God's Eye (10 page)

Allistair was furious and there was nothing he could do. Last night when he’d come to watch over Katharine, her bedroom had reeked–not only of Zachary, but of sex. Humans didn’t truly understand it, didn’t see the ties they knit each time they joined together. There was no such thing as casual sex. And Zachary, not being human, didn’t knit those ties to Katharine, but she was surely binding herself to him.

Allistair forced his breathing to even. He set his hands on the desktop and, in a very human way, methodically pushed air in and out of his lungs in an effort to appear calm. He could sense her coming down the long hallway, so he straightened his tie and pushed his white shirt down his chest, smoothing it. He told himself it was all a game, that he should act as though he wasn’t so invested. Not in her, not in the outcome. But it seemed he was unable to stop himself from thinking of either. This was life and death for him. If he failed … he likely would not be given another chance. And Katharine … if he failed, her life would be altered. However, Katharine’s life was going to be altered either way. There was nothing anyone could do about that. It had changed–beyond her comprehension or control–the moment she’d been chosen.

The sound was the first human sense he noticed: the steady gait of a confident walk in a rhythm that was distinctly Katharine’s. It should have soothed him. She was here, momentarily away from Zachary, momentarily in the sphere she shared with him. But the next thing Allistair noticed was the faint odor. Still she smelled of his rival. Still she wore a shroud of color that preceded her down the hall. Tendrils in the soft pinks of sex and–worse–infatuation reached through the doorway before she even came close.

He was losing ground rapidly if the colors came this far before she did. Already he was on the brink of losing it, just from the memories of wandering her apartment in the predawn. Against his will, he began to change. Allistair fought for control, but completely failed to gain it. His fingers lengthened while he watched, his jaw grew to support the long teeth that were one of the marks of his kind. Beneath his suit jacket, the skin of his back peeled, his shoulder blades sharpening into peaks, twin forms straining beneath the fabric.

The heels tapped closer, the scent of Katharine and Zachary and sex rolled in, and as though it had its own life or mission, it wrapped around him, angering him further. The seam down the back of his suit let out the zippery noise of stitching starting to rip as the sound of her shoes stopped just beyond the open door. He’d left it open because he had wanted to hear her approach, never imagining it would cost him this.

He took a deep breath, oxygen flowing into the lungs that still functioned. The core of him was still human, but if she walked in and saw this … she’d pass out, or scream, or … who knew? And then likely run straight to Zachary–which would surely spell Allistair’s death. No matter what she was getting used to seeing at her own house at night, she wasn’t prepared for this. For seeing so much of what he really was.

No, that could not happen.

So, as she came through the door, he fought for the one thing that had always been so elusive to him. Control.

He turned his head away, tucking his face down and to the side so she wouldn’t see. He curled his claws into his lap and hunched over as she came through the doorway.

“Allistair! Are you all right?” Faster now, the heels clicked toward him. His eyes, no longer human, saw her feet and legs in shades of gray, her worry turning her energy from the flush of pink to a sickly yellow. It bothered him that she was concerned and he was unable to answer or signal to her. The sight of his hand or even just the sound of his true voice would give him away.

He chose to nod. At least the back of his head was intact. He’d managed to stop the change partway through. Still, he couldn’t let her see him this way. There was every chance the bumps straining against the material on his back would give it all away anyhow.

When she didn’t say anything, he steeled himself, fighting to reverse the effects of his anger. Anger he wasn’t even supposed to feel. He was supposed to be impartial. He’d been dressed down for this sort of involvement time and time again. His kind stepped in, changed things, did their work, and got out. They didn’t engage and they certainly weren’t allowed to care. This was his greatest sin. His constant failing, his curse.

He saw the colors of her reaching for him before he felt the touch of her fingers through the fabric he wore. Flinching, he drew up tight, still unable to speak anything she would understand, as her hand caressed the back panel of his suit. Luckily it still held together, if just barely, though he didn’t know how long he could maintain the half state he was in. Didn’t know if he’d be able to reverse the changes that had already come.

This, then, was to be the end of him.

It seemed a shame to lose it all over something like this, after getting in had been so easy. Allistair had presented himself in HR as the perfect candidate. His resume was exactly what they’d been looking for, he’d made sure of it. He’d added a few things and made a few historical notes so as not to look too good to be true. But, in fact, he was. He’d interviewed with Sharon, and used what push he had to get her to convince Mr. Geryon that he belonged in here with Katharine.

Now he was exactly where he wanted to be, Katharine’s hand on him, her thoughts focused on him, and it was all wrong. He was going to ruin the whole thing.

Allistair was resigned to his death just as her voice came again. “Allistair?”

His name from her lips washed over him. The word was only one facet of what he took in from her; the yellow concern had changed to the bright blue of fear. Her fear. For him. It pulsed into him, through the point of contact where her hand lay across his back, the very tenuous threads of his jacket the only thing keeping her from seeing what she truly touched. But the force of the feeling that Katharine generated was enough.

He couldn’t die. He had to stay. He had to have Katharine.

From somewhere, Allistair conjured the will to force himself back into the form he needed. His eyes lost some of their ability to read the waves of colors coming off her, and the carpeting, her shoes, the worldly things he saw from his hunched-over position took on more color. His fingers shrank, the nails re-forming short and clean. His jaws clicked together as molars hit against each other, and he brought his new hands up to touch his face, feeling each part before he presented it to her. He rolled his back, the spine realigning as he did, his will a force of steel driving the changes beneath her unknowing fingertips.

At last able to look up at her, Allistair found his human voice again. “Something I ate.”

•  •  •

Katharine figured frustration must be rolling off her in waves. She was glad her feelings weren’t a tangible force–she’d bowl over everyone within shouting distance.

Allistair sat in his chair, squirming. He tugged at his tie, fidgeted his shoulders, and tapped one foot. She could easily believe that he felt her irritation, but he said he’d had bad catfish the night before and it had seemed to be bothering him all day. He wouldn’t go home, though. He insisted he wanted to stay and work–and Katharine had to admire that.

Usually employees were the first to take off at any semi-legitimate ailment that presented itself. But shareholders and owners put in the hours regardless. It was a test of the worthy, her father had always said. Mr. Geryon had once wished out loud that he could drug new employees or find a way to infect them with a cold so he could see how they would fare in that situation. It would save him from having to wait until the illness presented itself, which was usually far too slow for his timetable. And God help him if he got a healthy employee. He had lamented the ethical problem of infecting people, not because it offended his morals but because he knew he was outnumbered.

Katharine secretly thought her father would be pleased if he knew of Allistair’s commitment, although she personally questioned her assistant’s judgment for eating catfish in the first place. It seemed like he had brought his own problems on.

She had planned to check her email and go back to the library this morning–to do what she’d been supposed to do the day before. Instead she did what research she could from her desk, mostly to keep an eye on Allistair. He’d looked pale and a little clammy when she’d first come in and, even though she was the first to admit she had no maternal instincts–from whom would she have inherited them?–she didn’t want to leave him alone. She had yogurt and a granola bar at her desk for lunch, and still hadn’t been able to learn anything new about WeldLink except that its parent company was called MaraxCo. Unfortunately, that name meant less on the Internet than WeldLink.

That in itself wasn’t a red flag. Unless the company was actively courting new investors or selling off a greater portion of its privately owned shares, old-school businesses often weren’t represented on the web very well at all. Sometimes there was a reference in another story or a byline, but that was usually it. Metalworks sold to other industries, not the public, so there was no reason to advertise or create a visitor website. Katharine would have to go back to the library and look for public records.

But not today. Not while Allistair said he felt fine but didn’t eat or drink anything in the five hours they’d been here. And she’d offered. He’d turned her down each time with a forced smile that kept some of the green in his features at bay. Then again, maybe it was better he didn’t eat today.

She put him on research on the Australian gem mine–something he could do from his desk. But she was done with her standard busy work, so Katharine decided to get back to tracing Mary Wayne and the missing cash. She started with the payroll department.

An hour later she’d been up and down the elevator and in and out of the payroll files regarding the last year. Mary Wayne had gotten a raise. Not too substantial, but a good percentage. Still it was nothing that would buy her that new house. Even if she had managed to save a good portion of her pre-raise paycheck, she shouldn’t have been able to do it. Not in L.A.

Also damning was the fact that Mary’s was the only name on the mortgage. Since the woman had inked the deal on the place more than a month ago, the sale price was now public record. Katharine could not figure out a single way that a Light & Geryon payroll clerk could afford that kind of property. Even if she were stripping on the side–every night–she likely still wouldn’t earn what she’d need to buy the spread at the edge of Brentwood. The price of the land alone was astronomical, and the closing price didn’t include any homeowner fees. Katharine was sure there had to be monthly dues for the neighborhood, as there was an ornate gate and keypad for entry as well as a rock garden complete with waterfall welcoming you to Falcon Ridge.

While she’d pulled files, Katharine had kept up a steady stream of petty conversation with Brenda Hayes, the woman who manned the front desk for payroll as well as kept the employee records for the department. Well-trained in the art of small talk, Katharine easily steered the topic wherever she wanted. If Brenda realized that she was being maneuvered, she didn’t let Katharine know–the woman simply spilled the beans on any topic Katharine brought up. Mary hadn’t mentioned a new boyfriend. Hadn’t gotten married. Neither her parents nor some wealthy distant relative had died leaving her a Brentwood-sized windfall–not that Brenda knew of. And Katharine could see from the personnel files that there hadn’t been an absence for a funeral or even a vacation.

Nor had Mary shown up. Her desk remained empty the entire time Katharine was sorting through the files and chatting with Brenda. Katharine had chosen a spot with a view of Mary’s cubicle. A sweater graced the back of the rolling chair. A brown leather purse listed to one side next to a potted plant with small white blooms. Mary was here. Today. But she’d been gone from her desk for over an hour.

Katharine felt she’d pumped as much as she could out of Brenda. They’d gossiped about almost everyone in payroll and a few from other divisions, just so it didn’t seem that Katharine had an inordinate amount of interest in Mary Wayne. But she had to admit, it seemed her father was on to something.

As she made her way back down the hall, Katharine felt something akin to sadness wash over her. She’d liked Mary Wayne–had never in a million years expected anything like this. But that didn’t change the facts, and the facts had Katharine headed straight to the ground floor and the surveillance department.

The entryway to the Light & Geryon building had high ceilings, green-veined marble floors, and a well-lit front desk. The overly designed entry also concealed the high-tech security division behind the Light & Geryon sign that made up the wall backing the front desk. Katharine slipped around behind the façade, using her employee access tag in one of the few places it was required of her. The scanner read her card, and the clear glass doors, like those in a hospital, parted to let her through.

Jeff Grason caught her first. “Miss Geryon!”

She smiled back at him. The opening of the entry doors triggered alerts all over the division, so every security employee was aware when someone came in. “Mr. Grason. Can you spare someone to help me view some tapes? Maybe see some current surveillance sometime before the day is out?”

“Of course. I’m free now. What can I do for you?”

He led her back into another room of glassed-in walls. Here, everything was visible except the safe and the division bathroom. At the touch of a button, a door slid back, allowing them access to a wall of monitors where another two employees sat drinking coffee and watching the flickering screens. Both glanced up at her and did a double-take before sputtering something to the effect of “Good morning, Miss Geryon.” Each of them discreetly set down his coffee, straightened his chair, and began fiddling with something. The boss’s-daughter treatment made her want to smile and cry at the same time. But she pushed the feelings down in favor of action. And she ignored the two security clerks to focus on what the cameras all over the building could tell her.