by Mark Henwick
Nagas? A takedown right in front of the PD?
No. There was no one suspicious ahead of me, no net of people casually heading toward me. She was acting solo.
Who in the hell was she then?
Without wanting to turn around and stare, I had the feeling she was somehow familiar. It was difficult to be sure with her wearing a hoodie.
Journalist?
Bian would kill me if I got slack enough to allow the media any inkling of what was going on beneath the surface in Denver. She’d probably do it in front of others to provide an example. And she’d be within her rights.
Who knew I would be here today?
I walked past the PD and called José on my cell.
“José, I’ve got someone following me.”
“How far away are you?”
“I just walked past the front door. I want this out of sight. I’m heading around to the parking garage behind the post office on Delaware.”
“Give me four minutes and I’ll come in behind you. Should I have backup?”
“No. We should be okay.”
“See you there.”
It was a measure of how much we’d come to trust each other that he accepted my word on it.
I dawdled, slowing as I went around the block, pretending to look repeatedly at a watch I didn’t have, as if I was expecting to meet someone. Then with half a minute to go, I made my way down the road and into the garage.
My getting off the street like that should have warned her, but she came in, and she came up the fire escape stairs after me. There’s a reason why successful tails involve lots of people, and one of those is you don’t put yourself in a situation like that. She’d attended some basic training in following people, but I wasn’t sure she’d passed.
Still, I was getting twitchy. This was too easy. It seemed more and more likely that this was just a journalist. But in that case, I really wanted to know how the hell she’d known where I would be. And what she was trying to find out.
I heard the door on the ground floor. Hopefully that was José. I stopped and listened.
The feet on the stairs behind her finally spooked her. I heard the door on the level below open and bang shut. Then heavy feet hurrying back down and another door opening—José going back to the ramp to cut her off. I opened and shut the door on my level and waited, listening.
Clever woman. She hadn’t gone out at all. She was running back downstairs. Sneaky.
I swung over the railing and jumped. In three jumps I had her as she hauled open a door to escape into the ranks of cars. I had her wrapped up and bundled back into the stairwell before she could draw breath to scream. José must have seen the door swinging and he burst in as I pushed her roughly to the ground and snared both her hands.
Her hood slipped back.
“Melissa!” José yelled. “For God’s sake!”
I froze. As soon as the hoodie came down I recognized her too.
What the hell?
Melissa Owen had been the star of the CSI department when I had been working for the police a year ago. As in when I worked for the police for pay, rather than did things pro bono. She was pretty, at a glance, but kinda ruined it with a perpetual frown of concentration that made her look manically intense. Her gray eyes were narrowed and her streaky blond hair pulled back into a tight bun, only a stray lock escaping to soften the effect.
I hauled her roughly to her feet and she dusted down her gray pants, glaring at José and me. I had no time for this shit.
“Someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked. “Workload gotten too light in CSI?”
“No,” said José. “The workload has just gotten a whole lot worse. Especially since Melissa was suspended.”
He seemed as pissed as I was.
My eyebrows rose. “Take her to an interview room?” I suggested.
“We can’t,” said José. “I can’t even be seen with her.” He ground his teeth and elaborated. “Employment regulations.”
Melissa hadn’t said a word yet.
“What were you thinking, stalking me?” I asked her.
“I need to talk to you. I’m perfectly aware the problems that might cause if we’re seen.” She and José continued their staring match. “So I was trying to make it discreet.”
“The last person to stalk me around here was the hit man for a drug gang.” I opened my jacket enough for the butt of the HK to show.
Melissa’s eyes widened and she swallowed, suddenly looking less defiant than she had.
“Really dumb,” she said. “Sorry.”
“And how did you know I was going to be here at this time?”
She blinked. “I didn’t. I was coming in to meet my legal rep and I saw you.” She peeled the hoodie off and revealed that the pants I’d nearly ruined were part of a charcoal gray business suit. “I just got the sweatshirt from a shop and followed you. I didn’t want to talk to you in full view of the HQ, just in case anyone saw. I was about to give up when you came in here, and I thought that would be ideal.”
A couple came down the stairs, looking curiously at the three of us before heading out the door.
Melissa handed me a card with her cell number. “I better get to my appointment. I’m sure the captain will fill you in about me.” With a final glare at José, she edged out between us and away.
“Am I missing a story here?” I looked at him.
“Yeah. Not my doing. Her department head suspended her last week because of the time she’s spent on her own investigation. It’s gotten worse and worse over the last year.”
He jerked his head and we started walking toward the exit.
If she thought she needed a quiet word with me, I suddenly had a sinking feeling I knew what Melissa’s private investigation was about. I squeezed my eyes tight shut. I’d been getting worried it was a journalist following me. Melissa was in a different league of problem.
José didn’t notice my reaction. “Suspending her has stalled about a dozen investigations” he complained. “She has no friends at the PD now. She thought I would be able to overrule the suspension for some reason.”
His next words confirmed my worst fears.
“I was going to talk to Colonel Laine about her, but something happened last week,” he said. “Can’t raise him, and suddenly I’m getting those priority DoD requests for a liaison meeting with some other colonel. On top of that, I’ve got FBI SWAT teams charging around the city arresting army people and telling me to mind my own business.”
“Damn. One thing at a time. Melissa’s personal investigation is about the Athanate?”
José shrugged. “She won’t say what it’s about, but I’m guessing that’s it. Apparently she’s been trawling every crime database and incident report since last year. First on her own time, then more and more while she’s supposed to be working.”
“Last year? You mean since the colonel had the bodies of those three rogues snatched out of the morgue under her nose and we came up with a bunch of bullshit about what had happened?”
He nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Of course, she’s absolutely right, there is something there, but I can’t tell her, or her department head. Ideally, I was hoping I’d get the colonel’s agreement to take her into the Snakebite team, bring her fully onboard, but I guess events have just run away with us. No Snakebite team, no colonel and the goddamn FBI sticking their noses into everything.”
We walked out the parking garage and crossed the road back to the HQ.
“Crap,” I said. Like it or not, this had landed in my lap. I was going to have to deal with it. “It’s not a problem for you if I meet with her?”
He shook his head, raised a brow in question.
“I have an idea.” The seed of a plan had started to form, but I’d have to think it through and run it past others.
In the meantime, José needed to be aware of what else was going on. “The colonel who’s trying to meet with you is called Petersen?”
“T
hat’s the one. You know him?”
“He’s responsible for…” my guts clenched and I couldn’t go on. “Forget it. This is with the FBI now. If Petersen goes ahead and makes an appointment, make sure you pass that on to Agent Ingram.” I stopped and took a deep breath. “Petersen’s from the same special ops group I was, but he’s...”
What? I didn’t know what Petersen had done, or what he expected to get out of this. Surely, someone had to be about to step in, even if his immediate superiors were part of the problem? Someone, somewhere?
We’d gotten to the PD entrance, but neither of us wanted to pass through the building having this conversation, so we stood there.
“You’re saying he’s gone rogue?” José prompted me.
“Yeah. In the non-paranormal sense of the word.”
I shivered. Rogue. Insane? No, something about the way Petersen behaved told me he wasn’t insane. I could imagine him making a compelling case to that committee about how much benefit the military would derive from harnessing paranormal capabilities. But they had to have kept it within their group, didn’t they? Forget the oversight issues, keeping a project like that secret would be impossible. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else involved. Maybe Ingram was right.
Or should I start to wonder about Area 51 and UFOs?
“Hey?” José’s gentle inquiry brought me back. He was looking concerned.
“Sorry,” I said, giving myself a shake. “The word rogue is kinda in my face at the moment.”
“Tell me about it.”
José had understood, early on, the need for secrecy around Ops 4-10’s handling of me. He’d accepted and supported the way Colonel Laine and I were proceeding. Hell, he’d even become a friend. But he was still the boss of the Major Crimes division in Denver, and he needed to know more than Skylur and Felix would like him to.
He was halfway between inviting me to talk and telling me.
“Petersen first. He’s taken control of Ops 4-10, the group Colonel Laine and I used to be in. I’ve got to believe that most of 4-10 wouldn’t accept running operations in the US, but he’s also in control of another battalion, Ops 4-16.”
“Let me guess,” José said tiredly. “4-10 without the moral compass?”
I nodded. “I’d advise leaving all that to Ingram.”
“That’s what was happening yesterday in Aurora?”
“I think so. I haven’t had time to talk to Ingram. Do you know how it went?”
He shrugged. “No shots fired, some people taken into custody and a couple of vehicles impounded. I understand they were trying to track some other guys from a police helicopter, but they lost them. Good result overall.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope it doesn’t ever get to a shooting match.”
“These 4-16 guys are good?”
“Uh huh. Pretty much the same skillset as 4-10.”
“Shit. And lots of them?”
“A battalion back in Carolina. But I don’t know how many here.” My cell was beeping. I sent it to voicemail. “There’s lots more going on, and we’ll have to talk sometime, but at the top of my list is the werewolves.”
José looked expectantly. He’d provided me with the initial police report into unexplained animal attacks that had been the start of my investigation into the rogue, back when I’d been trying to prove that werewolves weren’t involved.
“There’s a rogue werewolf in Denver,” I said flatly. “Responsible for at least some of those animal attacks in your report and probably some that haven’t been found yet. I’ve been volunteered by the Were and Athanate to track him down.”
“Oh, shit,” he said, but it wasn’t the news he was talking about. His eyes had fixed on a new arrival in front of the building. His voice dropped. “Meet the FBI agent who’s just been put in charge of the unexplained animal attack case.”
Agent Griffith.
“What? He’s in on the Anthracite project now?”
José’s eyes flicked away. “I didn’t hear you say that name.”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
The problem with all this secrecy was keeping track of where the hell I was with each person. Project Anthracite was a secret FBI team investigating patterns of unexplained crimes. I wasn’t supposed to have heard of it, even though Agent Ingram knew I knew. I could work with Ingram. If his partner, Griffith, was now involved, José was right, I had a problem. I couldn’t work with Griffith.
This was what Ingram had been trying to warn me about yesterday.
“Well, well, well,” Griffith said. “Two of the most interesting people in Denver, having a talk out on the street.” The way he said it, he meant ‘person of interest.’ “A meeting without minutes? Getting your stories straight?”
“No,” I said. “Not having a meeting at all. I know it’s kinda hard for you to understand, but sometimes people are friends and take time to say hi.” I reached into my jacket and handed José a folded file of paper. “While delivering my statement on events in Longmont to the police as requested.”
Griffith glared. “You.” He jabbed at me with his finger. “You are in this stuff up to your ugly, butch neck and I’ll prove it. Your only chance is going to be WITSEC. You want to start thinking long and hard about that.”
I wanted him gone, so I throttled my demon’s comeback and gritted my teeth.
“Captain Morales, we have an appointment. Now.” Griffith shouldered past me.
“Talk when we can,” I whispered to José, and he followed Griffith into the building.
I checked the cell. Tullah.
Call me.
Chapter 15
“Tullah, are you okay?” I asked as I started to retrace my steps back to the car. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since Saturday after the firefight with Hoben’s men, when she’d refused to go back to Haven with the rest of us. Adepts and Athanate didn’t normally mix, and Tullah didn’t yet have control over her dragon spirit guide, Kaothos. As witnessed by the spectacular explosion Kaothos had caused at the warehouse in Longmont, mostly without Tullah’s permission or cooperation. No wonder she didn’t sound good.
“I’m fine,” she said, but I could hear she meant the opposite.
“Talk to me.” I tried to lighten it up. “Is Mary going to kill me for involving you in Athanate stuff?”
“Ma’s calmed down some. She and Pa would like to see you at the Kwan. Can you head over there now?”
“Sure.” Tullah’s mother was a powerful Adept; her father was a martial arts master. Either one of them could kick my ass, and they both probably wanted to. This was going to be so much fun. “What about you? Will you be there?”
The pause seemed to stretch forever. “I can’t,” she said at last. “I’m sorry, I need to talk this through with you over the phone. I’m such a coward.”
My heart skipped. I relied on Tullah; more, she was like a little sister to me. The idea that she couldn’t face me hurt.
“You’re not a coward, Tullah. What do you need to talk about?”
“Kaothos.”
Tullah’s spirit guide had spoken to me twice. I hadn’t told her at the time.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’d spoken to your dragon, but honestly, I wasn’t sure whether I was dreaming or not.”
“I know. I was upset about that at first, but I’ve spoken to her and she’s admitted that she approached you. This is something else.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. Mary had warned me that dragon spirits were unpredictable, and tended to try to influence their hosts. “So what is it?”
“It’s what she wants. You remember the explosion at Longmont?”
The vision of Tullah standing there with a shadowy glimpse of Kaothos towering above, reaching into the sky and feeding on the storm, was fresh and stark in my mind.
“Kinda hard to forget.”
“I don’t have the depth to handle that amount of energy on my own. When you touched me, she used both of us to create the blast that destroyed the factory.”
<
br /> “Yeah, well, you can’t argue with the result, Tullah. If she hadn’t done it, both of us would probably be dead.”
“I know,” she said. “But a spirit guide should never take control like that. Ma says she’s probably damaged us—you, me, your spirit guide, Hana.” She sounded like she was crying. “Ma was right. Once it starts acting on its own, using people, what’s to stop it? That’s why dragon spirit guides are so dangerous.”
“Whoa. Hold on there. Damaged us? What kind of damage are we talking about?”
“We don’t know!” She was practically hissing with frustration. “People here know squat about dragons. Or hybrids.” She hesitated. “Has Hana stopped talking to you?”
That was an odd question. “Hana? No. I mean, she hasn’t ever really spoken to me. One word at Haven after the Assembly. And maybe something last night. Why?” I felt a stir of worry.
“Ma says the channeling of that much energy…” she stopped again. She seemed to gather her courage, and then blurted out. “It might have damaged Hana. It might destroy your ability to channel, like permanently.”
That was chilling. I hadn’t had much contact with my spirit guide, but I’d felt comforted knowing she was there, and that when the time was right we might learn to channel power together. I hated to think of Hana, the wolf pup, being hurt. But as I thought about it, it didn’t feel right or true. Damage, yes, maybe. But permanent? No. Surely I would feel it. And even if it was true, it wasn’t Tullah’s fault.
“I don’t think so,” I told her. “And you said it yourself, no one knows.”
This sounded like a kind of panic reaction to me, and completely outside of Tullah’s normal attitude. However, telling her that was guaranteed to be unhelpful.
“Okay, so we shouldn’t link up like that again,” I said, “but are you suggesting we can’t see each other at all?”
She went silent again. “I just can’t at the moment. It’s not just the damage. I know what she wants, Amber. Kaothos. I don’t trust myself to be able to fight it yet.”
This was disturbing. “What exactly are you saying she wants?” I reached my car and leaned against it, looking around.
