“Yes. Well. I got to the top of the stairs and saw the door to Three-A ajar. I could hear a noise, a groan.” Her sharp, blue eyes were full of tears, which spilled over onto her lined cheeks. “I worked in a hospital at the end of the Korean war. I’ve heard that before.” She paused, took a deep breath. “It’s…it’s mortal pain.” Another deep breath. “You don’t forget that sound.
“So, I went over, pushed at the door. It swung open and I saw…I saw…” she paused, took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen such a sight in nearly sixty years. At the war hospital…” Her voice trailed off and she looked nauseous.
“Mrs. Potts, I know this is difficult, but I need to ask these questions while everything is fresh in your mind,” Herman pressed on, even though he, too, looked a bit green.
“Yes, yes, I understand.” She held a hand to her mouth, visibly controlling her emotions and stomach with deep uneven breaths. “I’ll do my best.”
“Did you know any of the occupants?”
She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. “No. That fellow and his gal, they weren’t in very often. Dave said he was a senator. Married.” Now there was color in her waxy cheeks, a flush of embarrassment or aversion. “Stupid to try and sneak around in this town, if you ask me, but I mind my own business.”
“After you saw the, um, people who’d been attacked,” Herman stumbled over the description. “What did you do then?”
“I think that’s when I began to scream,” the old lady said with simple dignity.
Silence reigned for a moment as Herman waited for Mrs. Potts to continue. When she didn’t, he turned to Aiden.
“Mr. Bayliss, you were the next person out in the hall?”
“I think so, but Dr. Brennan came out about the same time I did. Dave and that security woman were coming up the stairs as I got to Mrs. Potts.”
“Tell me what happened, exactly as you remember it.”
“I was working in my office.” He gestured toward the closed door. “I heard Mrs. Potts scream,” he said. “I threw on jeans and a shirt and ran into the hall. I went to Mrs. Potts, and saw what she saw.”
He’d seen some vile things in his time, but when something’s been trying to kill you, you kill it even if it’s messy and bloody. A life-or-death fight wasn’t the same as walking up on such complete butchery.
“Ah, Dr. Brennan.” Herman started in on Cait. “How about you? Walk me through the events from your perspective.”
Aiden watched her as she carefully recited the same sequence from her viewpoint. “I was in the shower when I heard the screams. Mr. Bayliss and I came out at the same time. I went to Mrs. Potts. I saw the mess.” She shuddered, and it looked genuine. “It was horrible.”
The shudder rang true, but the clench of her jaw, the look in her eye told Aiden it wasn’t the worst she’d seen. One more mark in the Unknown and Dangerous column for Cait Brennan.
“Amen to that,” Mrs. Potts contributed, unaware that she was matching his thoughts.
“Dave and the security woman, Parkinson, came up,” Cait continued. “Dave called 911. I started over to check for a pulse on the two men by the door. I thought I saw one of them move. Parkinson stopped us,” Cait said, then gestured to Aiden. “We had that thought at the same time, I guess.”
“That’s right,” he agreed.
“Dave relayed to the dispatcher while Parkinson went in. She didn’t touch anything but the two men by the door. The first one was dead, she said. The second, alive. They called for an ambulance on Dave’s phone, but she also got her own phone and called in the federal people.”
“What then?”
“I went to help the man because I’ve had some rudimentary emergency training. Then you and the other officers came in and the shouting started,” Cait said with a grim smile.
Because he was watching her so closely, he caught the change when her eyes narrowed and something flickered over her features. It cleared away when the detective looked back up.
“And then?”
“That’s it. You brought us in here.”
“Would you like to add anything else, sir?” Herman turned to him.
“No.”
“Mrs. Potts?”
“No, sir.”
“Mr. Bayliss, have you been home all evening?”
Aiden frowned. “Since about six. I ran some errands, made dinner, logged onto my computer.”
Herman began to question Dave, and Aiden caught Cait’s eye. With a jerk of his head, he motioned toward the kitchen. She gave a barely perceptible nod.
* * *
Cait’s gut trembled with suppressed anger and consternation. Hellfire and damnation, how was she going to explain this to headquarters? She had to contact them immediately.
With a senator involved, every person on-scene, hell, probably everyone in the building, would have their background checked. And a senator dead, nailed to the wall in a fairly spectacular display of strength, meant the situation was FUBAR.
She’d already told the Kith to put in more background data, but if the Feds managed a warrant to search her place, there were a considerable number of unexplainable, highly advanced electronic devices in her living room and office.
Oh, and don’t forget the alien weapons, poisons and other oddments tucked into your underwear drawer.
All this ran through her mind as the detective questioned Aiden. She watched him keenly and knew she wasn’t mistaken.
He was the source of that blue flare she’d seen the first night. That hot electricity was at odds with the hail-fellow-well-met face he showed the world. She’d already seen traces of that “other” Aiden—the dangerously clever, questioning one—when they met, and at the canal.
There was a sharp mind there, one that put things together. He’d watched her then, on the canal, like he was watching now. Assessing. And if she were guessing, she’d say he didn’t particularly like the conclusions he’d drawn.
And none of her reaction had anything to do with the decided physical attraction she had to him either.
Liar.
Cait squashed the vivid dream pictures that threatened to pop into her mind.
Power flowed in him, somehow. She’d wondered if he was psi. No question about that now, after that electric-chair jolt. The Kith Seers told her it could be that way when two psi-gifteds met, touched. Their explanation paled in comparison to reality.
But what was up with the blue aura stuff?
The Seers hadn’t mentioned anything like that.
The arrival and bustle surrounding the EMTs tending to the still-faint security guard, Dave, allowed Aiden to catch her eye. He motioned to the kitchen and she nodded. The earlier flirting was gone. His gaze was laden with suspicion and steel.
Back atcha, buster. Tilting her glass, she rustled the ice.
“Detective, Mr. Bayliss, is it all right if I get more water?”
“Of course. Let me show you where it is.”
“Come right back,” Herman said, still focused on Dave.
Aiden followed her into the kitchen, and she turned immediately to face him.
“Let’s make this quick.” He sketched a symbol in the air, and it flared to life, hanging like a neon sign, just about head-level.
“Holy shit!” It was all she could manage.
Chapter Ten
No creature she’d met yet could do something like that without tools or devices.
“What is that?” She reached out to touch the sigil. On contact, the image flared to incandescence, and exploded with a soundless pop she felt in her inner ears. Her whole system whirled, like the bottom of the elevator had dropped out. “Double-fucking hell!”
She hung onto the edge of the counter for dear life. She checked her hand for burns but the skin was smooth and unmarred.
“What the fuck?” she demanded.
Aiden stared at her as if she were the monster.
“What are you?” he hissed, straightening to his full height. No geeky-suave smile.
No calm demeanor. The man who stood before her was intense and focused. Power hung around him like a cloak, a palpable thing. The look in his dark eyes was agate hard. In this guise, to every inner sense, he was a predator. This was the warrior with the sword she had seen with her inner eye.
Was this the danger she’d sensed, but her equipment couldn’t scan? He leaned forward in menace, and she decided she had to bluff. She’d have a meltdown later.
“Pretty spectacular trick.”
“Trick?” he growled.
Her mind scrambled for options, explanations, and opportunities to figure out what the hell to do.
Obviously he had some stupendously secret things he wanted to stay secret. She could use that.
“Unexplained phenomenon,” she tempered her comment. “Look. You have secrets. So do I. I didn’t kill those people. I have an assignment to accomplish which is totally incompatible with a murder investigation. I need to—have to—make a call, or my mission is going to fail in a monumentally spectacular fashion.”
She took a breath, prayed the distraction was working and that he wasn’t going to hit her with some random light beam.
“My mission failure will blow back on you, and obviously, you don’t need that either.”
“A mission? From whom? Do you work for the Council?” He didn’t let her answer before he grabbed her arm. “Are you an adept?”
“What’s an adept?” She waved that aside, but she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Let go of me!” she hissed and yanked her arm away. “Never mind. Whatever an adept is, I’m not one.”
They got no further as Detective Herman rounded the corner. She finished filling her glass as Aiden got another from the cabinet. It must have appeared innocent, because Herman gave them a look of bland irritation.
“Please stay out in the main room. Normally, we’d have you come to the station, be interviewed individually. In lieu of that, keep your conversation with one another to a minimum.”
“Like in the TV shows,” she offered, deflecting his attention. No cop liked to be compared to a TV cop.
“Not really, no.”
“I want to go home, Detective. I won’t leave, I’ll be happy to answer any questions, but I need to get some shoes on,” she said, pointing to her bare feet. “I’m freezing, and my hair’s still wet.”
“In a few minutes, ma’am. Maybe Mr. Bayliss has a towel or something.” Herman looked back over his notes. “I’m sure my superior will want to ask you some more questions. In fact, there’ll probably be a lot of people asking you questions.”
“Why is that?” demanded Mrs. Potts, who’d come to stand with them in the doorway to the kitchen. Her voice was stronger, impatient. “I’ve answered your questions, sir, to the best of my ability. Tonight has been a terrible shock, and I’m sure tomorrow will be equally challenging. I want to go home. My son will be frantic that I’ve not called him.”
“We’ll get you a phone,” Herman soothed. “Or we’ll call him to let him know you’re all right. As to why, jurisdiction, ma’am. The crime occurred in DC, and that’s for us, Metro Police. But the senator—” Herman had the grace to look away, and Cait saw him swallow convulsively. He wasn’t unaffected by all the blood, at least not as much as he pretended to be. “The United States senator’s death means it involves the Capitol Police, and obviously, the FBI.”
“So, he really was a senator?” Mrs. Potts demanded.
“Yes ma’am. His chief of staff, security…” He trailed off. He’d given information he wasn’t supposed to give. He’d filled in the other victims. “Now then, Mrs. Potts, let me ask you another question,” Herman said, flipping back through his notes, and leading them like ducks back to the living room.
Ignoring him, Cait studied Aiden. What was an adept, noun not verb? The memory of that burning shape hanging there in space gave her a shiver. Jesus H, that had been impressive. How had he done that?
A touch of atavistic fear niggled at her. Psi was one thing. But what the hell was with the glow?
Psi was communication. It was electric contact sometimes, according to the Seers. It was hunches, or foreknowledge, foresight. It was telekinesis, if you were gifted that way.
It wasn’t glowy letter-thingies hanging in a DC kitchen.
The EMTs finished with Dave, and Cait was glad to see that he was sitting up. His color was more normal, though he still looked drained and shaky. She smelled the sharp tang of an ammonia capsule.
Something about the smell…
The thought blew the questions about Aiden from her mind as the scene from Three-A flashed behind her eyelids in all its heinous detail.
The sight had been bad, the smell had been worse.
The smell…Ohhhh, hell.
“Dr. Brennan?” This from Aiden. Had she said something out loud?
She held up a hand to forestall questions, as if she were fighting illness.
“A moment,” she stalled, scanning her memory.
Smell, smell, smell. What was it about that smell? She ran the possibilities through her mind.
Cachians had a distinct odor, but they were herbivorous and pacifistic. Predenalits could be identified by scent, but only if you had the equipment to detect it.
Species and details flitted like a Rolodex on fast forward. Mrs. Potts had mentioned the sound of claws on the floor…It was on the tip of her brain…
“Dr. Brennan?” Herman questioned her, a sharp concerned note in his voice. The images slipped away like a wisp of fog. In that moment, she hated Detective Herman.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just had a momentary flashback.” Ugh, that sounded so weak and girlie.
“Here, sit,” Aiden said, taking her by the elbow. A shock of deep electricity rattled her bones. A hot, fast image of the two of them, entwined in passion, leapt into her mind.
As quickly as it fired her blood, it was gone. Aiden had let go.
Holy fucking crap. What the hell have I stumbled on? An alien living on Earth?
The situation was barreling straight downhill into utter disaster and taking her along for the ride. She had to get back to her condo, get to the Kith. Let the Sh’Aitan know. Rim planet or no, they’d do anything to protect the ST anonymity. They would go to any lengths to protect the Alliance. They’d let her die, probably cheerfully. In fact, they would pull the trigger.
Then they’d reprogram Lance and he’d become the lover-slash-warden for the next Earth Slip Traveler. She clamped her lips together before she laughed in hysterical desperation.
Without a doubt, they already had another Slip Traveler in coldsleep, waiting for Cait to make a mistake and bite the big one.
It freaked her out to know it, and this situation wasn’t helping.
Dave slumped in his seat, his grey hair disheveled. He darted nervous glances toward the door.
“Mr. Teasdale, I need to ask you some questions,” Herman prompted, bringing Dave’s attention back. Dave gave a reluctant nod. The EMT lifted off the mask and began packing up his things. “About the senator,” Herman said. “Why was he here? An infrequent visitor?” The question was open ended on purpose, Cait figured.
“I didn’t expect them. The senator, he slips me a little extra,” Dave said, blushing defensively. “He’ll call ahead, sometimes ask me set up the, uh, table to be pretty. You know, for the lady.”
Cait snorted a laugh, covering it with a cough. Mrs. Potts and Aiden had been right. Total shack up.
“Did they come here frequently?”
“No, no they didn’t. Maybe got some deliveries here sometimes, but nothing else.” Dave looked at all of them. “It didn’t seem like no big deal. Not really. Their business, you know? Now it’ll be horrible scandal.” Dave was moaning softly and rocking again.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, poor man. If he could’ve kept his pants on, he might not be dead.
Cait mentally retracted her knee-jerk reaction. She couldn’t abide cheaters, especially ones with power. However, she couldn’t let that clou
d her judgment about how he had died.
The sex and the shack up could have nothing to do with it. Or it could be everything.
What the hell was it about that smell?
She considered everyone’s comments, rearranging them in her mind. The smell popped up over and over, so it was important. She just didn’t know why. Blast it. She was missing something. She needed her equipment.
Herman droned on and on with questions, even when each of them complained about the time, or asked to go home. Herman had declined, pressing each of them with more questions.
She needed to talk to Aiden. In private. There were so many things she needed to discuss with the man, she decided with grim determination.
He had secrets.
He had some kind of Power. Possibly alien in origin.
That was bad enough, but now he knew she had secrets as well, and power of a sort.
And they both had a high profile murder case smack in their laps, with all that entailed.
So. Not. Good.
It could get worse, but not by much.
The detective questioned, and she and Aiden watched one another. Mrs. Potts sighed and complained, and Dave moaned some more.
“Detective Herman, please,” Cait implored for the fifth time, shivering. “I need to get on some dry clothes. Get my shoes. Lock up my apartment.”
Disgruntled, Herman finally agreed, and before he could do more than assign an officer to accompany her, she hustled across the upper foyer. She managed to get her PDA, keyed into it as she found shoes. She paused long enough to dry her hair, which was nearly dry anyway. Tossing on a sweater, she locked up and headed back into the lion’s den.
The officer who’d escorted her saw her back to her seat and returned to monitor the door. Glancing at Aiden, she mentally listed the things she needed to ask him.
First, what the hell did he know about the senator?
Second, what the hell was he doing here, in DC, with that kind of power, and what the hell was he?
He might say he was some kind of uber-high-speed software geek, and his background scan said that too, but last time she checked that didn’t come standard with the ability to make glowing letters in the air. What the hell?
Modern Magic Page 99
