by Anne Hope
“I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen enough medical reports to get the gist of it.”
Since Marcus was in charge of recruiting, he had extensive experience when it came to background checks. More often than not, these background checks included medical records, which helped him to ascertain if a candidate was indeed a Hybrid.
“It says that Ben died for a whole two minutes—plenty of time for his soul to leave his body. If he was a Hybrid, the second he died, the darkness inside him would’ve spread to take him over. But it didn’t.”
“So you’re saying what, exactly? That his soul came back when they revived him?”
“Not his soul, a soul. A twin soul, to be precise. Before he died,” Marcus explained, “Ben exhibited no paranormal behavior. He was your average kid, normal in all respects except for his heart defect. It was after his near-death experience that he started suffering from what the doctors refer to as: ‘unexplained hallucinations and visions’. That can only mean one thing.” He pinned her with a pointed stare. “Whoever Benjamin Harris is, he’s not Helen and Jim Harris’s son. Not anymore.”
Something cold and greasy spread to coat the inside of Regan’s stomach. “Then who is he?”
“A better question would be what. What is he? And who’s pulling his strings?”
Regan shook her head in denial.
“Connect the dots, Regan. The boy dies, then comes back to life, fully healed. He exhibits no more medical problems, suffers from visions that invariably come true and claims to speak to angels.”
“He’s a pawn.”
“More than that. He’s the false prophet, like Cal said.”
Regan wasn’t ready to yield yet. “We don’t know that for sure.”
His features carved in marble, he slipped the pages back in the manila envelope. “Maybe not, but either way we need to figure out the angels’ endgame. And if it really is to trigger another great flood, we have to stop them.”
A short, cynical laugh bubbled in her throat. “Piece of cake. We’ve taken on the Watchers, the Kleptopsychs and the Rogues. Why not the angels?” Her heart plunked like a stone to settle in her gut. “We’re totally screwed.”
He flashed her that lopsided, mind-blowing grin of his. “Tell me something I don’t know.” His fingers brushed the hair from her face. Melting need invaded her system and sent her pulse racing toward an undefined finish line.
I want you to kiss me. The thought popped, unbidden, into her mind, and she was grateful she hadn’t voiced it aloud. Then again, judging from the way he was looking at her lips, maybe she didn’t need to. Maybe the hunger in her eyes was enough.
His head fell forward. His hand slid beneath her thick curtain of hair to palm her skull. Tingles rushed across her scalp, skittered down her spine. Yearning swelled in her throat, sweet enough to hurt. She couldn’t anticipate what it would feel like to have his mouth crush hers, but she knew once it did, there would be no turning back.
The passion in his gaze was unmistakable. A woman knew when a man desired her. She felt it deep down in that corner of her consciousness, where that famous female intuition crouched. Attraction crackled between them, as dangerous as an exposed wire.
She fisted her hands, fighting the urge to seize his shirt and draw him to her. What a person wanted and what a person needed wasn’t always one and the same. The last thing she needed right now was another complication, but this was one complication she was dying to experience.
Screw it. Her fingers closed around the collar of his shirt, and she yanked him to her, hard. Shock and need darkened his gaze to midnight blue. His nose grazed hers. One small move—just one small move—and their mouths would touch. She moistened her lips, waited for the inevitable…
Ben’s frantic scream shattered the moment as effectively as a bucket of ice water. Marcus jerked back, vaulting to his feet and fleeing from the bedroom as though the bed had just erupted into flames.
Regan followed him, dazed. The sight of Ben curled on the floor, shaking, was enough to snap her back to reality. She rushed to his side and promptly gathered him in her arms. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s happened?”
“Something bad,” he sobbed. “Something really bad.”
The University of Oregon boasted over sixty buildings sprawled across two hundred and ninety-five acres of land in Eugene. Organized into a total of eight schools and colleges, the campus was a community unto itself, with a population that was just shy of twenty-eight thousand. The student body made up about eighty-four percent of that number.
Today, this elaborate community faced a black threat. Cal had sensed a disturbance in the air close to two hours ago, which had alerted him that a catastrophic event would soon be underway. Since he’d fallen from grace, his ability to sense subtle shifts in the atmosphere had considerably diminished. But every now and then, he was struck by intense feelings of impending doom. The first symptom was always a chill skating down his spine, followed by an uneasy feeling in his gut. Then his consciousness tapped into the pulse of the universe, and the future revealed its ugly secrets to him.
In this case, that secret was a team of madmen equipped with bombs.
After assembling his team of Watchers, he’d made his way to Eugene, using his instincts as a compass. Upon arrival at the university, his suspicions had been confirmed. An entire campus was being held hostage. Five faculty members and eight students were already dead, ruthlessly gunned down for fighting back or making a futile attempt to flee. All exits had been sealed by an electric energy visible only to the Watchers, preventing anyone from exiting or entering the complex.
“Make your way around the buildings,” Cal ordered his troops. “Try to locate the threat.” There was no doubt in his mind that the Kleptopsychs had instigated this tragedy. It was too organized, too elaborate a scheme for a gang of Rogues to conceive. Rogues traveled in packs, fed on impulse and left a trail of destruction in their wake. Kleptopsychs planned.
“Do you feel that?” Jace asked him. “This place radiates with black energy.”
Cal nodded. “The Kleptopsychs are here. The chances that a group of dropouts would band together to take out an entire university on their own are slim to none. Someone went through a lot of trouble to influence them.”
“Twenty-eight thousand souls are one hell of an incentive.”
The redbrick building with the slate-colored roof hardly looked like the feeding ground it had become. Manicured lawns gave an impression of peace, even though they were now overrun by law-enforcement officials and an assortment of news crews. A hostage negotiator attempted to make contact with the leader of the group, while reporters bustled about hoping for a statement. Cameras were everywhere, providing live coverage of the grievous scene.
“We need to split up. Try to blend in.” With a carefully planted suggestion, the Watchers could appear to be members of the media, medical personnel or even police officers. Better yet, they could become invisible.
The university had its own law enforcement agency that had secured the perimeter and evacuated the outlying buildings, those whose exits hadn’t been mysteriously sealed. Getting through the barricade would require the use of certain talents only the Watchers possessed.
“I have to get in there.” Anxious to tend to the injured, Lia pushed her way through the crowd toward the science complex, where the victims were being held at gunpoint.
Cal raised his hand and stopped her. She hit a brick wall, jolted back.
“What are you doing?” Jace was like a fierce guard dog, always ready to come to Lia’s defense.
“The best way to help these people is to eliminate the threat. That means locating the Kleptopsychs. We can’t waste precious time applying bandages and stitching wounds.”
The second he released her, Lia turned on him. “People are dying in there. I can feel it.” After her transformation, Lia had discovered that she possessed the ability to sense when death was imminent. She could feel it coming, smell it in the air like
a storm, similar to Cal’s sporadic ability to identify threats.
He leveled a pointed stare at her, sensed the force of her compassion, hated that he had no choice but to crush it. “And if we fail in our mission today, the death toll will range in the thousands.”
Regan still struggled to calm Ben down when the cartoon playing in the background was interrupted by a special report. The screen suddenly became flooded with disturbing images of a crisis, the likes of which she had never before witnessed.
Ben stopped crying and pointed at the television set. “That’s it! That’s what I saw. They want to kill everyone.”
Marcus raised the volume, his body stiff with tension, his brows stitched together. Silence permeated the hotel room as they listened to the report like church patrons enthralled by a sermon.
“Son of a bitch.” Marcus’s colorful curse finally broke the hypnotic stillness. “We should be there. We have to stop this.”
“We can’t. It’s not our fight anymore.” She searched the screen for a familiar face, convinced the Watchers were there, hidden somewhere among the frantic crowd. “I’m sure Cal is doing everything he can to get the situation under control.”
“The Watchers are outmanned, you know that. They need all the help they can get.”
“And we need to stay one step ahead of them.” Ben’s life depended on it.
He ran his palm over his face, exhaled long and hard. “It’s really tough for me to see this and not be able to do a damn thing about it.”
“I know.” Marcus had never been the kind of guy who could sit on the sidelines. Leaving Ben’s side, Regan approached him and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Trust Cal,” she whispered. “He can handle it.”
He nodded but still failed to look entirely convinced. “Why is Kyros doing this? This is way off the scale, even for him.”
The screen expanded to focus on the faces of loved ones—parents screaming for their children, grandparents holding their heads in horror, brothers and sisters huddled on the ground, sobbing. Regan’s heart went out to all of them.
“He’s gone off the deep end. There’s no question about that. He has to be stopped.” The answer hit her full force. There was a surefire way to assist the Watchers while ensuring Ben’s safety. “You wanna help the Watchers?”
Marcus turned a pair of sharp, glittering eyes her way. “You know I do.”
“Then track Kyros.”
He gave her an inquisitive look, waited for her to elaborate.
“What we’re seeing here is just the tail end of the snake.” She gestured toward the television monitor. “There’s no way Kyros is anywhere near those grounds. It’s way too risky. The guy’s a lot of things, but he’s no idiot. He knows the Watchers will swarm the place the second they get wind of what’s going on.”
“I agree.”
“Good. Then help me find him and take him out.” She dug her fists into her hips, her shoulders squared, her chin angled toward him. “If we want the snake to collapse, we need to cut off its head.”
Looking frustrated by the dire predictions of the newscasters, Marcus flicked off the television set. Ben continued to stare at the screen as though he could still see the devastating events unfolding over a hundred miles away.
“You make a good point,” Marcus conceded, “but you’re forgetting something. I’ve been trying to track the bastard for months unsuccessfully.”
Regan refused to be deterred. “Well, try harder. You said it yourself; you’re good at what you do. Was that true or were you just blowing smoke?”
He moved in closer, intimidating her with his powerful build and the sheer masculinity he exuded. “Oh, I’m good.”
“Then prove it. Find Kyros.”
“Why? Because you want to save the world or one person in particular?”
He read her so well, it was uncanny. Once Kyros was eliminated, Cal’s prophecy would be proven false, and he would have no more reason to execute Ben. It was the only hope the boy had.
“Both. With Kyros gone, there’s no question the world would be a safer place. For everyone.” She met his piercing stare, implored him with her gaze to help her put an end to this nightmare.
He raised his hand, and for a second she was sure he was going to touch her. Then his arm dropped to his side again. “I’ll give it my best shot. But I can’t make any promises.”
She nearly threw her arms around him, stopped herself before she did something she’d undoubtedly regret later. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Even if I find him, we still have to get through his army. This is one head that won’t be easy to hack off.”
She slanted a glance at Ben, who still huddled at the foot of the couch, rocking back and forth. Whatever visions haunted him, they had him completely entranced. “I know, but we have to try. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”
Tucked in the safe bosom of the bunker, which was now cloaked and virtually invisible to the Watchers, Kyros was startled by the sudden appearance of Micah. “It’s done,” he told his co-conspirator. “I did everything you asked.”
“I know. I’ve just come from the campus. Everything is unfolding exactly as planned.”
Kyros studied the angel with the dark hair and even darker eyes. “Did Cal take the bait?”
“Like a trout.”
His stiff shoulders relaxed. “Good. What would you like me to do next?”
Micah dissected him with his penetrating black gaze. “For the time being, nothing. I will let you know when your services are required again.”
Kyros hadn’t met too many creatures he couldn’t manipulate or read, but Micah remained a fascinating mystery. He would’ve expected Cal and the angel to be on the same side. Instead, Micah’s vendetta against Cal seemed to burn even brighter than Kyros’s. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course you may. I can’t promise to answer it, though.”
“Why are you doing this?” As far as he knew, angels were supposed to watch out for mankind, not launch a full-fledged attack on it. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
Micah’s features remained as smooth as a sheet of polished ice. He was quiet for so long, Kyros didn’t expect an answer. When the answer finally came, it only added to the mystery that was Micah. “Peace.”
“Any news?” Regan’s voice pried Marcus’s attention from the television set, which he’d turned back on, hoping to hear the situation had been resolved.
“Nothing yet.” Helplessness burned through his bloodstream like acid. He sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows propped on his thighs, his hands fisted between his knees, making no effort to conceal his frustration. “The bombers are still in there with the hostages. The authorities have been trying to make contact unsuccessfully. Nobody has any idea what the guys want.”
She came to sit beside him. “They don’t want anything. They’re just puppets.”
“You know that and I know that, but the humans are clueless as usual.” He tore his gaze from the screen long enough to fling her a sideways glance. “How’s the kid?”
Irritation flickered across her face. “His name’s Ben, and he’s doing better. The visions seem to have stopped. At the moment, he’s busy assembling that construction set I picked up from the gift shop this morning.” She looked at the TV screen, where a reporter was reiterating the sad events of the day for the umpteenth time. “That’s the good thing about kids. They’re easily distracted.”
“You sound a little envious.”
“It would be nice to take a break from all this for a while.” She rubbed her temples as though to relieve an invisible weight. “It’s always one crisis after another.”
“Those are the terms of the job. The Watchers don’t get any vacation time.”
She released a short laugh. “Guess you’re right. What would we do with it anyhow—hang out at the beach, maybe go on a cruise?”
Despite his morbid mood, his mouth tingled with the urge to smile. “We could always go kayaki
ng again.”
The color drained from her cheeks. “No thanks. I’d rather swing my sword at a bunch of badass Kleptopsychs.”
Flicking off the TV, he straightened his back and turned to face her. “So you do miss it.”
She met his gaze, and he caught a shimmer of regret in her eyes. “The life of a Watcher is the only one I’ve ever known, as far as I can remember.”
“Then consider yourself one of the lucky ones.” Guilt soured in his mouth. There were days he’d give anything to forget his past, the things he’d done, the lives he’d purposely destroyed.
She studied him, her features awash in curiosity, and he suspected he’d revealed too much. Her next question confirmed it. “What’s your story, Marcus?”
He stood and began to stalk the room, restless. “Nothing I care to rehash.”
“You’re two hundred and seventy years old, and that doesn’t include the years you were human,” she persisted. “From what I understand, Cal recruited you a hundred and ninety-three years ago, give or take. So what did you do all those years before you became a Watcher?”
His spine stiffened, tension coiling in his muscles, as it always did when he thought of that time. The first few decades after he’d turned were the blackest of his cursed life. “Things I’m not very proud of. Let’s just leave it at that.”
He dug into his pocket and whipped out his car keys. He’d rented a Ford Taurus when he’d gone out earlier, and the sedan sitting in the parking lot suddenly beckoned him. “I’m heading out again,” he told her. “Stay in the room. It’s safe here. The Watchers won’t be coming after us today. They have their hands full.”
She stood and followed him to the door. “Where are you going?”
He didn’t turn around to look at her. If he did, there was a good chance he wouldn’t find the strength to leave. “You want me to track Kyros, don’t you? I can’t exactly do that by sitting around here scratching my balls all day.”
“Nice,” she grumbled over his shoulder. “So eloquently put.”