by T. G. Ayer
I opened my eyes slowly, bringing my hand up to shield them from the bright sun beating down on my head.
Strangely enough, I felt no heat against my skin and even the air I inhaled was not warm at all. A good reminder this was just a vision. I wouldn’t experience injury or death if it came.
But someone had.
I floated, weightless, and when I looked down in search of solid ground I found it a few inches below me. On it were the upturned toes of a pair of dusty, dark feet.
I shifted my view and saw that the feet belonged to an ancient woman whose blank white eyes stared up at the bright blue sky.
I’d found the source of my vision.
The land around me stretched into the distance, dusty and dry, dotted by desiccated, skeletal trees that had probably last produced leaves hundreds of years ago. In the distance, a small collection of grass huts huddled together against the heat, while a little boy wielded a pale stick at an emaciated cow, herding the animal back to the tiny village.
No, not a stick. A slim rod of silver light.
Something shifted beside me and a man in dark military clothes moved past, his dusty boots making a deadly hollow sound against the dry ground, a holstered black pistol slapping against his upper thigh.
I tensed. Watched helplessly as the boy skipped along, unaware of the danger that followed him. There was nothing I could do as the soldier closed in on the child, drew the weapon, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
A blast of light spewed from the barrel, reaching out toward the boy and knocking him over almost instantly. The little body jerked and fell forward arms and legs in an ungainly sprawl.
The soldier continued past the cow, ignoring both child and animal as he headed for the huts.
This killing was entirely different from the last. This was no complex infiltration via friendship. Here was simple execution by a stranger.
Unable to move, tied to the spirit of the old woman, I was forced to watch from afar as the man went from hut to hut sending blinding flashes of light spewing through one doorway after another.
A few times I saw responding flashes of light—perhaps the people of the village trying to fight back—but they were soon overpowered. Then it was over, and the lone gunman started back toward me.
A shout sounded to my right but I couldn’t see what was happening until the woman’s spirit saw. I waited, heart in my mouth. Then two men ran toward the village, deep ochre skirts draped around their waists, their faces tattooed, colored necklaces swaying frantically around their necks.
This was a Masai tribe who had paranormal powers.
A Masai tribe who had just been massacred.
The soldier pulled a second weapon from behind his back and ran, sending bursts of bright lightning straight at the tribesmen. The Masai warriors gave as good as they got, sending their own streaks of silver energy bolts straight at the soldier. They would have won, their power was strong enough, but two more black-clad soldiers joined the first.
The three soldiers bore down on the approaching warriors firing non-stop. I swallowed hard, studying the guns. They weren’t the normal, run-of-the-mill weapons, and the ammunition used wasn’t of human origin. The killers were using paranormal ammunition.
Although the warriors had managed to fight off one man with their powerful air magic, they were defenseless in the face of this new assault. They died as the rest of their people had died and their murderers set fire to the village.
Smoke billowed around us and I blinked automatically before realizing that the acrid air had no effect on me. I hovered over the old woman’s body while the entire village died, gutted that I’d been unable to help. It felt wrong. It was wrong.
My attention moved back to the men, now huddled together as one pulled out a sat phone.
He placed it against his ear and said, “Victor here. Mission complete.”
The air buzzed and Victor nodded. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
He put the phone back into his pocket, slid his pistol into the holster at his thigh, and made a circling motion with his finger in the air above his head. They moved out and my view shifted to watch them disappear along the horizon.
I could still feel Nerina’s presence beside me, and though it was a comfort, it did nothing to make me feel better. I needed to go back. Find this ammunition.
My mind immediately went to Tara, and then disappointment surged through me. I had no way of contacting her, so whatever information we needed regarding this paranormal ammo we would have to get it somewhere else.
More moments passed. I was beginning to wonder what I was still doing there when I heard the sound of feet slapping the ground.
A young girl sank to the sand beside the corpse of the old woman, her head bent forward so I couldn’t see her face.
She wailed in anguish and threw her hands out over the body. Then she held shaking fingers over the woman’s chest. Soon light shimmered, flowing from her fingertips, and sinking into the corpse.
The light burned so bright I wanted to shield my eyes, but I didn’t dare in case I missed something. But, as I watched, tears pricked my eyes. The magic wasn’t working.
The girl began to cry in earnest, rocking back and forth beside the body, wailing out her grief. The sound floated on the hot, thick air and faded away into the silent plain.
I felt my insides tighten, and knew Nerina was taking me back. But as I drifted away, the girl looked up. Her gaze followed me, those eyes glowing brightly, swirling light shimmering, disappearing only when she blinked.
She stared at me, eyes wide, surprised.
Then she blinked once more, her eyelids lowered. Before they lifted again I was gone.
Chapter 20
I MANAGED A HEAVY-LIDDED blink, then dragged my eyes open. Nerina had transported me to the African desert, and yet I hadn’t been submitted to the intense heat of the blistering sun, nor had I taken scorching breaths of midday air.
I knew this.
It didn’t matter.
I exhaled, forcibly expelling the air from my lungs, frantic for a breath of fresh cool air, as if the heat had parched my very soul.
A part of me recognized the desire to erase the hot air was really a symbol for the desire to erase the awful experience. I’d watched helplessly as a boy had been gunned down, as a village was decimated, and as an old woman died in the arms of a grieving child.
I hated just being a bystander. More than anything I hated that I’d gotten there after the fact, a mere observer, rather than be of any help.
My body convulsed in a shudder and soft fingers wrapped around mine, a comforting squeeze I didn’t even realize I’d needed.
“How are you feeling?” Nerina asked, her voice soft and concerned. Her face without its usual cowl was unshadowed, and for the first time I saw color in her pale milky eyes. A honey brown that reminded me too much of the child I’d left alone in the desert, the one whose keening had struck my heart.
I cleared my throat, the sound rattling around as I slowly pushed into a sitting position. My head throbbed, a dull, insistent pounding and I suspected the trip had taken its toll on me, especially since I’d gone in without the special magic juice.
“I’m fine.” I forced the words out. “Just tell me what the hell that was.” My voice cracked in my too-dry throat and I hacked a cough. Clearly my body hadn’t gotten the message that the vision wasn’t real.
Nerina’s mouth twisted into a sad bow. “I know how you feel. The first time I experienced that vision it took me hours to recover. The only difference between us and paranormals like yourself is that we experience every emotion as well as the impact of the immediate environment.”
I nodded, wincing at the throbbing in my head. “Yeah, I definitely noticed that. As hot as it was, I didn’t feel the heat in the air. Or the sunshine. At the time it made sense, since I wasn’t actually there, but now I feel really strange. As if my body doesn’t believe what my mind already knows.”
Nerina no
dded as she removed her hands and straightened. She folded her fingers in her lap. “It’s because you are not a DeathTalker. The vision we experienced was through the eyes of the old woman. Just for the record, for a short while after death, the recently deceased do experience environmental impact, so she would have still felt sunshine, and the heat of the day. She would have still been able to smell the dusty air and smell the blood.”
I opened my mouth to say I still found the DeathTalker’s ability fascinating, when a knock on the door interrupted me and then a key scraped into the lock.
I drew on a tiny bit of my panther nose and confirmed that Anjelo and Lily had arrived.
Anjelo smiled as he held the door open for Lily, then shut the door behind him and handed her the key. Then he saw us.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, brow creased.
A hiss of breath escaped my throat and I let my head drop back against the sofa. “You came just in time. Nerina was showing me what happened in Africa.”
The pair took seats on the opposite sofa, both bore worried expressions while they waited.
I gave them a rundown, from African sunshine to Masai warriors with interesting powers. Anjelo’s head moved almost imperceptibly left to right, the tiny action telling me he was still uneasy about me being in danger.
When neither said anything, I shifted my gaze to Nerina. “So, in essence we have a paranormal Masai tribe massacred by a team of unknown soldiers.”
Nerina nodded. “The villagers were caught unawares. The surviving child told Sini everything. Her grandmother had taught her to run and hide in the reeds if anything bad ever happened. The poor child was hysterical, convinced she should have stayed behind, that she could have saved her people.”
I shook my head. “From what I saw, that wouldn’t have been possible. The soldiers were well armed, looked very well organized. But, what I don’t understand is why send three soldiers to a tiny village in Africa, and send one man to kill a dozen teens in the US?”
Nerina inclined her head. “We wondered the same thing.”
“Maybe they were learning,” suggested Anjelo.
I nodded. “Which incident happened first?” I asked Nerina.
“The African village.”
“I thought so.” My head still throbbed but at least the pain was now receding. Pity the pain in my heart had nowhere to go. “My guess is they realized killing paranormals was easier than they’d expected. No need for three killers.”
A somber silence fell upon the room. An image flashed in my mind, the vision returning so suddenly that I had to swallow a gasp. The killer all dressed in black standing a few feet in front of me, his hands reaching out, the burst of paranormal energy from the muzzle—
Paranormal ammunition.
I frowned.
“What’s wrong, Kai?” asked Lily, shifting restlessly.
But I wasn’t yet ready to discuss it with them. First, there was someone I needed to speak to. I raised my hips off the sofa and dug into my jeans pocket for my cell phone.
Grams answered on the third ring. “Hey, honey. I’m on my way home. Be there in ten.”
“Er . . .” I hesitated.
“Is something wrong?”
Suddenly, I realized I shouldn’t be discussing this particular piece of information on an open and unsecured line.
Grams seem to get the message. “It’ll have to wait until I come home,” she said, casually. There was something else too, a hint of excitement. “In ten.” And she cut the call.
“What is it?” asked Anjelo, his face tight with impatience.
“I wanted to wait to hear what Grams had to say first. She’ll be here any minute so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
I pushed to my feet and shoved the phone back in my pocket, suddenly restless, needing to pace. “The group is organized. They definitely have a military feel to them.”
Anjelo shrugged. “Anyone can buy military gear. Anyone can look military if they want to.”
“Exactly what I was thinking. But one thing stood out. One thing that made me wonder what the connection was between these men and either Omega or Sentinel.”
“What?” Angelo and Lily spoke together.
“The weapons they used were normal, standard issue, probably Glocks. But the ammunition they used belongs to an entirely different spectrum.”
I turned to Nerina. “Did you notice the guns?”
She met my eyes, her expression confused. “I am not sure what you mean.”
“The markings on the weapons. Are they familiar?”
Nerina shook her head, looking frustrated.
I shoved my fingers through my hair. “When I first came to Chicago, Storm sent me to Tara when I needed weapons. Working with Tara taught me a few things about weapons manufacturers, more especially paranormal ones. Every paranormal weapons creator is incredibly proud of what they create.”
“And every weapons manufacturer marks his, or her, weapons with their signature,” said Anjelo quietly.
“Exactly.”
“So, the killers are using weapons created by a paranormal weapons manufacturer.”
“Right.”
He scowled. “And there are only a limited number of good paranormal weapons creators and most of them are either attached to, or contracted to, both Sentinel and Omega.”
“So it’s possible one of those two organizations have something to do with these killings.” Lily’s voice shook a little.
It was odd to hear her give an opinion when Anjelo was around. Back before he’d disappeared into the wraith world, Lily had preferred not to talk when Anjelo and I were together. She hadn’t liked me. But now that she’d graduated from unofficial hater to official side-kick it seemed she’d thrown off her shell. And probably burned it along the way.
Go, Lily.
I nodded, still pacing. “And we all know which organization we’d put our money on.”
I pulled out my phone again and dialed Logan, then listened to it ringing over and over again. It didn’t even go to voicemail.
Before I could think of the numerous reasons Logan couldn’t answer, the apartment door opened and Grams breezed inside. She hung her handbag on the coat rack and came to me.
Though excitement lit up her eyes, the emotion was tempered by a glint of concern. And something deeper.
I stopped pacing. “What’s happened?”
“Sealed files. That’s what.” She slapped a small chip-drive into my palm. “I think I might have tripped a couple of alarms so I got the hell outta Dodge. We need to have a look at this as soon as possible, but first tell me why you called.”
I gave her a quick rundown ending with my thoughts on paranormal ammunitions.
She blew out a breath. “That makes a hell of a lot of sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“When—”
Someone began to hammer on the front door.
I frowned and sniffed, my panther nose pricking to attention. “I don’t know who they are, but I smell tension.”
“Sentinel Military Police,” a male voice bellowed over the banging. “Open up.”
As if we had a choice.
I marched to the door and flung it open. “Damage my property and I’m sending Sentinel the repair bill.”
The officer stalked past me and stopped in front of Grams. “Ivy Odel, your presence is required at headquarters immediately.”
“And this needed a dramatic entrance?” Grams stayed cool, but her voice was edged with steel.
“Your presence is required in order to answer questions regarding your recent access of Top Secret files.”
“Really? I wasn’t aware there were restrictions on my clearance.”
The officer paused. “That is noted. I suggest you take it up with the High Council today.”
Grams sighed. “Very well. Let me get my purse.”
The officer gave a curt nod, watched Grams take her purse from the coat rack, and then shepherded her
out the door.
As she crossed the threshold she looked over her shoulder. “I won’t be long, darlings. But if you can’t wait, start without me.”
When the door closed behind them I dropped into the nearest chair.
“Shit,” I said.
What else was there to say?
Chapter 21
SENTINEL HAD TAKEN GRAMS AND I hadn’t done a thing to stop them.
I clenched my fists and felt the thumb drive bite into my skin. I opened my hand.
“What’s that?” asked Nerina.
I held up the drive. “Grams must have suspected they would come for her. Just as well she gave it to me first thing.”
Anjelo grinned, as proud of Grams as if she was his own grandparent. “Grandma Ivy is one smart lady.”
“True.” I bounced the chip on my palm and then went to my room to grab my laptop.
As I returned to the dining room and headed to the table Lily laughed.
“What?” I asked
“You actually have a laptop?”
“Of course I do. I’m a woman of the times.”
“So you say,” said Anjelo with a smirk.
“What do you mean?” I said, slightly offended. “I use computers all the time.”
“Sure. Especially when you’re traipsing around the Graylands or the wraith world.”
“Or the highlands of Scotland.”
I knew what they meant. After Clancy had died I’d tried to maintain my job at the Rehab Center, but after being poisoned, then scouring the Graylands in search of Greer, then being suckered by Illyria I’d been a little pre-occupied. Life hadn’t slowed down any since then, either.
“How much computer time do you guys put in, anyway?”
“A whole lot more than you—considering we are actually getting an education.”
“An education which I already have. Just so you don’t forget.” I tapped in my password, opened a directory, and inserted the drive. Moments later, a slew of files cascaded onto the screen.
Nerina slid closer as I clicked on a folder. “An education isn’t always as important as it’s made out to be. Wasn’t there a famous computer company owner who hadn’t finished university?”
