by Jami Gray
“You got away.”
She managed a jerky nod. “Yeah, and I headed outside so I’d have room to maneuver. Unfortunately, what followed me wasn’t Bryan. It was that thing…”
Which reminds me… “I thought Bryan was a Mirage, not a Charmer.”
Zev angled so he could address me and Imogen at the same time. “He was a master Mirage mage, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find out he carried a minor ability as a Charmer.”
A grim realization hit me, but it was Imogen who voiced it. “What attacked us wasn’t a minor ability, Zev.”
He studied her. “What are you saying?”
Imogen held his gaze without flinching. “If Bryan was infected with the serum, it had to be during the initial search of that lab, and whatever magic we tripped finished what it started.”
“That weird cicada,” I muttered, and when both Arbiters turned to me, I finished my thought. “When we first searched the lab, that mutant cicada nicked him. How likely is it that Neil did something so that thing could inject enough of the serum to cause a reaction in Bryan?”
Imogen and Zev looked at each other in silent conversation. Finally, Zev said, “It would make sense, especially if Neil was experimenting with delivery systems for the serum. Dr. Michaels mentioned there was a singular result where they were able to transfer the effects between subjects.”
Imogen’s nod was slow, considering. “It would also explain his deteriorating attitude. Once he stepped on that rune, it flipped the last trigger.”
“How would Neil know to go back there?” I asked. That would have been crystal-ball-level knowledge.
Zev paced at the foot of Imogen’s bed. “I’m guessing that was more a Hail Mary type of move—restoring the runes in case someone came back to discourage anyone from poking around.”
“And Bryan had the misfortune of being infected and tripping it?” Imogen asked.
I wanted to add, “What she said.” Instead, I watched Zev, and so did Imogen.
He stopped at the footboard and rubbed the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, yeah.” He looked at the woman in the bed. “If it had been you, who knows what result the rune would’ve triggered.” Something moved over his face, but from my angle, I couldn’t read it. Then he turned to me, and all I saw was ruthless resolve. “We need to head back over there and examine those runes.”
“Actually,” Imogen interrupted, her hand rising as if to hold him back. It dropped back onto the sheet. “That will have to wait because I got a message from Kerri, and it seems Neil’s been a very busy boy tonight.”
“Is she okay?” I asked.
She looked at me. “For now. Security is on alert, but she’s understandably rattled.” She directed the next bit to Zev. “I need you to escort her to another secure location.”
He folded his arms, frowning. “Me?”
Imogen’s eyes darted to me and back to him. “Well, you and Rory. They won’t let me out until tomorrow, and I’m not comfortable leaving her with just the standard security team. Not with all that’s gone down tonight.”
Zev considered her request. “How about this? Rory and I will get Kerri settled in, and then Rory can stay with her while I go back to the lab.”
I was shaking my head before he finished. “Uh-uh, nope. No one is going anywhere alone, not anymore. The lab can wait.”
His eyebrows rose, and his jaw took on a familiar jut, his displeasure with my solution obvious. “We can’t have anyone else tripping over those runes.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem since the only one who keeps returning to the scene of the crime is Neil. And if he’s reaching out to Kerri, it’s because he wants her to run so he can chance getting to her.” It was my turn to be obstinate. “I don’t know about you, but I’m done chasing Neil. It’s time to bring him to us.”
“She’s right, Zev.” Imogen’s startling comment had us both turning to her. Exhaustion and pain had taken her waxy skin tone to gray, and it was clear she was about to succumb to whatever painkillers the hospital staff was pumping into her veins. “Go guard Kerri—use her as bait. If we’re lucky, maybe you’ll get a chance to grab Neil.”
“Fine.” He scowled before giving in. “Can you give your team a heads-up that we’re on our way?”
The bright gleam in Imogen’s eyes had faded and turned blurry. “Yeah.” She twisted as if to reach for the side table but hissed in pain.
Zev cleared the far side of the bed. “Stop. I got it.” He handed Imogen her phone and waited while she texted.
When she was done, she handed it back to him and lay back. “As soon as they let me out of here…” She finally began to slip under.
“Got it.” Zev shook his head in clear exasperation and lowered the top of the bed until Imogen was lying flat. He dimmed the light so she could rest. Without a word, he and I left Imogen’s room to play bodyguard and bait a mad scientist.
Our drive to Kerri’s took place in near-total silence as neither one of us had much to say. I couldn’t speak for Zev, but the confrontation with Bryan replayed on an endless mental loop, leaving me strangely numb. It seemed like no time had passed before we pulled into the neighborhood where Kerri was currently stashed and our SUV’s headlights swept over the familiar SUV parked at the curb.
Zev pulled in behind it and shut off the engine. I sat there, staring unseeingly through the windshield, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine. A hand landed on my thigh, and I jumped.
“Rory? You okay?” Zev was crouched in the open passenger door, squeezing my thigh gently and watching me closely.
“Yeah.” I covered his hand with mine and held tight. I shoved through the weird dissociation until the world resettled into familiar clarity. “Yeah,” I repeated, my voice rough. “I’m good.”
He waited a moment before taking me at my word and letting me go. He rose and moved away from the door so I could get out. Then I followed him through the quiet complex to Kerri’s back fence. I absentmindedly wondered why we couldn’t use her front door, but then she was there, face pale, eyes wide, holding back the vinyl slats and pulling back the sliding glass door to let us in.
“I thought Imogen would be coming.” Panic added a higher pitch to her voice.
This time, Zev didn’t wave me through but took the lead, disappearing inside. I’d done enough escorting to know he was ensuring that no threat lingered inside, which left me to answer Kerri. Uncertain how much had been explained to her, I stuck with, “Imogen’s been unavoidably detained. She asked us to escort you to a new location.”
Her eyes darted toward where Zev had disappeared and back to me. “Oh, okay.”
Zev said, “Clear” in a low voice, and I stepped inside, letting Kerri close the door behind me. I spotted a small duffle bag with a laptop case on top, waiting by the couch. “Why don’t you grab your stuff, and we’ll get you out of here so you can sleep tonight?”
I got a jerky nod from her, but instead of doing what I asked, she stood there, wringing her hands, while Zev spoke quietly into the phone, probably updating the security team outside.
I swallowed a sigh and reached for patience, reminding myself that she had good reason to be freaking out. Even if she’d teamed up with Neil at some point, facing him down now was a daunting proposition. “Kerri,” I said. She didn’t respond. “Dr. Michaels.”
That worked. She blinked at me like an owl before comprehension set in. “Right, my stuff.” She looked around as if just realizing where she was. Spotting her bag, she rushed over and grabbed it.
Zev looked at me as he tucked his phone away. “Outside is clear, so I told Trask’s team to head over and make sure the new place is still secure.”
That meant we had to leave immediately. “We’ll be right behind you.” I turned to Kerri, “Follow Zev, Dr. Michaels.”
He slipped out the patio door, and I waited until Kerri scurried behind him before bringing up the rear. We retraced the path back to the SUV. Even though I kept an eye on our surroun
dings, it did nothing to dull the itch along my spine. It made me reconsider carrying my firearm on a constant basis, but it wasn’t like bullets were much use against magic. Still, having the weapon in hand would have been comforting.
We made it to the SUV without incident. Zev got Kerri settled in the back, and I took the front passenger seat, mainly because I still felt unsettled, which was not a good state to be in when operating a vehicle. When Zev navigated the neighborhood and took a roundabout way to the main street without the GPS’s assistance, I realized he knew exactly where he was going.
He pulled out onto University, which at that time of night was fairly quiet. I twisted in my seat to see Kerri. With the intermittent wash of streetlights, she slipped in and out of shadows, making it difficult to read her expression.
“Can you tell me what happened tonight, Dr. Michaels?” I asked.
She angled toward me. “I was working on things when I got an email from Jonas.” She motioned to the laptop case on top of her travel bag. “It was so unexpected that I opened it before I could rethink the wisdom of doing so.”
Yeah, getting an email from a dead man would do that to a person.
She clutched her hands in her lap, which set my teeth on edge for some reason. Ignoring my irrational reaction, I prompted, “What did it say?”
“It was a video clip.” Even in the uncertain light, I could see her swallow before she looked out the window. “At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, but…” Her voice trembled and broke. Before I could snap something bitchy and tell her to pull her shit together, she said, “It was Jonas, but he was upset, arguing with someone out of frame. He kept demanding that they explain the reports.”
I didn’t think I could endure a traumatized recitation of events, so I asked, “Do you still have it on your laptop?” When she gave me a jerky nod, I managed a small smile that I hoped was reassuring instead of just me gritting my teeth. “Could I see it?”
She twisted in her seatbelt and, with a few stilted movements, pulled her laptop out of the bag. “Yes, sure. Here let me get it up for you.”
Zev remained silent as she pulled up the video for me, but I knew he was listening closely. Kerri handed me the slim laptop, and I turned back in my seat, setting it on my lap. She had the email open and the video up. Whoever had recorded this had done so covertly because Jonas was in the frame, but he wasn’t captured straight on. The recording device, most likely a phone, was angled down low, probably so Jonas didn’t realize he was being caught on tape. Making a mental note to forward this to Evan in hopes that he could pull information from the metadata on the video or email, I hit Play.
Jonas’s panicked voice filled the interior. “I’m telling you, someone changed that report, because those indicators are completely off. If the project moves forward using that information, it could be disastrous.”
Despite the odd angle, I could see how nervous Jonas was. He shifted constantly, unable to stand still, and his gaze kept jumping around. There was the sound of a door slamming open followed by a blast of electronic music with a driving beat and then what sounded like a couple of drunken kids trying to figure out how to keep the door open so as not to get locked out. Jonas half turned, looking behind him, and the frame jerked as well as if following the movements of whoever was recording it.
Jonas turned back, pale but determined, and hissed, “We have to let Mr. Trask know and stop this before someone gets hurt.”
Before our amateur filmmaker could respond, an argument broke out behind Jonas. He turned, and the footage jerked then got shaky, making it difficult to see anything. There was a glimpse of weed-choked asphalt and then the flash of a familiar pile of broken pallets, like those in the alley where Jonas had died. Dread settled like lead in my stomach, making it cramp. The audio became muffled, but I could hear the tone of the voice change from nervous to angry to scared. Then a scream ripped through the laptop’s speakers. When the video pulled back into focus, I watched in horror as a demonic fire consumed Jonas like a Roman candle. His screams continued for agonizing seconds, then he fell silent. The video stopped.
The horrific afterimages lingered. I looked up at Zev and whispered, “Holy shit, Zev.”
Then something slammed into the SUV and upended everything.
Chapter Twenty-One
A hammer bashed against my skull, making it hard to think, and something was dripping down my face, but no matter how irritating it was, I couldn’t seem to lift my hand to brush it away. In fact, every time I tried, my body rebelled with a series of screaming complaints. For a long, suspended moment, I was tempted to retreat back to the comforting darkness lurking at the edges of my mind, but the compulsion to move held it in check.
Despite the debilitating ache in my head, I managed to pry my eyes open. A haze filled the air, and something white was trying to smother me. Above the weird suffocating cloud, the light from a streetlamp spilled through cracked glass. Even weirder, there was a pole in the middle of the SUV’s hood. My thoughts finally connected. Zev driving. Kerri in the back. Watching the video of Jonas. Turning to Zev, then…
Dammit, we’ve been hit. Zev! Panic trumped pain, and I batted away the slowly deflating airbag, sucking air into my tight chest. “Zev,” I croaked, but there was no answer. My movements grew more frantic as I shoved the airbag aside and twisted against the seatbelt locking me in place. Fire scored around my ribs, and my breath stalled.
Zev was slumped over the wheel, only his seatbelt and the airbag holding him upright. The bits of safety glass from the driver’s-side window covered him like a glittery blanket. His door was buckled, and the cab’s roof was a lot closer than before, indicating we’d rolled at some point, which explained why my body felt like it had been run over. I managed to get my seatbelt to release and twisted in the seat, desperate to check on Zev. Distantly, I could hear myself calling his name.
Ignoring the collection of aches and pains, I managed to get my hands on him, and I curled my fingers around his neck as I used my other hand to lift his head up. The steady beat of his pulse softened my initial panic, but the obvious lump just above his temple kept it close. I cradled his face with one hand and used my other to check for broken bones or any unexplained bleeding. Only after I’d confirmed that the bump appeared to be the worst of his injuries did my surroundings trickle in.
First came the sound of a nearby argument, the words not quite filtering, although I could tell that one was female and the other male. I looked at the back passenger seat where Kerri had been and saw the door bowed in but no Dr. Michaels. “Kerri?” I called out even as I realized the back passenger door was wide-open.
If she was able to get out of the SUV, she had to be okay, and I needed help. “Kerri, help me with Zev.”
“Rory,” she said from behind me.
I turned to see her wrenching open my door. “Are you okay?”
Exasperation flashed across her face. “I’m fine obviously.”
The borderline-bitchy comment made me want to kick her in the face, but since I needed to get Zev out of there, I refrained. “Good. Help me get Zev out.”
With a frustrating lack of urgency, she glanced at Zev and frowned. “I don’t think it’s smart to move him.”
Not about to argue with her, I snapped, “Just help me.”
She sighed. “If you insist.”
There was something off in her voice, but I didn’t have time to process it. “Who were you arguing with?”
I never got the answer because a few things happened at once. My neck prickled with awareness of an approaching threat that had nothing to do with magic, Zev gave a soft groan, and some man cursed behind me as hands yanked me back out of my seat and away from Zev.
With no magical threat incoming, instinct and Guild-mandated defense training kicked in with a vengeance. Despite the waves of pain set off by being jerked backward, I still managed to slam my head back and connect. The painful impact left my head spinning even more as a curse echoed in m
y ears, but muscle memory had me swinging out in an awkward elbow strike and back fist. There was a grunt, but my unbalanced position meant there wasn’t enough power behind my moves to do much other than piss off whoever was trying to grab me.
“Hurry the hell up.”
I didn’t recognize the voice as I struggled to get my legs untangled from the wrecked SUV and then an arm wrapped around my throat and waist, dragging me back. I clawed at the arm at my neck, skin tearing under my nails, as I tried to get a grip to rip the arm away. Another vicious curse hit the air, then something pinched my thigh. I freed one foot and managed to brace it against the center console and shove back. The abrupt move freed my other leg, but lines of agony seared through jeans and skin as it scraped along something sharp. Legs no longer trapped, I tumbled backward out of the SUV, helped along by whoever had grabbed me. We fell back, and I landed on someone hard enough to elicit a pained grunt.
I flailed, throwing elbows and knees where I could, desperate to get away. Finally, I was able to twist out of the hold. I scrambled up, or at least I tried. I pushed to my feet, but my legs were rubber, and numbness crawled through me.
“Wha… what the hell?” I managed a couple of fumbling steps before the ground rose up to meet me, and everything went dark.
The next time I opened my eyes, I knew I was in deep shit. This time, there was no disorientation from a crash to contend with. Instead, one moment there had been nothing, and the next, I was awake, shoulders screaming, wrists aching at my back, and cheek pressed against a cold, hard surface. Even worse, my skin crawled under the touch of an unfamiliar magic. Not some minor spell either. The discomfort was so acute that it was like lying under a blanket of razor-sharp needles, risking a full-body puncture experience with every exhalation. That disturbing sensation cleared my head faster than a face full of icy water.
Fortunately, my ability had managed to kick in while I was out, enough to keep the worst of the threat at bay. Now that I was awake, I sank more power into my shield, thickening it into a magically impermeable armor. If I was lucky, it would be enough to keep me alive and relatively unharmed. If not, well, maybe I could buy myself enough time to figure a way out of this mess—so long as they didn’t decide to shoot or stab me first. Although based on the crawling reddish-purple lines of power visible from my position on the floor, physical threats were the least of my worries.