Embrace the Night
PHOENIX Files: Book 2
Alexandra Kane
Copyright © 2011 Alexandra Kane
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Embrace the Night, PHOENIX Files Book 2
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission.
For my parents, Eric and Henrietta, and parents everywhere who give the best they have to their children.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I'd like to thank the ladies of the BevLand Yahoo group for all your support and encouragement. That includes the Empress herself, the illustrious Beverly Jenkins. Many thanks also to the talented Erica G., who has an eye for typos, and to my husband and kids for providing me with inspiration and quiet time to write. And of course, to the readers, I can't express my appreciation in words.
Happy Reading!
Alexandra
other books by alexandra Kane
Darkness Rising,
PHOENIX Files book 1
January, 2011
ISBN: 978-1453835197
Embrace the Night
Prologue
Sam Richardson reclined at his desk in the security office, feet propped on the oak desk top, arms folded behind his head. The night shift guarding the artifacts at the North Carolina Museum of History had never been exciting, but tonight he struggled just to keep his eyes open. A little excitement would go a long way towards helping him stay awake, but he knew it wasn't likely. Blowing out a long breath, he tried to push his exhaustion away, but failed.
He could feel his heavy eyelids sliding closed.
WHIRRRR!
The sound of one of the entry alarms blaring shocked him awake. Leaping to his feet, he studied the wall of monitors broadcasting the security camera footage. Gaze darting from screen to screen, he stopped on the center monitor.
With great confusion and raised eyebrows, he watched the glass case that held A Revolutionary war-era tea kettle shatter, without any evidence of it being struck. Then, he stared as the centuries old piece of metal simply floated across the exhibit room, and out of one of the museum's side entrances.
Plopping down in his chair, Sam ran his hand over his weary eyes. Then, he said aloud, "Either that really happened, or I'm seeing things. Either way, I need a new job"
Within two hours, his supervisor came in to relieve him. Lauren walked into the office, black security coat slung over one arm, with her bright red NC State Wolfpack mug in her other hand. Seeing the look on his face, she asked, "What's the deal, Sam?"
He looked at the mug, then back at her. "Had your coffee yet?"
She nodded. "A few sips. Why?"
He moved to the devices that stored the digital security footage, and rewound the data to the point when the alarms went off. "Take a look at this," he said, gesturing to the monitors.
Then he sat back and watched her reaction to the footage.
Eyes glued to the screen, she dropped her coffee mug. The plastic clattered on the linoleum floor, the dark liquid pooling around her feet. She didn't even notice. "Holy shit, Sam. What the hell was that?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
Chapter 1
What a day to start a mission.
Glancing out at the heavy pellets of rain falling from the gray afternoon skies outside his office window, John Groves powered down his computer. Pulling his long, black raincoat on over his broad shoulders and setting the matching fedora on his head, he grabbed his briefcase and made his way into the corridor of the Boyer Building, securing the door behind him.
He seriously considered using his telekinesis to pull his car up to the door of the building. But, with the fall semester well underway, the campus was bustling with students and faculty. It just wasn't practical, and would lead to an epic scene.
"Hi, Professor Groves," a young female student called as she passed by him, bringing him back to reality. He nodded, walking toward the glass doors at the end of the hall. Cinching the coats' belt around his waist, he stepped out into the pouring rain. Quickening his pace he jogged toward the faculty parking lot.
Fat droplets beat against his body through the raincoat until he arrived at his car. Once he'd shoved his briefcase and himself into the black mid size SUV, he brought the engine to life and got underway. Dr. Black would be expecting him at PHOENIX regional headquarters, and he hoped to get there on time.
With five o'clock traffic in Raleigh being what it was, getting from the campus of Saint Augustine's College in the Oakwood area, all the way to the sparsely populated town of Holly Springs proved to be just as much of a headache as he'd anticipated. Sitting in the long line of motorists virtually parked on US 64, John rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. If Dr. Black didn't hold him up at headquarters all night, he had a stack of term papers from his World Civilizations class to grade.
That's if I ever get out of this damn traffic. The rain had slacked off a bit, but drops of water still slid in rivulets down his windshield, only to be tossed aside by the swishing wipers.
Finally, the line of cars ahead of him began to move. As he inched along, gradually building speed with the flow of traffic, he realized he would probably get to headquarters on time. What to expect when he got there, he never knew.
Twenty minutes later he had pulled his truck into a space in the wooded area surrounding the unassuming white washed farmhouse. The two story structure occupied several acres of land between Raleigh and Holly Springs, in an area frequented mostly by squirrel, deer, and hunters. At the door, he completed the electronic retina and thumbprint scans, as he'd done so many times before. The lock released and he entered the building.
In the seven years he'd been in PHOENIX, the similarities between regional headquarters had always amused him. They were all built to look like farmhouses, abandoned factories, or other nondescript places, but the insides were nearly identical. The polished wood floors and expensive dust collectors gave no indication of the kind of missions the group handled on a regular basis. He supposed one of the higher ups must be determined to exude class, even while kicking ass.
Approaching Dr. Black's office, he found the doors open. Just as he'd expected, the doctor faced a rear window, with only the back of his leather chair beyond that ridiculously large desk visible.
"Thank you for coming, Agent Groves," the deep, booming voice emanated from the chair. "Enjoying this lovely weather?"
John scoffed. "Sure." He removed his fedora. "So, what's the mission?"
"Hold on now, speedy. You'll find that out when your partner gets here."
After his cross county trek, he found himself a little annoyed that his partner hadn't already arrived. "Well, where is he?"
A female voice answered from behind him. "I'm right here, and I hope you can tell I'm not a he."
He spun around in the direction of the sound, and saw her standing there. She was statuesque, nearly matching his own six feet four inches in height. She wore some sort of spandex workout gear, shaded red, that clung to her lithe, shapely body like a second skin. Her dark hair, streaked with red, clung to the sides of her bronze face as is she'd been sweating. Her flushed appearance was strangely appealing.
She raised an eyebrow, folded graceful arms across her chest. "Are you gonna just stand there gawking at me, or introduce yourself?"
Right away, John decided he did not care for her attitude or her mouth, regardless of her loveliness. Annoyed, he approached her, stuck out his
big hand. "I'm John Groves."
She shook his hand with a firm grip. "I'm Lieutenant Tatiana Yates. Nice to meet you, Agent Groves."
He could feel his eyes widening. Did she say lieutenant? They expect me to follow orders from a woman? Doing his level best to hide his surprise, he responded in kind. Then he and his shapely superior both stood near Dr. Black's desk.
She announced, "We're ready to be briefed, sir."
"Good, because there have been some strange happenings at the museum of history," Dr. Black began. "Artifacts seem to be getting up and removing themselves from the premises."
John snickered. "It's more than likely a fader," he said, shaking his head. Faders, with their powers of invisibility, were often caught doing things they shouldn't, simply because they thought they could get away with it.
Tatiana looked thoughtful. "If things are being taken, and it's not an inside job..."
"It's definitely not an inside job," Dr. Black interjected. "It's not even a human job. Whoever is doing this doesn't always use doors or windows to enter the building. I've seen the security footage."
She clapped her hands once, loudly. "This isn't an ordinary fader, then. It's got to be a sublimer, since they can pass through solid objects."
So, she's already figured out the case. Why does she need me along? John cleared his throat. "Do we have any leads, Doctor?"
"Not at the moment, but we've set up surveillance at the museum."
"We don't need leads," Tatiana said, eyes lit up like the fourth of July. "I know exactly where to start."
He watched as she produced a tiny cell phone from her armband and punched a number into the keypad. “Who are you calling? Don't we need to get going?”
She didn't answer, but held out her open palm, effectively dismissing him. “Marcelo, where are you? Mmm Hmm. I'll meet you there in 45. I'll be needing your help on a case. Okay. Bye.”
He rolled his eyes. God, she's rude.
Ending the call, she turned to him again. “Alright, let's go.”
***
When they were dismissed from the briefing, Tatiana gestured to the confused looking man she'd been partnered with. “Come on, Agent Groves, let's get going.” Before he could respond she strode out. She was the lead on this case and he would just have to keep up.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving the grass damp and glistening in the fading light. Dusk began to fall, painting the sky like a canvas with shades of orange, pink and purple.
She was outside, unlocking her car door when he came jogging out. “Do you have to walk so fast?” he groused. “And shouldn't we take the same vehicle?”
“I'm a tigress, so I naturally move that way.” Sliding into the driver seat of her blue sedan, she peered up at him through the still open door. “We are taking the same car...mine. So get in.”
He made a sound, something like a groan and a gasp combined. “Why should we take your car? Mine's bigger.”
She rolled her eyes. So Mr. Trench Coat didn't get it. She remembered the way his eyes raked over her body when she'd arrived. He'd been doing two things: sizing her up, and lusting after her. “I'm leading this investigation, Johnny Boy, so it's my rules, my tactics ,and my car.”
“Are you serious?” His face twisted into a frustrated frown. “You really want to start things off with that attitude?” He stuck his large hands into the pockets of his trench and stared at her, waiting. As if I'm going to cave and take his car.
“Get in the car, Johnny Boy." She closed the door and started the engine.
Throwing his hands up, he stalked around to the passenger side and got in. His tall, broad frame monopolized the front of the vehicle. Buckling his seat belt, he leveled those dark, serious eyes on her. “For the record, don't call me Johnny Boy again. You may be the lead on the case but you will not disrespect me.”
Running a hand through her short curls as she swung the car out of its space, she nodded. If he was that sensitive, who knew how this would all turn out? Glancing at him, she found him still glaring at her, so she assumed her nod wasn't good enough. “Alright, I won't call you that again. Happy?”
He sank back into his seat, stoic and stiff. “Sure, ecstatic.”
She smiled slightly. He was pouting, and they both knew it. Even with that sour puss, she had to admit he was handsome. Big, dark, and broad shouldered, just the way she usually liked them.
Be a damn shame if he wears that screw face all day. Refusing to apologize for taking command, as she was assigned to do, she focused on driving. Marcelo would be expecting her.
Marcelo Spirelli, whom she referred to as her “Italian connection,” owned a landscaping company by day. At this very moment he was negotiating his services with a church in downtown Raleigh. She smiled as she thought of his broad grin and devil may care attitude. He's nothing like Johnny Trench Coat, thank God.
She hadn't called Marcelo to prune her rosebushes, though. He was one of the most powerful sorcerers in the area, and a case involving sublimers would definitely benefit from his expertise.
By the time they got off of US-1 near the campus of North Carolina State University, she glanced over and saw that the tight face he'd been wearing had softened. Since she rarely drove with the radio on, the silence inside the car was palpable.
She was idling at the stoplight of Hillsborough Street and Park Avenue when she heard him say, “Is that your usual work attire?”
Is he for real? “No, it's not,” she answered, failing to keep the annoyance out of her tone. “I was out for a run when I got the call, and this leotard is specially made to shift with me so random folks in the woods don't get to see my goodies.”
He released a deep, rumbling chuckle.
She set her attention back on driving.
Then he blurted, “Okay, but don't you think you should change?”
“Why?” Pulling in to the parking lot of First Baptist Church on Edenton Street, she cut the engine. “I'm just as good at what I do, no matter what I wear.”
“I don't mean that, I just meant...”
“What? That my attire is distracting to you?”
He touched his large fingertips to his temples. “Don't flatter yourself, Tatiana.” He opened his door and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
She followed suit but closed her door gently. “Don't slam my doors, John. And don't pretend you weren’t undressing me with your eyes back at headquarters.”
“Whatever.” He leaned his broad back against the car, folded his arms across his chest. “I was simply amazed that somebody would show up to work in that getup.”
She shook her head slowly. What a piece of work. “Okay, if you say so.” She used her key to open the trunk. “I am going to change, but not because of you. I'll be right back.”
As she crossed the parking lot toward a side door of the church, she heard him call out, “Good. Try to look professional this time.”
It was all she could do not to turn around, shift, and bite his ass.
Or stay in human form and slap him.
When she entered the church, she found Marcelo sitting in a plush chair near one of the Sunday school rooms, just as he'd indicated on the phone. He stood as she approached, embracing her briefly.
“Bongiorno, Tatiana. I am at your disposal.” He bowed low, swinging his arm in a dramatic gesture.
The brown uniform he worked in was only a few shades darker than his burnished skin. With his shoulder length black wavy hair and well muscled, slightly above average height frame, he was certainly easy on the eyes. His good looks coupled with his demeanor made working with him a regular trip down the primrose path.
Chuckling, she nodded. “Thanks, Marcelo. I'll fill you in on everything we know, just as soon as I change.”
He eyed the flaming red leotard with an appreciative smile. “I rather like your attire, Bella.”
She rolled her eyes, assuming Marcelo flirted in his sleep. “Well, our other colleague doesn’t agree. Anyway you k
now I'm not working in this.” Spying the ladies room a few feet away, she drifted in that direction. “Give me a minute and we'll get going.”
In the restroom, she chose the handicap stall in the rear to give her space to change. Reaching into the large, leather Kathy van Zeeland satchel she kept in her trunk, she extricated the slinky navy blue tunic and black leggings. Slipping out of her leotard, she tucked it into the bag before donning the change of clothes. Slipping her feet into the comfy ballet flats she'd packed, she tossed her sneakers into the bag and made her way back out to meet Marcelo. Passing the mirror, she ran a hand over her chin length, auburn streaked curls. They were looking a bit less than tame, but there was no time for getting pretty. We've got some law breaking ass to kick. With that goal in mind, she strode out of the restroom and walked with Marcelo to her car. He'd leave his brightly painted landscaping van at the church, so it wouldn't draw attention as they went back to headquarters.
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