Under the Skin (Ritual Crime Unit) (14 page)

She could have been entirely alone. Maybe she was. But the quiet only wound her nerves still tighter. She checked each doorway as she passed, the gun a deceptively light weight in her hands, almost as threatening as the brooding stillness around her. She had to fight her instincts every time not to let her finger slip towards the trigger, not to point the thing ahead of her with no idea yet what she might be facing.

She should never have agreed to take the thing; she wasn’t trained for it, and she was almost more afraid of putting a hole through an innocent than she was of what might leap out from the shadows. Almost. Her hands sweated on the grip.

The rooms she passed looked like workrooms and labs: books, files and computers everywhere. A field day for the Arcane Documents team, assuming they had the chance to secure the site and seize all this as evidence. Through one door she glimpsed a large storage room, suspicious trophies bagged and tagged and organised on shelves. Pierce itched to get in there and catalogue the artefacts, but now wasn’t the time.

As she turned the next corner, the faint murmur caught her ear. Even before she could make out the words, she recognised Maitland’s calm voice. She should have known he would have found a way to sidestep the slaughter. But was he her ally or her enemy right now?

That might just depend on who he was talking to.

She crept closer to the voices, straining her ears to pick up the words.

“How far do you think you’ll get if you run?” That was Maitland talking, still sounding relaxed. “Your allies have packed up and fled by now, and they won’t risk themselves by coming back for you. You’ve run out of shapeshifters to defend you.”

“I can make more.” The second voice was low and rough, with an arrogant edge.

“Can you?” Maitland was just as self-assured. “You might have the skills, but you don’t have resources. Where do you plan on getting the animals to make pelts? This is England. Missing wolves and tigers draw lots of attention.”

“I can do better than wolves and tigers,” the other man said, and Pierce’s fingers tightened around the gun. This was their man. But what was Maitland playing at? She edged closer to the corner to try and see. The harsh fluorescent lights and bare corridors left few shadows to conceal her movements.

“Maybe,” Maitland said matter-of-factly. “But too many missing people will bring even more trouble than wolves. You won’t last long without a patron to protect you. Turn yourself in.”

“Or what, you’re going to make me?” The skinbinder snorted. “You and what army? The one my monsters ripped to pieces?”

Smug youthful bravado, but he had ability to back it up. Pierce stole a cautious look around the corner.

The short corridor beyond led to an emergency exit that must come out at the rear of the building. It had a push bar that would set off an alarm when it was opened, probably the only reason Sebastian had hesitated long enough to cause this standoff. Maybe he wasn’t as sure as he’d claimed that Maitland’s team were all dead, but so far as she’d seen, he was probably right.

Did Maitland know that?

Right now he was standing a safe distance from the skinbinder, hands slightly raised to signify that he wasn’t a threat. Sebastian had his eagle wings strapped to his back again, and he was closer to the door. He could take his chance with the alarm and flee; what was he waiting for?

“I can see you’re not the kind to be intimidated by threats,” Maitland said. “You’re too smart for that—and you’re smart enough to realise we can be useful to each other.” He held the young man’s gaze. “You have abilities we want, and we’re prepared to bargain with you for their use. We can help you just as much as you’d help us.”

“Oh, yeah?” The skinbinder lifted an eyebrow, the bird wings shifting with his shoulders as he shrugged. “Like how?”

“Amnesty for all your crimes,” Maitland said. “A facility—better than this one—with other skinbinders to work as your assistants. The freedom to conduct your experiments without censure or risk of punishment, in return for doing certain jobs for us.”

Sebastian cocked his head, smirkingly noncommittal. “That all?”

Maybe he wanted Maitland to offer him more, but Pierce had heard more than enough. She stepped out from the corner, gun in hand.

“How about a counteroffer?” she said. “No bargains, no amnesty: you’re under arrest.” She swept her eyes coldly over Maitland, standing unruffled in his immaculate suit, untouched and undisturbed by the life and death struggle that had left at least four of his team dead. “
Both
of you.”

She didn’t give a damn what kind of authorisation Maitland thought he had. Once he’d started offering amnesty for the darkest kind of murder, he’d lost his right to claim he was on the side of the angels.

Maitland turned towards her with a wry smile. “DCI Pierce,” he said, with a faint breath that was almost a sigh. “I should have guessed that you’d turn up sooner or later.” He shook his head. “Your resourcefulness does you credit—but I’m afraid you’ve overstepped your bounds. Even if you’ve forgotten the fact that you’re currently off-duty, you don’t have the authority to hold me.” His eyes flicked pointedly towards the gun in her hand. “And you definitely don’t have authorisation to hold
that
.”

“Looking after it for a friend,” she said, baring her teeth in a smile. “He decided he was in no state to be in charge of a gun, so he sensibly handed it in to the nearest police officer.” She shifted her grip, still pointing the gun at the ground but adjusting her hold as a silent warning. “And I’m pretty sure I have the authority to arrest anyone I believe is breaking the law. Now, both of you—”

The skinbinder made a lunge for the doors, shoving the bar and setting off a head-splitting wail that filled the hallway. Pierce lurched after him with a curse, but her fingers only just grazed the trailing feathers of his wing as he ran out into the night. The ringing in her ears rose to a deafening crescendo as the howl of the alarm sang counterpoint. Maitland shouted something at her, snagging her arm, but Christ only knew what it was he’d said. Pierce shook him off and shouldered the swinging door aside to follow the skinbinder out.

He was running, his head awkwardly hunched forward as he raised his arms—

“Stop right there!” she bellowed after him. “Do not transform, or I will shoot!” She raised the gun, trying to remember how to take up a firing stance. The memories were far too vague for her to be confident of making the shot at anything more than point blank range.

Sebastian paid no attention to her words. Pierce saw his body start to shift, joints stretching and refolding into new, unnatural angles. She should fire—but she hesitated, reluctant to pull the trigger on a suspect who was fleeing rather than fighting. He was a murderer who wouldn’t hesitate to kill again, and once he took to the air there would be no way to chase him, but all the same...

“Don’t shoot!” Maitland ordered from behind her. “We need him alive!”

It was just the push she needed to remind her of the consequences if the skinbinder escaped to sell his talents to the highest bidder. She held her stance, aimed the gun as best she could. Sebastian was in full eagle form now, fighting to clear the fence...

Don’t overthink. Just
shoot
. She squeezed the trigger.

The recoil jerked her hands up and backwards, the bark of the gun so close making her flinch and stumble. Even if she’d had a second bullet, she wouldn’t have recovered in time to take the shot. The skinbinder was lost against the shadows of the trees beyond the fence as he dropped from the sky—hit, or just stooping to evade further gunshots? She strained in vain to try and make him out.

Maitland grabbed her shoulder, yanking her further off balance. “If he’s dead, I’ll see you thrown off the force!” he shouted in her face.

Pierce swung around, throwing her full momentum into a right hook across his jaw. Maitland staggered back, clutching his mouth and spitting muffled swearwords.

There was no time to stop and bask in the satisfaction of the moment. The skinbinder could be getting away.

She ran towards the fence. There were no streetlights back here, and the light of the moon was just about enough to paint the night in shades of charcoal. She should have brought Leo’s torch, but she hadn’t thought to ask for it while they were still indoors.

She hoped like hell Leo was still all right. If something had gone wrong after she’d left him...

But this wasn’t the time to get distracted second-guessing things she couldn’t change. Sebastian was out there, and he might not be alone. She couldn’t be sure if Maitland’s people had properly swept the grounds before they were killed.

If only that idiot had been willing to work with the RCU and the local police, then maybe tonight’s bloodbath could have been avoided. But Maitland was playing his own game, and she had to secure the skinbinder and turn him over to the real police before the Counter Terror Action Team could get there first.

The fencing was tipped with lethal spearpoints, too dangerous to climb even if her battered body could have done it. She jogged along the boundary as fast as she could manage, looking for signs of movement in the shadows. On the other side, the hill sloped steeply down to a copse of trees.

Where had Sebastian fallen? Had he fallen at all? She couldn’t see a damn thing through the long grass.

She spotted a gate in the fence ahead, and ran towards it at a downhill stagger. As she drew closer, she could see a dirt track, almost concealed by darkness and the grass. The Solomon team must have evacuated this way, and left the gate thrown open when they went. She hadn’t heard a vehicle; with any luck, that meant nobody had stayed behind to wait for the skinbinder.

Of course, if he could still fly, that meant exactly nothing. Pierce scanned the cloudy sky for wings as she passed through the gate; a man-sized eagle should be possible to spot even in the darkness. She’d hear the beating of his wings if he took off from nearby.

So where the hell was he?

She left the dirt track to make her way through the long grass, the gun still held in her hand. Empty now, by Leo’s count, but she carried it as if it wasn’t, a safety precaution and a bluff. Sebastian most likely wouldn’t know how limited a stock they had of silver bullets.

Pierce made her way down the hill, alert to every sound. The knee-length grass tangled around her legs, concealing dips and sudden slopes in the steep hillside. Humps of vegetation made false outlines in the dark. She kicked out at a silhouette that looked like a crouching shape, but it was just a hummock in the grass. The cool night breeze had picked up, and the grass bounced and waved around her.

Except in one place a short way ahead, where it stayed flattened to the ground. Her instincts prickled and her footsteps slowed. A wide furrow had been ploughed through the grass here, as if something large and heavy had been dragged down the slope.

Something there, caught in the weeds: a broken feather, far too large for any native bird. Her chest grew tight as she inched closer. Her eyes could now pick out the dark shape slumped on the ground ahead. Sebastian, lying sprawled out on his stomach where he’d fallen, the false wings still outstretched, though one was bent back at an uncomfortable angle.

The silver bullet must have at least clipped him, enough to make him revert back to human. Shit. Her stomach lurched. She’d shot a man with a gun she wasn’t authorised to carry, and the fact it had seemed the right thing to do at the time wouldn’t help her case much. She couldn’t ask Leo to cover for her and claim he’d made the shot himself, and no one would believe he’d been mobile enough to do it anyway.

She approached Sebastian’s still form with caution. Was he dead? Unconscious? Just winded? She halted a few feet away. “Don’t make any sudden moves,” she said, aware she could be giving the warning to a corpse. “I have a pistol full of silver bullets, and I
am
prepared to fire if you make a hostile move. Can you stand up?”

No response. Pierce edged a little closer.

“If you’re injured, I will see that you get medical attention. Are you able to speak? If you can make a noise, or move any part of your body, do so now to show me that you’re conscious.”

She held her breath, but all was silent and still except for the sigh of the wind. She thought she might have heard the distant rise and fall of sirens, but it might just be the ringing in her ears.

Sebastian hadn’t so much as twitched. She couldn’t tell if he was even breathing. His head had fallen forward in the grass, the curtain of his hair obscuring any clear look at his face. She transferred the useless gun to her left hand as she inched past the wing stretched out in the grass.

Still no movement. Pierce bent forward to check the pale neck for a pulse. As she did, she noticed that the straps that bound the wings to his back had come untied, leaving one of them draped loosely across his shoulder.

A hand shot out from under the wing and grabbed hold of her wrist. As she jerked back, Sebastian reared up, his other hand darting out from underneath his body, holding a knife. She just had time to see the glint of moonlight off the silver blade before it flashed out towards her heart.

She twisted away, but the knife still bit deep into her shoulder. “Fuck!” She stumbled back, the empty gun dropping from her numb fingers as she clutched at the knife hilt jutting out from the wound. How the hell had he carried the knife in eagle form? Some kind of pouch that protected him from the direct touch of the silver? Her mind stuck on the pointless question, her thoughts hazed by the cold shock of a pain she knew she wasn’t fully feeling yet. Blood soaked out beneath her fingers.