He stared out the window and tried to focus on the mission ahead, not on what might be happening to Caleb. It had been hard, driving off while Caleb stayed behind with Sean.
Sean spent the intervening days in his apartment, just in case Forsyth put some sort of surveillance on him. It didn’t seem likely—Forsyth surely had enough on his plate tracking down the Vigilant. Why waste resources on a man who’d already proven his loyalty by way of attempted murder? Forsyth had no reason to think Sean would turn on him, or that John would seek Sean out except to kill him. But the possibility existed.
And maybe it gave Tiffany an excuse to separate them. If John had been forced to spend hour after hour in the hotel room, staring at the man he’d thought of as a brother, he didn’t know what he might have done.
“Stop brooding, Starkweather,” Tiffany ordered.
With effort, he pulled his thoughts to the here and now. “Agent Simpson to you,” he said, flipping open the badge with his temporary identity on it. He had to admit, the Vigilant forger did an excellent job. It looked as authentic as his real, SPECTR-issued ID.
“You need your head in the game,” she went on, ignoring him. “If your mind is back in Charleston worrying about your boyfriend, it’s not on the job here. And getting caught by Forsyth’s goons isn’t on my agenda today.”
“Or mine.” John straightened and tried to focus. “Where is the facility?”
“Not much farther. It’s in an industrial area, away from homes or crowded skyscrapers. At least someone was smart enough not to warehouse NHEs in downtown Atlanta.”
“Probably because it would make it harder to keep secret.”
“This has really turned you into a cynic, hasn’t it?” Tiffany glanced at him briefly before guiding the car onto an exit ramp. “I like it. Much better than the whole Boy Scout routine.”
The exit took them to a run-down industrial area. Big buildings, which might have been factories, now shuttered. Warehouses. Railroad tracks crossed the road every few miles, some apparently still in use, while others had weeds sprouting amidst the ties. Eventually, they came up on a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire and studded with security cameras. A huge expanse of concrete blazed in the sun beyond the fence, surrounding an unmarked building, which looked more like a windowless hanger than a warehouse. A smaller building, probably the office, stood off to one side.
“Show time,” Tiffany said.
She pulled up at the gate. John’s heart pounded, but he did his best to keep his breathing even and face expressionless. Tiffany didn’t think the guard would be an empath for the simple reason half the people coming into the facility would be lying about what really went on there. But if she was wrong, they were screwed.
The guy in the guard hut wore a faded blue uniform and looked like hired private security. The hell? Did they have the wrong address?
“Can I help you?” the man asked, leaning out the window.
If his appearance surprised Tiffany, she didn’t show it. Taking out her badge, she said, “Agents Warwick and Simpson. We’re here to follow up on a shipping discrepancy.”
The guard examined her badge carefully, then John’s. Satisfied, he handed them back. “Guess you’ll need access to the office. I’ll radio someone to meet you outside the building.”
Tiffany nodded. “Thanks. You have a good day, now.”
Once they’d pulled away from the hut, John said, “A private firm instead of agents?”
“And for someone guarding a black ops facility, he didn’t seem very worried about security, did he?” Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something is very wrong here.”
* * *
Caleb guided the bland government-issue sedan through the narrow Charleston streets. It reeked of cigarettes, and he hoped like hell the gate guard didn’t notice his watering eyes. Some of the flowers and trees had started blooming already, so at least he could put it down to allergies, instead of sensitivity brought on by having amped-up senses thanks to the NHE in his head.
Normally it would have bothered him more, but today it was just one in a long line of irritants. The suit itched, and the damned tie felt like it might strangle him. His whole head felt weird without the weight of his long hair, and he’d actually startled himself that morning when he glanced in the mirror.
Worst of all, of course, was the fact he drove around with a guy who’d already tried to kill him once. At least Sean had kept his mouth shut while Caleb drove.
“Well,” Sean said. Christ, so much for that. “The possession is permanent now. How does John feel about it?”
“I’d say he feels it’s worked out pretty well for him,” Caleb said. Should he start discussing the details of their sex life? It might shut Sean up.
Sean stared out the window. “Uh huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. Which was his problem, not Caleb’s. “Did you think about John at all when you decided to keep the NHE with you?”
Caleb’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Gray’s anger washed through their veins, twining with his. You can’t manifest now, remember?
“I know, but...he is belittling your choice.”
Let me handle it.
“John is the reason I did this,” Caleb said, fighting to keep his voice calm.
Sean snorted. “Was he? Not because it feels good, to have power? To be strong and fast, to have your TK boosted through the roof?”
“Listen. Here. You. Flaming. Asshole.” Caleb bit off each word. A loud crack came from the steering wheel as something snapped under his grip. He forced his fingers to unclench. “Believe it or not, if John’s exorcism didn’t work, I intended to call in the Vigilant. But you went and stabbed everyone in the back, then handed John over to Forsyth. And if you think I was willing to leave him in that fucker’s hands, after everything I’d seen at RD, you are sadly mistaken.” He shook his head. “If anyone is to blame for Gray and I being together on a permanent basis, it would be you.”
“I didn’t know—”
“John did. But you didn’t trust him.”
Sean sighed and scrubbed tiredly at his face, wincing as his fingers encountered healing bruises and cuts. “You have to understand. Everything we’d ever seen, everything we’d ever been told, said the forty day limit meant good-bye Caleb, hello rampaging monster.”
“I do not rampage. When will these mortals learn?”
“When Forsyth told me you couldn’t be exorcised, I didn’t know what to do,” Sean went on. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch my best friend get killed. Once Forsyth took you in, I thought everything would be all right. But you escaped, the kill order came down, and I didn’t have a choice.”
“Perhaps we should have killed him when we had the chance.”
No kidding.
“Nice rationalizing.” Caleb kept his grip loose and took deep breaths. Leaning over and punching Sean into unconsciousness might feel good, but wouldn’t help anything in the long run. “But if you think I’m going to understand you, or sympathize with you, or do anything besides want to dump your body in Charleston harbor, you’re shit out of luck.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because, unlike some people in the car, Gray and I aren’t murderers.”
“I didn’t—” Sean caught himself. “Never mind. I just hope you’ve thought this through. What it will do to John.”
Oh, this would be good. “And what do you think I’m going to do to him now?” Hell, if Sean knew Gray had tasted John’s blood, he’d probably try to stake them in the car.
“You’ve already survived something no other NHE could have,” Sean said. “Can you die?”
“Not sure I want to answer, considering you’d see a yes as encouragement to try again.”
“Fine. How about: are you going to age? If we survive this somehow, how is John going to feel when he’s seventy and you still look twenty-five?”
“I see what you’re getting at. You think I should break up with
him, if it turns out I’m living the eternal youth vampire stereotype.” Caleb fought to keep his voice level. “But if we’ve learned one thing in the last week, it’s you have to talk shit out. So instead of making John’s decisions for him, I’d ask him how he felt. Because guess what? The three of us are partners in this. I’m not going to act like I know what John needs better than he does. He’s an adult, which means he gets to make his own choices. So if you think I’m going to nobly sacrifice my relationship with him, you’re out of luck. I’m not a big enough asshole.”
At least Sean finally shut up. God, if he’d known the drive over would be like this, Caleb would have insisted on taking separate vehicles.
SPECTR-HQ finally came into view. Okay, remember—stay as quiet as you can, all right? If we run into any exorcists...well, we don’t want to give them any help pegging us.
“I remember.” But Gray fretted silently. “But if we need to act swiftly...”
Chance we have to take. If we get made before we even get inside, wearing this suit was for nothing. Which isn’t a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
“It is not so uncomfortable.” Of course Gray had been subjected to every badly fitted suit known to man while inhabiting various corpses. Not to mention high heels.
Okay, you have a point. But we’re not telling John.
“Are you sure Pittman said a regular empath won’t notice the lack of emotions from you?” Sean asked.
“Yes, and it’s a little too late to freak out now. Unless you want the guard to think I’ve kidnapped you or something.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sean took a series of deep breaths.
Forget Gray giving them away. At this rate, they’d be lucky to make it to the parking garage.
Caleb pulled in the drive and up to the guardhouse, just as he’d seen John do dozens of times. It was right at five o’clock, and a line of cars was going the other way, out of the lot instead of in. He powered down the window and leaned his elbow on the door as the car came to a halt.
The guard in the hut wore the bright green armband of an empath. Putting on his most friendly grin, Caleb pulled out the fake badge and passed it over. “Carson Jenkins, SPECTR RD,” he said smoothly. “I think you know Special Agent McNamara here.”
“Night, Tom!” someone called from the outgoing traffic. The guard divided his attention to wave at the departing vehicle before passing Caleb’s badge back, having barely glanced at it.
“How’s it going, Sean?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you for a few days.”
“Special assignment.” Caleb said, because the last thing they needed was for the guard to catch Sean in a lie.
The guard just nodded. “See you tomorrow, Lindy!” he called out to a woman leaving in the other direction. She flashed him a smile. When she was gone, he raised the gate for them. “Don’t let them work you too hard. You two have a good evening, now.”
“Christ,” Caleb said, once they were past. “Not that I wanted to get caught, but I’d expected more from my tax dollars.”
“Empaths rely on their psychic senses. Ordinarily it’s all but foolproof. If he could have sensed you, he would have realized you were lying instantly.” Sean shook his head. “Besides, the gate is just there to keep the casual loonies out. It’s the security on the rest of the building we have to worry about tripping. Getting in is easy. Getting out again is the hard part.”
Chapter 11
Tiffany parked the sedan in front of the office building. The building itself was of tan brick and concrete, the sort of generic industrial design popular during the ‘70s. All around them the parking lot stretched out, asphalt cracking under the southern sun and completely deserted except for their vehicle.
“Where is everyone?” John climbed out of the car, grateful it was still early enough in spring the parking lot was merely hot instead feeling like a blast furnace. “I don’t imagine it takes many staff to run this place, but there ought to be some.”
“Yeah,” Tiffany agreed uneasily. “Place looks like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse.”
A golf cart appeared around the side of the storage hanger and sped toward them. The man who climbed out wore the same uniform as the gate guard. He approached with a big smile and an outstretched hand. “Jeff Liu. Mike said you guys need to get into the shipping office right?”
Tiffany gave him a bright smile. “Right. Can you help us?”
Liu’s gaze strayed to John and quickly turned appreciative. “Absolutely,” he said, holding his hand out to John.
John gave the man his best smile, the one that had picked up plenty of guys in bars over the years. “Thanks for the help, Jeff. I’m Nick.”
“Nice to meet you.” Liu returned the smile.
After double-checking their badges, the guard took out his keys and unlocked the door. “Just let me get the lights,” he said, stepping inside. “There we are. Come on in.”
The air inside was close and hot, and had the faintly musty scent of abandonment. “Sorry about the heat—they shut off the AC when they closed up shop last week,” Liu said. “Just let me hit the controls here and we can get some air moving.”
While the guard busied himself with the panel behind the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany and John exchanged a glance. What was going on? Of all the things they’d expected, finding the facility abandoned hadn’t been one of them. Why did Forsyth pull out all the personnel? And what about any remaining bottles, which might be stored in the enormous warehouse outside? Was there better security on the hanger, or did Forsyth simply not care about the risk anymore?
The AC units kicked on, and a breath of fresher air stirred John’s hair. “Okay,” Liu said. “We won’t roast now. Follow me back, and we’ll get what you came for.”
* * *
Since most of the agents left at five, Caleb found a parking spot not far from the elevator in the underground garage.
Caleb had never gotten around to asking John if he knew what sort of special engineering it took to bury most of SPECTR-HQ deep in the earth this close to sea level. It seemed like the sort of thing John would know. Hell, he could probably recite the name of the architect and the construction firm that built it.
The elevator pinged open softly and Sean stepped inside. Caleb hesitated. He’d hated elevators even before all this started. After being confined in the underground bunker at RD, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about taking another ride down to a place with only one point of egress. Especially not with Sean.
But if this was some elaborate trap, they were all screwed anyway. Caleb stepped on the elevator and stood at the opposite corner from Sean. Just in case.
Neither of them spoke on the ride down. The elevator opened onto the deserted lobby, the security checkpoint familiar from the dozens of times Caleb went through it while working beside John.
According to Sean, Forsyth had all kinds of new people coming in and out this week. An unfamiliar agent shouldn’t rouse as much curiosity in the security guards as he would have before.
He hoped Sean was right. Even more, he hoped no one examined his face too closely.
Nothing for it now but to push straight ahead and hope. He strolled up, badge already out. The guard inspected it and gestured for him to sign in. “Name, title, and business on the premises, Agent Jenkins.”
Carson Jenkins, Agent SPECTR RD, meeting with Special Agent McNamara concerning details of recent cases. If the guard got nosy and actually read the check-in sheet, he’d assume Forsyth sent “Agent Jenkins” to get more dirt on Gray. Hopefully Caleb managed to make the scrawl different enough from his ordinary handwriting that it wouldn’t strike the guard as familiar.
Sean started up a conversation, maybe hoping to distract the guy. Something about the latest NASCAR race and whether Dale Jr. had a chance at the cup this year. It seemed to work, and the guard waved them through cheerfully a minute later.
“What now?” Caleb asked once they passed within the maze of bland, beige halls that made up the general offic
es.
“Now we go to my office and wait for as many people to finish clearing out as possible.” Sean glanced at him. “You’ve got super-hearing, right?”
“Better than the average person’s, yeah.”
They entered Sean’s office and shut the door behind them. Sean went to his desk and sat down, fiddling with his computer to pass the time. Caleb stood near the door for a few minutes, listening. There came the muffled thump of footsteps on carpet, and the click of office doors shutting. Someone ran the copier in the cube farm a short distance away. A computer streamed country music.
Well, this was going to get boring damn fast. He wandered around behind Sean to peer at the computer. The pictures on the desk caught his attention, and he leaned forward and inspected them. “Are those your parents?”
Sean’s lips pressed together. “Yes. My sister. Her kids.”
Caleb nodded. “They didn’t give up custody, like John’s family did.”
“Not everyone has bigoted assholes for parents.” Sean’s brows drew down and his eyes darkened with old memories. “Dad’s job was in Beaufort. The state school was up here. It made sense for me to board at the school instead of uprooting the whole family.”
“What about in the summer?”
“I went home. Once John came along, I took him with me.” Sean spun his chair around and stared up at Caleb. “What, you thought I’d just leave him there, all alone? With the other poor bastards whose parents disowned them? We went home and swam in the ocean, and mowed the lawn, and did all the other things normal kids do. Hell, I think Mom hoped he’d hook up with Sarah—my sister—until I told her she was barking up the wrong tree.”
Fuck. Why did Caleb have to go and ask? He wanted to hate Sean for what he’d done, not be grateful he’d taken John home all those lonely summers and treated him like a brother.
“We love him,” Caleb said, and he didn’t give a damn what Sean thought about the pronoun. “You can believe it or not, I don’t care. We thought John would hate us for letting the possession become permanent, and we still chose it. For him.”
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