Destroyer of Worlds (2 page)

Sean paused, giving him a lopsided grin which
didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What are best friends for?”

When the door closed behind Sean, John leaned
forward to rest his throbbing head on his desk. If Sean was right,
and Forsyth’s people could exorcise Caleb…Gray would die.

And if Sean was wrong, and Gray
couldn’t be removed by the afternoon of the
16
^th
, Caleb and
Gray both would be put down like a pair of rabid dogs.

Either way, John would lose someone he loved.
The only difference was whether he lost one or both of them.

And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do
to keep it from happening.

* * *

When the truck’s engine finally shut off and
the doors opened, Caleb discovered he couldn’t get a look at the
outside of his new accommodations after all.

It was some kind of base with plenty of
security, judging by the stopping and starting the truck had done
in the last ten minutes. He’d assumed the truck would pull up in
some kind of parking lot to let them out, but instead he found
himself inside a large concrete room, utterly featureless except
for a few support pillars, a steel roll-up door to allow the truck
access—now shut—and an elevator.

“
I’m sorry if the surroundings seem a
bit spartan,” Forsyth said, climbing out before him and waiting
politely by the open door. “It’s procedure. Your room will be much
nicer.”

Procedure? What the hell sort of research
facility needed this kind of procedure? After talking with John,
he’d imagined RD to be more like a library or a university, where
guys sat around staring at moldy old books to figure out new ways
to perform exorcisms or make spirit wards. Or maybe a high tech
lab, where they’d stare at all those blood samples they’d taken
from him through a microscope and chant Latin at them or
something.

No obvious way out presented itself. Maybe
through the steel door, if Gray could break it, but he didn’t know
what waited on the other side.

Still, if he could keep Forsyth convinced he
wanted to cooperate, maybe the guards would relax and make a
mistake. Then he and Gray would get the fuck out of here.

“
No problem,” Caleb said. “I
understand.” His leather coat creaked as he climbed out of the
truck. The confined space smelled of exhaust fumes, hot metal,
human sweat and cologne…and something else.

It was faint, just a trace, nothing anyone
not possessed by a drakul would notice. A whiff of mange-clotted
fur, rank with rot and corruption, which made his stomach clench
with hunger.

“
A demon passed through
here, not long ago.”
Unease battled with the urge to
hunt.

What the hell would a demon—a werewolf,
by the smell of it—be doing here? Was one of the lab workers or
guards possessed?
They’ve got damn poor
security if that’s the case. And Forsyth would have to be a lot
stupider than I think he is.

“
Mortals sometimes work with
demons. You have seen this already.”

Yeah.
But
Forsyth didn’t strike him as the kind of moron who thought he could
swagger around striking deals left and right, without any
consequences to himself. Besides, the guy worked for SPECTR—he must
have seen what could go wrong working with demons, plenty of times,
even if he didn’t work the streets like John.

It didn’t make sense.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a simple
steel interior, like a freight elevator. The one at SPECTR-HQ had
been the same way, no doubt to make it easier to clean off blood
and grime.

“
This way,” Forsyth said, stepping
inside.

Caleb’s gut clenched. No telling where he’d
end up if he entered. Some kind of underground bunker, or a cell,
somewhere he couldn’t easily escape.

Gray roused beneath his skin.
“Then we fight?”

Caleb took a deep breath. Smelled again the
delicious scent of demonic corruption, better than a warm plate of
chocolate chip cookies to Gray’s inhuman tastes.

No. Something’s wrong
here.
And maybe John’s damn Boy Scout attitude had
rubbed off on him, but he wanted to know what.

Gray didn’t like it, but settled back anyway,
watchful. Even though every instinct in him screamed to run, to
fight, to do anything else, Caleb walked into the elevator with
Forsyth.

To Caleb’s surprise—and relief—the elevator
didn’t take them to an austere prison block full of guards packing
silver-jacketed rounds. Instead, it dinged open on a hall which
could have belonged in a hotel, complete with ugly beige carpet. A
mirror hung on the wall, and fake plants stood in pots. The air
held a hint of mildew, at least to his jacked-up senses, along with
the funk of sweaty feet.

And, again, beneath the normal scents, a hint
of demon, as if one had walked here some time within the last
couple of days.

Anticipation curled through his
blood.
“Will we hunt?”

I don’t know
.
The way Caleb’s luck had gone lately, though, they probably
would.

Forsyth stopped in front of a door and swiped
it open with a key. “This is your apartment. Take a look inside and
let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Caleb stepped inside warily. To his
surprise, “apartment” really did sum it up. Hell, the place was
larger than the one he’d lived in back in Charlotte. A spacious
living room, complete with television, held two comfortable-looking
couches, and a coffee table strewn with books and magazines. Caleb
spotted a short hall off to the left; on one side was a bathroom.
Behind another door on the opposite side lay a bedroom decorated in
the same bland style as the living room. Mirrors hung on most of
the walls, to give an illusion of space, and Caleb realized
immediately there weren’t any windows.
So
no leaving the easy way.

A desk stood in one corner of the bedroom. An
unused sketchbook lay on it, along with a set of colored pencils
and charcoal. “Your file said you worked as an artist in
Charlotte,” Forsyth said from the doorway, when Caleb picked up the
sketchbook. “I don’t know if you normally use pencil, but it will
give you a creative outlet while you’re here at least.”

Was it supposed to make him feel less freaked
out? Because honestly, it had pretty much done the opposite. Caleb
put the sketch pad back and slid open the closet door. Inside hung
several sets of identical loose gray pants, without pockets, and
white t-shirts.

Huh.

“
This way you won’t have to worry about
clothing during your stay,” Forsyth said.

Caleb closed the closet. “You guys have
thought of everything.” Everything except a computer and phone.
Looked like they didn’t want him communicating with the outside, at
least not on his own. “You said I could call John?” Might as well
find out now.

“
Of course. I’m sure Agent Starkweather
will be happy to hear from you. Cell phone or webcam?”

He really wanted to see John’s face right
now. Actually, he really wanted to feel the other man’s arms around
him, while John’s calm, steady voice told him everything would be
okay. But he’d take what he could get. “Webcam, thanks.”

As he followed Forsyth out of the apartment,
the older man paused by the door and pointed to an intercom. “One
thing, Mr. Jansen. This is a secure facility, which means you won’t
be able to wander about on your own, even on this hall. If you need
anything, press this button to call, and someone will bring it to
you right away.”

They meant to lock him in. It was a cell,
just a nicer looking one than he’d expected. “Got it.”

“
Meals will be brought to you.
Vegetarian, correct?”

“
Right.” He hated to give away any
weakness to this man, but he didn’t really have a choice. “No
garlic.”

“
Ah, yes. The incident in the
restaurant.” Forsyth looked sympathetic.

And how the hell did he find out about the
restaurant? John knew how badly the incident embarrassed Caleb, not
to mention it happened on their off time. No way would he have
included it in a report. Sean must have told someone, and of course
it got back to Forsyth.

Unless Forsyth had a tail on Caleb the whole
time. But fuck, that was paranoid, even for him. Besides, he’d
practically spit pasta pomodoro all over Sean’s date. The guy
probably just wanted to bitch to someone besides John, which of
course meant everyone in SPECTR knew about it ten minutes later. No
reason to get nervous.

If he repeated it enough times, he might even
believe it.

* * *

John sat alone on the ugly orange couch Caleb
insisted on bringing with him when they moved in together. If Sean
thought coming back to the condo would make John feel better, he’d
been dead wrong. Everything, from the hideous couch to the shaman’s
rattle, now quiescent in its glass case, brought back memories of
Caleb and Gray. Eating breakfast together, John learning how to
cook things like tempeh and tofu. Cuddling on the couch, watching a
NASCAR race while John tried to explain the intricacies of pit
strategy. The way Caleb laughed sometimes, almost grudgingly, when
something got past his tough guy façade. The feel of his skin, the
smell of human sweat and something else, of ancient incense and
desert sand kissed by rain.

His cell phone rang.

Heart pounding, John snatched it up from the
end table where he’d tossed it. The number was blocked, but he
answered anyway. “Hello?”

“
John, hey.” Caleb’s voice, and John
sank back on the couch, legs going limp with relief. “Are you at
home? We can talk over webcam.”

“
Yeah, sure. I’ll boot up the computer
now.”

“
Talk to you in a minute.”

John ran up the spiral iron staircase to the
second floor, where his office occupied a loft space. The computer
seemed to take forever to come up; when it finally did, John
hurriedly hit the flashing icon of an incoming call.

Caleb’s familiar face filled the screen. His
long hair hung out of its braid, forming a gorgeous curtain over
his shoulders and chest. He still wore his elk hide and kevlar
coat, and although his eyes looked tired, he managed a smile, at
least. The blank wall behind him gave away nothing about his
location.

“
Caleb, hey,” John said, grinning
despite all the worry and fear. Goddess, it was good to see him.
“How are you?”

“
Great!” Caleb said brightly. “They’re
treating me really well. Like staying in a four star
hotel.”

“
Oh. Really?” He’d expected surliness,
or anger, or even bitter blame. Not this odd, perky cheerfulness.
“Well…that’s good.”

“
Yeah, it is. Forsyth says I’ll have to
do some simple tests starting tomorrow and running through Friday,
nothing big. And Saturday morning, they’ll exorcise Gray and send
me back to Charleston. We can have dinner together, if you
want.”

What the hell? Were doppelgängers real, and
had one replaced Caleb? Because no way would the Caleb he knew be
so blithely trusting of SPECTR.

Which meant something had gone wrong.

“
I’m looking forward to it,” John said,
even as his pulse started to race. “I miss you.”

“
Same here.” For a second, the mask
slipped. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”

Was that the problem? John hadn’t exorcised
Gray yet. Did Caleb think Forsyth’s exorcism was the only hope he
had left? Or had John’s first instinct been right, and something
had gone awry?

But what? If Forsyth knew how to exorcise
Gray, he should have damned well said something earlier, true. But
he was still part of SPECTR. Still one of the good guys. John might
not be happy about the call Forsyth had made to haul Caleb in, or
about the fact Gray’s life hung in the balance, but it didn’t
change the basic facts.

“
I know,” John said. “I know you never
asked for this. You’ve been really brave.”

Surprised flickered across Caleb’s face, then
vanished. “Not much choice,” he said ruefully. “It looks like I’ve
got to go now. I probably won’t have time to call again.”

“
I understand.” Damn it.

Caleb’s mouth twitched into a sad smile.
“John? I love you.”

He swallowed against the painful
constriction in his throat. “I love you, too.”
Both of you.

“
Goodbye,” Caleb said quietly. Then the
final image of him froze on the screen, and a soft beep informed
John the connection had been cut.

* * *

Caleb shrugged off his heavy jacket and hung
it in the closet, beside the creepy row of identical shirts and
pants. He couldn’t smell the lycanthrope in here; wherever the
thing had gone, at least he wouldn’t have to put up with Gray
drooling on the sheets.

“
I do not drool.
Much.”

Caleb sat down at the small desk and stared
at the art supplies. Nice to know SPECTR had been stalking him like
an insane ex-boyfriend. Too bad he couldn’t exactly get a
restraining order.

“
Will we see John
again?”

Caleb closed his eyes, feeling the
slice of pain deep inside, thin and insidious as a paper cut which
wouldn’t stop bleeding.
I don’t
know.

“
You do not think
so.”

No. I don’t.
Because even if he somehow escaped, even if these moths could
exorcise him, what next? Assuming he didn’t end up in prison, John
would never forgive him for letting an NHE—letting
Gray—go.