Memory Zero (14 page)

“Bright blue, ringed by a fine band of shifting, smoky gray.” Karl hesitated, his expression curious. “So?”

“So eyes that color were one of the few tangible signs of a Shadow Walker.”

Gabriel snorted. “Shadow Walkers never existed. It was simply another name humans gave to vampires.”

“Oh, they existed all right. But their numbers were few, and they were thought to have been killed in the Race Wars.”

“Which were fifty years ago.” The Race Wars had pitted humans against the many nonhuman races. It was a war that cost billions of lives, and yet, in the end, provided no clear winner. Humans still ran most governments, but nonhumans had at least won recognition—the right to vote, to take a hand in the decision-making process. Most were happy with that. Some, like Sethanon, were not.

“Sam’s twenty-nine. She can’t have Walker blood in her.”

“Why not? Her parents would certainly be close to the right age to have at least some Walker blood in them.”

“There’s no record of her parents. She was abandoned as a teenager.”

“Everyone has parents, my friend. There’ll be a record somewhere.”

You’d think so, but apparently no one in State, and no one in the kids’ home she’d spent her teenage years in, had ever been able to find it. Which, in itself, posed several interesting questions—but her being the offspring of Walkers certainly wasn’t one of the answers he’d come up with. “Birth records don’t state race, and Walkers were never one of the declared races, even after the wars.”

“No, but they existed, even if in extremely small numbers. Eyes like that aren’t a freak of nature; as I said, they’re the one tangible sign of the Walker race.”

“Why are you so revved up over the possibility that Sam might have Walker blood?” Especially when they were nothing special? While they supposedly possessed the ability to wrap the merest wisp of shadow around their bodies and disappear from human sight, it had to be nothing more than a vampire trick. Though Walkers
could
apparently move around in daylight, where vamps couldn’t, which would have made them better spies. He’d heard that the government
had
used them extensively during the Race Wars, but he’d found no evidence of their existence, let alone use, in all the searches he’d done over the years. Which was why he, like many others, believed the Shadow Walker legend was mired in the reality of vampires.

“Walkers were more than just shadow dwellers, my friend,” Karl said, an undercurrent of excitement edging his normally serene tones. “Much more.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Finley has been running genetic tests on her, and while he has found some anomalies, I very much doubt Walkers are on his list of possibilities.”

Karl frowned. “Doing those sorts of tests at the SIU labs could be dangerous. Computers are not safe conveyances of information. How often have you told me that?”

“Quite a lot. But given the amount of genetic testing we regularly do, I doubt whether these are going to garner any immediate interest.”

“Unless, of course, someone out there doesn’t want the test results known.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his matted hair. He didn’t have the time to be arguing the existence of mythical creatures when there was so much he had to
do before the meeting with his brother tonight. And on top of all that, he now had to find Sam. Yet something held him to the spot. Maybe it was the conviction in Karl’s voice. Maybe it was the knowledge that his friend’s hunches were very seldom wrong.

“Why would anyone else be interested in the tests?”

“Why would anyone try to kill her?” Karl countered. “Someone must know, or suspect, that she is more than what she seems. Yet if that’s the case, they may well be watching what is happening at the SIU.”

“What if I send you a copy of all of Finley’s tests so far? Then you can check them out for yourself.” And give them a secure backup.

Karl nodded. “And once you finish your meeting tonight, drop by. I have some books you might need to read if she
is
a Walker.”

Something to look forward to, for sure. “I might have to drag her along with me.”

“Even better. I can run a few tests of my own.”

“If you can convince her to oblige. She’s getting a little sick of being a guinea pig.”

Karl smiled thinly. “I think you’ll find that young woman has a desire to know the truth.”

When it came to her partner and what had happened to him, maybe. But when it came to herself, definitely not. She hadn’t asked why they were doing all these extra tests. She hadn’t shown even the slightest bit of curiosity. It was almost as if she didn’t care.

He straightened and returned his gaze to the kidnappers. “Will you need help with those four?”

“Harv and I can manage.” Karl hesitated, and again Gabriel noted the tension around his friend’s eyes. But before he could ask about it, Karl added, “You’d better get back before someone starts missing you.”

He nodded. “You going back to Stephan after this?”

“No. As I said before, it would raise suspicions in the wrong quarters.” Karl pulled a small bottle of pale green liquid from his pocket. “Give him this when you see him tonight, and make sure he gets some safe water. I won’t have a chance to get there until tomorrow.”

Gabriel held up the bottle. The green liquid was thick and shiny. “What is it?”

“A medicine designed to flush the toxins from his system. If we’ve pinpointed the right poison, it should work pretty fast.”

“How’s he doing? Health-wise, I mean.”

“He’s weak, but he’ll survive.”

Relief surged through him, relaxing muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense. “I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

Karl nodded and moved back toward the prisoners. Gabriel glanced at the license plate number of the car he’d been locked in, taking note of it for later investigation. He then called to his other shape and leapt skyward on brown-gold wings.

S
AM CLIMBED OUT OF THE
taxi and slammed the door shut. As the vehicle zoomed away in search of another fare, she stepped onto the pavement and stared at the house across the road.

Even on a relatively bright day like today, the squat, almost ugly, redbrick dwelling sat in shadow. Surrounded by tall gum trees, it hunched in the middle of the block like some forgotten troll. For some reason, Jack had loved it.
Think of the possibilities
, he’d said.
All that land to expand on, all that room to move in
.

Three and a half years later, the place was still as ugly as the day he’d bought it. Uglier, as it had also begun to fall into disrepair. And the land he kept raving about was a mass of weeds and rotting leaves.

The houses on either side had well-manicured lawns, perfectly trimmed garden beds and spotlessly clean driveways. But then, in an upper-middle-class suburb like Mulgrave, you expected nothing less. Jack had to be driving them insane.

Smiling slightly, she crossed the road. The minute she stepped into the shadows of the house, it was as if she’d stepped into another world. The everyday whine of cars, of people talking and dogs barking, faded away, leaving only an uneasy sort of hush. She glanced up, studying the branches far above. Odd that there were no birds in any of the trees. Even though it was winter, there should have been sparrows and starlings, at the very least.

She walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. Then she stepped back, waiting for an answer. After a minute or two of silence, she knocked again. She’d checked earlier to see if Suzy had gone back to work. She hadn’t, and she wasn’t expected to be back for at least another week.

Still no answer. Frowning, she turned and headed for the backyard. All the windows along the side of the house had their curtains drawn, so she couldn’t sneak a peek inside. The overgrown look had gone into overdrive around the back. Weeds climbed the fences and dominated the garden beds. She shook her head. It was hard to believe that Jack had let the yard get to this state. At work, he was practically a freak when it came to tidiness.

She knocked on the back door. Again, no answer. Of course, there was always the possibility Suzy had gone shopping or was visiting friends, but instinct told her that wasn’t the case. There was an edge of awareness in the stillness that suggested someone was home.

She bent down and slid the wire-thin key-coder out of its specially designed sheath inside her boot. Though they were officially frowned upon, a good half of the State enforcers used them. This particular one Jack had given her a few weeks before he’d disappeared, claiming it would open any lock currently in use. At the time, neither of them had thought she’d be using it to break into
his
house.

The coder beeped softly. She slid it back home in her boot, and then cautiously opened the door. The kitchen lay in darkness, and the air that rushed out to greet her was stale, as if the house had been locked up for several weeks.

She edged into the kitchen and looked around. Dishes lay in an untidy pile in the sink. Judging by the thick layer of scum on the surface of the water, they’d been there for some time. A half-filled coffee cup sat abandoned on the table, and one chair lay flat on its back, as if someone had gotten up in a hurry.

She moved into the next room. There were no other signs of a hasty abandonment, but it was obvious no one had been in the living room for some time. She walked across to the coffee table and picked up a newspaper. Dust stirred, tickling her throat. Coughing slightly, she studied the date on the paper. May sixteenth. Five days after Jack had disappeared.

If appearances were anything to go by, Suzy hadn’t been in the house since then. Yet that simply didn’t
make sense. Surely she must have been here when Jack—or his clone—was shot. How else would headquarters have gotten hold of her so quickly?

Dropping the paper back on the coffee table, she turned and headed for the study. Dust lay thick on the furniture in this room, too. Two monitors sat abandoned on an otherwise bare desk. Several photos lined the walls—all of them of Suzy. Sam sat at the desk and opened the top drawer. Empty. So were the next two drawers.

Frowning, she stared at the monitor for a moment, wondering what to do next. Anything useful had obviously been cleaned out of the study, so there was a good chance every other room had been cleaned out, too. But the only other room that might hold something was the master bedroom. Even the tiniest scrap of paper might provide a clue, and while Jack was generally a neat freak, Suzy wasn’t.

She checked the remainder of the house as she made her way up the hall to the master bedroom. The place was empty, despite her feeling to the contrary. Relaxing a little, she allowed herself to remember the pride in Jack’s voice when he’d first guided her through his ugly-duckling house. Remembered his wonder at all the room, when all she’d seen was wasted space. Lord, they were so completely different. Maybe that was why they’d been such good partners. And such good friends, at least during working hours.

So why had he tried to kill her?

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. Damn it all, the man she’d shot
wasn’t
Jack. It was a clone who didn’t deserve her guilt or her tears.

Maybe Jack himself didn’t deserve them either.

The bedroom was a mess. Blankets were strewn onto the floor, and clothes lay everywhere, the clean and ironed mingling with the dirty in drifting piles. But the dust that lay thick on the furniture through the rest of the house was absent here. A coffee cup sat on the dressing table, its contents half-consumed and just beginning to congeal. Someone had been in here recently, and if the clothes were any indication, had packed in a hurry.

She stepped across several clothing mounds and made her way into the master bathroom. No trace of Suzy’s makeup—a telling sign, if ever there was one. From what Jack had said, she had a veritable mountain of stuff she used night and day. It had obviously gone with Suzy—wherever that might be.

She turned and crossed to the bedside table, opening the top drawer. Undergarments greeted her—Jack’s, by the look of it. She poked through the drawer, just to ensure there was nothing else, then grabbed it and pulled it out, tipping the undergarments onto the floor as she flipped it over. Nothing taped on the bottom. She studied the base for a moment, and then noticed a slight scrape along one side, and a broken edge in one corner.

She tapped the bottom and heard the slight echo, as if the drawer were hollow. And the actual depth of the drawer certainly didn’t match the depth of the sides. Maybe a false bottom? She stuck her little finger into the hole and gently tugged. The top layer came away, revealing a two-inch hiding place. Three digital disks gleamed softly in the half-light, along with an envelope. She shoved the lot into her pocket.

Out in the hall, a floorboard creaked—a sound so
soft that, if it weren’t for the strange hush in the house, she might not have heard it. Even then, she might have passed it off as nothing more than the normal creaking of an old house, but there was a sudden prickle of heat across her skin, and a wash of awareness through her mind.

A vampire and a shapeshifter had entered the house.

She reached back for her gun, then realized she no longer had it. Her gaze went to the bed. Jack had often said that a gun was the natural extension of his arm. Even in the bedroom, he would have had one within reach.

She knelt down and felt underneath the bed. Her fingers slid across the metal slats, then touched something slick and cold. Smiling grimly, she peeled the weapon away from its hiding spot.

Only it wasn’t just any old gun. It was the latest in laser development—a Y-shaped weapon that molded itself to your palm and could torch a hole the size of a football field in the side of a building.

She frowned as she peeled the tape off the weapon. Where had Jack found the money to buy something like this? You certainly couldn’t get these legally, and they were worth a fortune on the streets.

As she checked to see if the weapon was loaded, another floorboard creaked. Mouth suddenly dry, she grasped the weapon and walked carefully to the door. The silence was so deep she could hear breathing—not hers, someone else’s.