Fallen Five

by Erica Spindler

  Tara Green had been hundreds of miles away from New Orleans the night Sarah Stevens killed herself.

  The lead had proved a dead end, and when Micki called Sarah’s sister to let her know, she’d been crushed by the news. With nothing else to offer her, Micki hung up.

  Promising herself that as soon as she was able—if that ever happened—she would review Gerard’s correspondence records. She locked the car, and headed for the center. She hadn’t heard from Eli, so she’d decided to check in with him. He had probably heard about her suspension, and she hoped he and Professor Truebell had some sort of an idea about how to get her out of this nightmare.

  A couple minutes later, she rang the bell and looked directly into the camera.

  Arianna came over the intercom. “I’m sorry, Micki, but I can’t let you in.”

  For a split second, Micki thought she had misheard. When she realized she hadn’t, she had to struggle to find her voice.

  “Why not?”

  She paused a moment. “I just can’t.”

  “I need to speak to Eli.”

  “He’s not here, Micki.”

  “The professor then. We’ll get this sorted out.”

  “I told you, they were summoned to the High Council. I haven’t heard from them since and don’t know when they’ll be back.”

  “I saw Eli last night,” Micki said. “He told me Professor Truebell was arriving this morning.” Her voice rose. “He said everything was going to be fine.”

  “If they’re back, they haven’t contacted me or been by LAM.”

  “I’ll wait. Let me in.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but Zach made me promise—”

  “Zach?” Micki took an involuntary step backward. She felt as if she’d been slapped in the face. “Zach told you not to let me in?”

  “Until we figure out what’s going on with you. To keep Angel safe and protect the center.”

  They thought—Zach thought—she could hurt Angel? And that she would do what to the center? Steal Lightkeeper secrets? Or come in, guns blazing, and blow it apart? It was inconceivable to her.

  But apparently, not to Arianna. Micki turned and walked away before the woman could say that she was sorry again. Her hand shook as she unlatched the gate and stepped through. She was out of moves, plain and simple. Everyone she trusted, it seemed, had turned against her. Except Eli, who’d disappeared.

  She cycled through ideas, eliminating one after another. Confronting Natalie King again would be disastrous. Calling one of King’s daughters would do nothing—except backfire. Running away seemed equally as ludicrous as hiding out at home.

  Zach, she thought. He was the only one who might listen.

  Despite everything, she still believed in him. In their partnership. The question was, did he believe in her anymore?

  As she neared her car, she saw a crow had perched itself on the Nova’s hood. It seemed to spy her at the same time and flew back into the tree she had parked under. A good thing, too, because she wasn’t feeling charitable this morning.

  She shifted her gaze; her steps faltered. Someone was sitting in the Nova, behind the wheel. She’d locked it; she always did. Her pulse quickened, and she automatically went for her gun, simultaneously realizing it wasn’t there.

  Dammit. She had a personal weapon stashed in the Nova’s locked glove box, but it wasn’t going to do her any good now.

  She slowed her steps, moving her gaze from left to right, assessing her surroundings. She had two choices: turn and walk away, or confront whoever it was without knowing if they were armed.

  The UNSUB made the decision for her. The driver’s side door opened, and a man stepped out and turned toward her.

  Her heart stopped when she saw who it was. “Professor!”

  She closed the distance between them and he gave her a quick, hard hug. He held her away from him, mouth curving into the elfin grin that always managed to transform his middle-aged, bearded face into that of a mischievous boy. “Michaela. You knew I’d come.”

  “Eli told you everything?”

  “Yes. You’ve been having quite a time.”

  “It’s worse than you know. I was suspended from the force this morning.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “How?”

  “Back channels.” He motioned toward the car. “Let’s ride and chat, just in case we’re being watched.”

  “Are we?” she asked. “Why?”

  “I don’t trust anyone right now. And you shouldn’t either.”

  They climbed into the car, she inserted the key and the engine rumbled to life. “Where to?” she asked.

  “Anywhere.”

  Micki took a left on Canal Street, heading west, toward Lakeview and the West End.

  After they’d gone a couple blocks in silence, she glanced at him. “Arianna wouldn’t let me into LAM. She said Zach warned her against it. To protect Angel. And the center.”

  He didn’t respond, and she went on, “Why’s he doing this? I don’t understand.”

  “Look at it from his point of view, Michaela. He saw the videotape.”

  “You heard about that, too?”

  He nodded. “The fact is, right now, you can’t trust him.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said again.

  “It’s not him, it’s her. The chameleon.” He angled in the bucket seat to face her. “You thought of Zach first, when she asked who you cared for most. Am I right?”

  She stopped for a red light. “Yes.”

  “And who was second? Angel?”

  “Right again.”

  “So, she knows how much it hurts you to be without them.”

  The light changed, and Micki rolled through the intersection. “That’s why I’m afraid for them. I think she’s going to . . .”

  “Kill them?” he said.

  She thought of Hank. How his loss had stripped her of something essential. Something she’d only just started to get back. She nodded. “Yes.”

  “She’d have done that already, don’t you think? If it was her desire.”

  “What is her desire, then?”

  “You already know.”

  “To punish me for challenging her. To prove she’s all powerful and that I’m helpless against her.”

  “Very good, Michaela.” He paused a moment, then went on, “She’s taking your loved ones from you, just in a different way. And it hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Her throat nearly closed over the word.

  “She’ll do anything, become anyone. She won’t stop, until she wins.”

  “What does that mean, Professor?” Micki looked at him, then back at the road. “What’s a win for her?”

  “To break you.”

  The stark intention of those words took her breath. She almost missed the light ahead turn red, and had to slam on the breaks. They jerked against the safety belts. The medal, she realized, had gone cold.

  “I think she’s already done that.” Micki gripped the steering wheel tighter. “She’s won.”

  “Michaela,” he chided gently, “you’re so much stronger than that. You’ve lots more fight in you.”

  He knew her well. “Why can’t I just go to Zach, tell him everything. He’ll believe me. I know he will.”

  “What if it isn’t Zach? And even if it is, what if he thinks you’re falling apart, having a breakdown. You might never be reinstated.”

  Could she stand it? she wondered. Fired. Most likely never able to work in law enforcement again. Certainly, never for the NOPD.

  “You have to understand what you’re dealing with. How clever this creature is. Brilliant, like a master chess player. And she could be anyone right now.”

  “Even you?”

  He smiled slightly, like a proud parent. “That’s the way to think, Michaela. But no, she can’t imprint a Full Light.” He paused, as if to let that sink in. “That’s why Eli and I have to be the ones to stop her.”

  “Then do it, please.
I don’t know if I can take much more than this.”

  “It’s going to take some time. I’m sorry.”

  “I feel like I’m almost out of time.”

  He turned away from her, his gaze toward the side window. When he turned back, his expression looked resigned. “Go home,” he said softly. “Stay there. Don’t go out. And don’t let anyone in.”

  Shut up in her house. Alone, nothing to help pass the hours.

  It sounded like a death sentence.

  “Anyone, Michaela. Especially Zach. Or Angel. Eli or I will contact you soon.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  8:45 P.M.

  Angel awakened with a start. She’d fallen asleep while sketching and as she sat up, the drawing pad and bag of charcoal pencils slipped off her lap and fell to the floor. She pushed her hair away from her face. Seth. In her dream, he had been calling to her. Outside, he told her. He was waiting for her outside.

  She slipped quietly out of bed, stepped into her jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt. Then, after quickly lacing up her Nikes, she tiptoed to her bedroom door.

  Angel eased it open, peered down the hall. Arianna’s bedroom door was shut. Except for the glow of the nightlight in the hall, the house was dark.

  She darted into the hall and unarmed the alarm, holding her breath, praying the telltale beep didn’t awake Arianna.

  All remained quiet and she hurried to the front door, unlocked it and stepped expectantly out into the night.

  At the sight of the empty porch, her hopes plummeted. She had known Seth would be there waiting.

  “Seth,” Angel whispered, “where are you?”

  Not even the chirp of crickets or hoot of an owl answered her. She crossed the porch and descended the steps, scanning the sidewalk and street, to the right, then left.

  Nothing.

  Angel called again, but this time silently. Seth, I’m here. Where are you?

  Around back. By the empty tool shed.

  She took a step, then stopped. It could be a Dark Bearer waiting for her. A trap set by the Dark One who claimed to be her father. She shivered and hugged herself. He had sent others to collect her before.

  It was how she had met Seth.

  Angel swallowed her fear. She couldn’t not go. Not if there was even the smallest chance it was Seth. Besides, her dreams were never wrong. That was her gift.

  She went around the side of the house. The air changed, seeming to become charged with some sort of energy. The hair on her arms prickled, then stood on end.

  Seth. I’m here.

  And then, there he was. Stepping out from the shadow of the shed. He opened his arms and she ran to him, clinging as he held her tightly, and feeling the missing piece of her click back into place. In her womb, their baby stirred, as if recognizing its father.

  After several moments, he eased her from him. Cupping her face in his hands, he studied her.

  “What?” she asked, voice thick.

  “I missed you so much.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. “I missed you, too. But I knew you’d come. No one believed me.”

  “I’m sorry it took so long.”

  She shuddered with longing as he trailed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Where have you been?”

  “Everywhere but here. On the move, in hiding.” He rested his forehead against hers. “When I chose you over Will, I betrayed the Dark One and his forces. I have an army after me now.”

  Fear nearly choked her. An army of Dark Bearers? Some with power enough to bring a building down, turn it to rubble? Or the kind with power that couldn’t be overcome by less than a dozen Full Lights?

  She trembled. What chance did they have against such forces?

  “Hey,” he said, tipping her face up to his. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “How?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Where can we go? How do we hide from an army?”

  He kissed her, once, then again. Softly at first, then deepening with passion. And something more. Urgency, she realized. They didn’t have much time.

  When he ended the kiss, she whimpered in protest anyway.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  “I have a place. It’s for beings like us. We’ll be safe.”

  Beings like her and Seth—half light and half dark, products of obscene experiments enacted by the forces of darkness.

  She had to tell him about the baby. She wished she didn’t have to, not now, like this.

  He felt her stiffen and frowned. “What’s wrong? If it came to it, I’d lay my life down for you, Angel. You believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do. But there’s something I have to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “It’s not just me anymore, Seth. I’m pregnant.”

  He looked stunned. Then disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

  She wanted to cry. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Have you been to a doctor?”

  “No. Just a home test. But I know I am. There are . . . changes. In me. My body. How I feel.”

  She took his hand, laid it on the gentle swell of her abdomen. He splayed his fingers, expression changing from disbelief to wonder.

  “We’re having a baby.”

  She nodded, her tears spilling over. He kissed them away, kissed her so tenderly and deeply, it took her breath away.

  “Do we have to go?” she asked. “I feel safe here.”

  “I get that, babe. But I can’t stay here. It’s not safe for me. And it never will be.”

  He cupped her face in his hands once more. “And you won’t be safe either, not if we’re together. Because they’ll know they can get to me through you.”

  She knew he was right, but didn’t want to face it. “We have powerful friends here, Seth. They’ll help us. I know they will.”

  “I don’t think so, babe. I’m not one of them.”

  “But neither am I!”

  “It’s different for me. You’ve never been controlled by the darkness. It’s a battle for me, every day. And they’ll never trust me because of it.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her. “We’ve got to think about our baby now. They’re going to want it. And if they get the chance, they’ll take it from us.”

  She would do whatever necessary to ensure that didn’t happen. “I’ll get my stuff.”

  He stopped her, drawing her against his chest once more. “Not yet. The baby changes things. I’m not certain they’ll take us now.”

  Angel couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You’re leaving me?”

  “I have to, babe. Trust me.”

  “You say you’ll keep me safe, but if anyone tried to hurt you, I’d do anything to protect you. Anything,” she finished, surprised by the ferocity in her voice.

  He laid a finger gently against her lips. “Don’t say that. That’s the dark in you talking. If you give hatred even a toehold, it makes you vulnerable to them.”

  She looped her arms around his neck. “Please take me with you.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” He unwound her arms and set her away from him. “But I’ll be back.”

  She felt as if she was dying inside. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” He kissed her again. Hard. Then took a step back. “Don’t tell anyone I was here, Angel. Anyone.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  9:20 P.M.

  Micki paced from one end of the house to the other, like the lion she’d seen at the Mobile Zoo when she was six. Pacing back and forth. Planning its escape. Deciding who would be the first to pay the price for its imprisonment.

  Inaction wasn’t her style. Cooling her heels made her want to kill someone. Just like it did that lion.

  Take charge and move the situation forward. That’s what she did. That was one of the reasons she was a good cop.

  Was a good cop. Past tense.

  For how long? she wondered. The professor had said to wait for his call. Eli had promised
the two of them would take care everything. But when?

  The hours had crept by, her mood growing darker as they did. Her phone had gone silent. She’d tried to distract herself with TV and the Internet. She’d talked to Hank, but he had been silent.

  So she’d returned to pacing.

  Something was wrong here. It nagged at her, like an insect flying around her head, but every time she went to swat it, it darted out of reach.

  Hank’s medal had begun to chafe. It had started in the car with Professor Truebell, and gotten worse as the day progressed. So much for feeling wrapped in the warmth of Hank’s presence. It had become another irritation in a day brimming with them, and, muttering an oath, she took it off.

  Immediately, she felt bereft. And vulnerable.

  Stupid, she thought. Maudlin. Ignoring the urge to put it back on, she marched to her bedroom and laid it on the nightstand by the photo of her and Hank. She gazed at the photo, tears gathering in her eyes, then shifted to another one, of her and her friend, Jacqui. Jacqui cradling Xander in her arms. Micki wondered how they were, if they were safe. Alexander was a special child, maybe the most special. He and Jacqui had had to go into hiding, to protect Xander from the Dark One and his army.

  More loss, she thought. And now Angel. Micki turned her gaze to the hallway and Angel’s bedroom door. Closed, shut tight. The way she felt, closed off from everyone—and everything—she cared about.

  She made her way to Angel’s room, stopping at that door, an ache in her chest. What did she say to Angel that was so awful? That caused her to pack up her stuff and just . . . go?

  Micki thought back to the last time they’d really talked, exchanging more than a “Hello,” “Goodbye” or “Have a great day.”

  The night they’d shared a peanut butter sandwich, she recalled. Sure, she’d been honest about her feelings—and her worries. But she’d been gentle. Respectful of Angel feelings. At least she’d meant to be.

  Out of habit, Micki tapped on the door, waited a moment, then opened it. Neat and tidy, bed made, everything in good order—just as it had been two days ago. She crossed to the closet. A few of Angel’s things hung there, summer items, mostly. She went to the dresser next, opening each drawer. Like the closet, they contained items Angel left behind.