That same something inside her was seeing this man differently than she did with her eyes and her logic. She had to do a background check on him, pronto.
Maybe the sword and sorcery thing was her imagination, putting a sexy guy into a fantasy. After all, look what she’d done with Lance, dressing him as a buccaneer.
Then again, this was a real human, so maybe not.
“Either way, checking it out keeps you alive.”
In the slot for Two-A, the reportedly cookie-wielding Mrs. Potts, there was an ancient Mercedes with a dinged rear quarter panel and a bumper sporting a TOLERANCE bumper sticker. The other slot for her floor, the aforementioned shack up pad was empty.
“Dr. Brennan?” The desk clerk called to her as she came into the lobby. He held up a box. “FedEx for you, ma’am.”
“Thanks, Tarik.” She read his nametag as she signed for the package. “By the way, I brought my car in from storage.”
“Okay, could you give me the make and tag number? I need to write it in here.” He held up a logbook.
“Subaru wagon. Can’t remember the tag number.”
“No problem. Just let whoever’s on the desk know.”
“Will do, thanks.”
Closing her door she ripped into the package. It contained Potomac basin topography maps, a physical backup to the digital ones she already had. Delighted, she arranged them on the kitchen counter. She compared them with a street map, and the area she’d already walked, as she polished off the rest of the second pizza, getting her bearings for the next day’s work.
She spent the rest of the afternoon in a blur of capture review with the large crate and snag wires for the Ty-Ops, and working out scenarios for catching two. She did her evening news check, then slid between the smooth sheets. She lay awake for a few minutes, oddly wishing this mission marked her required time for retirement instead of her fifth anniversary as Earth’s Slip Traveler.
In dreams, something chased her. Something dark and powerful. It swooped closer and closer. Just as it closed in to kill her, she saw it had Aiden Bayliss’s face.
* * *
Saturday morning was the kind of blue-sky day you get only in the fall—clear, crisp and gorgeous, but Cait was grumpy. The dreams had chased her all night and kept her from resting well. They bothered her for other reasons though. There was something not quite right about her hot-as-hell neighbor.
The maps and the capture study had distracted her yesterday, but now she took a few minutes to send a message to the Kith, asking for a background check on Aiden Bayliss.
That done, Cait returned to the topo maps over breakfast, tracing the river and calling up the digital overview of the C&O Canal towpaths on her computer. She’d had a nice stroll on the paths formerly used for the mules to walk as they pulled barges along the now-defunct canal. At this point, it was used entirely for recreation, especially running, as her neighbor had so boldly said.
Pulling her permits from the FedEx box, she checked them over.
“Chesapeake and Ohio Canal survey permit,” she read. “Most excellent.” She could take samples to pinpoint the Ty-Op’s location. Then once she had it, she’d go back after dark and catch the damn squishy, tentacle-y thing. Hopefully tonight.
Then, God help her, she’d pinpoint and find the other idiotic creature, on whatever continent they’d dropped it, go there and get it too.
For now, though, the prospect of a walk, even if most of it would be in the river or the canal, was irresistible.
She put on hiking boots and gathered up her gear and permits. Damn, it would be fun to have company for the walk, maybe throw a Frisbee or a ball for a dog.
Odd that it was those kinds of little, everyday things about a real life that she missed the most.
Maybe one day, if she made it longer than any other Rim Planet Slip Traveler for Earth had managed to live, she could walk on the canal and enjoy it.
On that fine day, she’d be damn sure she had a dog.
Chapter Six
Aiden stood just inside his own apartment door and used a spell to create a construct. He made it in the shape of a little mouse. It sat in his palm for a moment, cleaning its whiskers and switching its tail.
With another brief spell, he outlined what it should do. He set it on the floor where it scooted under his door and began its work.
Sitting in a comfortable chair, he closed his eyes and followed its progress. His slick little magic mouse frisked along the inner walls of the building carrying his magic into tight crannies and crevices, and under doors, to see what it could see.
Mrs. Potts was out and about, but he never invaded her privacy, magically or otherwise. There was no need. The shack up pad—Aiden winced again at his mishandling of that with Cait—was unoccupied. His own space was clear of any outside magical influences.
He’d scanned Cait’s apartment repeatedly through the day, trying different approaches to see what, if anything, would work to penetrate the newly erected barriers to his magic.
Which was absolutely nothing.
Nada. Zip.
WRONG.
His mouse finished searching the shack-up pad and moved to Cait’s apartment door, where it stopped cold, unable to slip under the door in any form. Every time it tried, it bounced off of some kind of shield.
It couldn’t get under Cait Brennan’s door. The gap was big enough for a real mouse, much less a tiny magical one. But his couldn’t go in.
A sliver of cold dread shot through him. The mouse always worked, even when nothing else did. Even with the most powerful entities he’d faced, the natural-seeming mouse had slipped past their defenses.
Just to complete the check, he let the mouse hop its way down the stairs to the lobby. Nothing caught its attention there either, so he called it back. It popped under his door with ease. He let it climb onto his palm and disappear.
Wrong on so many levels.
He’d done his magical scan of the area, then checked in with Sam. His Richmond counterpart had recovered from the fight and was back to his regularly scheduled chemo. The disturbance down by the river remained. It was still at the same level, and in the cold light of morning he again considered Cait and her possible connection to the river anomaly.
He’d dreamed of her most of the night. The dreams were erotic and disturbing. No more warnings of danger, but he trusted magic more than he trusted the visions. He didn’t discount them, but he didn’t believe they showed THE future, just A future.
It was always a balance, this job, understanding the information you got. If you showed your hand first—unless you did it by design—you gave the opponent the upper hand. But he couldn’t wait. The urgency of the first vision meant he had to find a way to breach both her condo’s shields and the block on her data.
Aiden’s job was to protect the people of DC from magical predators, and by the gods he was going to do it. He would not fail. Not again.
He set up a new, deep-content search on her, hoping it would give him some handle on who or what she was. He was now strong enough to face a high-level opponent if he had to, and, like it or not, the evidence said Cait Brennan was one.
Since he couldn’t get to Cait any other way, if she was actually connected to the water anomaly, maybe it would tell the tale. The fact that it kept coming to mind when he thought of her was a good enough indication that he should check it out. It was time to take a walk and see what had set up shop down by the Potomac.
He laced up his running shoes and headed out.
* * *
Aiden had been on the C&O canal path for about an hour when he spotted a familiar figure.
“And there she is. And people wonder why I don’t believe in coincidences,” he muttered, slowing his pace.
He’d been stopping every so often along his run to send out feelers, trying to detect the disturbance. No luck on that score. Now, he sent out another probe, a different type, trying to feel Cait. He got the same “not there” wall from her as he did from her
apartment.
His slow jog brought him alongside where Cait was thigh-deep in the water of the canal, and he stopped.
“Boo,” he said, then smiled at her when she startled. Perversely, his grin widened at the surprise and consternation on her face.
Interesting that he liked poking at this woman, seeing her reactions. He hadn’t actually meant to startle her, but…
“Hello neighbor,” he said, smiling. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Indeed. How are you this afternoon?” She looked professionally competent, and more like a geologist, in her khaki trousers, waders, and a dark jacket zipped over a lightweight shirt. It didn’t diminish her femininity one bit, something his libido noticed, even if he refused to think about it otherwise.
“I’m great,” he lied. But he found himself wanting to pull the words back, wanting to not lie to Cait Brennan. Something about her compelled honesty.
And that was also suspicious as hell.
Maybe she was an Otherworldly creature, a magical construct or one of the Lesser Fae who sometimes crossed the barriers between worlds to live among humans. That would explain his inability to scan her and the pull he felt today, just like the first time they’d met.
Either way, she was unclassified. Potentially dangerous. And he needed to have a heart-to-heart with his hormones.
“It’s a beautiful day. How’s it going?” He gestured to the bottles she was filling.
“It’s going,” she said with a smile and a shrug. “Are you out for a walk?”
“A run. Had to get away from the desk. Clear my brain. You’re working too,” he said, then, to judge her reaction, “I should let you keep at it.”
“You work from home?” She bypassed the opportunity to brush him off. Interesting.
“Sometimes. I’m a software troubleshooter. Computers and major systems. My clients call when they’ve been hacked or their data compromised. I close the back doors, restore the systems, and when I can, turn the hacker over to the authorities.” The definition served for most people. Her next statement proved Cait Brennan wasn’t most people.
“A geek then.” She smiled at that, as if it were some secret joke. “A high-level one, if you live in our building.” Her grin took the sting from that assessment, made it friendly.
“Do you specialize in government, corporate or nonprofits? Or are you a generalist?”
Definitely not most people.
“I specialize. I’d tell you but then I’d have to…”
“Kill me. Right. Very delicate stuff,” she said, and he saw that she was suppressing a laugh.
“Very.”
“Smart policy,” she said, nodding at his answer. “Not telling people. If you have to off them, it’s so messy.”
Shit, she was funny. He couldn’t stop his responsive grin, and he couldn’t take his eye from her either. Shit.
“Yeah. That’s why I needed a good brain-clearing run before I got back to it.” He squatted so they were at eye level, with her still standing in the murky water.
All the better to See you, my pretty. Again he went for a needle-like magical probe. Again, he got nada.
“What about you?”
“Me?” She seemed wary and surprised that he’d ask. “Oh, I figured I’d get right to work. I’m doing a research project sampling both the canal and the river for contaminants.” She held up a series of bottles strung together like a bandolier.
“Upstream of the city or down?”
“Both.”
A woman of few words. Damn. Just the sight of her in the waders should have turned him off, since he didn’t usually go for the outdoorsy type. Between that and the shadows in her background, and his inability to penetrate her defenses, he should be running the other way.
Instead, he found himself admiring the play of light on her hair, thinking that the nut-brown color didn’t suit her as well as blonde hair and green eyes she’d had in his dreams and visions.
“So what about a break? Have you had lunch?” The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them.
“Lunch?”
“Yes, as in midday meal,” he managed, recovering quickly. “You want to eat?”
“With you?”
“Well, if you want to eat with the president, it’s too early. He’s not back in the country yet.”
Damn. He was flirting. Actually flirting with a person who might not even be human. Stupid. Idiotic.
Fun.
He mentally smacked himself. He wasn’t allowed fun, or flirting. He’d long ago compartmentalized his life. No work/play combos for him. Not that she’d said yes, but his biggest rule was, don’t date someone you can’t read.
He was pulled back to the moment when she laughed, a full, merry sound, and he smiled in return.
“Out of the country is he? I hadn’t been keeping track. With Congress in session and the president out of the country…we’re doomed.”
“Ha! You got it. So, lunch?”
This time her smile warmed her eyes. He saw her humor again and, lurking back in her gaze, a whole boatload of sadness.
“Thanks,” she said, “but I brought some with me. I wanted to get a lot done today. Maybe some other time.”
“That would be fun,” he said as he rose, knowing that CEO, adept or regular guy, some other time was usually girl-speak for get lost, buddy. “All right if I ask again?”
Once again she seemed surprised. He should be glad, since it meant she was buying his surface presentation of Harmless Normal Guy. He needed her to see him that way until he could find out if she was a danger to his city.
And if she was, take her out before she realized that he could.
That bleak thought popped into his mind, and he felt the joy at sparring with her bottom out. There were screaming neon signs with arrows that said she wasn’t what she presented to the world, any more than he was.
“Sure, I’d like that.”
Her answer surprised him out of his dark thoughts. He’d expected her to prevaricate, or flat-out turn him down.
“Excellent. I’ll let you get back to it. Have…fun?” He said it with a questioning inflection and was rewarded with an even wider, flashing grin. She had a dimple on one side. He felt his gut clench. He loved dimples.
“Thanks. You too.”
He waved as he walked back down the trail. Halfway to his car he stopped in his tracks. He’d been whistling. He quit, but still, it resounded inside his head, a happy tune.
Cait Brennan. PhD. Geologist. Mystery Woman in Waders. Hiding enough sadness to drown a person twice her size.
She got more intriguing by the hour.
He couldn’t let his attraction take him down that road. Truth was though, no matter how he tried, he found it hard to think of her as a dark construct, or even a half-blood elf gone to the bad, or one of the rare Lesser Fae. As rare as they were it would be far rarer for one to go to the darker paths.
Of course, he reminded himself, she could be all the more dangerous for that very reason.
“All the better to fool you with, Bayliss.” Somehow, it still didn’t change his mood. He whistled all the way to the car.
* * *
As her neighbor whistled back down the path, Cait watched, and her hormones sat up and took note of the excellent rear view. He had one fine body. He was bigger than she’d remembered, broader through the chest and shoulders. While not freakishly tall, he was certainly over six feet. She put his weight at a trim two twenty.
And muscle. The lean kind she liked. He might fool people with that easy going smile and friendly manner, but he was strong and powerfully built, if she was any judge, not exactly what he pretended to be. Still, she remembered what a man like that could do with all of his own…hormones.
“Get your mind out of the swamp, Cait,” she said out loud. “Built or not, he’s off limits.”
Her libido was clearly not interested in her logical input, because the neglected female inside her continued to catalogue his phy
sical attributes—nice smile, thick hair, strong hands—as her hands capped bottles and stored them. She was actually testing the water, but for chemicals that would betray the Ty-Op’s presence.
Aiden moved well, like a man who was at home in his skin. She’d known lots of well-muscled, fit men in the Corps. Many of them had that same grace of movement. Precise. Contained. Smooth.
“Interesting.” She climbed the bank and stamped the mud and weeds off her boots. Seeing no one on the path, she used her PDA to scan the samples. The screen read one after the other—negative so far—but she hardly noticed the beep-beep as the information processed.
Aiden Bayliss, sexy, hunky computer nerd, was a distraction she didn’t need. And in her experience, that type noticed things. Details. They had to in their work, especially in a city that ran on politics. They were apt to draw conclusions and go digging for information normal people couldn’t get.
Or they were totally oblivious to the real world.
She would lay odds Aiden was one of the detail types.
“Not what you need, Cait.” No Earth human was what she needed. Not even for a fling. Not as long as she was employed by the Sh’Aitan.
Still, Bayliss was one hell of a nice-looking distraction.
Jerking her attention back to the samples, she frowned. In the last two samples, the faintest traces were there, so she was not far off the mark. The Ty-Op was probably downstream, nearer the city. That meant more difficulties in trapping it and more potential for prying eyes.
She’d use these as a baseline and come back tomorrow to go further down the river. Flipping her phone to record, she made secondary notes.
“Scan at Swains Lock and at Great Falls negative. Trace upstream from the Chain Bridge parking area. More trace half a mile downstream. Five vials in the canal, five in the Potomac. Separate sites, no trace in the canal at all.”
If the Tidal Basin showed more than trace, it meant that the Ty-Op was between where she was now and the city.
“Typical. Worst possible place.”
The creature would probably avoid going as far south as Reagan National airport. There was a power plant there, and the water would be warmer. Ty-Ops liked it cooler.
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