Generation 18: The Spook Squad 2 (30 page)

“You’re all talk, little girl. And if you’re waiting for those others to come to the rescue, I have to tell you, five is not enough.”

Fear slivered through her. “What are you talking about?”

He chortled. “Those five heartbeats that draw close. I sensed them ages ago, though I have to admit I didn’t feel you until you were really close.”

Why? That was the question that needed to be answered, but she wasn’t going to risk asking Orrin. The less the giant knew about her—or rather, her appalling lack of knowledge about her past and her skills—the better. “If you know they’re there, you must know that you’re never going to escape.”

“They don’t hold enough firepower to stop me.”

“One laser set to the maximum is enough to stop you, Orrin.”

“But I am one with the night. They can’t see me. Only you can.”

A point she’d mulled over not so long ago. “This is the SIU we’re talking about here. You think they don’t have weapons to bring down rat bait like you?”

He snarled—a sound that crawled across her skin, sending shivers up her spine. It was a malignant, angry noise.

“Then I’ll just have to use you as a shield before I kill you.”

“Not something I’m planning to let happen, I can tell you.”

“Who said anythin’ about choice?”

He rushed her again. Air surged from her left—a fist, looking for a target. She ducked and then swung the bar. Felt it caught in some gigantic vice before it was ripped from her hand.

She turned and ran. He didn’t follow.
Playing with his prey, enjoying the hunt,
she thought.

She stopped at the far end of the room, her breath coming in short gasps that tore at her throat. From fear, more than exertion.

He flung the bar to one side. It hit the wall hard enough to leave a dent and clattered to the floor halfway between herself and Orrin.

“Come get your toothpick, girlie.”

Said the spider to the fly
. “No, thanks. I’m comfortable right where I am.”

He sighed. “You really aren’t playing the game right, you know.”

She flexed her fingers, trying to ease the tension knotting her limbs. Energy tingled across her fingertips, firefly bright in the darkness. Maybe she really didn’t need the bar. Maybe she had a weapon primed and ready to go.

If only she could figure out how to use it without getting too close to Orrin.

“Fire won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re planning with that lighter.”

He’d seen the brief dance of flames across her fingers, obviously. Overhead, thunder rumbled. The storm was close, so close. She could feel the vibrations of it shuddering through her soul.

Orrin swept toward her again. She ducked away, but this time he was ready for it. His fist connected against her chin and sent her flying. She hit the concrete with a grunt, the air leaving her lungs in a whoosh. For a moment, stars fizzed across her vision.

Then she felt the wind of Orrin’s approach. She scrambled upright and staggered away. He stopped.

“I haven’t had a good fight in ages,” he said, almost wistfully. “Perhaps I’ll kill you fast at the end, just to show my appreciation.”

“Gee, thanks.” She gingerly touched her chin. Blood dripped from a cut a good two inches long. Orrin had to be wearing a ring of some kind.

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

Obviously he’d missed the sarcasm in her voice. Thunder rumbled across the night again. Every nerve ending seemed to respond to the call of the storm. Power tingled through her body, a wildness that burned at her fingertips, aching for release.

She clenched her hands and watched the stain that was Orrin. Again the air stirred. This time she didn’t move, but simply stood watching and waiting. His evil rolled over her, a black wave of darkness that made her shudder in revulsion. His steps drew close.

At the last possible moment, she ducked. The wind of his punch stirred her hair. She reached up and grabbed his arm. Fire leapt from fingers—jagged pieces of lightning that raced up his arm and across his body.

She could see him, she realized. See the sudden flash of terror in his eyes.

He screamed as the force of her power flung him across the room. Then the lightning died, and weakness washed through her. Her legs collapsed from beneath her, and suddenly she was kneeling on cold concrete, gasping for breath, her whole body trembling with exhaustion. Whatever the power was, it had limitations—physical limitations. The force was a hell of a lot stronger than she ever could be.

Orrin hit the concrete with a splat that shuddered through the foundations. He groaned for several moments, the smell of burnt flesh heavy in the air.

Finally, Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed upright. Now was the time to run for the stairs, to try to escape. She staggered forward, but Orrin rose. For a moment, he simply stood and watched her. His arm hung by his side, blackened. His eyes were dark, glazed and certainly no longer human. The vampire half of his soul had risen fully to the surface.

There would be no mercy for her now. Nothing but death, long and lingering, if she didn’t get the hell out of here now.

The darkness cloaked him once more, and with a primeval scream of fury, he ran at her. She’d never make the stairs. As the realization hit, she swung away, running for the back door. Energy still tingled at her fingertips, a muted echo of the force she’d unleashed on Orrin. Perhaps it would be enough to shatter the top lock and open the door. She had to get help. She couldn’t survive Orrin without it.

She leapt for the door and slapped a palm high up, fingers barely brushing the lock despite her leap. Fire danced across the bolt. There was a brief report, like gunfire, and then the bolt disintegrated.

Orrin closed in so fast she didn’t have time to get the door open. She leapt sideways and hit the ground instead, thrust an arm against the wall to steady herself, then ran. Away from Orrin. Away from the door.

He gave chase. His steps echoed in her ears, drawing closer with every beat of her heart. Fear surged, as did the fire. It pulsated through her body, burned at her fingertips. But to use it, she’d have to stop, have to let him get close enough to touch her. And that could be fatal.

She neared the stairs again and thought briefly about climbing them. But he’d catch her at the door, and there was no room to fight on the landing itself. Nor could she afford to block the entrance, just in case Stephan or the others came to the rescue.

She ran past the steps, headed once again for the far side of the room. The thump of Orrin’s footsteps drew closer, until it was almost all she could hear.

Wind stirred, a cyclonic force reaching out to grab her. She ducked to the right, felt his fingers tear down her arm, and headed back across the room, knowing she had little time left.

He caught her hair and wrenched her backward. She yelped and fought for balance, but he was far too strong. He threw her backward and she hit the floor with another yelp. Then he was on her, his weight crushing her chest and stomach, his fingers around her neck, squeezing hard.

Desperation burned through her. Her arms were pinned by his knees. She couldn’t move. She struggled to breathe. Light danced before her eyes—star-bright light that wavered in and out of focus.

She
had
to free her arms. The fire that burned through her soul was her only chance to live. She began to struggle, bucking her body, trying to shift his bulk enough to free her arm. One would do. One would kill.

He laughed, and the sound crawled across her skin.

“Fight, my pretty. Fight while I watch you die.”

She tried to reply but couldn’t. Her breath was little more than short, sharp gasps. The dancing lights were getting brighter, and the darkness of unconsciousness threatened. She didn’t have much time left.

The door at the top of the stairs opened. Footsteps whispered across the silence. Two sets—two men.

“Sam?”

Gabriel’s voice. Etched with pain, but strong. Relief swam through her. At least he would live.

“Sam, are you here?”

Of course she was here. Couldn’t he see her? Couldn’t he see Orrin? Couldn’t he see that the fucker had her so close to death?

She blinked. No, he couldn’t. Orrin was cloaked in darkness. And perhaps she was, too.

She struggled harder, bucking her body, trying to dislodge the giant’s weight or loosen his fingers. Orrin made no noise, and no acknowledgment of the two men on the landing. Either the bloodlust had made him oblivious to his surroundings or he just didn’t care.

“Sam, I can’t see you, but I know you’re here somewhere. Where’s Orrin?”

“Right here,” she tried to scream, but it came out as little more than a weak gasp. Her lungs burned with the need for air. His fingers were digging deeper and deeper into her flesh. He’d soon crush her larynx. Then he’d drain her, while her goddamn partner stood by and saw nothing but darkness.

The blue-white beam of a laser fire bit through the night, striking the concrete very close to them, and Orrin jerked in surprise. Sam bucked and managed to get one arm free from the weight of his knee.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed—not only across the night, but right through her soul. Fire scorched through every nerve ending, aching for release.

Another laser beam bit through the darkness, close enough to touch. Orrin swore under his breath. Just for an instant, his fingers relaxed and she sucked in a great gulp of air.

“Gabriel, here!” she screamed, then slapped her hand against Orrin’s thigh.

Power surged—a lightning flash that poured from her fingers to him. He jerked, mouth open in shock, as electric fingers of light swam across his body.

The storm-held power wrenched his weight from her, shattering his cover of darkness as it flung him across the room.

The laser light flashed again. Two beams, a deeper blue this time. Orrin landed near the base of the stairs, a gaping black hole where his face had been.

He was dead. Thank the gods, he was dead.

Relief stirred, but she didn’t. It was all she could do just to gulp in great gasps of air. Her throat burned, as if his fingers were still around it, digging deep. But she’d survived. With the power of the storm, and a little help from Gabriel, she’d done the impossible.

She’d survived Orrin Whittiker.

Footsteps drew close and Gabriel appeared, his movements stiff and slow, like those of an old man. His face was white and etched with pain. His hair was matted, black with sweat and stiff with blood.

He knelt beside her, then reached out to touch her bruised cheek. “I’ve seen you look healthier.”

“And here I was thinking you’d never looked better.” Her voice came out as little more than a harsh whisper. It didn’t matter. She knew he’d understand her, even if no words came out.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re alive.”

A smile twitched his lips. “How did you find me?”

“With those psychic abilities I don’t have.”

His smile grew. With one finger, he gently traced the line of her cheek to her chin, his touch like fire against her skin. Awareness surged between them, and just for a moment, she saw the desire in his eyes. The longing. Then his gaze hardened and the warmth disappeared, right along with his touch.

Anger fired through her. She was sick of playing these games, sick of being shoved into a shoe box and being told to stay. Sick of his words and actions saying one thing, yet his
reactions
saying another. He didn’t want her as a partner, and, truth be told, he probably wouldn’t have her as anything else.

Fine, then. Let him win the war, if that was what he really wanted.

It was time she started taking control of her life. And part of that was not only finding her past, but creating a future as well. If Gabriel wanted no part of that future, then fine. It was time she accepted the fact and just moved on.

“Stephan’s calling an ambulance for us both,” he said, his voice all cool efficiency. “And organizing a cleanup team.”

“Rose?” Her voice was still scratchy, but it was filled with barely controlled annoyance.

“Dead. Stephan shot her.”

“Good.” She rolled sideways and carefully climbed to her feet. The effort left her head swimming, and for several seconds she rested her hands on her knees and gasped for breath.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He reached out, perhaps to steady her, perhaps to stop her, but she jerked away from his touch and saw the flicker of surprise on his face. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like hospitals. I’m going home.” Or, at least, to the motel she’d booked into for the night.

He frowned. “You should get checked out first. Besides, what have you got to go home to?”

Nothing—the same as ever. And that was just something else she’d have to change. Placing her trust, and her need for friendship, in the hands of her partners had been nothing short of stupidity. And in the end, it had only led to grief. All her life she’d been longing for friends, for family. Maybe she couldn’t do anything about the second desire, but she could certainly get off her ass and do something about the first. Life was there to be explored—and it was about time she started doing that.

It was a pity she hadn’t realized that before Jack had come along. Though in many ways, he had perhaps saved her. She was no longer content to drift. She wanted—needed—something more out of life. “What does it matter to you what I have and haven’t got to go home to?”

His gaze briefly searched hers, then he shrugged and said, “It’s your life.”

“That it is,” she muttered, and turned away.

She could feel his gaze on her back, curious, and perhaps a little angry.

“Sam,” he called softly after a few seconds.

She hesitated, and half turned around. “What?”

“Thanks.”

In the hazel depths of his eyes, she saw the warmth, the longing, that he would never admit to and never unleash. In many ways, Gabriel Stern was just as imprisoned by his memories of the past as she was by her lack of them.

And there was nothing she could do or say to free him. The choice was his, and it had been made long ago.