Penumbra (6 page)

She looked at the fire, but she saw only flames, dancing brightly. She couldn't do what he wanted. He was asking the wrong person.

“I
can't.
”

The lights grew brighter, burning her skin as fiercely as the flames. She couldn't back away, couldn't move. They'd chained her down this time.

“Become one with the fire. Feel its power.
Use
its power,” Gray Eyes said.

The urge to scream ran through her, but it wouldn't matter to them if she did. It never mattered. Her gaze met Joshua's.

You have to do something, or they'll kill you,
his voice whispered into her mind, calm despite the anger she could almost taste.

Fire is not my element.

No. They are fools who do not look beyond the obvious. But you have other abilities. Use those instead.

They'll know. They'll see the difference.

They know nothing about us, despite all their tests. Trust me, Samantha.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she stared at the fire burning fiercely in the pit three feet away. The flames shivered, as if dancing away from an unseen wind. Sweat tracked down her face, stinging her eyes. She ignored it, concentrating, drawing power up from the depths of her soul. From the ground itself.

The fiery mass rose from the pit and hovered in midair for several seconds. She glanced at the control room and saw Joshua step back, well out of harm's way.

She smiled—a cold smile. A hateful smile. Aimed not at him, but at the men with him. The men who wouldn't let them be, wouldn't let them go.

The burning mass leapt across the arena and smashed through the control box's glass. White coats scattered like confetti. Then the lights went out and the screaming began.

Laughter filled the air, mingling with the screams. Her laughter; Joshua's laughter. Both of them old beyond their years and full of hate. The fire leapt from the men to the computers, and she realized he was feeding it, making it destroy the sensor readouts. Once again they would have no record of what had happened here today. Nothing more than the words of those who survived.

Josh, I'm chipped. They'll kill me.

The flames died suddenly, sucked back into the void that had fed them.
I know. It is not our time to escape yet. But when it is, they will taste the fires more fully.

The malevolence in his voice made her shiver…and she woke, a chill encasing her body. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. Were the dreams memories trying to break free? Or simply the imaginings of a fertile mind?

There was no way to be certain. But if
this
dream were to be believed, then she had not only killed, but she'd enjoyed it. Nor was it the first or the last time it had happened.

And she'd been no more than seven years old at the time.

“Lights on,” she murmured, wanting to banish the shadows and the last remnants of the dream.

Brightness flooded through the hotel room. She sat up, drew her knees close to her chest and hugged them tightly. If Joshua was in fact her brother, as the dreams insisted, why did he call her Samantha? According to Mary Elliot, the woman who'd supposedly looked after the two of them in Hopeworth, Joshua's sister had been called Josephine.

And why was she dreaming of a scientist with gray eyes when all the scientists who had dealt with the Penumbra project were dead?

Or were they?

They'd had only Allars's word on that, and Allars was an old man whose memories might well have been altered by the military. No matter how reliable his information had seemed, no matter how much it had jelled with other sources, they had to take everything he said with a grain of salt.

She rubbed her arms and looked at the time. It was nearly eleven. Wetherton would be leaving the theater soon and heading home. According to the file, the vampire would attack just before Wetherton climbed into the car.

The theater was only four blocks down from her hotel. If she hurried, she just might make it there in time to see what happened. She had a horrible suspicion that things would not go as Stephan had planned.

And investigating was certainly better than sitting here in this hotel room, trying to stay awake in an effort to avoid the dreams that made no sense, and yet terrified her.

Gabriel swiped his credit card through the cab's slot and climbed out. Illie had offered to drive him home, or even here, to his sister's, but he'd had more than enough of his new partner. At least Sam had been able to appreciate moments of silence—not to mention being a whole lot easier on the eyes.

Not that he'd ever admit either to her.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and wished he could just stop thinking about her. Damn it, he'd gotten what he wanted—and what was best for both of them.

So why did he feel so damn depressed about it?

Maybe it was just exhaustion. He and Illie had spent an hour in the med center at Pegasus being poked and prodded. Then they'd wasted another three hours viewing the security tapes and talking to the evasive Kathryn Douglass. Whatever secrets the woman hid, she wasn't giving them away easily. Even Illie had trouble reading her.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home, have a drink and go to bed. But he couldn't—not until he'd looked after the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.

He climbed the front steps and reached out to press the doorbell, but the door opened before he could. His sister stood before him, green eyes concerned despite her welcoming smile.

“A visit from my little brother at this hour of the night? Things
must
be bad.” Her voice was soft as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Gabriel smiled and kissed her back. “I need help.”

“I gathered that. Head on through to the kitchen. Alain's making coffee.”

He made his way down the shadowed hall, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floors. Alain, Jessie's brown-haired, large-limbed husband of six months, stood near the sink, pouring hot coffee into three mugs.

He glanced around as Gabriel entered, giving him a quick look over before his lips split into a wide grin. “Man, you look like shit.”

Gabriel smiled and dragged out a chair. “That's a pretty accurate description of how I feel.”

Alain placed a mug in front of him and sat opposite. The scent of coffee wafted up, teasing him.

“Things not going well?”

Though there was a sympathetic edge in Alain's voice, amusement crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. Gabriel had an odd feeling he wasn't actually referring to work. What had Jessie been telling him?

“Yeah, you could say that. I almost got blown up this afternoon.”

“Tough days at the office are the pits.”

“But you're not here for sympathy, are you?” Jessie said, as she sat down and leaned her shoulder against Alain's.

Loneliness swirled through Gabriel. If only briefly, he found himself wanting what most of his siblings had—someone to lean on. Someone to come home to. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. God, he
definitely
needed some sleep if he was thinking that. Besides, his chance at such a life had slipped away when Andrea died. “No, I want you to help me guard Sam's back.”

Jessie shared a look with her husband, concern evident. Alain leaned forward, interlacing his long fingers. “Stephan's not going to like that.”

“Stephan doesn't have to know.”

Jessie smiled slightly. “You can't keep secrets from Stephan. None of us can. He has a nose for secrets.”

Well, this was one secret he'd better keep his nose well out of or there would be hell to pay. “Look, Stephan's assigned Sam to the Wetherton case. He's hoping her presence will draw Sethanon out. But I think it's more likely to draw out Hopeworth.”

Alain's frown deepened. “Why would Hopeworth be interested in her?”

“Hopeworth's been playing in the genetic sandbox for years, and Sam is more than likely one of their creations. And even if she's not, she's caught their interest.”

Jessie picked up her mug and regarded him steadily over the rim. “Why didn't you just keep her as a partner? You wouldn't have had this problem then.”

“My partners have a bad habit of dying.” He hesitated and rubbed his eyes again. Andrea might have died by an assassin's bullet, but Mike's death had been
his
responsibility. He'd fired the killing shot. “I prefer to work alone. You know that.”

A small smile touched her lips. “What I know, brother dearest, is that you're using your fear as an excuse.”

He raised an eyebrow. “An excuse for what?”

“I remember a man holding the woman who was both his girlfriend and his partner in his arms and vowing to never let another woman come so close to his heart. A promise he has kept, until now.” She hesitated, green eyes regarding him steadily. “Sam threatens that vow because you know, deep down, that she is the one for you.
That's
why you got rid of her.”

Though an empath, his sister could sometimes be surprisingly off base. He frowned and sipped his coffee. There was
some
truth in her words, though. He
did
have a connection with Sam, and he was definitely attracted to her. But as much as he might occasionally hunger for it, he really didn't want emotional complications of
any
kind in his life. That was part of the reason he continued to block Stephan's thoughts. Why he was so comfortable with Sandy, another SIU officer and his sometime lover. She wanted no commitment, no emotion, beyond friendship.

As for Sam being the one…He put down his mug and tried to ignore the ache in his heart.

“Andrea was my destiny, my life mate. Not Sam. Whatever I feel for Sam, it could never evolve into something that lasts. My heart died with Andrea.”

“Are you so sure, lad?” Alain said, his deep voice holding a touch of compassion.

“Yes.” At least Alain understood. Jess, and the rest of his family, probably never would. They weren't shapechangers, and weren't cursed with the knowledge that there could be only one permanent mate for them—ever.

Jessie sniffed. “Andrea was your first love, Gabriel. Don't be so certain that what you felt then was life-altering.”

“Look, I came here to ask for help, not to be emotionally dissected.”

Jessie placed a hand on his, squeezing gently. “I'm sorry.” She hesitated, her face losing animation, her green eyes suddenly clouded, distant. “Sam is one half of a force—light to his shade. You are her anchor, her reality. Push her away and you force her into his circle of influence.”

“Whose circle?” Gabriel said softly.

Jessie blinked. Warmth returned to her face and her eyes. She rubbed her arms and smiled ruefully. “I'm sorry. The vision's gone.”

Gabriel cursed silently. Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken. Her visions were fragile at the best of times. “Will you help me?”

She glanced at Alain and nodded. “But I wouldn't hold much hope of keeping this from Stephan for too long.”

“Let me worry about Stephan.” Gabriel gulped down the rest of his coffee and rose. “I'll head to the office now and grab a copy of Wetherton's schedule. I'll email the roster once I work it out. Hopefully, between the three of us, we can keep her out of Hopeworth's hands.”

Sam shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket and leaned a shoulder against the bus shelter wall. Across the width of Exhibition Street, people were beginning to file out of Her Majesty's Theatre, and reporters jostled with spectators for the best position to view the exiting celebrities. Limos lined the curb, waiting for their passengers.

It was the perfect place to attempt an assassination. With the noise and the milling crowd, it was unlikely anyone would notice anything until it was too late. As yet, though, there was no sign of anything untoward.

The latest teen sensation came into sight, his blond head promptly disappearing amongst the crowd of waiting paparazzi and fans. Two seconds later, Wetherton came into view and was greeted by resounding indifference.

He wasn't happy about it, either, if the look on his face was anything to go by. He hovered near the doors for several minutes, then roughly grabbed the woman by his side and guided her away. Three others followed in their wake—two men and another woman—as Sam pushed away from the bus shelter wall. Wetherton's chauffeur hadn't been quick enough to grab a good position, so he was waiting half a block away.

Sam ran across Exhibition Street and fell into step several yards behind them. Though she kept an eye on the shadows surrounding the nearby buildings and shop fronts and listened to the sigh of the wind, there didn't seem to be anything out of place. No sign of the vampire, no sensation of evil haunting the night.

And yet, something
was
here—a presence that itched at the back of her mind. A memory waiting to surface.

She frowned and eyed Wetherton's group uneasily. The sensation was coming from their direction for sure—but what it implied was anyone's guess.

Frown deepening, Sam tore her gaze from them and checked the night again. They were now distant enough from the theater and the crowd. So why hadn't the vampire attacked? If they went much farther, there would be no witnesses, no press. No point.

A chauffeur climbed out of a white limousine when Wetherton's group approached it. As the chauffeur walked around to open the passenger door, Wetherton stopped and looked around. His gaze fell on Sam before she could avoid it, but quickly moved on.
Easily dismissed,
she thought wryly, but stepped into the shadows of a nearby shop entrance anyway. She wasn't supposed to be here, so it was better if she kept out of sight as much as possible.

Once the chauffeur had opened the car door, Wetherton climbed in, followed quickly by the two women and one of the men. The last man hesitated, one hand on the roof, his gray hair gleaming silver under the wash of the streetlights as he turned to study the night in much the same manner as Wetherton had.