son’s movements is impossible. Unless you’re able to shift into some form of energy?”

  The chief cleared her throat. “We’re more interested in finding out the identity of the person who has taken control of him.”

  Something flickered in Her Majesty’s eyes—distrust, perhaps. “We all are.”

  “You don’t know who she is?” I asked.

  The chief gave me a warning glare.

  Her Majesty shook her head. “Nobody but the two of them do. I did everything in my power to protect him.”

  “He mentioned no names?” the chief asked, taking control of the interview.

  “None. He wouldn’t be able to. At least, not once the link was formed.”

  The chief leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. “Do you know when this link occurred? The killings are recent, within the last week.”

  The queen mirrored the chief’s position. “I assume it’s very new. Probably within twenty-four hours of the first killing.”

  “Do you remember anything unusual happening in that time? Did he go anywhere? Talk to anyone?” the chief asked.

  “No, other than Sloan’s parents’ wedding the first week of July.”

  The chief dug a file out of her briefcase. “We have a reason to believe the unsub could be one of these young women. Do any of them look familiar?” She opened the file, revealing a stack of photographs.

  I studied each one as the queen leafed through them.

  Her Majesty said, “I trust Sloan. She can help him. I know it.” She hesitated as she came across one photo I recognized. “Hmm . . .”

  A huge swan swooped into the room, entering through the window. The queen lifted a finger, set down the photos, and walked to the bird. “Excuse me, please.” She picked it up and carried it outside, closing the door behind her.

  The chief’s brows flew to the top of her forehead.

  “Like I said, she’s eccentric.” I lifted the last picture that the queen had been looking at. “She stopped when she got to this one.”

  “That may mean nothing.”

  My soon-to-be mother-in-law shuffled back in. Before I could ask her about the picture, she said, “I have more news. Sloan, he’s received his next command.”

  My gaze locked to hers, and a shiver swept up my spine. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

  “It’s you. And of course he knows you’re here.”

  The rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

  It is weakness rather than wickedness which renders men unfit to be trusted with unlimited power.

  —John Adams

  31

  The queen was at my side within seconds, arms waving. I had no idea what she was d
oing. A blink later, a jagged blue bolt struck the ground right outside the French doors. I was blinded for an instant. Afterward, my vision was blocked by the shadowy afterburn. I blinked frantically, hearing scuffling and voices. The chief yelling. Her Majesty yelling back.

  “Mum.” It was Damen’s voice.

  He was here.

  To kill me.

  My fiancé.

  “I haven’t done anything to anyone,” I said, still blinking my eyes to try to clear them. Someone was tugging on my arm—the chief?—but I fought her. “Why would she want me dead?”

  “It’s her command. I must obey.” Damen’s voice was low and full of regret.

  Still blinking, I looked him in the eye. “Can’t you fight it somehow, Damen? Please, can’t you try?”

  “Sloan, we’re leaving. Now.” Once again, the chief tried to drag me away.

  “Please, Damen. Fight it. For me. If you love me, you’ll fight it.”

  His hands curled into fists. His jaw tensed. “I’ve tried, Sloan. Believe me, I’ve tried. That’s why it took me this long to get here.”

  The chief yanked harder, and I nearly fell. “Sloan, if I must, I’ll handcuff you and drag you out of here.” She meant every word. I knew it, but I wasn’t going to leave. No, I needed to stay, to help Damen. Maybe it would come to a point where it would be his life or mine. But it wasn’t there yet.

  “Can’t you change her mind?” I threw out, inching toward the door to appease the chief.

  “I tried that too, warned her that you’re not the only one who’s on her trail. She thinks if I kill you, then stop killing for a while, the investigation will be called off.”

  “Not a chance,” the chief said.

  “I tried to tell her that. She doesn’t trust me. She knows I was lying earlier.”

  “Call her, we’ll tell her ourselves,” the chief suggested.

  “I can’t do that. It might reveal her identity. As it turns out, I’m unable to do anything that could threaten her safety. That’s why your friend failed to follow me.”

  I felt myself scowling. “It was worth a try, I guess.”

  “It was.” Damen’s expression was so dark—his eyes so clouded—my heart was breaking. “I didn’t want it to come to this.”

  “I know, Damen.”

  “Come with me, Sloan. Right now.” The chief was pretty much shoving me through the door, and I wasn’t doing much to stop her.

  However, while I was walking toward the waiting limo, my mind was racing. Jumbled thoughts bounced around in my head like atoms in an overheated nuclear reactor core: If only I can figure out who she is. If only. I thought about our case up to this point, the girls we’d interviewed. The girls who’d died. I was missing something. That something was the key. If only I had more time . . .

  Standing framed in the doorway, Damen lifted his hands. I couldn’t miss the anguish I saw in his eyes. “Sloan, I don’t want to do this.”

  His mother mirrored his position. She scurried in front of me, hands flat, chest high. “Son, you know what I’m about to do.”

  Damen nodded. “I do.”

  “I love you, son.”

  “I love you too.”

  “What? What are you going to do? What’s happening?” I asked as the chief shoved me aside. “Chief, there’s nothing you can do. If he releases a bolt, it’s going to strike you, or it’s going to strike me.”

  “Better if it’s me,” she said.

  “No.” Now I was the one doing the pushing. But the chief was strong and she was determined. She wouldn’t move out of the way.

  “You’re safe,” the queen said. “He’s going to discharge a stream of electricity. I’ve opened a connection between us. Like a circuit. It’ll circle the charge back to him.”

  “Will that stop him?” I asked.

  “Eventually—though it’ll likely kill him.”

  No!

  My knees softened and I nearly went down. The chief caught me before I hit the ground. “Oh, God, isn’t there another way?” I asked as I forced myself back to my feet. Damn it, I wasn’t going to fall to the ground and wail like a little baby. I was going to think this through. I was going to solve this problem, just like I had every other problem I’d ever faced. “Tell me what to do!”

  “Figure out who she is. That’s the only way,” Damen said. His hands started glowing, little visible arcs of white static jumping off his fingertips. “Sloan, this wasn’t what I wanted for us.”

  A sob tore up my throat. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Frozen. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I wanted to do something, to save him somehow. But what could I do? I couldn’t stop electricity. And I couldn’t change the fact that he was under the control of someone else. Right?

  Right?

  All you can do is what you do best. Think, Sloan, think!

  My brain started piecing together all the clues: the marks on the girls, the names of the girls, the conversations I had with Megan and with Derik and with Jia.

  The marks. Little marks. Pairs of burns.

  The note Your dead. That handwriting. It was Derik’s.

  The profile: intelligent, respected, well liked.

  She’d faked the attack.

  To throw us off.

  Figuring it was “do or die,” I said, “She’s Jia.”

  His fingers curled into fists. His lips clamped together.

  This was it. Either he’d die or I would. I couldn’t hold back. “That’s who it is, isn’t it?”

  The chief had her phone out, dialing before I’d taken my next breath. “Thomas, head to Jia Wu’s house. She’s the unsub.”

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” I yelled, hoping he could hear me.

  He was glowing all over now; a blue-white aura surrounded his whole body. He lifted his hands higher and a shower of sparks jumped from his fingertips. “It doesn’t matter if you know. It’s too late. I have to carry out her command.”

  “Can’t you wait? If JT brings her here—”

  “Waiting puts her at risk. I can’t do that.” He was shaking now, trembling from head to toe. He was fighting it. I could see it in his face. I had to keep him talking—that seemed to be helping.

  “What if . . . What if your mother brings her here? She’s powerful. Surely, she can snap her fingers or something, and get her here.”

  His mother flicked her gaze to me. “I could do that. She’d be standing right there in a blink. But if I did, I’d have to break the circuit between myself and Damen. You’d be vulnerable. And my son knows that. The instant the circuit is broken, he can—will—strike.”

  My gaze snapped to his. Would he really do that? Or could he resist? “Well?”

  His eyes were full of anguish. “She’s right.”

  “Can you fight it? It’s not going to take long. Seconds.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” His head fell back. “Sloan!” he cried out.

  I glanced at the queen, then turned back to Damen. “If you can resist for only a moment, we might be able to save your life.”

  “Help me,” he growled.

  “I want to try.”

  I locked gazes with Damen. Took a few deep breaths. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  I took one last breath. And before I had the chance to second-guess myself, I yelled, “Do it!” I did not break eye contact with him.

  Time seemed to slow down; I concentrated so hard. Damen’s eyes glowed silver. He raised his flattened hands, slowly moving them in place in front of his body. Little bolts of electricity arced from his fingertips. The sizzling white sparks floated there, in front of his hands, as more leapt from his fingertips. They moved closer to each other until they joined, forming a small ball in the air. More sparks joined the ball, and more; the shimmering ball grew oh-so-slowly in front of him.

  How much time had passed? Ten seconds? Twenty? A hundred?

  The ball was growing larger. Baseball-sized. Softball. Bigger. Soccer. Its hum was louder. The crackle of static ov
er an AM radio station.

  “Do it!” someone screamed.

  I knew that voice.

  “What are you waiting for? You must do as I say,” Jia commanded.

  Damen’s bizarre silver gaze didn’t leave mine. I concentrated hard on keeping the connection between us. “What do I do?” I yelled. “How do I stop her?”

  “You must break their bond,” the queen said.

  “How?”

  “I’m losing control,” Damen said, his voice weak. The glow in his eyes amped up. Hundreds of mini lightning bolts jumped from his fingers.

  “Sloan, I can complete the circuit,” the queen said.

  “No.”

  “Do it, Mother. Do it now,” Damen muttered. He was losing the battle. Losing, but hadn’t lost.

  “No! Call him off, Jia!” I yelled.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Mum. Sloan!”

  Without taking my gaze from Damen’s, I said, “Call him off, Jia, or I’ll make sure you spend your every remaining moment in a living hell.”

  “You’ll be dead. You won’t be doing anything.”

  “You’ve lost. Too many people know,” the chief told her.

  “You can’t kill us all. Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t you hurt enough people?”

  “Where’s your humanity? Your heart? Your conscience, Jia?” I demanded. “Are you going to let hatred and vengeance consume you?”

  “Mother!” Damen screamed. The ball was the diameter of a beach ball now. “Can’t hold it.”

  The queen put up her hands. “I love you, my son.”

  “What’s she doing?” Jia shrieked.

  “Killing him,” I said, sobbing. “Damen!”

  “No!” Jia shouted. “You can’t!”

  Her reaction shocked me. “What’s wrong?”

  “If he dies, so does she,” the queen told us.

  “Then you’ve got nothing to lose, Jia. Call him off,” the chief said.

  “Stop! I command you.” Jia turned to the chief and started crying. She covered her face with her hands. The chief wasted no time, grabbing her hands, shoving them behind her back so she could handcuff her.

  “Don’t say a word. Nothing. Got it?” the chief told her.