Born to Darkness

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “I think I just passed Mac, driving like a bat out of hell,” Charlie said, as he lowered the driver’s-side window.

  “We need teams,” Bach said grimly, “to move into place at all of the other locations on Devon Caine’s GPS list. Mac’s injured, but she’s still dangerous. Give the order to trank her, if we have to.”

  “I’ll relay that to Security, sir,” Charlie told him.

  “Let’s clean this place out,” Bach continued, as more Thirties and Forties poured out of another van that pulled up. “We’ve got two prisoners who need medical aid. Let’s get them back to OI first.”

  “Search the building,” Diaz ordered loudly. “Confiscate both the product and equipment. There were only two guards on the premises, but I’m sure they hit the alarm so more will be on their way.” He raised his voice even more. “And I need a team to sterilize the damaged OI car. Let’s move it, let’s go!”

  And as Shane stood there, feeling out of place and in the way, he realized that the kiss Mac had given him had been to heal herself enough to get on her bike and ride away.

  “Fuck,” he said, and then he shoved his arms back into his jacket and he walked away, fading into the shadows of the night.

  Because he knew exactly where Mac had gone.

  And he was going to find her and bring her back.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Bach was driving the van that was transporting the Organization’s injured security guards to the medical center at OI when it hit him.

  At first he had no idea what was going on—only that, whatever it was, it knocked him back in his seat and made him swerve across the highway because his body was no longer his own.

  Charlie was sitting beside him and he grabbed for the steering wheel as Bach heard himself scream, high-pitched and shrill, “Oh, my God, oh, my God!”

  “I got it!” Charlie shouted over him. “Just slow down, slow down—let up on the accelerator!”

  “The what?” Bach heard himself scream again—just like a little girl.

  “The pedal, the pedal!” Charlie was shouting. “Lift your right foot, sir! Lift it, lift it!”

  He lifted his foot—or rather Nika did and it had to be Nika, but how could it be? How could she have harnessed this much power this quickly—enough to knock him completely aside and gain full possession of his body? Forget about the fact that she’d located him across such distances.

  It didn’t make sense. But of course, it didn’t have to make sense. Bach had learned long ago, when training both himself and other Greater-Thans, to not spend too much time on the question How did that happen, but rather to focus on How can we control this?

  With his foot off the accelerator, the van slowed as Charlie steered it to the side of the turnpike, as Bach heard himself continue to breathe heavily, as for the first time in decades, unrestrained adrenaline coursed through a body he could no longer control.

  “Are you Joseph?” Bach heard his voice say as he looked at Charlie. It was beyond odd. He could see what Nika was seeing, hear what she was saying, but he couldn’t read her thoughts. It was as if she’d somehow managed to enter his mind completely shielded, while somehow managing to block off his own ability to communicate or otherwise respond.

  “Okay, now you’re really scaring me, sir.” Charlie called into the back of the van. “I need some medical help up here.” He also used the van’s phone to call OI.

  “Am I Joseph?” She used Bach’s hand to pull the rearview mirror over to look into it and said, “Whoa, I’m kinda hot. Is Joseph asleep, too? But that’s stupid, he was driving, of course he wasn’t asleep.” She closed his eyes and focused. Joseph? Where did you go?

  I’m here, he tried to tell her, even as he realized that, from this place where she’d pushed him—from the outside looking in—he had the power to sense where she was in his brain, which was … fascinating. With a little time and concerted effort, he could learn to do this, too. And that meant …

  “Yeah, hi, Elliot,” Bach heard Charlie say. “I need some immediate assistance. I think it’s possible that Dr. Bach just had a stroke—”

  “I’m not Joseph Bach,” Nika told Charlie and the other Forties who’d come from the back of the van to try to help. She struggled to stay strong, to not cry, but her voice shook and tears filled her eyes. His eyes. “My name’s Nika Taylor, and I’m here because I needed to find Joseph. But he’s still not here.”

  If Bach could learn to do this in reverse—to gain full possession of Nika? Then they wouldn’t have to break into whatever facility in which she was being held.

  All he’d have to do was find her—and then break her out.

  Mac was in the bathroom, lying on the floor in only her underpants, when Shane showed up.

  He made it into the apartment without a key, which wasn’t that big of a surprise. He’d already proven himself to be handier than she was when it came to locked doors.

  She heard him coming, heard his familiar footsteps in the living room and then in the hall, and as he stopped in the doorway, in that fraction of a second before he dropped to his knees to help her, she looked up and told him, “I’m okay, I’m just taking a little break.”

  He was large and warm and totally rocking the bare-chest-beneath-the-jacket look, particularly in the candlelight. As he knelt beside her he managed to keep all of the recrimination and reproach she knew he was feeling completely out of his eyes and off his face.

  Which would have been awesome, if she weren’t an empath.

  “The head wound’s already healed. The other is … I just finished cleaning it out,” she told him as he helped her sit up. “And I was going to take a shower, but apparently I needed a nap first.”

  Shane lifted the candle she’d put on the sink counter—she still didn’t have new bulbs to replace the ones they’d burned out last time he was here—and held it up, projecting the dim light into the corners of the room. He was looking for something that he could give her to cover herself—other than the pile of bloody clothes in the corner or the blood-streaked washcloth that was in the sink.

  “There’s a clean towel in the hall closet,” she told him. She could feel his reluctance to go even that far away from her, so she shrugged and added, “But it’s not as if you haven’t seen me naked. Or like I’m some overly modest and blushing virginal miss.”

  He didn’t smile. He was busy looking at her bullet wound in the candlelight, both the entry and exit points. It was healing fast—even without his assistance.

  Although they both knew it would heal far more quickly and painlessly if he took his clothes off and joined her in the shower.

  In fact, he put the candle down as he met her gaze and spoke, saying, “If you want, I can, um … It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just me wanting to help you.”

  “A purely selfless act,” Mac said.

  And Shane finally smiled, but it was more than rueful. It was sad. “No. I get what I get. I’ll make it last until the next time you need me.”

  “What if there is no next time?” she asked as she looked into his eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you. If I can find someone else who can … help me this way? I won’t need you again. Not ever.”

  His response was a kiss. And as he licked his way into her mouth, Mac knew that he didn’t believe her. Or maybe he didn’t believe she’d find a substitute, even if she looked.

  And most of all, he didn’t believe she’d look.

  She couldn’t help thinking that he was going to be sorely disappointed.

  But then? She stopped thinking and just let herself heal.

  Joseph Bach saw her and started to run. “Anna!” he cried and burst into tears, as he threw himself into her arms.

  Anna hadn’t quite believed it when Elliot had called, telling her he was going to send Ahlam over to escort her down to Security, to await the arrival of the team—because Bach’s body had apparently been possessed by her little sister.

  Talk about strange.

  Wherever Bach was,
they hadn’t been able to contact him. Not even Nika could find him. Plus the girl wasn’t quite sure what she’d done to get where she currently was. She’d said she’d gotten angry—and tried to reach out and connect with Joseph Bach.

  And suddenly here she was.

  “Does she have Bach’s abilities?” Anna asked Elliot now, as she sank to the floor in order to hold her sobbing sister—who was inhabiting the body of this man whom Anna had a mad crush on. Talk about strange.

  “Not that we know of,” he told her as Anna stroked Bach’s hair and tried her best to comfort him. Her. “No.”

  She looked up at Elliot. “Is there another Greater-Than, a telepath, who can go into Bach’s mind—Nika’s mind—” Which was it? But Elliot clearly understood what she was asking, because he was nodding.

  “We’ve already tried that,” he told her, now shaking his head. “He got nothing. He couldn’t access Nika’s mind. She has too many blocks in place.”

  “Is it possible Dr. Bach is … inhabiting Nika’s body?” she asked. “Could they have somehow …?”

  “Done a full Freaky Friday?” Elliot finished for her. “I guess that’s possible.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Neek,” Anna said as this odd hybrid of her sister and Bach tried to gain control. Their breathing was ragged and they reached up and tried to scrub away the tears that were still rolling down their face. “I need you to talk to us. Since we don’t know how long this is going to last, we need to use this opportunity to ask you some questions about where you are. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Nika nodded and pulled back from the soggy mess she’d made of Anna’s shoulder. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. But then, as she looked into Anna’s eyes, she lowered her voice and said, “There’s something really weird going on with my man-parts. I mean, I’ve never had man-parts before so maybe it’s not weird at all. But maybe I … I think I need to pee …?”

  Elliot started to cough.

  “Oh,” Anna said, as she gazed back into what looked like Bach’s eyes. “Wow.” But before she could comment further or even come up with a solution or suggestion for how her little sister could take Bach’s body into the bathroom to relieve themselves, something changed in Bach.

  Not just in his face, but in his body as well. Everything sharpened and hardened—and okay, maybe that was the wrong word, considering their current problem, but even before he spoke, Anna knew that Joseph Bach was back.

  “I’ll take care of that,” he said briskly. “Too much adrenaline in my system, makes things, uh …”

  His face changed again, and he asked, “Joseph?”

  “I’m back, Neek,” he answered himself, as he looked from Anna to Elliot. “It took me awhile to figure out how to return. When Nika entered my mind, she kind of blasted me aside, and at first I couldn’t get back, but then I didn’t want to—until I figured out exactly what she’d done.”

  “It was an accident,” Nika said, through Bach’s mouth.

  “Yeah, I know that, sweetheart.”

  His face started to crumple. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re amazing. I’ve never met anyone with your power and abilities. We’re going to get you out of there. I just … I still need you to lower more of the blocks you’ve erected, so I can mine your memories and see if there’s something there that’ll clue us in to where you’re being held.” Bach looked up at Elliot. “I want to get her—me—into a lab. And ask Dr. Diaz to join us, as soon as he’s back.”

  “Yes, sir.” Elliot helped Bach to his feet, who then turned and held out a hand to help Anna up.

  It was Nika, though, who clung to her and wouldn’t let go. “I want Anna there, too.”

  Anna answered in unison with Bach: “Of course.”

  And they walked hand in hand down the hall toward the elevator that would take them to the labs, as Elliot ran ahead to get the room ready.

  Mac was pretending to be asleep.

  After their shower, Shane had dried her off and carried her into the bedroom, where she didn’t complain when he climbed into bed with her and spooned—with her back against his chest, his arms tightly around her.

  She’d slept for a little while—he could tell she was exhausted—but now she was awake again. He could sense her checking to see if he was asleep, no doubt to gauge whether or not she’d be able to slip away without waking him.

  So he spoke—both to let her know he was conscious, and because he wanted to know the answer to his question. “Feeling any better?”

  She stiffened only slightly before he felt her nod. “Yeah. Thanks.” She pulled away from him and sat up. And Shane knew she was still feeling at least a little wobbly, because she took a moment before standing and crossing to the closet.

  He sat up, too, to watch her in the moonlight that was sliding into the room between the slats in the blinds. He could see that, where the bullet had exited her body, she had only the slightest of scars. Before long, it, too, would be gone.

  His own scars, from seeing her take those bullets, weren’t going to vanish that fast.

  As he watched, she found some clothes—a pair of cargo pants that she pulled on commando, and one of her trademark black tanks that she put on without a bra. Apparently this apartment was underwear free. He could relate—doing his laundry often got bumped by higher priorities.

  Her boots were out in the living room—he’d seen them when he’d first come in. She turned to head in that direction, and he knew that she wasn’t going to slow down. She was going to jam her feet into her boots and walk them right out the door, leaving him to eat her dust again.

  So he rolled out of bed and just stood there, blocking her path.

  Mac closed her eyes and sighed, but then looked up at him—careful to keep her gaze only on his face because yes, he was very naked.

  “We have to talk,” Shane broke the news to her.

  Mac shook her head. “I said thank you. There’s nothing else to say.”

  “Not about that,” Shane corrected her. “I meant it when I said that it didn’t have to mean anything. I got what I wanted. And it’s completely on me that I happen to keep wanting more. I know that. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “And yet you won’t let me pass.”

  “Because I know where you’re going,” Shane said gently, “and it’s not going to help, Mac. It’s going to make things worse.” He laid it on the line. “It’s bad enough that you did what you did, with your one-man assault tonight. Forget the fact that if we hadn’t shown up you would’ve been killed. Although, to be honest, I’m having a little trouble pushing that into the doesn’t matter column.”

  “Someone had to do something,” she said.

  “Not that way,” Shane told her. “And you know it. Truth is, you may have really fucked things up by going there and blasting the shit out of the place. The Organization’s probably already been alerted to the fact that both Littleton and Caine are AWOL. If you go down Analysis’s GPS list for Caine, just one address after another, leaving death and destruction in your wake? Someone’s going to figure out what’s happening and they’ll move Nika so far and so deep underground, we’ll never find her. Bach has surveillance teams in place at all those locations—keeping their heads down and gathering information. And ready to intercept you, by the way. Because what you were doing was making things worse.”

  He could see from her face that his words were getting through. She’d no doubt gotten dressed on the residuals of her anger, but she now seemed exhausted, defeated, subdued.

  “You probably would’ve figured it out for yourself,” he continued, “before you got too far. I just wanted to make sure you’d thought it through. I know that sometimes the noise in my head can drown out the reason, so …”

  She laughed her disbelief at that. “Yeah, right. You’ve never acted impulsively in your entire life.”

  Shane smiled, too. “I don’t know about never.” He willed her to look back into his eye
s instead of down at the floor, and when she finally did, he said, “I do know I’ve never spent any time in the head of a pedophile serial killer.”

  Mac closed her eyes again, shook her head slightly.

  “If you want to talk about it …” he said.

  “Don’t be so fucking nice.”

  “What, you want me to be like you, and pretend to be a bitch so people keep their distance?”

  She laughed at that. “I’m not pretending. Not entirely.”

  “And I’m not entirely being nice,” Shane pointed out. “There’s plenty of totally selfish ulterior motive in my getting you to stay a little longer. As well as the practical. You’re exhausted. You need more sleep if you want to be worth anything to Bach and Diaz—or Nika. And you know damn well that if you let me, I can help you sleep. Just by being a warm body next to you—if that’s what you need.”

  And it was then that her eyes slowly filled with tears. She fought them valiantly, but lost as one and then another escaped. And she turned and sat heavily on the bed. “Don’t do this to me,” she said.

  “What,” he asked her. “Try to get you to sleep some more?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t act like you love me, when we both know that you don’t,” she said.

  “I thought you didn’t want to talk about that.” He sat down next to her. “But as long as you brought it up … You don’t have to love me, Mac, but … You’re not allowed to decide what it is that I feel.”

  “Oh, God, I’m too tired for this shit,” she said. “Because I do get to decide. Weren’t you listening to what I told you …?”

  “Then make it stop,” Shane said. “If I’m so much like Tim, then make me stop wanting you.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. Not anymore. My power’s grown. It doesn’t wear off as quickly as it did back then. If I could shut it down, I would. God …” She lay back on the bed, just flopped back, her arm up over her eyes, elbow to the ceiling.