Generation 18: The Spook Squad 2 (9 page)

“Well, well,” Stephan murmured.

Well, well, indeed
. The ability to link minds, to psychically share thoughts, or, in this case, emotions and pain, was very rare—a bond seldom found outside the domain of twins. But it was a connection he didn’t want with Sam—or anyone else. Not even his twin.

“So we come to the real reason you’re here tonight,” Stephan continued softly. “You are being forced to face what you have denied for so long.”

He turned and faced his brother. “Apparently so.”

Stephan’s expression held very little sympathy. But then, Gabriel wasn’t expecting a whole lot from him. Not when it came to something like this—something that had caused a rift between them for years.

“I told you it would happen someday. You cannot keep denying one part of your soul forever—not without consequences.”

“And you’re saying this link with Sam is a consequence of denying my link with you?”

“I’m saying it’s possible. You may have developed shields strong enough to keep me out, but I am far from the strongest telepath there is.”

“This isn’t telepathy. This is something else.”

“Then perhaps it’s simply a rerouting of your talent.”

“It’s not. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—”

“You’ve experienced nothing,” Stephan said, his voice sharp. “You closed yourself psychically when Andrea died, and you haven’t allowed that part of yourself to experience
anything
.”

He turned away from the anger—the accusation—in Stephan’s expression. “And you know why.”

“Denying what you are will not change the events of the past. It will not bring Andrea back to life.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?”

“Then why do you cut yourself off? Why bury yourself in your work? Why give nothing of yourself to your friends or family?”

“You’re a great one to talk about not burying yourself in work. How often do you see Lyssa?”

“Not often enough, that’s for certain.” The anger in Stephan’s voice was stronger. “But at least
I
have a wife and a child on the way. You have nothing.”

“I have friends.” Though his brother, who
should
have been closer to him than anyone else, couldn’t really be counted as one of those.

“And a family,” Stephan retorted. “Yet when it comes to your dreams and desires, you confide in neither.”

Because he had no dreams. No desires. Only a wish to someday glide upon the wind and see where it might take him. “It’s safer that way.”

“Safer for whom?”

Safer for everyone—himself included. “I didn’t come here to dissect past decisions.”

“You never do,” Stephan retorted, “but you might want to start talking to someone. If Sam has breached your defenses and somehow created a link that is strong enough for you to feel her pain, we need to know how. And why.”

“That’s part of the reason I’m here. I want the Federation labs to go through her test results and see what they can find.”

“What do you hope the Federation labs can find that Finley couldn’t?”

“The origin of that unknown chromosome. Maybe even the reason why, at the age of nearly thirty, she’s beginning to develop psychic abilities.”

A human normally developed psychic skills during puberty, and she was well past that. That it
was
happening now suggested nonhuman origins—as did her reaction to the Jadrone. Most nonhumans were slower in development, and for changers and shifters, at least, puberty hit at about thirty. And while Sam had all the physical characteristics of an adult, Finley’s tests had showed otherwise. So why hadn’t those tests also revealed a nonhuman link? Or did Finley’s tests only look for the obvious? Maybe they needed to go deeper. Much deeper, and look for things like gene-splicing.

“Send the disk to Martyn. He’ll take care of it.”

“I’m also sending her to Doctor O’Hearn.” O’Hearn was a nonhuman and rare species specialist, and though she wasn’t strictly in the Federation’s employ, she often worked closely with both them and the SIU. “I want the Federation to pick up the cost.”

“Are you intending to ask Sam to join the Federation?”

“No. We can’t afford to, not until we know more about her.”

“Keeping her as a partner would be a surefire way of discovering more about her. Certainly better than trying to get rid of her.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of her,” Gabriel said, a note of frustration in his voice. “I never said I wanted her out of my life. I just don’t want her as a partner.”

“But you said it once yourself—Samantha’s work is her life. Get rid of her as a partner, and you risk getting rid of her completely.”

And if that happened, it would be a shame, because even from the beginning it had been obvious that they had the potential to be a whole lot more than friends. But he would not go there with a partner, not again. He’d made that mistake with Andrea, and it had damn near torn his world apart.

The study door opened, and he turned around. Lyssa, looking pale and drawn, peeked in.

“Gabriel,” she said warmly. “How nice to see you.”

He smiled. Ever the lady, even at three in the morning. Not that he saw her much in the early hours of the morning—if he had, he might have noticed the changes in her behavior a whole lot sooner. Might have suspected something odd was going on. “Liar. Hope we didn’t wake you.”

Her smile was as pale as her face. “No, I was puking my guts out and heard your voices. Is everything okay?” She glanced at the two of them anxiously.

“Everything’s fine, Lys.” Gabriel glanced at his brother and saw the worry etched on his face. He knew then that Lyssa was in more trouble than Stephan was letting on. Knew that it wasn’t
just
their relationship that was having problems. He very much suspected that something was wrong with Lyssa’s pregnancy. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one refusing to confide in his brother—but that was
his
fault. If Gabriel wanted to change the relationship with his brother, then he would have to be the one to bend first. Only he wasn’t sure that was even possible after so many years of keeping everyone at arm’s length.

“Can I get you anything?” she continued softly.

“Yeah. Go back to bed and get some rest.” Gabriel met his brother’s gaze. “I can contact Karl later this morning, if you like. See what he recommends.”

At the very least, he should have something to stop Lyssa’s vomiting. If she lost any more weight, the child she carried would weigh more than she did.

“I’d appreciate that.” Stephan rose from the sofa and placed his half-finished whiskey on the table. “I’ll see you out.”

“I know the way by now. You take care of Lys.”

Stephan gripped his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “See you tomorrow, then.”

Gabriel nodded and walked away. On the front steps, he stopped and looked up at the stars. He wasn’t ready to go home, nor did he feel like going to the office. The breeze tugged at his hair, throwing dark wisps across his face. Sometimes the answer to a problem could be found only when the mind was free from the clutter of thoughts.

It was a good night to surf the breeze, to relax and just enjoy the freedom of the skies. Changing shape, he let the wind tuck under his wings and rose swiftly into the starlit sky.

Sam dreamed again of Joshua. This time, he ran ahead of her, up the moonlit slope—a phantom she could see but not hear. When he reached the crest, he flopped on the grass, staring up at the stars.

She lay beside him, puffing like an express train, but Joshua breathed so softly she could barely even hear it.

“The Southern Cross,” he said, pointing to a kite-shaped formation. “A symbol of freedom.”

“Not our freedom.” Only at night were they free to roam, and only then when the moon was down.

“People died on that symbol. And they will die again.” He hesitated, and she felt his shrug. “Soon.”

She stared at him. His face was remote, cold. She hated that expression. Feared it. “What do you plan?”

“Revenge. Freedom for us both.”

“They will never let us go.”

He smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about that smile. Just as there was nothing pleasant about the fire that sprang to life on his fingers. She knew
exactly
what that fire could do. “They will have no choice.”

She shivered, then sat up and rubbed her arms. “I don’t want anyone to die, Josh.”

He didn’t answer. She looked at him and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “You don’t know what you want.”

Yes, she did. A home. A mom and dad. Friends. A normal life. Everything she didn’t have now.

“Dreams that can never be achieved. Not with what we are.”

“And just what are we, Josh?”

She woke with a start, her heart racing even as the question seemed to reverberate through the darkness. For several seconds she didn’t move, but simply stared up at the ceiling. Just who the hell was this Joshua she kept dreaming of? Someone close, of that she was certain. Maybe a brother or a friend. Someone from the time she couldn’t remember, the years between her birth and her arrival at the state-run home.

But if these were true memories, and not some form of subconscious yearning, why were they coming back now? What had happened in the last few months to crack the wall that had hidden her past?

As usual, she had no answers to her questions. Sighing, she threw the bedcovers to one side and climbed out. It was nearly eight-thirty. Time she got moving. Given Gabriel’s terseness last night, he’d probably put her on report if she was late for work.

She grabbed a coffee, then got ready, barely catching the nine-thirty tram into the central business district.

Her dim little hole at the SIU certainly hadn’t improved any in the brief time she’d been away. She threw her bag across the back of the chair and sat down.

“Computer on.”

Izzy’s image flicked to life. “Good morning, sweetness. Have a good trip in?”

“Absolutely wonderful.” There was nothing nicer than being wedged between a guy reeking of garlic and a woman who tried to pick her up. “How’d the searches go?”

Izzy sighed dramatically. “Do you know how many people have purchased Heat in the last month? Two thousand four hundred and eighty.”

Sam raised her eyebrows. Given the hype surrounding the perfume, she’d expected the figure to be much higher—although, having tested the stuff herself, she could understand. There was nothing particularly outstanding about the fragrance—at least to her untrained nose, anyway. “Any chance of cross-referencing those people? I need to find a doctor.”

The purple boa swung into action. “You do like delving into haystacks looking for needles, don’t you, sweetie?”

“Favorite pastime. Just do it.”

“As long as time is something you have plenty of.”

Right now, it was the
only
thing she had plenty of. “Got another search for you, as well.”

“Well, hallelujah!”

“I want you to search SIU records for multi-shifters with twin sisters. And do a separate search for multi-shifting quacks while you’re at it.”

“By quacks, I presume you mean the medical profession?”

“You presume correctly.”

“Human or animal?”

She raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t thought of that—there was nothing to say a vet couldn’t have the knowledge to cut up a human efficiently. “Both. And cross-reference the results against the Heat results; see if we come up with any similar names.”

“Your wish is my command.”

She snorted softly. Izzy’s tone was anything but compliant. “You found any history on the four men in the photo?”

“I certainly have.”

“Show photo and results onscreen.”

Izzy disappeared, replaced by the photo Sam had found in Peter Lyle’s apartment. It came as no real surprise that the four men had been in the military and worked alongside Peter Lyle at Hopeworth. Hal White, the oldest of the four, had died a month before Lyle’s murder. The other three—Roy Benson, Jake Cooper and Liam Haynes—were listed as retired. Their pensions were generous, even by military standards.

“Any details on Hal White’s death?”

Izzy reappeared. “Checking police files.”

If Izzy had gone directly to police files, Hal White’s death was listed as something other than natural. While she waited for the results, she leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. If this damn headache didn’t go away soon, she might have to visit a doctor herself—something she normally tried to avoid.

“Hal White’s file remains open, sweetie. Cause of death unknown.”

Interesting
. Maybe it was fate that two of the five friends had been murdered within a month of each other. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. “Grab a copy of the case report for me. And send the current addresses of the three remaining men to my wristcom.”

“Proceeding. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Yeah, the results for the priority-one search.”

“Results being displayed.”

There wasn’t much to see. Of the four men listed on the birth certificate, only one—Mark Allars—was still alive. Interestingly, he lived only one block away from Roy Benson, one of the three remaining men in the photograph. None of the women were still alive. All eight had worked at the elusive Hopeworth.

She tapped a finger against her lips. “Do we have photos of any of these people?”

“Nothing available on file.”

“What about their life before they joined the military?”

“Nothing available there, either, sweetie.”

She raised her eyebrows. There should have been school and medical records, at the very least. “Why not?”

Izzy gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m a computer, not a mind reader. How would I know?”

“Have you tried asking Hopeworth for details?”

“No, and I wouldn’t back your chances of getting an answer if I did.”

Neither would she, but she had nothing to lose by trying. “Put in a formal request for information on these eight, as well as the four men in the photograph.”

“Requesting.”

“Good.” Sam pushed her chair back and rose. “If you happen to get any results back from the other searches, forward them to my wristcom.”