by Keri Arthur
“Yes. Until you nail him.” Jessie grinned. “And whether that be sexually, emotionally or both, I don’t care.”
“Why?”
“Because he is going to end up a very lonely and bitter old man if someone doesn’t crack his reserve, and I don’t want to see that happen.” Her grin grew. “Besides, he’s crazy about you, even if he’s not willing to admit it, even to himself.”
Something Sam found very hard to believe. “So, why me, specifically? Especially when he apparently has a sexual relationship with another agent?”
Jessie waved a hand. “That’s just a mutual relieving of tension. You’re the first person in a long time that he has shown any sort of emotion toward. Therefore, you’re the logical choice.”
“I can’t believe you’re discussing something as intimate as your brother’s love life with someone you don’t even know!” And actually, she couldn’t believe she was doing the same. But there was something very comforting and comfortable about this woman’s presence.
“Ah, but I do know you. And we are going to be very good friends.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “So, basically, you’re the crazy one in the family?”
“No. The clairvoyant. The future is my playground.”
“I’m betting it isn’t always a pleasant one.”
Jessie’s bright eyes briefly shadowed. “No.”
Sam sipped her coffee. Then, in an effort to get onto a safer topic, she said, “So, Gabriel’s actually having me tailed because…?”
“Because he believes Hopeworth is after you.”
If last night was any indication, they were. And they didn’t particularly care if they found her dead or alive. Goose bumps skated beneath the small hairs along her arms.
“What makes him think that?”
Jessie shrugged. “I don’t think he’s got anything substantial. It’s just a feeling.”
And feelings were often more reliable than hard evidence—she’d learned that during her years as a cop. “And as the clairvoyant, what are your feelings?”
“That he could be right.”
“Then he should have talked to me, not arranged this all behind my back.”
“Would you have allowed him to arrange it?”
“No.”
“Which is probably why he didn’t bother asking.”
True enough. Sam smiled wryly and glanced at her watch. If she didn’t get moving soon, she’d be horribly late for her appointment with O’Hearn. She sipped more of her coffee and said, “If I admit that I’m on to you, he’ll simply replace you with someone I don’t know, right?”
Jessie smiled, tucking several dark curls behind her ear. “Very likely.”
“Who else has he coerced into this?”
“My husband, Alain.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Just the three of you? Doesn’t he intend to sleep?”
“Obviously not. As I said, you mean more to him than he’s willing to admit.”
She’d try to remember that the next time he was giving her hell over something stupid. “Next time you’re on watch, why not give me a call? If I’m off-duty, we might as well be bored together.”
Jessie nodded. “Are you going to tell him you know?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” If Gabriel had the feeling Hopeworth was after her, she wasn’t about to refuse any protection he offered, however covertly. And yet all roads seemed to be leading to that place, and if she wanted answers, then maybe her only real choice was, in the end, to allow herself to be taken by Hopeworth. It wasn’t something she wanted to even contemplate, but it was nevertheless a reality.
“Good.” Jessie paused, green eyes suddenly intense. “Give me your hand.”
Sam frowned and didn’t move. “Why?”
“Because I have an urge to do a reading.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “It doesn’t hurt—unless, of course, you’re afraid of what I might find.”
Which, of course, Sam was. What rational person wouldn’t be? God, she had no past to speak of. Why on earth would she take the chance on knowing that there was no future, either?
How depressing would that be?
Though if she knew the future, then maybe she could change it. Surely such things weren’t set in concrete but fluid, shifting according to the decisions she made?
She gulped down more coffee, then, after a slight hesitation, held out her hand. Jessie’s fingers wrapped around hers, her touch warm.
Almost too warm.
Sam resisted the temptation to pull away and watched the other woman carefully. Though she’d often seen clairvoyants work the Brighton market near her old apartment, she’d never been tempted to get a reading done herself.
Jessie’s face lost its animation, and her eyes were suddenly distant. “Do not trust the dream man. He tells no lies and yet speaks no truths.”
Dream man? Did she mean Joshua, or Joe? Both haunted her nights and her thoughts. But Sam held the question back, knowing that if she spoke, she might break Jessie’s concentration.
“Do not fight the storm bond. It will save you when nothing else can.”
Again, a statement that only raised more questions. Jessie knew about her ability to siphon the power of the storms; she’d been at the warehouse when the storm’s energy had helped her defeat Orrin and Rose, and save Gabriel’s life. And yet, she had an odd feeling it was not that storm bond that Jessie was referring to.
“When Hopeworth tests, remember the dreams. Channel, as you did back then.”
Not if, but when. Gabriel’s feeling about Hopeworth would obviously reach fruition, and trepidation danced a chill across her skin.
“Watch the man with the dead gray eyes. He is more than his makers believe. He beds the devil and walks the path of treason. He is our enemy, but not yours.”
And yet he’d seemed very much her enemy in all of her dreams. So who was right? The dreams, or Jessie’s sight?
Jessie suddenly shuddered, and she squeezed Sam’s fingers lightly before releasing them.
“Not what I’d expected, to say the least,” Jessie said, wiping a hand across her brow.
Sam smiled at the wry edge in her voice. “You were trying to get a reading on me and Gabriel, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Worry clouded the amusement in her eyes. “My visions merely show a possible outcome. They don’t always come true, you know. Life has a way of taking its own path.”
But Sam had a bad feeling that this was one set of visions that would come true.
“Then I’ll try not to panic just yet.” Sam glanced at her watch again. “Look, I really have to go, or I’ll be late for my appointment with O’Hearn.”
Jessie smiled again. “At least if I lose you on the way back, I’ll know where you’re going.”
Sam grabbed the bill and stood up. “You won’t tell Gabriel about the house, will you?”
Jessie raised her eyebrows. “Did you buy it?”
“Yes.” And no doubt he’d tell her she was a fool to spend so much money on a run-down pile on the edge of nowhere.
“I won’t if you don’t want me to. But be warned: Gabriel’s almost as adept as Stephan when it comes to sniffing out secrets.”
“He doesn’t see me enough to know whether or not I’m keeping secrets.” He barely saw her enough to say hello.
“That will change, believe me.”
“Oh yeah? Saw that in your visions, did you?”
Jessie’s sudden smile was almost blinding. “No, just a sister’s instinct. You’d better get moving. My next shift to watch you is Monday. I’ll give you a call then, okay?”
Sam nodded. As she paid the bill and headed for her car, she couldn’t help feeling oddly buoyed. Maybe she’d not only gained a house today, but the beginnings of a lasting friendship.
—
Gabriel drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. If the traffic didn’t start moving soon, he was going to abandon the car right here and take to the sky. It was four forty already. Twenty minu
tes to get through the center of the city to O’Hearn’s office was cutting it fine.
Why the doctor had decided to move her practice out to Southbank was beyond him. It wasn’t as if she’d gained any space, and he knew for a fact that the rent wasn’t any cheaper because the Federation was still picking up half the bill.
Of course, he should have left the archives earlier. But if he had, he wouldn’t have found the journal. It had been written by a Vietnam vet back in the mid-twentieth century, at a time when the human race was still in semi-denial about the existence of “nonhuman” races. Amongst its catalog of death and destruction, there was a brief description of a man who had walked from the shadows and saved the soldier’s life.
From the brief description given, it might have been easy to think the soldier had encountered a vampire, except for two facts: it happened at midday, and the stranger had walked into the flames surrounding the soldier and consumed them.
Vampires might not be killed by fire, but they certainly were killed by sunlight. Particularly midday sunlight.
So was the journal nothing more than the ramblings of a crazy man? Maybe. But Gabriel had heard more than once that walkers had been used in the Race Wars. The fact that he could find no hard evidence of it didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And if the government had used them in those wars, then why not in earlier wars? Or later wars?
And what did the ability to consume fire say about the walkers? Firestarters were one thing, but fire-eaters?
The sharp ring of the wristcom broke the silence and made him jump slightly. Which, he thought irritably, was just plain stupid. He pressed the receive button.
Illie’s cheery features came online. “Hey boss, how’s the day off going?”
“Great.” He’d choose a day spent hunched over a com-screen over several hours of hot sex anytime…not. Still, he could hardly complain when the decision had been his own. “What do you want, Illie?”
“I ran a background check on Kathryn Douglass. There was nothing out of the ordinary, though it struck me as odd that a woman with her salary has so damn little in the bank.”
“How little is little?”
“Just over fifty thou. Not much, when you consider what she makes in a year, which is over a million, if we include bonuses and perks.”
Gabriel frowned. “What about other assets? Stocks and such?”
“According to her broker, she’s been selling steadily over the past year, though always at huge profits. The money’s obviously going somewhere other than the bank.”
“Boyfriend? Husband?”
“Currently, neither. Several of each in the past, but no alimony is being paid.”
So what the hell was she doing with all her money? “I’ll put a request through for her full banking records. Did you get her home security tapes?”
“Yeah, and she had one visitor last week who was not on the list of known associates—a bloke by the name of Les Mohern. A small-time criminal—petty theft, arson, that sort of stuff.”
“So why is he associating with the likes of Douglass?”
“A question I thought I’d ask when I caught up with him.”
“Good. Have you had any luck with the security guards who were on duty last night?”
“I’ve contacted one so far. He wouldn’t let us see him till tomorrow.”
Until after he’d been briefed, perhaps? “What time?”
“Nine.”
Great. As if he needed an early start after standing watch all damn night. “Have our labs gotten back with the autopsy reports on those scientists?”
“Not as yet.”
“Follow that up this afternoon, then, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Illie’s grin was almost cheesy. “You sure will, boss.”
Gabriel punched the off button and stared at the traffic ahead. Les Mohern? He’d heard that name before. But where?
“Computer on,” he said.
“ID required,” the metallic voice intoned.
“AD Stern. Badge number 5019.”
“Voice patterns correct. Please proceed.”
“I want a search done on Les Mohern. All details, including immediate family.”
“Search proceeding.”
He glanced at his watch, then resumed his steering-wheel tapping. He was going to be late, no doubt about it.
“Details onscreen,” the computer intoned after several minutes.
He studied the rap sheet. As Illie had said, Mohern had a long history of minor crimes. But it wasn’t him, specifically, that he’d remembered, but his brother Frank. Like Les, Frank was a small-time crim, but he’d also been listed as a source for Jack Kazdan, Sam’s former partner.
That’s where he’d seen the name before. Sam had purloined Jack’s phone records and diary the day she’d been suspended from State under the suspicion of murdering him. Of course, it had been a clone she’d killed—a clone sent to test her—and it had been deemed self-defense in the end. Yet Jack had still ended up dead at her hands—killed in the process of trying to kidnap the Prime Minister and replace him with a clone.
Frank Mohern was one of two phone calls Jack had made just before he’d disappeared, but now he, too, was dead—he’d been killed in a drive-by shooting, according to the report.
But why would someone like Les visit someone like Kathryn Douglass? Hell, she was more likely to be his target than his friend or even business associate.
He’d have to have a closer look at both the diary and the transcripts to find out not only why the Mohern brothers had been involved with Kazdan, but why Les might be involved with Douglass. He had an itchy feeling it just might provide some much needed clues as to what Douglass was really involved with at the Pegasus Foundation.
As O’Hearn’s green-glass office building came into sight, Gabriel took the car off auto-drive, sped into a side street and parked illegally. Then he flipped his ID onto the dash, just to ensure the car wasn’t towed away, and ran the rest of the way to O’Hearn’s office.
Karl was already seated on one of the waiting-room sofas when Gabriel arrived, his bearlike frame dwarfing the seat. His blue Hawaiian shirt and the red-and-gold bandana restraining his brown hair looked totally out of place in the muted, soothing colors of the waiting room.
Sam wasn’t in the room, but Finley, the SIU’s resident research doctor, was.
“I didn’t realize you were involved in this, Finley,” Gabriel said as he sat next to Karl.
“O’Hearn called me in.” The young doctor pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. “She thought I might be able to sort out some of the test results.”
“And did you?”
“Some.” Finley cleared his throat. “Karl here proved of more use than me.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow and glanced at his friend, but Karl merely smiled and patted Gabriel’s knee.
“Wait until your partner comes; then I will explain all.”
“You’d better.” Gabriel stretched out his legs. “And she’s not my partner anymore.”
“More the fool you, then,” Karl said. And when Gabriel glanced at him, he grinned and added, “Well, she’s pretty and she’s single, and you haven’t exactly got a social life.”
A mix of amusement and annoyance ran through him. He got this sort of lecture from his brother, his mom and his sister. He didn’t need it from his friends as well. “And this is important to you because?”
“Because you’re my friend, and I care about your emotional well-being.”
“I’d almost believe that if it weren’t for the insincerity in your voice.”
Karl chuckled. “Well, let’s just say that a man your age needs a good woman to look after him.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “A man my age? You make it sound like I’m old.”
“Well, you are rolling rapidly toward the big four-o…”
“Which is barely a baby in shapechanger terms, and you know it.”
“I know it, but you try expla
ining it to my good wife.”
Gabriel groaned. “Don’t tell me she’s plotting another matchmaking session?”
“Well, it seems she has this second cousin who would be perfect—”
“Tell her I have a girlfriend I’m perfectly happy with.”
Karl raised his eyebrows. “Really? You with a girlfriend? I’m just not seeing that.”
“Depends on how you define the term ‘girlfriend.’ ”
“Ah. A bed buddy.” Karl nodded. “Not as good as the real thing, but a suitable decoy for determined matchmakers. She won’t be put off for long, though. You know that, don’t you?”
Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, but it was lost to a sudden buzz of awareness. Though perhaps buzz was the wrong word to use—it was more a flash fire that ran across his senses and then slid deep inside, seeming to warm his very soul. He glanced at the door as it opened and Sam stepped in, nodding a brief acknowledgment Finley’s way before her gaze met his.
The awareness that burned his mind was more than one-way now. He could see the flame of it in her eyes.
She stopped in the doorway and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Karl asked me to come.”
Her angry gaze switched to Karl. “Why?”
“Because you both need to hear what I have to say.” Karl hesitated. “And I don’t think either of you are going to like it.”
Gabriel met Karl’s eyes again and saw the compassion mingled with excitement in their brown depths. Something clenched in his gut. Whatever Karl had to say, it boded no good for his future.
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean he comes into that room with me.” She thrust a finger in the direction of O’Hearn’s office. “My business is not his business.”
“I’m afraid,” Karl said heavily, “that in this case, it is.”
Karl’s comment left her looking more disgruntled than before, if that were possible.
Not that Gabriel could really blame her. Hell, the last few months hadn’t exactly been easy for her, and here he was, the creator of many of those problems, sitting in on her medical briefing.
It was a wonder she wasn’t ranting and raving about the injustice of it all. He would be, in her place.
Then the door to the office opened and O’Hearn’s matronly figure appeared. “Is everyone here? Good. Why don’t you all come in and get yourselves something to drink?”
