God's Eye

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"Ditch the complex ticket and pick up this title
for an instense, action-packed thriller".

–A
UDIO
F
ILE
M
AGAZINE, ON
V
ENGEANCE
A
UDIO
M
OVIE

Special thanks go out to everyone who helped make this book a reality.

As always, huge amounts of gratitude go to Eli, Matt and Guy (and also James) who make all this possible.

I have always believed in "Ask and so shall ye receive". I studied Latin for this book and realized that I wouldn’t get as far as I needed. I asked around to see if anyone could help. And Beau Henson spoke up. His fluent Latin gave Zachary and Allistair a voice from the other side. He spent hours translating and answering my questions about subtext and nuance. Just like everything else in this book, there’s more than the simple translation in the Latin … I cannot thank you enough, Beau.

Thank you to Rosie Daniel and Andrea Hebert who did beta-readings for me … your red pens are forever appreciated.

JKSCommunications also deserves a shout-out here. They have had my back and are simply a fantastic team to work with.

Daniel Ruke and his considerable talent are responsible for the amazing cover art. You may have seen "Ruke" work on other AJ Scudiere pieces … Check out the Resonance Fan Pack on the Website. Thank yous to Dan for all that and more.

Of course, thank you to all the fans who kept this going and who already have their eyes out for Phoenix!

He pushed his way through the synapse between the spaces. It required more energy than he possessed. It always did. Still, he always made it. For now, he paused and inhaled the searing air deeply into new lungs, holding it in despite the pain. His teeth clenched and his hands grabbed for the edges even though they offered no purchase as he forced his way farther through.

He stopped again to rest and wait … and feel. A small breeze from somewhere brushed his fingers. It didn’t matter where it came from, only that it touched him, and that the sensation produced euphoria. All sensations did. Taking another gulp of air, he exulted at how the fumes trailed into his lungs and produced a raw, not unpleasant scream in his tissues. He pushed farther through the tear in reality he had fought so hard to create. It would last only as long as he needed it to; the fissure would seal itself behind him as he fell the last part of the way. But he wasn’t there yet, wasn’t finished yet.

He inhaled again, taking in the acrid scent of his own burned flesh. He always forgot just how painful it was. The edges sparked tiny friction fires as he forced his way. Tracers of smoke and greasy lines of soot marked his passage as he clawed his way into the abandoned subway station from somewhere most humans only imagined existed.

Zachary paid no attention to the evidence of his passing. He was too busy watching the changes in himself, and besides, he’d done this so many times before. He knew about the black ash that would drift down and pile up where he came through, just as he knew that there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

As he altered, his eyes watched the human skin of his arms knitting into a smooth, pale color that made him smile despite the pain. The color showed just how far he had come. When he reached up and pulled a short lock of his hair forward for inspection, it too was light–a translucent honey color that went with the skin and the mind-altering agony. He would bet on his eyes being blue or green, without the depth of blacker tones. He took immense pride in having earned the pale features he would display on this visit.

With effort, he turned his newly minted brain back to the task at hand and gave the final shove, birthing himself into the human plane. He looked for all the world like he was of it. Appearances were often not just deceiving; sometimes they were downright dishonest. He wondered what his boss would think of the thoughts in his head. He wondered if they were up to snuff. Then Zachary pushed that thought aside, too. His deeds would be what he was measured by.

•  •  •

Katharine didn’t have a cat. Though the sleek, black creature she chased looked and acted like one, she wasn’t sure it actually was a cat. Because of this, she doubted her own sanity as she chased after it into her bathroom.

The padding of her bare feet was ghastly compared to the ethereal cat. Shouldn’t it have made some sort of sound in the silence of the night? Since that realization only added to Katharine’s disturbing conclusions, she chose to ignore it. She also refused to question why she was running after a creature that she wanted to believe wasn’t real. Without thought, her body followed.

Her long bare legs halted, toes digging into the plush carpeting as she came through the open doorway. Katharine caught a glimpse of the flick of a midnight tail as the creature slipped behind the toilet.

Her breathing stopped, her nose crinkled against the smell she did not want to identify as familiar. But her brain, usually so adept at pushing aside what she disliked, was hard-pressed to deny the odor.

Ash.

Cautiously now, she stalked her way around the toilet. It was the latest in plumbing innovations, a sleek, low-volume-flush model that sat directly against the wall. There was no place for the cat to duck out when she stepped around, no opening behind the bowl to dart through. She should have had the cat trapped–but knew she didn’t. The smell told her what she’d see when she peered around to check the once-pristine carpeting on the concealed side of the toilet.

Still, Katharine stepped across the expanse. Blinking slowly, she forced in a full breath to fortify herself, then immediately wished she hadn’t. The remnants of fire burned her lungs, but she pushed on.

As she had suspected–
known
–there was no cat. Katharine would have been grateful to chalk the experience up to a bad dream. But dreams ended when the dreamer woke. That was when hers had begun.

The small cat had been sweet, rubbing his unbelievably soft head against her hand, demanding the petting that was surely a cat’s due. Katharine had obliged. Half-asleep, her fingers had stroked silky ears and spine, all of it overwhelmingly real, even after she had woken fully to the knowledge that she had no cat, that she had closed and locked all the doors and windows because she had feared something like this might happen. She had convinced herself that it had been her fault the last time it had happened. Her fault meant her fix, so she had sealed the condo before bed.

Tonight, when her brain had recognized the cat, she bolted upright, her nose already detecting the faint scent of fire that accompanied her visitors. Her lungs had gasped for air; she had known something was wrong. It was her movement as she awoke that had startled the cat into its mad flight.

Katharine blinked now. Her eyes might be deceiving her, but she had begun to doubt even her doubt.

Slashed across the bathroom carpet in the corner behind the toilet was a dark stain of soot. It was about a foot long, lighter at the end of the streak closer to her and thick enough near the wall that there was actually a tiny pile of burnt ash.

She didn’t want to touch it, but some part of her was compelled to. For a while, she had believed she was hallucinating all of it, until her maid had asked what created the black messes. Katharine didn’t know, but the maid’s question told her that she wasn’t the only one who saw it. The soot was on the deep, pale carpeting, not in her brain.

That was more disturbing than the thought that she was going crazy. If the things she had seen were real, then she was playing a game in which she had no idea of the rules or the stakes. Real meant that the cat had not been within the confines of her definitions. That she could pet and stroke the cat meant it wasn’t merely a ghost, an idea she was pretty certain she could find a way to deal with. No, this was worse.