by Jami Gray
“To be honest, Ms. McCord, our volunteers were difficult to come by as they tend not to want to make their presence known.”
She didn’t back down from Eden’s glare, the ice on both ends noticeable. “That’s an evasive answer, doctor.”
Anger sparked, but was quickly banked. “Some of our employees were able to persuade friends to come in for blood work. However, due to confidentiality, we are unable to reveal those donors.”
Eden moved onto the next slide and opened her mouth to start on the next point, but Raine cut her off. “Excuse me, but I have another question.”
Eden’s mouth snapped shut and her lips tightened in annoyance. “I’ll try to answer as best I can.”
Civility, coated in frigid tones indicated Raine was indeed pissing off the good doctor. Too damn bad. “It is my understanding—and past experience—that scientific tests do not generate consistent, definitive results with organic Kyn samples.”
Eden’s shoulders tightened imperceptivity, and her gaze hardened, taking on a speculative gleam. “I was unaware you have a scientific research background, Ms. McCord.”
“I don’t.”
“Then your understanding is based on what?”
Raine kept her tone even, “Working a variety of murder scenes with the FBI, local law enforcement, and their crime technicians.”
Talbot cleared his throat. “It’s a fact that most labs are unable to get consistent data or clean results off of Kyn traces. The magic inherent to being Kyn interferes with the scientific laws.”
“How did your labs manage to get clean results?” Mulcahy joined in, clearly following the thread of Raine’s questioning.
Talbot appeared undaunted and self-assured. “We have superior equipment. In combination with Dr. Lawson and her team, we’ve been able to cull those results which vary, and isolate the variables so we could formulate a solid conclusion based upon what was remained.”
Mulcahy tilted his head, his gaze sharp. “How close are you really to this DNA strand?”
“Our test results are coming in at ninety percent accuracy at this point,” Eden announced confidently.
Mulcahy’s lips took on a sardonic curve. “I’ll ask again, how close are you really to achieving your claims of curing humankind?”
Eden smiled, emanating supreme confidence in her work and skills. “Closer than anyone else has ever come.”
A light knock on the conference room door interrupted the meeting. Talbot turned up the lights and opened the door, while Eden shut off the presentation.
A polished young man stood in the doorway, his voice low, but not so low for Raine to miss what he said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Talbot, but General Cawley is here to meet with Dr. Lawson.”
Talbot’s stance stiffened slightly as he thanked the messenger, closed the door, and turned to Eden. “Dr. Lawson, your appointment is here,” he said, his tone cool
The doctor shot Jonah a look before turning smoothly to say goodbye to Mulcahy. There was some tension there over General Cawley, which made Raine curious. Why wouldn’t Jonah approve of the general?
Mulcahy rose to take Eden’s hand. Talbot watched with a closed expression as she left the room. He gave himself a slight shake. “My apologies, shall we continue on with the tour?”
Mulcahy glanced at his watch. “Perhaps next time, Mr. Talbot,” he said, his voice apologetic. “I also have a meeting I must attend. Perhaps we can make another appointment?”
Raine followed the two men out of the lab. Eden and General Cawley were on the other side of the reception area, waiting for an elevator. While Talbot and Mulcahy exchanged goodbyes, Raine watched Eden use a sharp hand gesture during an obviously heated argument with the general.
What the hell was going on with those two? The general was plainly not happy with Eden, nor she with him. Maybe between Gavin’s research into Eden’s background and the Taliesin research team’s on the general, the key between the two would be revealed.
Just then the general looked in their direction and met Raine’s stare. The palatable fury in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. That man was seriously pissed.
“Until later, Ms. McCord?” Talbot’s voice broke the staring contest.
She turned and met those blue eyes, eyes from this close up, she realized, came from his father. She fought another shiver back and shook his hand briefly, keeping her tone cool, “Perhaps, Mr. Talbot.”
She couldn’t afford to forget where this charming man came from. It was too dangerous. Turning, she followed Mulcahy out of the Talbot Foundation building and its myriad of secrets.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The waning sun heralded the coming evening. Cool air, with a hint of a bite, flowed into the SUV as Raine drove home. When she and Mulcahy returned from Taliesin, Gavin’s report was waiting. Eden Lawson’s history was interesting to say the least.
Her mother died from ovarian cancer when she was young, and her father worked for one of Aaron Talbot’s labs. When Eden was sixteen, her father had a fatal stroke, leaving her everything. Money enough for her to go off to medical school, where she earned top honors in biogenetic chemistry. Upon graduation, determined to solve various genetic, she went to work overseas with a research team defects in third world countries. Returning a few years later, she approached the Talbot lab for a job. Once in, she worked her way steadily up the ladder.
Last year, with the tragic death of the previous head of research, Dr. Evan Manheim, she was promoted from assistant director to director. Manheim was one of the three deaths not belonging to Raine. It made her wonder what his cause of death was and if Eden had anything to do with it. She made a note to remember to ask Gavin if Manheim was part of the two-for-one car accident or the suicide. Of course her dislike of Eden Lawson could be coloring her assumptions.
Eden was single and appeared at a number of functions with Jonah Talbot. Remembering Talbot’s behavior the night of the party, and again today at the lab, Raine figured the couple-ness was more a situation of convenience than actual chemistry. Not to mention Talbot and Eden seemed married to their jobs, another good indicator dating wasn’t a huge priority.
As for Raine’s line of research on the Cawleys, the research team hit dead end after dead end. One team member told her he could keep digging and break through the security levels, except there was a very high chance his movements would send up a flag and bring their actions unwanted attention.
She turned onto the road leading home, driving through the few acres, which created the isolation she craved. Even more appealing was the natural forest that made up most of her backyard. A small touch to her wards confirmed no company dropping in tonight. Grateful for the respite, she parked the SUV in her garage and walked to her house.
After relocking her front door, she took off her boots and padded over her wooden floors in sock-covered feet. Dropping her keys in the purple glass bowl sitting on the small entry table, she headed into her bedroom.
Restless and antsy, she decided a run would help.
Stripping out of her jeans and sweater, she pulled on a pair of black running pants and matching shirt. Lacing up her Nikes, she chose not to take any blades with her. Sweat under the blade sheaths mad them itchy—besides she was in her own territory. Should anyone decide to come visit, her wards would give her plenty of warning.
After warming up on the back porch, she headed into the woods. As she concentrated on her breathing and the soft sound of her feet hitting the ground, her restlessness slowly started to calm. Testing her body, she moved faster, working to stay silent and not disturb the natural rhythms of the night.
Moonlight traced silvered patterns through the leaves, shadows falling fast and thick like an inky cloak. Her night vision kicked in, bathing her surroundings in a surreal glow. The air was cool, crisp, and its fingers caressed her face as she lifted it to the rising moon.
Moving through the thick woods like smoke, she lost herself in the magic and freedom of the night. She
didn’t have to watch her every move or word. Here, in this place, she was free to just be the Kyn she was—magic held in human form.
Suddenly the night sounds fell silent. A tremor ran through her wards and she stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. Dropping her psychic barriers, she sent that magical part of her out to locate the intruder. She tilted her head slightly. There—to the west, back near the bridge over the creek. She waited, barely breathing, and then a second tremor hit, a little more south, quickly followed by another. Three intruders had penetrated her wards. It wouldn’t matter if they were human or Kyn, either way they were trespassing.
Trying to figure out how many were headed toward her, she turned around and started back to her house. Using the deep shadows as camouflage, she made her way silently. This was her land and she was intimately acquainted with every inch of it.
Her dark hair and clothing helped her disappear into the night-shrouded forest. Shadow Walking wasn’t an option because she could miss too many details on the prey she tracked. Right now, she was reconsidering her decision on her blades.
As she closed in on the edge of the woods, she paused, then crouched down to watch.
A few minutes passed before she saw a dark-clad figure stealthily creep around the edge of her house and up the steps to her back door. When his fingers touched the knob, a silent explosion threw him backward. No noise, no light, just his crumpled form indicating he tripped a ward.
She smirked, her night vision coloring the scene in shades of red and orange. The asshole should’ve known better than to break into the house of a Fey. Too stupid to recognize when a door was warded, they had to be human.
He groaned softly, rolled to his knees, and shook his head. Another figure appeared, darting toward the kneeling man. The two males—one standing at least six two, the other still kneeling—spoke in low voices that carried on the night air. With her enhanced sense of hearing, she had no problems eavesdropping.
“You okay?” the tall one asked.
“Yeah,” the first one hissed. “Damn door was a trap.”
Quick on the uptake, aren’t you, buddy? She waited to see if the third one would come out to play.
The taller of the two helped the other to his feet. He was shorter, maybe five ten or so, but solid. The two men headed toward the woods. Their hand gestures hinted at military training.
Considering the mistakes made so far, their training had to be minimal. Something to consider. Still no sign of the third one, but she could lead these two on a merry chase.
Silent and quick, she slipped through the trees to a middle point between the two intruders. Their progress was slower, their efforts to move quietly, futile. As they drew near to her position, she snapped a fallen twig with her foot. The noise echoed like a gunshot in the night. The men’s footsteps stopped short.
She sprinted across their path—giving them a glimpse of her dark shadow—then raced into the woods.
The chase was on.
Eventually she’d have to circle around behind them, but for now she would stay far enough ahead to keep them hooked. Locating the tree she needed to put her plan into action, she leaped onto a huge bough stretching across her path. Grabbing ahold she pulled herself into the branches and scrambled out of sight. Although, the last was probably unnecessary as few hunters ever looked up.
Lying along a higher branch whose ample leaves provided cover, she waited until her two pursuers stopped underneath her. They communicated with economic hand signals, and then spread out in a search pattern. When they moved away, she slipped out of the tree, careful not to give her position away, and dropped lightly to the ground.
The hunters’ invasion, her rising frustration over the situation with Talbot, and—on some deeper level—the confusion and hurt from Gavin and her uncle, all came together, loosening the chains that kept her in line.
Throwing caution on the metaphorical trash heap, she summoned her twisted magic. It answered, its roar of dark glee reverberating in her mind. Refusing to listen to the small voice warning there was no going back, she cracked open that locked door—just enough to pull on the magic she needed.
It was time to utilize some old skills.
Focusing on her right hand, her nails slowly lengthened into sharp, deadly claws, the fingers slightly longer and thinner than normal. The transformation stopped when all five nails were as lethal as knife blades.
Gliding to her left, she followed the shorter one. The hunters were now the hunted. Stalking him with cold efficiency, she waited for the right spot to take him down.
He paused near a large tree, apparently unsure which way to go.
Moving up behind him, she tapped him on the left shoulder. As he turned his head toward her, eyes widening in surprise, she whipped her right hand, claws extended, in a quick, deadly stroke across his neck, ripping out his throat. Scarlet ribbons exploded from his carotid artery and jugular vein.
He raised his hands in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding while she sent up a silent prayer his partners were too far away to hear the faint gurgling emanating from his shredded windpipe.
Catching the man when he collapsed, she dragged him behind a huge old tree, and covered him with leaves and debris. The coppery smell of blood combined with the adrenaline from the hunt sent her heart rate racing, even as it fed the vicious monster inside her. Wiping her clawed hand on the fallen leaves, the thin level of civility allowing her to function in the world crumbled to ash, leaving behind the predator.
The thrill of the chase rose, and she pulled her lips back from her sharpened teeth in a nearly silent snarl. Her reality narrowed to the hunt for the second man, and the kill. The third showed no signs of joining the party. Yet.
She struggled with her animalistic nature, forcing it to obey her will. Her animal moved instinctually, not intelligently, and she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes tonight.
Heading in the direction of the taller man, she noted the faint signs of his passing. A broken leaf there, an impression of a heel here, the tingling sense—of something close by—that niggled at her gut.
A slight noise to her right pulled her up short. Acting on impulse, she threw herself flat on the ground.
The unmistakable sound of metal driving into wood assaulted her ears. Glancing over her shoulder she saw a black handled knife, still vibrating, impaled in the bark of a tree where her throat had been.
Her prey had gotten behind her. Bastard.
Rolling to her left, she surged to her feet, just in time to block a savage kick aimed at her head. Grabbing his leg just below the knee, she twisted hard, throwing her attacker to the ground.
He executed a twisting somersault and regained his feet, another knife clutched in his hand. His face was covered in camouflage paint, making the whites of his eyes and teeth the only features she could discern in the darkness.
The man growled low in his throat as they slowly circled each other.
Raine kept her right hand down along her side, hoping he hadn’t seen her unique set of knives.
Without warning, he moved in, knife slashing, as he executed a series of punches and kicks designed to keep her off balance.
She dodged each thrust. Then made her first mistake. Jerking out of the way of his knife, she ended up in the path of his incoming kick. The impact numbed her right arm.
The man gave a low laugh.
Her answering snarl escaped. The animal inside snapped its leash. Her vision went red with rage, and she succumbed to the searing heat.
Her attacker slashed out with another punch-kick combination, but she blocked the incoming strike. Ignoring the pain in her right arm, she grabbed her assailant by the wrist, dug her claws in, and snapped the bone with one quick twist.
His sharp cry of pain was quickly followed by a soft thud as he dropped the knife.
Lost in her animal’s hunger and rage, she didn’t stop. Seizing his throat, she dug her nails in. His pulse thundered against her fingertips. Carving deeper and squee
zing her claws around his larynx like a pair of vice-grips, she shook him once, hard, then threw him against a tree.
His head rebounded with a solid thunk.
After securing the man’s dropped knife, she stalked toward him.
He watched her close the distance, his eyes the only thing moving in his grease-painted face. Muddy brown and filled with panic they darted from side to side as she advanced. Unable to get his broken body to respond, he struggled to breathe through his partially crushed throat. He had one arm behind him, the other scrabbling for purchase on the leaf-strewn ground.
She knelt before him and his eyes widened. A flash of insight hit her as she read his fear. With her blood spattered face, feral snarl, misshapen clawed hand, and glowing silver eyes she was the nightmare of the Kyn, a demon from deepest night. A living, breathing monster from human horror stories come to life. She could work with that.
Her voice was rough, almost a growl, “Where’s the other one?”
The man stilled, staring at her in wide-eyed terror. Caught up in her magic and bloodlust, she almost didn’t catch the quick, jerky movement when he brought up a small gun from behind him and aimed.
She knocked the weapon away, but not fast enough.
The bullet missed her stomach, but the sharp, hard punch in her side evidenced a hit. The fierce burn told her it was iron.
Furious with both him and herself, she drove the knife she retrieved, up and under his breastbone and shredded his heart.
Standing, she hissed at the pain. Fighting to reverse her magic, she pressed her now normal looking, right hand to her side. When she lifted it, blood coated her fingers. Strange how her blood seemed more black than red. She lowered her hand and took a deep breath before checking for a corresponding wound on her back.
Please let it be a through-and-through. If the iron bullet was still inside, it would poison her. Relief hit when she touched the gaping exit wound. Stripping off her shirt, she ripped it into strips to wrap around the wound. Moving into the shadows, she took a precious minute to tie the strips one handed so she wouldn’t leave a blood trail.
