Hunting the Shadows (7 page)

“Why would I? She wasn’t part of our team.”

“Ok.” She was quiet a moment. He could practically see her restless energy as she shifted her weight in the chair. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

J.C. narrowed his eyes, pinning her with a glare at the cryptic words. He was about to ask what the hell she was talking about when the headache he’d been battling shifted over his skull with full force. His vision blurred and the morgue darkened. He stumbled, slapping a hand against the counter to stabilize himself and, when everything doubled, missed and fell forward to his hands and knees.

Ajay’s cry was like a whip against his temples. She rushed to his side.

J.C. touched his forehead to the floor as the room spun. He could do nothing to protect himself. His mind went blank, instinct overriding all thought. Images layered over images in his mind, overloading his system.

He had no defense against his past.

J.C. gasped, forcing himself to breathe when his lungs began to burn. It was too much. He lashed out, expelling the energy that built and tiles flew up around him. There was no way to ground himself.

Hopes. Dreams. Pain. Nightmares.

They all swirled through him like a storm. He remembered now. Leila. Ashton. But more than anything, he remembered
her
. Amy.

Her presence was there. How had he not felt her moments ago? She was strong, not giving him a chance to close up. Despite the fact that he was at his threshold for pain, he felt her soft, soothing touches.

Stefan’s attack when they were sixteen blindsided him before he could prepare himself.

His back burned as though reliving the scarring, the sharp stab of pain as cuts split his skin from an invisible assault—a punctured lung, a serious knife wound to his ribs, various broken bones, they were only the start of what torment his body would go through again. The only difference was that this time, it was all in his memory.

The betrayal hurt the most. Stefan had done nothing but look down at him on the ground with pale, icy eyes before walking away. Mackenzie found and drained her energy in an effort to heal him. She’d saved his life, but he’d still ended up in Medical.

His mind shut down. Pitched forward into oblivion, J.C. lay on the floor, unmoving until the pain receded and the electricity from his neurons jerked his muscles to life and restarted his system.

Sound came back first—Ajay calling his name. J.C. forced his eyes open and found himself flat on his back with her leaning over him.

For a moment, he simply stayed there, not trusting the attack to have subsided completely. What the fuck had happened?

The migraine had shifted from his temples and was fading away.

What had the telepath done to him? He had to know and she was going to tell him.

When a blinding pain came at him again, he knew it wasn’t his. It was different, muted by terror.

Something was wrong with Amy.

Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, J.C. brushed off Ajay’s concern. He opened his mind completely, searching for Amy.

The taste of her fear flooded his senses.
Cold air brushed at his skin.

Almost as though expecting the window to be open, he turned around in the morgue. Outside, the sky was dark with angry clouds, the wind whipping the branches of a nearby tree against the glass.

He reached for the link she’d created in his mind and grasped it before it slipped through mental fingers. Her connection was weak, drifting in and out. He shut all other senses down, focusing on her.

“What’s wrong?”
When Amy didn’t answer, J.C. tried that link between them again.

A bead of wetness slide from his hairline. Lifting a hand, J.C. wiped at the substance, but his fingers came back dry. He frowned. His clothes felt tight as he moved across the room, the feel of wet material clinging to him.

He shivered and swiped at the water that fell into his eyes but there was nothing. His hand stilled mid-air, then dropped back to his side.

“J.C., please…he tried to kill me.”

Pain—sharp and agonizing—made his entire body tense. J.C. dropped his hand to his thigh expecting to find a wound. He let out a slow, ragged breath between clenched teeth. Everything blurred and for one long moment, the room disappeared, replaced with the thick brush of trees and rocky ground beneath his feet.

She was outside.

Dropping his hand to his side, he made sure he still had his gun.

“What are you talking about? We got him, Amy. Tristan was the killer. He’s dead.”
Where was she?

“No you didn’t. I don’t know who you got but it wasn’t him. Trust me, J.C., he wasn’t the Psychic Vampire.”

He looked over at Ajay. “I have to go.”

“You can’t. You have to get looked at, J.C.”

He caught her hands and forced her to stay put as he stepped around her. “Ajay, we didn’t get the killer.” His instincts told him to trust Amy. He needed to find her. “Gather the team and go over Tristan’s files. I want to know everything about him, more than he knew about himself.”

“But J.C., you jus—”

He had no time to fight with her. “Do it, Ajay. That’s an order, Agent.”

He stepped into the hall, movements rigid and jerky, almost as though his body was on autopilot. His limp was not his own, the agony only imagined. Taking another staggering step, he merged his mind completely with Amy’s. There were no words to describe the pain or the panic that shook his body.

She broadcasted her senses, so loud that she tore at his defenses, shredding through them as though they were nothing more than mere pieces of paper.

He reached for her.
“Where are you?”

The moment he stepped into the storm, the rain pelted him, instantly soaking his skin and clothes. He ripped through ferns that grabbed at his legs, pushing his way through thick brush and over fallen trees. Lightning forked overhead and lit his path for the briefest of seconds before plunging him back into darkness.

When she started to slip away, he forced her to keep her mind open to his as he strained to see through her eyes. His mind was stronger and he used that, feeling the rough bark under her hands. She was on the verge of falling apart, struggling to stay awake.

“Lost.”

Her admission made the corners of his lips curl. It wasn’t amusing that she was lost or hurt. What
was
amusing was the stubbornness behind the word. Despite the dizzying pain and exhaustion, she wasn’t lying down and giving in. He had to admire that.

Now, all he had to do was find her.

Chapter Seven

Moistening her lips, Amy tentatively stepped over a fallen log, red hot sparks shooting up her leg. With a strangled cry she fell back to the ground, lowering her forehead to the damp leaves.

“Get it together,” she whispered, voice hoarse. She needed to stay conscious.

She glanced upward at the darkened sky, drops of rain rolling down the side of her face.

She wanted to believe this was a nightmare.
Almost wished that she was still in bed, locked in her room.

Steeling herself, Amy clamped a hand tightly over her thigh. Blood pushed between her fingers, the warm liquid spilling down her leg. The movement stole her breath but she needed to staunch the bleeding. Scrambling up on one leg, she leaned against the rough bark of a tree, waiting until the spinning stopped. She swayed. If she passed out, she wasn’t going to be getting back up.

Amy pressed the back of one shaking hand to her mouth.
Ohgodohgodohgod.

Hysteria clawed at her throat and threatened to drive her to her knees. “It’s going to be all right.” She whispered to herself.

J.C. had heard her. His memories had been restored and he was somewhere out there looking for her. All she had to do was hold tight for a bit. She could trust him—had no other choice but to.

Rain soaked her hair and dripped into her eyes.
“J.C., I don’t know where the killer is. I got away.”

“I’m on my way. Does anything in your surroundings stand out?”

She swallowed.
“I’m sorry, no.”

She was surrounded by trees. Narrowing her eyes against the rain, Amy tried to find something distinguishable about her position. She was about to give up when she noticed a clearing with propped up rocks around the circumference of it.
“There’s a small clearing near me with large, flat rocks.”

A graveyard?

“I’m close to where you are. Try and get out of sight.”

Nerves skipped along her thoughts, doubts twisting through her mind and before she could find somewhere to hide, she heard thrashing through the brush. She turned toward the sound as a man burst through branches and ferns, coming to a stop before her.

He was tall, dark hair falling about his face, blue eyes widened in surprise. His gaze fell on her. She stumbled back, feet slipping in the sodden moss. Sliding wildly, she went down hard, sending shock through her leg. Hands caught at her upper arms.

“Don’t touch me!” The feel of his hands on her skin was like a thousand needles.

He wasn’t J.C. She would have known if he was. The familiarity of their bond wasn’t there with this stranger.

“J.C.? Where are you?”
Her voice shook. She retreated within herself to protect herself, the stranger’s touch too much stimulation on her skin.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Amy.” The man’s voice pitched low.

How did he know her name?

She dropped her gaze to the hands that held her. Her breath caught and as she struggled, panic overrode everything else. He merely tightened the grip, his eyes locked onto hers as he kneeled onto the ground.

“Let go of me!”

Thunder softened the sound of the shot. The stranger’s eyes snapped to the right as a bullet slammed into the dirt inches from his hand.

“I believe,” a new voice murmured, “she said to let her go, Stefan.”

The familiarity of the voice made her turn her head. Sun-kissed eyes met hers and she shivered at the power within them. She swallowed the lump in her throat and jerked free, stumbling back against a pile of branches.

Stefan rose slowly. Dirt smudged his jeans. “What the hell is your problem, Nikolaiev?”

“You have hearing problems. I clearly heard her tell you to fuck off.”

J.C. had
found her.

* * *

“What did you do to her?” J.C.’s eyes darted away from Stefan to settle on the small woman slumped to the ground. Amy. She was a mess, hair tangled with branches and what looked to be mud, her pupils dilated so much that her eyes looked wild. Was this the same woman who’d saved his memories? The woman who would lead him to the killer?

Had Stefan done this? Had he hurt her?

J.C. could barely think. He stared down at the woman with blood staining her pale skin, then back to Stefan. His fingers tingled with energy and the need to release it, the hot lance of anger searing him. It flashed through him, the intensity making something snap.

“Answer me, Gurvitch. What did you do to her?”

“Nothing.”

Not good enough. He had rules. Even had a policy about not using his powers against a fellow agent—but at the moment he couldn’t remember a damn thing about it. And frighteningly enough, he found that he didn’t care.

J.C. let that power ripple through him, sparks of energy enervating his cells. As he kicked Stefan’s feet out from under him, power spilled from his fingertips into Stefan’s body, restricting blood flow. The wave of energy rippled outward, the ground lifting and swelling beneath their feet.

“Stay away from her.”

He licked his lips, but he didn’t want to hold back the power. Because his temper demanded blood, J.C. stepped back. He turned toward Amy and as he moved to go to her, he caught a flash from the corner of his eye. It was the only warning he had before Stefan’s attack slammed him to the ground, dirt and rock abrading the skin of his palms.

There were many disadvantages to fighting with an old sparring partner and that included knowing each other’s weaknesses.

Psychic hooks dug into his shields. The pain was a numbing agony that burned and threatened insanity.

His lips curled back in a primal grin. He crouched there as the rain battered down on them, lightning whipping through the dark sky.

“What did you do to her?” he demanded. A blast of wind pushed at him.

“Who is she to you?” Stefan countered.

J.C. caught Stefan’s leg before the delivered kick could connect with his face and the touch of his hand sent bone and blood cells into chaos. It was all a blur. The flash of power, the blast of fire and then the ice as it passed through him. The resounding crack as the weight of his hand knocked Stefan’s leg away, causing bone to fracture and splinter. Stefan falling to the ground with a muffled cry.

The fine edge of his control shattered. The earth rumbled, crumbling as dirt gave way. Instantly alert, J.C. braced his body. The ground shifted, plates of earth shuddering beneath them. When a hole opened up, Stefan’s shout was lost amongst the thunder and crash of rocks that ripped from the sides.

Blind against the windswept rain that pelted him, J.C. lost his balance, digging his fingers into the uneven surface of the earth before he could vault headlong into the dark. Thunder shook the air around them and lightning crackled. The sliver of ground he held gave out. Without anything to hold onto, he was flung into the unknown. Weightless, he tumbled until he finally crashed into the hard rocks and tangled branches below, narrowly missing Stefan’s prone body.

Dead?

Stefan groaned and began to swear. No, definitely not dead.

J.C. turned away. Concern for Amy cooled his anger. He searched through the darkness, squinting to find her.
“Are you okay, Amy?”

Her white skin was a beacon in all the black. J.C. crawled over to her and reached out with a shaking hand, checking for a pulse.

Erratic. But alive.

He ran his hands over her, feeling for broken bones. When he came to a bloody patch at her thigh, J.C. swore. Catching the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head, then tore a strip off to staunch the bleeding.

He closed his eyes. Needing to get a hold of himself before he lost his temper again, J.C. concentrated on orientating himself and figuring out what the hell he’d done. He must have triggered a fault line. He could pick up the softest of sounds, the rumble of thunder as it moved off the mountain edge and the howl of the wind. The air held a chill, smelling stale and damp.

He lifted a hand to get a feel of the area and met no resistance. Spatially, they would have no claustrophobia problems, but there were other problems to worry about such as the chance of mudslides and aftershocks.

Sweat rolled down his temples. He ignored the discomfort and opened his eyes, shifting his gaze to the opening.

“Who is she that you would risk everything for?” Stefan’s voice was faint.

“That’s none of your business, agent. If I think you need to know, I’ll tell you.” His words were cool as he frowned down at Amy, feeling the tingle from her skin against his palm. He glanced over to see Stefan slowly pulling his weight into the opening, away from the rubble. “I better not find out that you attacked her, Stefan.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough,” he growled. “What were you doing out here? Where were you?”

“Out,” Stefan spat. “I don’t need to tell you anything. My business is
mine
, not yours.”

Turning his attention to Amy, J.C. searched her face for answers, something that would explain why she looked familiar. It was more than the fact that she’d been in his head. Physically, he knew her, but he couldn’t place her. His fingers wrapped around her arm, lifting it under the moonlight to get a better look at the markings on her inner wrist.

“Psych ward.”

“What?”

Stefan nodded toward her. “You’re wondering where she came from. She’s from the psych ward. I got a call that a patient had escaped and was somewhere on the grounds. I found her on my way back to the Centre.”

He ran his fingertips over the tattoo and felt her pulse leap. Her words about them locking her up and not being allowed to go outside made sense.

Stefan winced, rubbing a hand over his leg, “Damn it, J.C. Did you have to break it?”

“Count yourself lucky you only got a broken leg.”

He shifted his attention back up again. There had to be a way out. “Too far up to climb,” he mused. And if they did get out, he couldn’t carry both. As much as he’d like to leave Stefan behind, there would probably be others who wouldn’t find his decision amusing and right now, he needed to remember to act the part of the perfectly loyal agent. As it was, he might have ruined the image by fighting Stefan. Amy had risked her life by giving him back his memories. He wasn’t going to take that second chance for granted. From here on out he had to be careful not to make the Council suspicious.

He sighed and tried again to staunch the bleeding at Amy’s thigh. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night. If I were you, I’d sit back and shut up.”

* * *

It didn’t take as long as he’d expected before they were found, an alert having gone out after the earthquake.

Four hours later, J.C. removed his glasses, rubbing at his strained eyes. He glanced away from the file he’d been studying and leaned back in his chair, propping his stiff legs onto the table to stare off at the whiteboard. The woman from the psych ward, the woman that haunted him, now had a face.

Amy.

Age twenty-four.

An exceptionally strong telepathic-empath. That didn’t count whatever ability she’d used to restore his memories. She was a scientist’s dream.

His brows drew tight. She’d been kept in isolation her entire life, needing to be away from the stimulation of others because of chronic seizures. It didn’t surprise him. What did was that she was even alive.

“You need sleep.”

J.C. glanced toward the door when Ajay spoke. Stepping inside, she set a plate with a sandwich beside him. “Mac says Amy is going to be fine. Physically, she’ll recover.”

“She’s one of us.” How many times did he have to say it before it made sense? “She’s from our project line and yet none of us knew about her.”

J.C. reached for the sandwich and lifted the corner of the bread—some kind of undistinguishable meat and cheese. He took a bite and frowned at the rubbery texture. Ajay’s cooking lacked everything that could make a meal delicious. The woman couldn’t make a sandwich, let alone anything edible.

“They’re saying she’s dangerous,” She settled at the end of the table and glanced over at the photos lining the wall. “She killed two guards.”

The rumor going around was that Amy attacked the guards during the nightly rounds and escaped.

He fought to hide his reaction but the anger rippled in his stomach and made the bite of the sandwich unappealing. He set the food down and pushed the plate back. Lowering his feet, J.C. shook his head and stood. “I very much doubt she’s capable of that, but I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”

When he turned, she coalesced in front of him, small droplets of light reforming. “J.C., you should leave it alone. Broderick will have the Council investigating her.”

“No.” The rumble that came from his throat surprised him. “I’m not going to leave it alone. Don’t tell me I can’t do anything when she’s our only witness. She didn’t
escape
and kill the guards. More is going on to this than we’re being told and I don’t like it.”

She was attacked by the killer. He wasn’t going to ignore that and let the Council give this killer another chance to get away from them. Everything had lined up too perfectly with Tristan. J.C. saw that now. Damn it, if it wasn’t him, then who?

Stefan?

Stefan claimed to have found Amy. Was it too coincidental that Stefan had shown up at the right time and place?

J.C. stepped around Ajay, ignoring the look of suspicion she sent him and continued down the hall. The only one that had any answers was in Medical.

Setting his shoulders, he followed the grey marble stone, stepping through darkened glass doors. It didn’t surprise him to find Mackenzie huddled over x-rays of a broken tibia.

“You did a number on Stefan’s leg. My trainee did what she could healing him, but the bone will never be the same,” she murmured, without looking up. Mackenzie had never been able to heal Stefan, an enigma no one could figure out. She could heal anyone else but the moment she tried on Stefan, the wound transferred over to her. “What’s your problem?”

Stefan could be the murderer. That was his problem. J.C. schooled his words, making sure not to divulge the little fact about his conversations with Amy. “Tristan wasn’t the killer.”