Текст книги "Savage Awakening"

Автор книги: J. Tyler

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Two

Rowan came awake with a start and blinked at her surroundings in confusion. Immediately her brain cataloged the soft, comfortable bed she was lying in, and the modestly furnished bedroom. For a few moments she struggled to make sense of where she was and why—and then the memory returned.

As she sat up, a slight pain lanced the back of her head and she winced, probing the area with her fingers. Under her hair at the back of her skull lurked a lump that throbbed when she pressed a little too hard, but it wasn’t too bad. Anyhow, that seemed to be the least of her worries.

She’d come to this place—if she was indeed inside the compound—seeking answers about Micah and had seen… what, exactly? Then she’d fainted like a rookie observing her first autopsy. With her gun in hand.

Her gun that was now missing.

Looking to the nightstand, she reached out and opened the drawer. Empty, except for a sheet of paper typed with a list of what appeared to be phone extensions. Sliding the drawer shut, she took another survey of the room. Her purse rested on the top of the otherwise bare dresser. The black duffel bag she’d brought, stuffed with several changes of clothes and underwear, sat on the floor in front of it. She doubted very much that she’d find her weapon stashed in either one.

Pushing herself up from the bed, she wobbled over to investigate. The rest of her belongings seemed to be intact, but as expected, the gun was missing. That they’d taken it was no surprise, but being without protection was unsettling. Damn it, she felt naked without it.

Naked. Oh, God. She’d seen several wolves and a panther become hot men not wearing a stitch. Hadn’t she? Or maybe everything she’d been through in the last few months had finally sent her over the edge. Bye-bye sanity, hello blissful insanity. Maybe she’d been institutionalized and this was her jail cell, disguised as a normal room. Any minute a nurse would be by with medication that would send her back to the land of happiness and light.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!”

Turning, Rowan blinked at the attractive woman standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a white doctor’s coat over a green blouse and black pants. “Shit, I didgo crazy,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

She waved a hand at the woman’s attire. “Which are you, my nurse or my psychiatrist? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve suffered a break from reality and you’re my keeper.”

The brunette laughed good-naturedly, and pushed a lock of long, curly hair from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “I’m Dr. Mackenzie Grant, but no, I’m not yourdoctor, warden, or anything else. I’m just here to make sure you’re all right. You took a nasty bump to your head when you passed out.”

“Right. When I checked out because I saw… or thought I saw…” Frowning, she trailed off.

The doctor cleared her throat. “Yes, well. Nick will want to talk with you about that, I’m sure.”

“Nick Westfall,” she recalled. “Your commander.”

“Not mycommander, exactly, but yes. He’s the head honcho around here. He leads the Alpha Pack team.”

“Who are wolves and cats in disguise.”

The other woman’s gaze was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I really can’t talk about—”

Rowan gave a laugh that was half-hysterical, dripping with sarcasm. “Of course not.”

“Nick will tell you everything he feels you need to know, but after that we can talk all you want.”

The doc was loyal, at least. She could respect that. “When does he want to see me?”

“As soon as you’re feeling up to it. I can take you to his office now if you’d like, Miss Chase.”

“Call me Rowan. Wait, how did you know my name?” She cast a suspicious look at her purse. Had these people gone through her things?

“Nick told us.”

That’s right—Westfall had called her by name the moment they met. “And how did heknow? Did someone alert him that I was on my way?” Rowan frowned. Dean wouldn’t have betrayed her, she was certain. “Never mind. I’m sure that’s another one of those things he’ll have to tell me. And believe me, Dr. Grant, he’d better.”

“Mackenzie or Mac is fine,” the woman said amiably, ignoring Rowan’s last remark. “Are you ready?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

Glancing at her purse and bag again, she opted to leave them behind. She wasn’t carrying much cash, and only a couple of credit cards. No, if these people had planned to keep her stuff they would’ve taken the rest along with her gun. She followed the doctor from the bedroom, through a furnished living room, to the door, and out into a carpeted hallway lined with more doors, all numbered. Quickening her pace, she fell into step beside the other woman.

“So, this area is what? Like a dorm?” she guessed.

Mackenzie nodded. “Yes, but unlike dorms, the residence wings are fully equipped apartments, and we aren’t required to share quarters. Privacy is a highly valued commodity in a busy place where so many of us live and work, and it’s usually in short supply.”

“It’s nicer than I expected,” Rowan admitted, admiring the dark green carpet and cream-colored walls adorned with sconces that reminded her of the inside of a nice hotel. “On the drive here, I envisioned something much more stark and unfriendly. You know, what with it being a top secret compound and all that.”

“Which begs the question of how you found out about us.” The doc cut her a curious stare.

Rowan smirked. “I guess that’s something your illustrious leader can tell you if he wants—after he and I have a little chat.”

“Touché,” Mackenzie said with a laugh.

As they walked, a glint of silver at the vee of the other woman’s blouse caught Rowan’s eye. A round disk about the size of a silver dollar hung there, suspended on a sturdy chain. It struck her as being a bit heavy, like a piece of jewelry more suited to a man. But what did she know? She was a cop, not a fashion critic.

“That’s a gorgeous pendant,” she said, waving a hand at the doc’s chest.

Mackenzie started and glanced down at the item as though she’d forgotten it was there. “Thanks.”

She peered closer. “Is that a… pentagram?”

“Yes, it is.” But the doc didn’t offer anything further.

Tough. Cops liked answers. “Cool. Are you Wiccan?”

“No.” A hint of annoyance crept into the doc’s tone, and her words became clipped as she tucked the disk under her blouse again. “The necklace was a gift.”

Subject closed, at least for now. But Rowan sensed a story there and sooner or later she’d ferret out the mystery. Investigating, prying answers from people who didn’t want to give them, was in her blood. For the time being, she let it go.

She had bigger fish to fry.

Mackenzie led her through a maze of corridors, and Rowan made sure to catalog every turn in her brain. The information would come in handy whether she stayed or had to get the fuck out of here fast.

Finally the doc halted in front of a closed door and nodded. “This is Nick’s office. Don’t be intimidated—he’s not as mean as he looks.”

“That’s okay, because I’m meanerthan I look.” She wasn’t kidding, but Mackenzie smiled anyway, giving Rowan’s arm a squeeze.

“I’ll check on you later.”

“Thanks.” Rowan watched the woman start back the way they’d come, then turned her attention to the door. Heaving a fortifying breath, she gave three sharp raps and waited until she heard the man’s deep voice call out for her to come in before turning the knob and stepping inside.

The interior of Westfall’s office was much the same as her room—comfortable but nothing too fancy. A big desk equipped with a laptop and a cordless phone fit the space nicely, leaving room for a couple of stuffed chairs across from it. But the man himself quickly captured her attention as he rose and offered her his hand, his expression unreadable.

“Miss Chase.”

“Rowan, please.”

“Nick.” They shook hands and then he sat, gesturing for her to do the same.

“Who told you I was coming here?” she asked, careful not to sound defensive right off the bat. It wouldn’t do to piss off the man who might have the answers she needed.

“No one.” He held her gaze, his deep blue eyes seeming to look right into her soul.

She wondered what he saw there. “Then when I arrived, how did you know my name?”

The handsome dark-haired man appeared to consider his reply carefully before he finally spoke. “I’m a PreCog.”

“Come again?”

“I’m a PreCog. I sometimes see events before they happen.”

Rowan stared at him, wondering which one of them was nuts. Maybe Luis Garcia really had shot her and she was lying in some hospital in a coma, dreaming all of this.

She cleared her throat. “On top of being a wolf-man? Right. Sure you are. Listen, it doesn’t make two shits to me who ratted me out or what delusions of grandeur you’re suffering from. I just came here to—”

“Find out what happened to Micah,” he interrupted softly.

That rattled her for a couple of seconds, but she shook it off. “Not impressed. I’m sure the person who told you I was coming also told you why.” Leaning forward, she felt the slow boil of anger begin on hearing this stranger speak her brother’s name in such a familiar way. Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair. “So let’s just cut all the dancing around the subject. If Micah’s alive, tell me where he is and why in God’s name I was told he was dead. If he isdead, help me get his body home.”

Those last words emerged from her lips as though she was being strangled, stopping short of uttering the inane phrase about needing closure. There would neverbe closure if Micah truly was gone, the bleeding hole in her heart never filled.

“It’s not that simple.”

Months of alternating between grief and frustration with getting the runaround had frazzled her temper, and it snapped. “What the hell do you mean? He’s either dead or alive!” she shouted. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know!”

His thundering tone echoed in the enclosed space, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. She blinked at Nick’s miserable expression, the slump of his big shoulders. “He’s missing?”

“Off the record, yes.”

“That Navy guy, General Jarrod Grant, said… The government lied to me,” she whispered. “They said Micah was killed during training maneuvers and that his body couldn’t be recovered. I buried an empty fucking box while that bastard Grant handed me an American flag and told me how sorry he was. And all the time I was grieving, my brother was out there somewhere, possibly alive, waiting to be rescued. Maybe still is.”

The horrible reality blew her mind. The lack of her brother’s body had disturbed her all along, and deep down she’d thought—prayed—that the report of his “death” had been a mistake. But to find out the whole thing was an outright lie? Rage churned, too big for her skin, threatening to tear her apart.

“For what it’s worth, I amsorry,” he said sincerely. “I would have preferred to tell you the truth, but I was overruled.”

“By whom? General Grant?”

“Yes.”

She wanted her gun back. Then she’d shoot someone. All she needed was the correct target.

“What isthe truth? Was my brother really in the SEALs when he disappeared?”

“No. By then he was working here, as a member of the Alpha Pack team.”

“But in the beginning, he was with the Navy, right?” That’s what he’d toldher, all those years. Now she wondered how well she’d known her brother.

“Yes, he was, just like many of my men before this compound opened about five years ago. There was a different team leader then, and I replaced him a little over six months ago. Afterhe, Micah, and several other Pack members were allegedly killed.” His gaze bored into her.

She studied him for a minute, thinking. “The general. Would he be any relation to Mackenzie Grant?”

Nick nodded. “Jarrod Grant is Mac’s father… and my main contact with the military. We sort of work together.”

“Wow, you’re all just one big happy family, huh?”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Most of the time, though we have our squabbles now and then.”

She stood and paced a little, stopped and stared out the window over his head. The rage had subsided to a bearable level, but the slow burn of anger remained. Along with a big side helping of frustration. “Why didn’t you know?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked down at him to see him frowning at her in question. “You claim to be psychic, right? Why didn’t you know what was going to happen to my brother and stop it?”

His expression became sympathetic. “I’m not psychic; I’m a PreCog. Big difference, because the visions I receive as a PreCog are only a small part of psychic ability. Anyway, I was a special agent with the FBI at the time Micah and the others vanished. I didn’t know the team members seven months ago, but even if I had there’s no guarantee I would’ve seen the event in time to avert it, or at all. I’m not omniscient.”

“So you pick up what you can, like spotty cable television reception?”

One corner of his mouth curled up. “Something like that.”

It was a really nice mouth, too. Sexy. The big bastard was probably an animal in the sack. Though like Dean, the buttoned-down sort wasn’t really her type. Shutting off that line of thinking, she focused on her mission, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay, the twenty questions routine is wearing me out, and when I’m tired I get cranky. Fill in the blanks for me, starting with what the hell my brother’s job here entails, what he was doing when he disappeared, and what you think happened.”

Nick took a long time to answer. But when he did, his voice was low and patient. “Like most of the team, Micah’s a wolf shifter. Almost six years ago, when he and several of the others were part of a Navy SEAL team stationed in the mountains of Afghanistan, they were attacked by rogue werewolves.”

He gave her a few seconds to digest that tidbit, and she took the time. “All right. I’m a cop, and we deal in facts. I sawmen turn into wolves—and one into a panther. I think maybe I’m in a coma and dreaming, but I’ll go with it.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re very much awake, though before long you’ll wish you weren’t.” He paused. “As the survivors recovered from the attack in a military hospital, physicians discovered anomalies in their blood work. It wasn’t long before the first man shifted into a wolf right in his hospital bed, and chaos ensued.”

“I can imagine.” What a wild tale. But still, she had seen the results with her own two eyes.

“Studies were conducted on the men, and it was found that each of them not only could shift into a wolf but had various special abilities.”

“Like the one you claim as a PreCog?”

He didn’t comment on her apparent continuing doubt. “Exactly. But each man’s is different. One is a Telepath; one’s a Firestarter…” He trailed off, a look of sadness shadowing his face before he went on. “It turned out they’d possessed these tendencies since childhood, but after they became shifters, the power of their gifts had increased many times over.”

“Assuming I can buy what you’re saying, what is Micah’s so-called gift?” She couldn’t wait to hear this.

“He was—or is—a Dreamwalker. The team and the doctors here told me that your brother could literally visit people’s dreams to communicate.”

Rowan’s legs grew weak and she sat down in the chair again, hard. Instantly, she was transported back to when she and Micah were children. Growing up, she’d had dreams in which she talked with her brother about whatever, and she distinctly recalled several occasions where they’d compared notes and discovered they’d had the same dream. But a lot of people had those. Didn’t they?

No, they didn’t. Not the same dream at the same time. What if…

Her mind whirled with the implications, and the truth was wrenched from her gut. “I haven’t dreamed about my brother in almost a year.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Nick said gently.

“Unlike what I was told by your colleague, General Grant,” she snapped, swiping impatiently at a stray tear.

“That was done against my better judgment.”

“And yet you didn’t rectify his lie.”

“I wanted something solid to give Micah’s family first,” he said firmly. “Grant was right in not giving the relatives false hope, and he didn’t want the questions that listing them as ‘missing’ would prompt. I just don’t agree we should’ve claimed they were dead without the bodies to prove it.”

She could almost feel her insides crumbling under the weight of all she’d learned. Especially about the brother she loved more than her own life. If he could walk in dreams, and yet hadn’t visited hers in months, chances were he really was gone. Despite Grant’s lie.

“Fortunately, I do have something I can share with you.”

Shaken out of her downward spiral, she snapped her gaze to his. “I’m listening.”

“A few weeks ago my team conducted a rescue op at a facility where some nasty experiments were being performed on shifters and humans. While there, one of my men swore he caught Micah’s scent.”

“His scent?”

“Yeah. Wolves have an excellent sense of smell. We can discern the signature of each individual scent and never forget it.”

“Sure you can.” Jesus Christ in a tutu. “So, was it Micah’s? Do you have any other evidence?”

“Actually, we do. One of the shifters we rescued told us that a man named Micah, who’d been kept in a nearby cage, had been moved just a few days before we busted into the place. We have reason to believe—”

“Hang on. Are you telling me whoever took my brother put him in a fucking cage, then treated him like a goddamned animal for whatever twisted reason?”

Nick sighed, looking weary. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. The man also fits your brother’s description.”

“What are those assholes doing to my little brother?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

To his credit, Nick didn’t mince words. “We’ve learned that a company by the name of NewLife Technology, headed by Orson Chappell, has a secret project. Their goal is to take shifter DNA and genetic strands, combine them with humans’, and morph them into a new, invincible breed of soldiers.”

“In layman’s terms?”

“They’re trying to create super-shifters with Psy abilities, and they hope to mass-produce them like an automobile factory would produce cars. If they succeed, humanity as we know it is history.” He scowled. “Chappell is murdering people in the process, too. You can bet his reasons have nothing to do with bettering this country or saving lives, but involve his own power and greed.”

Rowan gaped at him, trying to assimilate this new information. The seconds ticked by as the man watched her. “And how is that different from what you’re doing here? Because from where I sit, I’ve been lied to and cheated out of the only family I have left. How do I know you haven’t turned the story completely around, that you’re not the bad guys?”

“That’s a fair question. But let me ask you this—why would we have greeted you as shifters instead of humans when we could’ve kept that part of us a secret? We could have met you with a show of force, turned you away, and you never would’ve found out about us or what’s going on with Micah.”

“But you didn’t make me leave, and you all showed me one of your secrets.”

“Exactly.”

And they hadn’t harmed her in any way. They’d shown her their collective underbelly, so to speak, and hadn’t attacked. All at once it hit her. “You wanted to gain my trust. To show me you’re the good guys.”

He smiled. “Well, I don’t know about good. But as my men are fond of saying, we’re not the guys you have to worry about.”

Okay, that seemed logical. But none of it was very comforting.

Suddenly she was so damned tired. Her mind couldn’t handle any more. “This is all so messed up,” she muttered, shoving a strand of hair out of her face.

Dark humor colored his reply. “No argument there.”

“So what does your Alpha Pack team do?”

“We’re enforcers of a sort. We take care of paranormal problems that pop up all over the world.”

She couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped that was absent of humor and a lot on edge. “Pop up? Like the measles? What are we talking here, ghosties and ghoulies?”

“Yes. And much worse.”

The man said that with a straight face, too. “Okay, I’ll bite. Like what?”

“Vampires, rogue shifters of all kinds, witches, demons. You name it. If some being in the paranormal community is wreaking havoc, we get called out to either capture it or eliminate it. Some of them we bring here to undergo rehabilitation. You’ll meet the rest of our residents soon enough.” He shrugged, as though dealing with these creatures was an everyday occurrence.

“And I suppose you can prove everything you’re telling me?”

“I can, though I can sense you’re already starting to believe me whether you want to or not.”

“I still want solid proof.” She noted he didn’t seem concerned by this, which meant one of two things: he knew she wouldn’t be here long enough for it to be an issue, or he really could produce the evidence she wanted. Either way was troubling. “What about you? You said that you’ve only known these guys for a few months, so how did you become a wolf? Were you attacked, too?”

“No. I was born a shifter.”

Another surprise, which she couldn’t keep off her face. “That’s… neat. Was your family—”

“My family is not up for discussion,” he said coolly.

Whoa, the drop in temperature could’ve given her frostbite. Message received. “Hey, my bad. You can’t blame me for being curious after hearing all of this. No hard feelings?”

The man relaxed some, and nodded. “Not at all.”

She hesitated. “Assuming I can ever, in a zillion years, swallow that you guys battle mythical creatures, why enlighten me? Why not just tell me Micah is dead and send me on my way?”

“I could have,” he acknowledged. “But you’d already learned of our compound and I saw right away you’re not the type of person to be put off once you’re on the hunt. We’re similar that way, you and I.”

“True enough.”

“Besides, your journey led you here for another reason besides finding your brother. One every bit as important.”

“What– Oh. More psychic stuff, huh?”

“PreCog, and yes.”

“Whatever.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Barely. But she couldn’t help but be curious about his mysterious claim. “What other reason would there be?”

He looked uncomfortable for a second, then shook his head. “Can’t tell you that. As a rule, I try not to influence others’ life decisions, which means I don’t interfere with free will.”

“Well, thanks, Great and Powerful Oz,” she deadpanned. “That’s real helpful. Now what?”

“We have a new lead,” he revealed, studying her intently. “One that might take us to Micah and another of our teammates, Aric Savage, who was captured by this same group a few weeks ago during an op gone bad.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all year—the part about the lead, not the screwup.” A thrill of excitement fired her cop’s blood. “So, what’s the plan? When do we leave?”

“The plan is, Alpha Packis going in to hopefully capture as many of the organization as possible, and rescue our men along with anyone else being held. Youare staying here.”

Her spine straightened. “No damned way. I’m a cop, remember? I can’t get furry and I don’t have any cool supernatural talents, but it sounds to me like you guys need all the help you can get, what with losing your team members right and left.”

“You may be a cop, but in my world you’re a civilian. I can’t be responsible for getting you killed. What am I supposed to tell your brother when I bring him back and he learns that I allowed you to get hurt, or worse?”

Made sense when he put it like that. The Pack’s boss man didn’t want to take the heat if something happened to her.

“All right,” she said nonchalantly. “I can live with that. I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty if I got my ass shredded.”

Nick’s piercing blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve been played?”

For the first time since meeting the Pack’s boss, she smiled. “I’d say you didn’t need to be a fuckin’ psychic to know that.”

As the door to his office closed behind Rowan Chase, Nick sat back in his chair and plowed a hand through his short hair with a weary sigh. The arrival of Micah’s sister was a complication he didn’t need right now. But he couldn’t deny that she was going to be very important to the team.

And to one man in particular.

A knock interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up to see the newest addition to Alpha Pack open the door and poke his head inside.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure, come on in.”

Kalen Black strolled inside and stood in front of Nick’s desk with his booted feet spread, arms crossed over his chest. As always, Nick fought not to stare at Goth-boy dressed in his usual black ensemble, but for better or worse, the young man commanded attention wherever he went.

Jet-black rock-star hair fell in messy layers around his face and to the shoulders of his battered leather duster. Underneath, he wore a mesh T-shirt and jeans tucked into calf-high boots adorned with silver buckles. Black-tipped nails graced the strong fingers digging into his biceps, and striking kohl-rimmed eyes the color of emeralds gazed back at Nick unflinchingly.

Their resident Sorcerer/Necromancer, who was also a panther shifter, was no attention seeker, though. A graduate of the School of Hard Knocks, Kalen simply didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of him. The kid possessed the most raw power of any being Nick had ever run across. And made him feel really goddamned old, which was the sad truth.

If the team knew just howold, they’d never believe it.

“The woman, Miss Chase,” Kalen prompted. “I’m assuming she’s related to the Pack member with the same last name?”

“Rowan is Micah’s sister,” Nick confirmed. “But since neither of us knew Micah I’m guessing you’re not really here to talk about the missing wolf or his sibling.”

The Sorcerer’s neutral expression darkened. Slowly, he lowered himself into one of the chairs opposite Nick, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. That was when Nick noticed that the silver pentagram pendant the younger man wore around his neck, was never without, was missing.

A shiver of dread shot through his veins, and he straightened. He’d learned to never ignore the faint beginnings of a vision. “Where’s your necklace?” he asked sharply.

Kalen’s head came up, his face etched with resignation. “Someone needed it more than I did.”

The sense of dread grew roots and began to flourish. “You gave it to Mackenzie? Damn it, kid—”

“That’s not up for discussion,” Kalen said firmly, holding up a hand. “I’m just here to let you know I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?”

“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Nobody else except my grandmother ever gave a shit about me, or even cared enough to give me a chance to do something with my life. But you were different,” the Sorcerer said quietly. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know, but it’s time for me to hit the road.”

Nick studied Kalen for several long moments. The slump of the man’s shoulders, the tightening around his mouth and the weariness in his eyes told Nick that his newest recruit didn’t want to go but felt he must. “No. Not acceptable.”

The other man blinked. “I can’t stay. You don’t understand.”

“So fill me in on the problem and we’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.” A sad laugh escaped his lips. “As if anything would be where I’m concerned.”

“Tell me, son,” he urged, injecting all the warmth and confidence into his voice that he could muster. After a long moment, the younger man nodded.

“My pentagram was given to me by my grandmother,” he began, gazing at his boots. “She once told me it had been crafted centuries ago by a master Sorcerer, and spelled as a protection against even the most powerful evil. I was never sure about any of that until recently, but it was a gift from her and so it was special to me.”

Nick frowned. “Then why did you give it to Mac?”

“Because she needs the protection and it’s the strongest—the only—talisman I have to give.”

“Why does she need protection? Does this have to do with the attack?” A couple of weeks ago, Kalen and Mackenzie had gone into town separately and had run into trouble in the form of one of those nasty winged creatures with the big mouth full of sharp teeth, like the one he had locked in the basement cell. The two of them had nearly been killed by the damned thing, and would’ve been if Kalen hadn’t gained the upper hand and dispatched it to hell.

“Yeah. Remember, it scratched her and bit me. What I didn’t tell you is Mackenzie started hearing a voice. A sinister one telling her to do all sorts of bad shit.” His expression was bleak. “I tried everything, every spell I knew, but I couldn’t get rid of it. The bastard, whoever he is, was driving her crazy. Literally.”

Nick stood and made his way around the desk, parking his butt on the edge and telling himself not to lambast the younger man for keeping this from him for so long. What mattered now was getting answers. He waited.

“So I put the pentagram around Mackenzie’s neck and told her never to take it off. Seems to be working.”

“Okay, so if she’s fine, why do you feel the need to leave?”

“Because now the bastard is in myhead,” Kalen said miserably. “He’s a very distinct, intelligent being. Those big-mouthed ghoul fuckers work for him.”

Nick stared at him, stunned. “He admitted this?”

“Yes, and that’s not all. He said he knew that by driving Mac out of her mind, he’d force me to give her the pendant, leaving me vulnerable to his machinations. I’m the one he wanted all along. He somehow knows way too much about me, wants to use me—and I’m afraid he’s slowly winning the battle.”

The dread that had taken root morphed into fear. What entity was such a great physical force in the universe that it could manipulate a Sorcerer who had few equals?

There were only two possible beings on that list, and either of them taking control of Kalen would spell disaster for everyone. And why? What is his ultimate goal?

First, they had to contain the threat.

“Kalen,” he said, “I can’t let you leave. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The Sorcerer stared at him for a long moment, then swallowed hard. “If I go, you’ll hunt me down and kill me.”

“If you go rogue and fight us, yes. I’ll have no other choice. But if you stay, we’ll monitor you and do all we can to free you of hisinfluence, whoever he is.”