by Jami Gray
Steam rose, filling the bathroom, so she stripped and got in, letting the currents cascade over her. Her muscles slowly uncoiled under the pressure of the warm water. She stood there, eyes closed, lost in the sensations. The two nicks, half-healed already, were slowly numbing under the spray. Ignoring the small stings, her mind slowed its chaotic whirl and finally calmed.
As tempting as it was to leave Gavin with nothing but cold water, she turned off the shower. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around her body. Too tired to dry her long hair, she left it damp, even though she’d pay for it tomorrow morning with nasty tangles.
Back in her room, she grabbed a long sleeved T-shirt and an old pair of sweat pants from the shelf in her walk-in closet. With Gavin in the house, she didn’t want to be caught in her normal T-shirt/underwear combination. No sense in playing with fire.
Climbing into bed, she pulled her down comforter to her chin, and snuggled into the warmth. The faint sounds of Gavin moving around in the hall bathroom drifted to her. What had she been thinking, bringing him here? She hadn’t, been thinking, that is. Sighing wearily, she settled deeper and let herself drift off to sleep.
Much later, as the silence lay deep and shadows surrounded the darkened house, Raine began to moan softly, her body twitching. She couldn’t breathe. Her legs thrashed, but she couldn’t break free of what held her. Something wrapped itself around her body and tangled her limbs.
Caught deep in the throes of her nightmare, she knew she was dreaming and tried to will herself to wake. Her eyes darted from side to side, searching for the danger. Lab technicians in white coats moved around her, their voices blending together. ‘Exhibiting unusual signs of energy…blood work showing interesting formations…need a few more samples to confirm…recent discoveries from the bone samples show…’
The pain was a crushing weight.
She struggled against the cuffs, the iron digging deep into her flesh. Blood trickled down her wrists and ankles while cold, impersonal fingers roamed over her clammy flesh. Sharp pricks and stings assaulted her as samples were taken again and again.
A scream echoed from behind her, full of horror, agony, and rage.
It wasn’t her, that couldn’t be her. Thuds of flesh hitting flesh broke through her panic. She tried to wrench free to help the person behind her. Unable to move, her chaotic emotions crested to a boiling point. Suddenly an arm was free, her hand shaped like a claw whipping out to tear open the throat of the nearest white coat. Blood fell like a warm rain across her face and an inhuman howl escaped her sore throat.
Twisting, her restraints disappeared and she was crouched on all fours, on top of a cold metal examining table. Her lips drew back in a feral snarl as more men in white coats appeared, With their backs to her, they surrounded something in a large cage. Pushing off the table, she raked out indiscriminately leaving gaping wounds on two of the faceless men as she broke through their circle.
The image wavered and stretched, morphing into a long dark hallway, lined on both sides by heavy bars. Light gleamed dully off the metal. She charged down the hall, snatches of grotesque forms, trapped behind bars, swam in her brain.
Panic strangled her.
Gasping, she kept moving forward, needing to get away from whatever or whoever chased her. Then, without warning, the floor disappeared underneath her leaving her tumbling through the dark. Mocking laughter and low voices taunted her. She landed in a heap. Looking up, she saw the bars of her own cage. Launching upright, she struck out at the bars, barely noticing the burning pain of iron meeting her flesh.
Her sense of helplessness revolved back to rage. It burned, scouring her soul. Underneath it all was the hopeless despair of not being able to stop them. She was nothing but another lab rat, another monster brought to life by the demented vision of one man. At the sound of footsteps she turned to see an older man. His gray hair immaculate, his craggy face creased with a pleased smile, but it was his gaze that held her. Those light eyes were cold and dead. The flames burned inside her, moving outward, slowly swallowing her body. She couldn’t control this, didn’t want to control it. As the heat grew, the tidal wave of emotions slammed her to her knees.
Gasping, she woke among her tangled sheets, her skin clammy with sweat. Her hair hung in damp disarray around her face, and her eyes darted around the room in terror, searching the shadows. Tremors racked her body as she raised her trembling hands to rub her face.
Struggling to calm her breathing, she pushed her body up to a sitting position and, with a small whimper, drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She lowered her head to her knees, her hair falling around her in a dark, sweaty tangle.
She slowly brought her body and mind under control as time ticked by. She’d never get back to sleep, but with Gavin in the house she couldn’t leave her room undetected. She prayed to whoever was listening for the strength to face her own demons and finish this assignment with her sanity intact. Staring out the dark window, her dry eyes burned as she watched the sky begin to lighten.
Chapter Eight
While Taliesin’s investigative department continued to travel through the money maze, Raine tried to track down friends of the missing wizard. Even with the list Cheveyo had given her, it was like chasing ghosts. Dimtri Rimmick’s associates seemed to have left town en masse, and no one was willing to talk to her. A lesser being might have taken it personally. She didn’t. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Cheveyo wouldn’t deliberately mislead her, she’d have thought putting her on Rimmick’s trail was a twisted joke. Even his neighbors, in the older neighborhood where the small rundown apartment was located, had rarely seen him.
A little breaking and entering—more entering than breaking since the flimsy locks wouldn’t keep out a fly—proved the wizard wasn’t hiding out in his apartment. The place was grungy and dim. If she hadn’t been Kyn and immune to infectious diseases, she would have wanted a Hazmat suit.
His home was a clutter of crap, with no real purpose other than collecting dust. The cheaply made bookshelves in the front room were tightly packed with tattered books in various languages and a weird collection of stones, pottery, and bones. Not to mention a small mountain of rumpled clothes spread across a faded puce-colored sofa, which sported a dip the size of the Grand Canyon in the middle. An old black and white TV sat on a couple of stacked milk crates. On top of the television, torn notes lay like snowflakes. Amazed to see rabbit ears in the age of digital cable, she grabbed the small pile of ragged papers and moved on.
The small kitchen needed sand blasting to remove the layers of grime and growing mold cultures coating every available surface. Since the stuff growing on the counters was the highest level of alien life forms she wanted to encounter, she didn’t bother checking the refrigerator.
She turned the one and only dank and smelly bedroom inside out, trying not to think about what could possibly leave such noxious stains. Then, she scoured the small closet, digging past worn out shoes and old camping equipment. In the very back she found a small hidden space not so cleverly concealed by a weak illusion spell showing a pile of boxes.
Breaking the illusion, she found a tattered notebook and after a quick scan decided to try deciphering the cramped handwriting later. Pocketing the torn paper notes and worn notebook, she carried them back with her. They were the only items of interest she’d been able to find.
Although Rimmick’s housekeeping skills were non-existent, she was fairly certain no one else had been through the apartment before her. Whoever had taken him probably thought they snatched a wizard who wouldn’t be missed, leaving nothing to trace back to them. A noticeably human mistake.
Over time, she watched humans constantly make assumptions about the Kyn, based on how their own reality worked. The various Kyn communities were spread throughout the world, but they kept watch over their members. They might not know your favorite food, but if your face suddenly disappeared, someone would eventually notice. It would be mentioned, and since
information was a key commodity in a great many Kyn circles, it would be remembered.
Back in her SUV, she attempted to read through the notebook. So far as she could tell, most of it was incomprehensible rambling. The last few pages held some entries indicating Rimmick thought he’d been followed in the last few days. Considering that knowing your target’s routine played a vital role in a successful kidnapping, Rimmick hadn’t been totally oblivious.
Next up was the small pile of torn messages she pocketed. There was a phone number to Zarana’s, another to one of the Kyn owned bookstores located downtown, and one to the electric company. Which could mean anything from Rimmick having a meet at Zarana’s, to him trying to find some obscure text, or working a deal to keep his electricity on. Nothing she could trace to the research company. The rest of the torn notes were too vague to be of any use. Wanting a shower to scrub off the grime from his apartment, she headed back to Taliesin.
Chapter Nine
Hair lying wet against her faded concert T-shirt that topped equally faded jeans, Raine was once again comfortably clean. She walked out of Taliesin’s gym and headed toward her office to check her messages. Chasing Rimmick had eaten up most of her day, and she was hoping for some news from Taliesin’s investigative department. She asked them to untangle Polleo’s financial maze and find her a name.
She made her way through the hallway on the sixth floor, which held the Security Offices. Being close to six in the evening the normal din of phones, computers, and muted conversations was missing. Most of the S.O.’s were out on assignments or had gone home for the day. The few doors leaking light proved even Kyn had a hard time leaving work at the end of the day.
Opening the door to her dark office, she flipped on the light and looked toward the black phone on her desk. Sure enough, the little red light was blinking away, indicating a message.
Slipping into the leather chair behind the battered oak surface, she ignored the thin monitor with its wanna-be aquarium screen saver and grabbed a pen and a sticky note. Dialing into her voicemail, she held her breath. Within moments the monitor began flickering, then with a small popping noise, gave up the ghost. In her ear, the recorded voice confirmed that after working through dummy corporations and complex tax shelters, Taliesin’s investigators had found the name—Jonah Talbot, head of Talbot Foundation.
The pen in her hand snapped in half.
A ball of icy tension and dread coalesced in her stomach, unable to freeze out the anger born of desperation and fear. Remnants of her nightmares whispered through her mind. Pushing them back, she vowed not to let the past repeat itself. Carefully hanging up the phone, she dropped the pen pieces onto her desk, and stared blindly out her office door. Her mind raced, considering and rejecting various scenarios involving her, Talbot, and a knife.
Sucking in a deep breath she caught a whiff of burning plastic. Wrinkling her nose, she turned and saw her smoking computer screen. With a snort of disgust at the idiosyncrasies of technology, she locked away her bloodthirsty visions.
No matter how certain she was that the younger Talbot was taking after his dear old dad, Mulcahy and Gavin would demand actual proof. She picked up her phone and dialed Gavin’s extension. The phone rang twice, then went to voicemail. She hung up, and dialed Rachel’s extension.
“Good evening, Raine,” Rachel’s calm voice floated over the line.
“Hey, Rachel, do you know if Gavin was in today?” Raine asked.
“Yes, he was here about forty minutes ago. However, I believe he was heading home.”
“Thanks, I’ll try his cell then.” She caught sight of one last wisp of smoke and added, “Um, could you call tech support for me?”
“Not a problem.” There was a pause. “What’s the issue?”
Raine could hear the implied this time. Damn, she hated computers. “The monitor went out.”
A very delicate snort was quickly muffled. “I’ll let them know. Hopefully, they can have it fixed by tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Raine hung up before Rachel could start laughing.
Leaving her office, Raine took a couple of deep, calming breaths, and then dialed Gavin’s cell number. After three rings a gruff “Yeah” came through.
“Hey Gavin, it’s Raine.” She continued toward the elevators.
“What’s up?” His voice smoothed out.
“Am I interrupting anything?” She stopped before the elevator doors.
“No, I was just fixing dinner.”
She ignored the brief spurt of weird relief. “I just got a message back on Polleo’s finances. They got a name.” Leaning against the wall, she shifted the phone to her shoulder and dug her keys out of her pocket. If she got in the elevators now, she’d lose her signal.
Gavin paused, the sound of rhythmic thumps echoed softly through the phone. “And?”
“And, it came back as Jonah Talbot.” She kept her voice as bland as possible. Not an easy feat.
There was a pause in the thumping, and then he surprised her. “Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner?”
She almost dropped her phone. “Dinner? At your place?”
“Yeah, why do you sound so shocked?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “You do eat, right? ’Sides I have some more information from my end as well.”
Her knees weaken from fear of what he found out, or nerves at the thought of being alone with him yet again, she wasn’t sure. “Okay, fine. Can you give me directions?”
He rattled off a series of streets and she repeated it back to make sure she had it right. The soft thumping sound came through the line again. Curiosity pricked. “What are you doing?”
“Cutting basil for the pasta, why?”
An absurdly sexy image of him in nothing but an apron almost made her break into hysterical laughter. She cleared her throat. “Just having a hard time imagining you in an apron.”
His dark chuckle sent chills down her arms. “Well, come over and see for yourself.” He hung up before she could answer.
Twenty minutes later Raine parked her SUV in front of an old bungalow-style home overlooking the Willamette River. She walked up the steps and knocked. Gavin answered the door and invited her in. She followed, surreptitiously taking in his bare feet and long legs, her eyes landing on his great ass showcased in ratty jeans. Not wanting to get caught ogling him, she quickly averted her gaze and looked around, taking in his home.
For a male, he was a good housekeeper. Either that, or he someone cleaned for him. Most of the furniture was oversized but well made. The obligatory flat screen TV dominated the front room. A couch was set underneath the cut out dividing the kitchen and living room. A couple of easy chairs flanked the couch. There were more rooms off to the left, but Gavin was heading into the kitchen, leaving her to do the puppy dog routine and follow.
He moved to the stove, still facing away from her. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.” He turned his head to watch her take off her jacket, as he stirred something in a pan. “We can eat at the table.”
She laid her jacket over the back of chair and sat down. Being alone with him made her feel twitchy, nervous. When was the last time she’d done dinner with a male? She came up blank. And how pathetic was that?
Twisting in her seat, she looked out the French doors framing the winding river below his home. The sun was sinking behind the green-carpeted hills and a few boats were trolling through the waters. It was as quiet here as at her home. “So, have you had this house long?”
He was still working over the stove. “Awhile, yeah.”
“It’s nice,” she murmured, her eyes drawn back to the river outside.
“It may not have all the land you have, but it brings me peace.”
She heard water running in the sink as he rinsed the pasta. “Why do you need the peace?” The wistful words were out before she could stop them. Oh Lord and Lady! She shot him a quick look as hot color stained her cheeks. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”
The
water shut off and he let the silence fill back in as he dished up both plates with pasta and vegetables. When he sat her plate in front of her, she used her fork to push around the pasta and mentally cursed herself for overstepping her bounds. She’d never been any good at the whole social thing between males and females. If it was business then she had no problem saying what needed to be said or doing what needed to be done. But with normal conversations, she was just socially inept. Probably why she preferred being alone.
Finally she took a bite and lifted her eyes to find him watching her intently. She almost choked on her pasta but managed to get it down.
He never took his eyes off her. “I need the peace so I can go back out and face reality,” his voice rumbled across the table.
The woods surrounding her home were a sanctuary for her, a bit of the wild she could lose herself in when life got too hard. “I can understand that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t doubt it.” He took a bite, breaking the strange tension. They continued to eat in companionable silence, the edgy unease fading.
When her plate was empty, she broke the quiet. “What did you find out?”
He leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I found a link with one of Talbot’s dead men.”
Her breath hitched at his statement. “What link?” At least her voice came out steady.
“Between the man and Polleo.” His answer restarted her lungs. “It seems Miles Prewitt, the supposed suicide, worked in an advisory position at Polleo.”
“Were you able to find out what he was advising on?” She fiddled with her napkin.
He didn’t comment on her nervous movements, but continued, “Prewitt’s team was working on the cultivation of a new anti-virus.”
She shot him a questioning glance.
