Awaken Me Darkly (6 page)

“I gave up prayer a long time ago.”

“Do it anyway.” He placed the boot over his fist and hit the glass, dead center, using all his strength. Nothing. He punched and punched and punched. Finally, thankfully, the glass gave way and shattered. The sound blended with the booming music like wind chimes on a blustery day. I’m sure we tripped some sort of alarm.

I removed my jacket and threw it over the jagged threshold. Dallas gave me a hand up. He came through behind me, tossed me my jacket, and we were on our way. I welcomed the cold, fresh breeze as darkness and snowflakes swirled all around us.

“I hear footsteps,” Dallas said, grabbing my hand. “Move faster.”

Together, we dashed to his car.

Two hours later, we were no closer to finding Lilla than we had been when we first left the club. We now had her voice on tape, but wherever she was, she wasn’t talking, so we couldn’t pinpoint her location.

We’d tracked down and spoken with several people she’d listed as contacts, but had no luck with any of them.

“This sucks ass,” Dallas said.

I agreed.

I sat in the passenger seat of his sedan. We were maneuvering down the East District’s winding streets, made slick from the snow. Though the car guided itself, Dallas kept his eyes on the road, ever conscious of our surroundings. Music rocked softly from the speakers, and heat trickled from the vents, both as oppressive as my thoughts.

Someone close to me was going to die before the night ended.

The premonition took me by surprise. I blinked, and just like that I saw a scene unfold in my mind, though I could not make out all the specifics. I saw the blast of a pyre-gun, the fall of a man. I couldn’t see his face, nor could I see who had fired the shot; I only knew the shooter was a woman, the victim was my friend, and every fiber of my being was screaming of the approaching death.

Dallas sometimes teased me about being psychic. I always denied it, said my instincts were simply better than most. But I lied. I
was
able to predict certain events.

I was fourteen years old the day of my first vision. In my mind I had seen my youngest brother lying in a crimson river, three aliens standing over him, laughing and pointing. I’d pretended then that what I’d seen hadn’t been real, had only been a figment of my imagination. But the next day I found Dare unconscious, his body drained of blood.

My next vision came a year later. I saw my dad get drunk and step in front of an oncoming car.

Vehicle sensors hadn’t been as sensitive as they were today, and the front end slammed into him. Of course, I immediately told him what I’d seen. He’d laughed, waved me away with an indifferent sweep of his hand. Two days later a sedan barreled into him. He broke his hip and leg and had to endure bone replacement surgery. He’d never spoken of it, but I know my ability scared him.

That’s when I began to realize just how different I was. I realized, too, that I had to push myself harder than everyone else, had to be better, stronger, and smarter if I wanted to be seen as one of the boys.

I rubbed a hand over my face. With this new vision, I was going to take measures to prevent it from coming true. I had to. Yet with each second that ticked by, dread churned inside me, growing colder than the glacial snow whipping outside the windows.

Just what could I do? Delay our hunt until tomorrow, perhaps? Radio all of my men and send them home?

As soon as those thoughts entered my mind, I discarded them. Civilian lives depended on me. On us. I wouldn’t abandon my job, even for one night. And my men wouldn’t either, even if I begged them.

Our jobs came before our emotions. Always.

So what could I do? My teeth ground together as helplessness claimed me. Over the years, I’d lost my brother Dare and many, many friends to rogue aliens, and I wouldn’t lose another friend without a fight. I didn’t have many left, and those I had meant something to me.

“Stop the car,” I managed on a shaky catch of breath.

Dallas cast me a quick glance. “Why? We’re almost—”

“Stop the fucking car!”

“Stop,” he commanded the vehicle. The sound of squealing tires filled my ears, and I was suddenly thrust forward with the momentum of our skid and ultimate stop. Another car honked and swerved around us.

Dallas leveled me a frown. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

I didn’t know what to tell him, so I simply said, “I need a moment to think.”

“Of what? How to find Lilla?” He lost some of his anger. “I’ve already loaded her voice frequency, but she’s not goddamn talking, so there’s nothing we can do.”

“Just get on the computer and see what else you can dig up about her.” I didn’t spare Dallas another glance. “Open,” I commanded the door, and the hatch slid open. I stepped into the bitterly cold night.

I strode a few paces away, my boots crunching snow with every step. I realized I stood at the edge of State Street, alone, silent, the cloak of twilight and stars all around me. Several snowflakes floated onto my lashes, and I blinked the crystals away, hoping to blink my fears away, as well.

Both remained.

Maybe I had missed something in the vision, some obscure detail that would help me prevent the death from occurring. There was only one way to find out….

I closed my eyes, manipulated my consciousness until I stood at the periphery of my thoughts, and allowed the gruesome scene to replay in my mind, along with a deep, pounding ache.

Through a thick, gloomy fog, I see two women; one is a human, the other is alien. They are
facing each other. I can’t make out their coloring, can’t make out anything except the shape of
their bodies. A man bursts into the room, behind the alien. I know this man, his scent, his energy,
but his identity escapes me. He shoves the alien aside. The human woman fires a pyre-gun. The
man falls in a puddle of his own blood.

The vision left me in the next instant.

I cracked open my eyes. My hands clenched at my sides as my helplessness intensified, more real than the aches and pains of my battered body. I didn’t know why the man had pushed the alien aside, or why he’d taken a blast of fire for her. Nor did I know why a human would want to hurt him. And I still didn’t know the identities of the victim or the killer.

I drew in a deep breath, then slowly released the air through my lips. No friend of mine was going to die tonight. I simply wouldn’t allow it. I would suspect every human female I encountered, and I
would
save this man.

If we could just find Lilla, we could lock her up, and Dallas and the others could go home, away from danger.

My movements were clipped, jerky, as I spun around and strode back to the car. The passenger door was still open, so I slid inside and slammed it shut beside me.

Dallas was plugging away at the computer console. He shot me a glance. “Better now?”

“Yes.” I didn’t explain further.

The edges of his month twitched. “You always have PMS this bad?”

“This is actually a light case,” I replied dryly.

He chuckled, the husky timbre of amusement mingling with his next words. “God help us all when it’s bad, eh?”

I opened up to tell him to go to hell. Before one word emerged, however, his expression sobered, and he cursed under his breath. He pounded a fist into the keyboard. “I’m having a hell of a time getting back into Lilla’s file. Damn it! If I could match her voice frequency, we’d be set.”

“Forget voice. We’re missing something,” I said on a frustrated breath. In my mind, I pored over everything I knew about her, everything I’d learned from our meeting. “The woman isn’t very discriminating. Is she linked to any more men?”

“Not that I’m aware of. She’s been seen with William Steele, of course, and Mark St. John, but no one else. Well,” he added, “unless you count George Hudson, her arresting officer.”

The moment Dallas spoke those words, several pieces of the puzzle connected in my mind. “You’

re a freaking genius, Dallas.” I flopped back against the headrest and laughed with excitement. “Hudson.

We haven’t yet talked to Hudson. He’s involved somehow.”

“But why did Lilla allow him to arrest her? Her capacity for mind control is staggering, as we both found out.”

“Wait. Remember what she said? That she couldn’t force Steele to do what she wanted? Maybe she can’t control everyone. Maybe she can’t control the men she screws.”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s very good. Since she couldn’t convince Hudson to forget her arrest, she must have clocked in a few hours between the sheets with him.”

I was intrigued—and disgusted—by Hudson’s supposed behavior, which didn’t fit with A.I.R.

standards. Agents did not sleep with other-worlders. Ever. For any reason. “If they were sleeping together, though, why didn’t he simply let her go? Why go to all the trouble of taking her down to the station, booking her, and then burying her record?”

“Maybe he was jealous of her association with Steele and wanted to teach her a lesson: obey me or pay the consequences.”

“There are other ways to teach an alien a lesson. Ways that don’t include incriminating himself.”

“Witnesses,” Dallas said, slapping his thigh. “There would have been witnesses to her crimes, and Hudson had to make her arrest appear real.”

My eyes widened. “God, this all seems so clear now,” I said, and with that, relief hammered through me. Knowing exactly who had hidden Lilla’s file wiped away my worries about the station house.

I could take Lilla into custody now; I could interrogate her on
my
turf.

This didn’t mean my friends were completely safe, of course. It just meant I had one less worry on this shit-filled night.

“What do we know about Hudson?” I asked.

Dallas punched some keys. A picture of George Hudson filled the screen, his information posted beside his smiling face.

“Forty-one. Brown hair, brown eyes.” Dallas paused. “I’d forgotten his coloring. A perfect match for our missing men.” He rolled his neck, and the bones popped. “Do you really think she’d go to him?

That she’d go to the man who arrested her?”

“Oh, yeah. She’d feel safe with the A.I.R. agent who’s protected her twice already.”

“Should I call for backup?”

I nodded. “Have Ghost and Kittie meet us at the old warehouse on Water.”

Dallas radioed the two agents, then programmed the address into the car. Our tires squealed as the vehicle veered onto the street, high-tech sensors guiding it and keeping it from crashing into objects.

“I told you the night was going to be interesting.”

“Interesting?” I shook my head. “No. It’s about to get ugly.”

A flash of movement captured my attention. My eyes narrowed, and I intensified my focus, my head turning as the car sped farther and farther away. When I saw a second flash, a peculiar, familiar energy washed over me. Just like at the club. And I knew. It was the male Arcadian.

“Stop the car.”

“Again?” Dallas asked.

“Pull over,” I shouted.

At his command, the car once more jerked to a stop, and I propelled forward in my seat, then back. At this rate, I would have whiplash by morning.

“Stay on your guard,” I told Dallas, then said, “Open,” to the car. As the hatch lifted, I added, “I spotted someone I want to question.” I jumped out, my weapon already drawn, my feet already moving, causing me to leap into a run the moment my shoes touched the ground. This was not the setting of my vision, so I had no compulsion to guard Dallas.

“Why the hell—” I heard Dallas shout behind me, his voice traveling with me. I didn’t slow down to explain. Couldn’t. He’d follow. He always followed when I took off. His protective instincts wouldn’t allow him to wait passively behind.

My eyes continually searched the area around me. Damn, where had the Arcadian gone? I kept running, following his Onadyn scent.

With each pump of my feet and arms, with each jagged rock that beat into my boots, it became more and more clear that this man meant only to taunt me. When Dallas had ground the car to a halt, I had seen the Arcadian smile—smile, damn him—before sprinting away at full speed.

My footsteps continued to pound into the pavement. My heated breath mingled with the icy wind.

Buildings towered on both my left and right sides, causing even greater darkness to swell around me. My senses were alert, my nocturnal vision excellent, and I finally caught another glimpse of him. I watched a trench coat whip around a corner and followed.

“Stop!” I shouted. “A.I.R.”

His laughter floated to me, rich and smooth, like warm brandy during a summer storm, unbelievably, suggestively sensual.

I’d catch him, the bastard, if for no other reason than to cut out his voice box so he’d never laugh again. As I ran, I adjusted my pyre-gun to stun, aimed, and fired off several rounds. With each shot, blue lights blazed a trail in front of me, illuminating the shocked faces of the alley’s inhabitants. The lights quickly faded.

I’d missed him. Every time. He dodged each round as if he knew exactly where they would land.

Faster, Mia,
I commanded myself.
Don’t lose him
. Ragged breath burned in my throat and lungs and clanged in my ears, but I forced myself to keep moving.

Abruptly my run came to a stop, for reasons that had nothing to do with stamina. A wall blocked the end of the alley. Turning, panting, I eyed every inch of this bricked enclosure. The Arcadian was nowhere to be seen. How the hell had he gotten past that wall?

In the next instant, something soft brushed my ear. I whipped around, fired. Hit only the wall. The same softness brushed my other ear, renewing my awareness, propelling that odd thrill of energy through me. I spun, fired, and cursed. Still, nothing.

“You are being followed,” a husky male voice said.
His
voice. The warrior. He sounded serious and grave now, and I couldn’t tell which direction his voice came from. He was moving too fast.

“I know I’m being followed,” I said through clenched teeth. “By you.” Steady. “Are you a coward? Reveal yourself.”

“Another has already been taken, Mia Snow, and another will soon become a victim as well.” He continued to move around me so swiftly I couldn’t get a lock on him. “Will you protect these victims,” he said, “or will you help the killer?”