A wraith lashed out and caught Talia at her wrist. The pressure of his grasp made her bones ache. Her fingers prickled, then burned, and the gun dropped to the street with a distant pat and bounce.
Talia struggled against his hold, sitting into her hips and throwing her weight back. But he was too strong. Too immovable. She was a rag doll for his rough play.
Tears blurred her vision as she tried to pry his grip away. No good. Hopeless.
“He’s got me,” Talia gasped at Patty. “Go!”
But Patty stepped in front of Talia. Patty’s trembling hand found the wraith’s grip. Instead of trying to pull him off, which was pointless, she traveled up his arm to his shoulder.
“Patty, they won’t hurt me. They tried to take me alive before. Alive. I’ll be fine,” Talia said. Her eyes prickled. This was it, the end, and she knew it. Those wraiths might take her alive, but once there, things would be bad. Very bad.
Patty launched herself at the monster. Grabbed hold of his head. And kissed him on the mouth.
Talia’s heart stopped in awe, tears burning down her face.
The opportunity was too much for the wraith to resist. The wraith released Talia’s arm. She fell back and hit her head on the car. Was grabbed from behind and pulled inside.
“Where’s Patty?” Gillian shouted, the sound distant. “I can’t see a freaking thing!”
Talia could. The wraith tilted his head, opened his mouth, and fed. An agonizing wrench tore at Talia’s heart—no deeper—as Patty’s essence disappeared into his maw. A great spirit, beautiful in its clarity, shuddered and then doused in the monster’s gullet.
“Talia!” Gillian yelled again.
Talia bled internally at the loss. She didn’t deserve the gift, but she wouldn’t see it sacrificed in vain. Not if she could help it. She slammed the door shut.
Gillian already had the key in the ignition, the engine idling. Talia released the parking brake, set the car in drive, and floored it.
ELEVEN
ADAM settled himself into a column of numbers, expenses generated by his staff doing fieldwork all over the world. He approved most out of hand, particularly those for comfort and keep. The work at Segue was grueling, ongoing, and increasingly dangerous as the wraith population spread and redoubled. If a suite in a hotel made research less of a burden, so be it. Money really didn’t matter anymore.
His mobile phone buzzed on his desk, traveling slightly over the page with the vibration. He picked it up and hit TALK.
A woman’s voice sobbed unintelligibly into the phone, threaded with panic and near hysteria. Adam’s gut knotted—he recognized the identifying timbre lacing her disjointed syllables.
“Gillian?” He kept his voice calm, though his pulse leaped. “What’s happened?”
“They’re behind us…coming to Segue.”
“Wraiths?” Adam hit the central alarm, alerting the staff to go to their designated meeting place and account for one another. A list of on-site personnel flicked onto his monitor. The floor trembled as the redundant security measures cut off Jacob’s cell from the rest of Segue—the guards downstairs would just have to wait this out. He queued the Segue perimeter cameras. A typical midmorning on the mountain. All quiet, the tree leaves shuffling softly. Yet their early shadows seemed menacing now. Too dark and concealing.
He never should’ve allowed the women to leave without an armed escort. He’d succumbed to the worst possible mental rut, a false sense of security. He’d been careful to keep Segue’s function hidden from anyone outside his carefully selected team of researchers, but over time the weight of secrecy would have gained an imperative inertia of its own. Someone eventually had to slip. Had already slipped.
“We left Patty.” Gillian’s tone was accusatory. Blaming him? He deserved it. “They got Patty. Adam, Patty’s dead.”
Adam felt a wrenching snap of a heartstring, the one that tethered him to Aunt Pat, and through her to his parents, his childhood, all the what-might-have-beens. But he couldn’t think of Pat now. That would be another mistake. He’d remember her later, if there were a later.
He switched the handset for a mobile earplug.
“And Talia?” His voice rasped as he hit the rifle safe attached to the wall behind him. He selected the AR-15 rifle with the drum magazine, put the strap over his shoulder, and a Glock, which he kept in his hand, ready. He grabbed extra magazines and carriers and attached them to his belt.
“Talia’s fine.” The accusatory tone again. “She’s driving.”
He glanced at the external Segue vid feeds. Rolling lawn. Trees. Narrow road leading into town. Nothing yet.
“How long until you’re here?” At least they had the Ferrari and its eight-cylinder engine, if Talia could keep the car on the road.
“I don’t know. We just passed the boulders.”