Read Skin Deep Online

Authors: T. G. Ayer

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Urban

Skin Deep (10 page)

BOOK: Skin Deep
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Thankfully, my patient didn't take long to reawaken, even after the trauma of my poor excuse for surgery.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, tucking the blankets gently around his neck
.

"Better...
." he rasped.

The kid had courage. And I was curious.

"You from around here?"

His eyes revealed his hesitation. Some inner battle was waged beneath the frown. To tell me more would be to make himself vulnerable, to trust me. Perhaps he had the same issues I did with that.

Moments later, he reached a decision and when he spoke I was surprised.

"Kai, it's me, Anjelo Junovic."

Shock spasmed through me as I searched his face, studied the lines and remembered the little boy I had once known. Funny, in spite of being so near him for so long I hadn't recognized his face. Older, weathered from his time on the streets, and little bit tired. A face belonging to one of the many kids who'd taken to following me around the colony, trying to emulate me. I'd been reluctantly popular.

And this nitwit had taken emulation one step too far.

"Anjelo." I wanted to shake him. "What in Ailuros's name were you thinking?"

"We saw you leave...
.Gave us the courage to try a new life as well."

"Did you not stop and think how dangerous this could be for you?" Blood thundered to my brain.

"You did it and you're a g..." he said. A poor defense.

"You dolt. I may be a girl but I am strong, trained. Alpha trained." I stressed the last two words. A bit unfair, but not everyone was born to Alpha status.

"Everyone knew you were fine, so we thought it'd be okay if we did what we wanted too." He looked at me hopefully.

I was livid. Not with Anjelo. With myself. I'd never intended to influence anyone. And now, my act of defiance had resulted in my young pack-mate being hurt. Indirect or not, I bore the weight of responsibility squarely on my own stupid, stubborn shoulders.

I met Storm's eyes over Anjelo's prone body, and thankfully saw no judgment in his expression.

"This is Storm." I hid a smile at the belated introduction. Anjelo continued. "He's given me a place to stay, and he's bossed me into going to school here...some place called Crawdon High." Anjelo blew out a breath.

"Great. Well, then, you'd better work hard. And I guess I'll be seeing more of you." Anjelo's eyes, dulled with pain, suddenly brightened at the prospect of seeing me more often. I still could not understand what he saw in me, but I wasn't about to disappoint the child.

He grunted, a poor imitation of a laugh, and lay back, clearly happy with himself. And somewhere inside me, a little part of me was happy too.

 

***

 

Chapter 13

Logan laid his heavy head in his hands, grateful to have the weight off it. He continued to gnaw at the new evidence, turning it over in his mind, getting at it from every angle. Jess had gone back to HQ to file a report. Now she stood before him, studying his frustration with an annoyingly calm expression.

Guess it wouldn't help to kill the messenger.

"All the tests are complete?" He looked at Jess for a response.

She nodded.

The bloods would’ve been put through every test Omega had, double and triple checked. The result was the same. The DNA of the Skinwalker was clear enough. A perfect amalgamation of Human and Cougar DNA. Natural mutation. The lab certified this was not a genetically engineered creature, and not a clone either. Logan had ensured that piece of paper went missing from the file sent to the coroner. And the one sent to the Police Chief, of course.

"We knew the corpse belonged to a Skinwalker
, so no surprises there."

Logan continued reading.

"Sample is positive for Skinwalker - specific to Genus Cougar. Comparison with sample batches all positive. Traces of Neurotoxins found: -awaiting results."

It was the last bit of information that alarmed him. His head swam. Lack of sleep, lack of food. Everything would catch up with him soon and he'd be dead on his feet.

Literally.

***

The next morning, after a much needed sleep in, I headed for the Rehab Centre. Something always needed to be done and I needed to get my mind off dead Walkers and unusually powerful Wraiths.

I'd barely gotten the computer running and was about to start entering the notes from our last session when the door clicked open and Dr. Heide glided in. No knocking required for her in her facility. Hair as dark as mine hung from a center part, framing a petite, oval face. Beneath the sharp glare and her unsmiling Arctic expression lay the remnants of a beautiful woman. She wore her shield of ice as well as she wore her antiquated Donna Karan suit. Her eyes revealed an emotional vacuum and although laugh-lines wrinkled their corners, I couldn't imagine her capable of such a warmly Human act.

She regarded me with those beady black eyes—so like a crow with its glassy, predatory stare. Even the set of her shoulders implied she'd arrived ready to fire at the bull’s-eye seemingly marking my forehead.

"A right mess you've gotten yourself into, Miz Odel." She slapped a piece of paper emblazoned with the Chicago PD insignia onto my desk.

Taken aback by the verbal attack, I fumbled for a decent response. Clearly not the best reaction, as it seemed to confirm my guilt in her mind.

"While this investigation is under way, you’re on paid leave. Consider this a token of my appreciation for you as a member of this staff, however junior." She flung the words over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

Guilty—and suspended—until proven innocent.

"Don't make me regret this."

I was about to ask how being suspended was an indication of her appreciation when she stopped at the doorway and said, "You need to understand the severity of this situation. If you give me any further trouble, I’ll see to it you’re permanently suspended." Her gaze drilled frosty holes into me and she razed me with one last stare.

The words wafted back at me so cold I could almost see the ice crystals forming on them as they floated toward me. She left me cold and perplexed, listening to the clacking of her heels on the tiled corridor.

The police. They probably dropped by and told her which of her staff had been questioned the previous night. Staff who were now a liability. The mere hint police investigated the facility would be cause for concern, especially with the number of ex-convicts treated within the rehab programs.

Losing registered patients meant losing revenue and Heide was no doubt concerned she may lose the subsidies the center received for each patient who attended a formal session. Heaven forbid such a thing should happen under her watch. It occurred to me it was quite the miracle I was still around.

I grabbed my backpack; the solid presence of the bow beneath the rough fabric comforted me as I locked up and headed out of the building. Teeth gritted, I tried to banish the vision of Heide's face floating in my memory. She'd made it clear on numerous occasions I was too young for such serious work. But Clancy either had a lot of clout or knew which of Heide's buttons to push to get her way.

I needed to prove I was not a threat to the center.

For myself.

And for Clancy.

***

My run-in with Dr. Heide, more like Dr. Jekyll actually, left me fuming. I bit my cheeks, administering another expletive a crushing death.

I scanned my visitor head to toe, unable to decide if his visit pleased or annoyed me. In the end, the tripping of my heart confirmed him as a welcome sight. I was grateful he hadn't been any earlier. Then he would’ve walked in to my oh-so-demeaning run-in with Heide.

"Hello." An awkward silence followed, as if words failed him. Or he had forgotten what he came to say.

I silently filed away mental notes and ran through the sequence of the previous night's events—the version I'd discussed with Westin, of course.

"More questions, Agent Westin?" I skipped my greetings and flushed guiltily. I met his eyes nonetheless. I was raised to be polite, and it seemed social etiquette held importance to him too. He scowled in rebuke. "No Agent Carnarvon today?"

"Yes and no." Granite eyes pierced mine as he answered both questions. "Just routine. And I need your signature to confirm your statement." He patted the folder tucked under his arm. He wore a dulled black leather jacket—the one he'd worn last night. Seems we made the same fashion choices. "And Jess had some other investigations to do."

A bullet slammed into the brick façade of the building behind me, sending tiny shards of brick and mortar flying like lethal rain. Westin shoved me to the ground, scanning for the origin of the shot. The shooter either sucked or meant the shot as a warning. Heart thundering in my throat, I lifted my head, needing to get a bead on the creep. The heavy metal of my bow poked uselessly into my back.

"Stay down." He emphasized his words with a second shove to my left shoulder. The same shoulder still aching from last night's bullet wound. Stars spun at the edge of my vision and I bit down on a feral growl of pain. Glad the wound had sealed overnight, I lay horizontal on the concrete, lacking both the energy and inclination to do anything else but will the discomfort away. It hurt like the blazes. The agony was curiously edged with a second palpitation of my heart. Within the melee, and beneath my misery, my mind and body registered the impact of Logan's body against mine. I tried to hold on to some of the blazing heat for as long as I could.

Westin pulled his gun from the holster inside his coat, jumped to his feet and ran for the vehicle the shot had been fired from. Another shot issued and shards of brick sprayed onto my head, this time close enough to convince me they shot to kill. My heart jumped, fear filling me as images of Logan lying face-down in a puddle of blood swarmed through my mind. Gears squealed and the sedan sped off. Too fast for a bipedal chase. Something Westin seemed to concede to as he slowed his chase, pausing in the middle of the street, gun drawn and aimed at the getaway vehicle.

I marveled at his grace and athletic power. His youth did not detract from his obvious skill. While lying on the concrete, pain still making my head spin, I gawked like a schoolgirl drooling over her first crush.

 

***

 

Chapter 14

Logan aimed his pistol at the fleeing sedan and p
ulled the trigger. He simultaneously focused a stream of heated energy at the rear left tire; any resulting explosion would be attributed to his shot. The tire hugging the wheel glowed a faint orange as molten air built up within the rubber tube.

The car hung a left at the corner and the tire exploded with a flat blast, sending shreds of rubber onto the street like black confetti at a goth wedding. Some still ablaze as they landed. Pumpkin colored flames spurted, then faded to smoky wisps, leaving tiny piles of melted rubber littered across the street. Though he'd shot at the car, he carried nothing but blanks. He caused far more damage with his mind than with mere bullets.

It wasn't enough though. The gunmen, intent on getting away, sped down the street, mangling the back tire rim. It clanged on the blacktop and sent showers of cobalt and orange sparks spewing in its wake.

Frustrated, Logan shoved the Glock into his halter. The gun was standard issue for all Omega operatives, and in his case, provided a cover should he need to use his power. He'd only tried a controlled stream of Magyk, wanting to avoid blowing up the entire car and hoping to slow them down long enough for him to get closer. Anything bigger and people could’ve gotten hurt.

The image of a blackened restaurant marred his vision.

Unbidden.

Unwanted.

Charred bodies seated at wrinkled and melted Formica tables, no longer their original bright blooming red. A patch of melted checkered-tiled floor around a pair of sneakered feet. Black scorch marks blossomed from the sneakers. Even the ceiling above bore burn marks in a circular pattern. As if something had exploded where he stood. An explosion large enough to incinerate everything within a twenty-foot radius in the beat of a hummingbird's wing.

Sirens sounded in the distance and the vision dissolved, replaced by the now empty street and the babbling crowd drawn by the gunshots. He turned back to Kailin to find her surrounded by a group of concerned citizens.

Shouldering the onlookers aside, he made his way to her. He crouched down next to her where she sat, holding her head in her hand. He searched his memory. Did he shove her hard enough to injure her? He tried to move her hand away to get a better look at the wound. She resisted, glaring at him, then glancing pointedly at their interested audience.

"Okay, people. Give the lady some air." He rose, waving the onlookers away with a flick of his badge. "Just a small bump on the head, nothing serious. Thank you for your concern."

He heard and understood their concerns. What was their neighborhood coming to? A murdered man dumped in their communal garden, now a young woman shot at in broad daylight. People were concerned for their safety.

The crowd heaved and pulsed like a sardine shoal, then dispersed as quickly as they had appeared.

BOOK: Skin Deep
5.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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