“It’s very—” she began.
He stepped to the edge and glanced at Talia’s profile. Her white skin glowed against the backdrop of green, the afternoon sun warming her complexion from ash to soft pink and gold marble. Stray twists of blonde tugged away from her shoulder to stream across her cheek, to lift and quiver on the light breeze.
“—remote,” Talia finished.
Lovely in profile.
She turned her black-cat eyes on him, meeting his gaze.
Disconcerting head-on.
Time to get down to it. Adam took a deep breath. “I’ve done my near-death research based on the substantial bibli-ography at the end of your paper.”
She turned away again and leaned up on the banister, all curiosity and interest suddenly shuttered behind a hard expression.
“From what I’ve read, near-death experiences often include a meeting with already-departed family, sometimes friends, but always someone in close connection with the person undergoing the experience.”
Talia didn’t answer. Kept her gaze off in the distance.
He tensed, watching her every movement for reaction. “What I can’t figure is how Shadowman fits into the near-death scenario, unless that’s a code name for someone who knows how the wraith threat began.” He kept his voice light, tone neutral, as he suggested his theory. “A ghost, maybe, like those that populate Segue?”
Her expression remained impassive.
Adam pushed harder. “It wouldn’t be so hard to believe. Jim Remy, our resident parapsychologist, is half in love with Segue’s Lady Amunsdale. Been tracking her obsessively since he caught sight of the beauty. Is Shadowman a ghost? Someone who has already passed but might have our answers?”
If that were the case, protocols would have to shift dramatically to the occult. What he needed was a confirmation, a clue, something to point him in the right direction.
The muscles in Talia’s face tensed, but she remained composed. “I’m not going to answer your questions. Thank you for saving me in the alley and for the medical attention you’ve provided. When possible, I’d like a ride into the nearest town, and I’ll go from there.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Adam said. He only had to close his eyes to see the computer-generated wraith projections again. The reality was, Talia didn’t have the luxury of debating the issue. Time was short. He needed information on Shadowman now.
Her head whipped toward him. “Let’s just get this straight—I am a prisoner here.”
No, prisoners he kept in the basement. Maybe it was time she learned the difference. Her new lodgings could wait, he had an altogether-different destination in mind now.
She’s not ready, an internal voice warned.
None of us are, a harder self returned.
“I want you to meet someone. I think he’ll be very influential.” Adam gestured to the wheelchair.
She took her seat coldly, folding her arms for emphasis, and he pushed her back inside to the elevator. He coded it open, backed her within, and selected Sublevel J. For Jacob.
The elevator hissed downward, doors opening into the outer atrium to Jacob’s cell. Two guards stood sentry at the cell entrance, Ben and Thomas. Both had powerful, broad shoulders, thick necks, and muscular legs in command of quick reflexes. Except for their facial features and their coloring, one black and the other olive, they could have come from the same gene pool.
Takes two smart, strong, and trained men working in concert to bring down a wraith.
“I don’t want to be here. I want you to know that this is against my will.” Talia’s voice shook and she gripped the arms of the wheelchair.
While second nature to Adam, the security had to be overwhelming from Talia’s perspective. Adam had personally selected the guards, pored over the blueprint to Jacob’s cell, and debugged the security program that ran the system. These guards and the coded, locked doors weren’t just security, they were the wraith reality. The sooner she got used to it, the better.
“I don’t want to be here either.” Jacob made Adam’s skin crawl and his chest ache, but the time for reservations was over. If he asked it of her, he could give her no less himself.
Adam nodded to the guards and coded the outer door to Jacob’s cell open. He angled Talia’s wheelchair inside and up to the main console, a white arc of work space fitted with security monitors, control panel, computer oversight, and speakers.
Adam tapped on a screen, set front and center. “That’s Jacob.” He swallowed hard. “My brother.”
Jacob lifted bonelessly to his feet, his movement a subtle and graceful contradiction of nature. White and clean, his junk waggling between his legs, he stepped up to his favorite camera.
“D’you bring me a treat, Adam?”
Talia recoiled from the console. She pushed out of her chair and backed to the wall.
Adam didn’t blame her. He didn’t even try to keep up a pretense of Jacob’s humanity anymore.