She slid off of me—slower and perhaps a little more seductively than was absolutely necessary. I raised an eyebrow, but Cassie just grinned as I got out of the bed. “What?” Her face was the picture of innocence.
“Oh, you know.” I rubbed my nose and tried not to laugh. Of all the stupid… I realized I was still holding the candy bar, and I slid it into one of the side pockets of my cargo pants. I struck a heroic pose. “I’ll be back.”
She made as if to throw a pillow at me. “Get out of here. There’s wizarding work to do.”
I opened the door, turned and gave her an elaborate bow. “I bid thee farewell, dear maiden.”
“Nerd.”
I felt like my grin was about to split my face as I double-timed it down the hallway. In the living room, Carlos hefted one last bag over his shoulder, then turned to greet me. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, gave me a once-over, then finally said, “Dude, is your nose bleeding?”
Valentine
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
The day faded into night and made it all the more difficult to see what was going on at the Sikora house. There’d been a constant level of activity throughout the day, but Valentine had ordered everyone to stay put. While several of the new visitors had come and gone multiple times, Locke had never left. The mother wanted the boy; if he didn’t move, there was no need to go anywhere.
Along the same lines, they tried to limit excursions out of the house, surviving on the cache of frozen food and other supplies they’d laid in. Much as ordering-in would have been more palatable, maintaining a low profile meant limiting that as much as possible. One of the neighbors had already delivered a pan of brownies to welcome them to the neighborhood. It had taken every bit of Val’s self-control to politely accept them while keeping the far-too-inquisitive lady from getting a look inside of the house. The chances that the Sikoras would know someone on the opposite side on a friendly basis were probably low, but the risk wasn’t worth taking. Better to be rude than inflame a potential local gossip.
“Check out camera four,” George called out. Val stepped over and leaned over the table. “Damn it, you’re getting crumbs on my stuff, boss.”
“Good brownie,” Val said. “You should try one. The RV?”
“Yeah, they’ve been loading stuff up for a bit now. No idea what, but it looks heavy.”
“Heavy bodes ill,” he replied. A familiar, white-haired figure emerged onto the screen, carrying a backpack and a shotgun. “Unless I miss my guess, they’re moving out.”
Eliot and Morgan joined the confab behind the table. Val’s partner leaned in and took a look at the screen. “What’s the move?”
“They’re packing up to go somewhere,” Val said. “Only question is, how long are they leaving.”
“We should have bugged the place,” Morgan said with a frown. Val raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t disagree. For whatever reason, the people in the house across the way hadn’t spent much time outside the past few days. Bugs would have given them a bit better insight, but Val had nixed the idea, at first, because technically Paxton Locke wasn’t their target. Bugging the house without a warrant might bring up uncomfortable questions later.
Not that Val wouldn’t tear the Constitution a bit, to stop the sort of end-of-the-world calamity he believed Helen Locke to be capable of. He just didn’t want to have to deal with any unnecessary bureaucratic speed bumps along the way. If not for prior inaction, they wouldn’t be in their current problem.
“Morgan, you’re with me,” Val declared. “You two stay here, we’ll head out ahead of them and fall in line further down the road.”
He took a few moments to grab his shoulder rig, cell phone, and keys. Throwing on a light jacket, he led Morgan out the door, half-hoping that no neighbors would be out enjoying the sunset. They were in luck, and the headed out of the subdivision. He pulled into the parking lot of the gas station a half-mile down the road. The digital indicator for the RV had yet to move on the screen of the tracker.
“Where do you think they’re headed?”
Val thought about it for a moment, trying to put the sense of his gut into a coherent explanation. “I don’t think they’re leaving out. The new arrivals, the gear they’re loading up, that’s backup. They’re headed somewhere local.” On the screen, the pulsing dot began to move. He tapped it with a finger. “Going after your apex predator unless I miss my guess.” He looked over at Morgan. “Any more ideas what it might be?”
“Divination has never been my strong suit.” She winked. “You know my skill set, Valentine.”
He couldn’t help himself—he grinned. “It’s been a long time since Hot Springs, darlin’.”
“Careful. HR will be up on your case about that sort of language.”
Val snorted and shook his head. “So many steps forward, and so many steps back. Sometimes I wonder about this era, Morgan.”
“It’s not all bad.”
“No. No, it’s not.” On the tracker, the RV started coming toward them. “Heading south, then.” He pulled down the sun visor and tucked his chin into his chest. The kid had been on all sorts of pain meds in the hospital. The odds he might recognize Val if he glanced this way as he drove by had to be miniscule, but thought it best to not tempt fate. He tried to limit his risk-taking only to absolutely dire circumstances.
The RV passed by, right at the speed limit. He waited until the tail lights were barely visible before he pulled out after, and he matched speeds. The big Ford handled like a boat, and the local traffic buzzed in and around him, annoyed at his refusal to throw caution to the wind and go twenty miles an hour over with the rest of the crowd.
As they continued south, the RV turned off onto a westbound road that looped them around the outskirts of the city. Eventually, they turned south again, but the signs of civilization fell away with every passing mile. The night-glow of Phoenix to the east lit up the sky, but before them and to the west the growing blackness was only intermittently pierced by any source of artificial illumination.
That lack became problematic as the RV turned into a dim strip mall. “Keep going, keep going,” Morgan hissed.
“It’s fine,” Val murmured. The big motor home disappeared behind the building just as he passed by, still trying to drive as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Keep an eye out back.”
Morgan strained around as he looked for somewhere to pull off. A quarter mile down or so, there was a four-way stop with a self-serve car wash on the southwest corner. The bays were north-facing, so he whipped the Crown Vic around and tucked it into one of the slots before killing the engine and headlights. “There was another vehicle back there. Rusted-out van.”
“They’re switching vehicles,” Val murmured. “Curiouser and curiouser.” He sat up higher in the seat, willing them to turn south. If they didn’t come this way, he had the horses under the hood to catch up, but aggressive driving garnered a hell of a lot more attention than a careful tail.
A few minutes later, headlights nosed around the side of the strip mall and turned their way.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Val muttered. “We need to confirm it’s them, first.”
The van approached and passed through the intersection. If they noticed the Crown Vic tucked into the bay of the car wash, the driver and passenger gave no visible reaction. The driver was a balding Latino, but the man in the passenger seat had a shock of white hair that could only belong to one man.
Val turned around in his seat and watched the tail lights recede into the darkness, then cranked the engine and whipped the car around. “This is going to be trickier, without the GPS. Keep your eyes open.”
“Not my first rodeo,” Morgan retorted.
They didn’t drive for long. The area they passed through grew more and more remote, until Morgan said, “They’re stopping.” Val checked to make sure he didn’t have any traffic coming up behind him, and he pulled off onto the shoulder. Vegetation was sparse, and the g
round was hard-packed, so he didn’t feel they’d have any issue pulling back out.
He thumbed their headlights off and squinted at the distant van until he grew tired of the strain. Val retrieved two sets of binoculars from the back seat, handed one to Morgan, and studied the road ahead.
The red taillights provided an eerie sort of background light as a dark figure jumped out the van’s side door and hustled to the side of the road. As Val followed his movement, he realized that there was a tall fence surrounding hulking shadows off to the side of the road.
“What is that, a power substation?” Morgan wondered out loud.
“Looks that way.”
The figure climbed the fence and hopped to the other side. On the ground, he turned on a flashlight. The cone of light helped illuminate the equipment a bit more.
The flashlight beam settled at the base of one large, boxy structure. Val listened between his teeth. “No way.”
“Are they going to—?”
“Looks like.” The figure who’d jumped out of the van earlier hopped the fence once more and climbed back in. The driver pulled away from the fenced-in substation, leaving it cloaked in shadow once more. “We’ll hold here,” Val decided. “It’s a good vantage point, anyway.”
“Their destination has to be close, you’d think.”
Val tapped controls on the tracker, scrolling the map further south and away from the indicator. “Big green smudge on the map ahead. Only thing around for a couple of miles.” He gave her a look. “All the stuff they loaded up combined with cutting the power—if that’s what they’re doing—sounds like a pretty hairy expedition.”
“No matter how many times I see it, their willingness to throw their lives away never fails to surprise me.” There was a strange tone to her voice that he couldn’t place at first.
Val hummed thoughtfully as he identified her wistful tone. “You sound almost jealous. You think they’ll let you retire?”
“We’ve still got free will,” Morgan shrugged. “You never know.”
He rubbed the scar on his forearm through his jacket, then shrugged. “I made my choice a long time ago.” He remembered the sensation of drowning in his own blood and the white flash that laid his soul bare even as it seared deep into his arm. “When Michael is done with me, I’ll have earned my peace.” Lord willing.
“‘And as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment.’ Think you’re pushing things to keep trying to die, then, Valentine?”
He gave her a toothy grin. “I’m so good, everyone only thinks I’m trying.”
She laughed. “And he’s humble, too.”
CHAPTER 22
Paxton
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
The cool breeze coming out of the desert caressed my skin. I shivered just a bit and shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my new windbreaker.
It was Kent’s idea, and I had to admit it was a good one, even if it was a bit baggy. The jacket was musty from storage in the back of his Suburban, but the bright yellow letters across the back that read PHOENIX PD should keep any first responders from shooting me before I had a chance to lay the push on them.
I adjusted the strap of the Mossberg where it lay on my shoulder and quickened my pace. There wasn’t much, if any traffic out this way, but I didn’t want to get caught unawares in the middle of the road by a pair of headlights.
The van Scope had picked up had lived a hard life hauling construction supplies. There was more primer than paint on the sides, and the whole thing rattled and rumbled as though it were on its last legs. Javier took the shotgun seat; Carlos and I sat on a pair of milk crates, surrounded by duffel bags of clinking equipment.
They’d driven a half-mile or so past the entrance to the Upward Path campus before killing the lights, pulling over and letting me climb out. I supposed the De La Rosas had a more stressful task than I did. While I could decide whether to face or run away from any threats, they had to wait and see what happened.
Another gust of wind covered me in gooseflesh. Then again, maybe staying back in the van was the better option.
Catching sight of the intermittent lights on the perimeter fence, I steeled myself. The invisibility spell wasn’t the most taxing ability I had, but it wasn’t something I could keep going forever, either. Cassie’s candy bar was liable to come in handy at some point.
I focused, and though I myself could see no difference, I faded out of view. Now I really had to pay attention to traffic.
Ideally, I’d phase through the perimeter fences and cut a straight shot across to the gymnasium. The lush grass covering most of the grounds made that problematic. In the desert, the best time to irrigate was at night, and every section of lawn we’d seen while driving past either glistened with dew or was currently being soaked by in-ground sprinklers. Walking through grass while invisible was bad enough when it wasn’t soaking wet. The way things stood now, I’d leave a path that would jump out to even the most casual observer.
This left the road as the only viable access point. Which was easy enough, but it was twice the distance of the direct route.
I relaxed a bit as I stepped off the main highway and onto the driveway leading into the center of the facility. The guard shack was bigger than I’d expected it to be, built in a modern style that used lots of metal and glass. Inside the well-lit interior, I could see a trio of uniformed men. One seemed stationed in front of a bank of video monitors while the others sat at desks facing the road. As I approached, I got a strong whiff of coffee from inside. Bright lights, company, and plenty of caffeine seemed to me to be a good recipe to keep your security staff from falling asleep in the middle of the night.
One, three, or three hundred—none of that would have made a difference as I side-stepped the parking arm and advanced toward the gymnasium. The slight scuffing of my sneakers on the blacktop was a roar in my own ears, but none of the guards so much as stirred as I walked right past them.
Halfway to the intersection, I crouched behind a decorative bench and dropped the cloak to take a breather. Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I tapped out a quick message to Carlos. Three guards, I’m in.
A few steps later, his reply popped up in silence. Watch your ass.
I secured my phone and tried not to laugh. If ever my friend had given me redundant advice, that was it. Still, rather than tempt fate, I looked over my shoulder. The silhouettes of the security guards were far enough away to be little more than a blur, and they didn’t seem to move with any sort of urgency. So far, I seemed to remain unnoticed.
The entrance drive came to an intersection. I took the left road and headed for the gymnasium.
It was full dark, but still relatively early in the evening. Despite that, the campus was devoid of any activity. Chilly or not, it was a nice night, all in all. I’d have expected more than a few people to be out walking the grounds, but I seemed to be the lone exception. A few lights were on in some of the dormitory buildings, but the deeper I moved onto the property, the emptier it felt. I’d have been lying to myself if I said the continuing emptiness didn’t creep me out. Were all the pictures of happy patients a ruse?
Shadow cloaked the gymnasium, and even though I still maintained the invisibility spell, I kept to them as I moved onto the sidewalk and headed toward the glass and steel entrance doors. The hours of operation boasted that the facility was open from 6 AM to 6 PM, which explained the lack of lights on the interior and the locked entry.
Experimentation had shown me that I couldn’t phase through a solid material while cloaked. Taking my time, I scanned the exterior of the gym for surveillance cameras. Once I satisfied myself that there were no prying electronic eyes, I turned visible once more, but only long enough to blur through the entrance and the second set of doors beyond. Inside, the sharp smell of chlorine mixed with the subtle stench of locker rooms.
Indoor pool? Missed that in the brochure. The founders, it seemed, had spared no expense in equipp
ing the campus, even though the patient load didn’t seem heavy enough to call for it. Tile squeaked under my feet as I stepped forward. I winced and forced myself to take slower, more delicate stops. I doubted there’d be roving security in a gymnasium, but if my hunch that this was more than gym proved to be correct, there might very well be.
I moved past the empty front desk and the entrances to the locker rooms. Placards on the wall directed visitors right to the swimming pool and left to the basketball courts. Another legend listed the various amenities offered, from tanning beds and massage therapy to spin classes and free weights. Say what you would about their religious practices. The cultists had plenty of opportunity for bronzed skin and toned muscles.
In Angie’s vision, the streams of cultists in the future hell world had struggled endlessly to the top of the pyramid. It seemed only logical to start on the top floor.
I kept my steps light and close to the wall. There were enough windows in the place to let some light in, but for the most part, darkness reigned. In that shadow, passing rooms of gym equipment loomed with imaginary monsters, but I still hesitated to use a flashlight, lest someone spot it.
The circle of light from the sign above the stairwell door was a pool in the darkness, and I headed toward it with a growing sense of unease. I didn’t feel watched, exactly, but there was something off inside of the building. The air felt thick—moist and ponderous, in marked contrast to the crisp and cool air of the desert outside.
I hesitated at the stairwell door and debated on whether to open it or phase through. Get on with it. I dropped the cloak, phased through, then cloaked once again. The standby lights inside of the stairwell dazzled me after my trek through the darkened first floor, and I blinked spots away for a moment before beginning a steady climb up to the top of the building. My breath sounded like thunder in the narrow confines, and I paused frequently to listen for any other signs of movement. So far, the stairs remained as quiet as the main floor.
At the landing to the top floor, I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. With no way to see what—or who—lay beyond, it seemed foolhardy to phase or step through, especially if there was a sign above the door as there’d been below.
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