At once he frowned, looking severe.
She struggled to hold back the tears, shaking her head, suddenly very afraid. She reached for Thorn’s ankle. The little girl was sound asleep, her hair sweeping across the pillow, so white it looked like silk from a corncob. She was only about three, and at eight, Saber felt very motherly toward her. Her own heart beat too fast in anticipation. She had to be careful, keep Thorn from any danger. Stay in control. The doctor wanted her to show control. She moistened her lips and absorbed the rhythm of Thorn’s body into her own.
Saber forced her body to relax, to simply take in the sound and feel of that small little heart. She kept her touch light, so light Thorn wouldn’t wake up. The thump was so tiny but strong. She knew the exact pathways in Thorn’s body, the veins and arteries and neural pathways, every line that fed or was fed by that single organ.
She breathed for both of them, air rushing in and out of their lungs. For a moment she experienced a strange euphoria, as if they were both the same person, one in the same skin, heart and minds totally in tune. And then she introduced the small irregular beat. A thud. Wait. Another thud.
Thorn stirred, pain rippling across her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked directly into Saber’s eyes. Knowledge was there. Understanding. Thorn had always been so intelligent, far beyond what Whitney ever guessed-or maybe he did-and maybe he was afraid of her.
Saber tore her hand from Thorn’s ankle. “I did it. And I didn’t mess up this time.” She kept her voice triumphant, with no hint of defiance. But she wasn’t touching Thorn again. There would be no second experiment because she was beginning to suspect the doctor would have been happy if she’d killed Thorn. He’d been happy when the puppy had died. She’d seen that in his eyes even when he looked at her sternly.
There was a long silence. She kept her head bowed. Finally he dropped his hand on top of her head. “Good job, Winter. You’re a very good girl.”
Saber blinked to bring her face in the mirror back in focus. She was now white and ravaged from the memory. Thorn. She hadn’t let herself think about Thorn or her sacrifices for years, but if there was one girl, one woman, who could outsmart Whitney, it was Thorn. “Be alive,” she said aloud. “Stay alive.”
She stared at herself, looking for flaws. Her face was smooth and unlined, beautiful soft skin and very large eyes. She looked so young with her too-slim body and her little girl face. No one would ever suspect her of anything deadly. She straightened her shoulders and firmed her mouth. She had skills and she would use them to protect Jess. Whoever wanted him dead was going to have to contend with her. If it was Whitney, well, she’d always suspected he’d find her someday, and she wasn’t about to allow him to hurt or kill Jess. If it was some nutcase fixated on her voice, she was going to remove the threat to Jess once and for all.
Pushing aside the dresser, she crouched low to remove the small grill from the wall. The pipe curved back and she had to reach deep to pull her field kit out. Opening the leather case, she surveyed her options. As she studied the various choices, she sleeked back her hair using a stiff gel and then pulled a skull cap tight over it. She stripped with quick efficiency and dragged on a bodysuit so thin and tight it seemed a second skin. The suit acted as a sealant, keeping cells from being left behind when she took out a target. Her clothes were next, very nondescript, something a teen might wear. She pulled jeans and a T-shirt over the suit.
She took no weapons, but she coated her hands with a solution to fill in all the lines of her palms and fingers, making them perfectly smooth, so she left behind no prints or cells, but could still make skin-to-skin contact. It was a miracle invention, one of Whitney’s finest, and yet he hadn’t turned it over to the government. The only covert use for it seemed to be his own. Originally she’d stolen several bottles with the idea that she might send it anonymously to a research center, hoping they’d duplicate it, but it was impossible to know which facilities he was associated with.
Saber wasn’t an anchor, so death, particularly a brutal one, had debilitating repercussions on her. She couldn’t afford to pass out on the job, so she added a small vial of liquid to her armament. If she killed again tonight, she’d just have to take the drug and hope it held until she could be alone somewhere safe.
She had to get through Jess’s security to the outside without him becoming aware that she was gone. He was in his office with his friend Logan, looking at something he didn’t want her to see. She’d have to spot his GhostWalkers, the ones she was certain were out there, guarding the house and Jess. They couldn’t see her leaving or returning.
She pushed open the attic door and leapt, catching the frame and swinging up. She carefully closed the door behind her, making certain it sat perfectly so it appeared undisturbed. She’d tested this route a hundred times, so she could make her way in the dark through the space to the dormer where the ventilation grill was. She followed the heating duct, avoiding a misstep as well as insulation, keeping herself as light as possible as she counted the steps to the small opening.
The louvered air vent was a twelve-inch square. She had already prepared the grill, just in case, loosening all the screws with the exception of one. She had her emergency pack stashed there along with her tools. Quickly she took out the last tight screw and simply waited there in the dark, holding the louvers while she felt the night.
There was someone on the roof. Not the enemy-at least not Jess’s enemy. Ken Norton lay up there with a rifle in his hands. Mari had to be close. Again, Saber ignored the oppressive darkness and the way it made her feel until she found Mari’s position. There was no sound or movement, neither GhostWalker gave themselves away; instead it was more of a leap in the energy, as if power was alive and lay on the rooftop.
The dormer was difficult to see from the roof itself, and neither GhostWalker had any reason to be looking as long as she moved at a snail’s pace and didn’t draw their attention. Saber carefully pulled the grill inside, taking care not to scrape it against the frame. Now came the tricky part. She had to slip through the small space to the outside without getting caught.
Movement always drew the eye and GhostWalkers had an unerring sixth sense. With excruciating patience, Saber slipped out of the attic into the open air. When she was dangling just a foot above the steeper roofline, she reached in with one hand and pulled the louvers back in position. Only a very sharp eye would spot that the air vent was slightly crooked. She let go and dropped into a crouch, her small feet making no noise as she landed.
She went still once more and waited, knowing those first few moments were the most crucial. The special clothing from her field pack would reflect her surroundings so that she appeared to fade into them. It was one small trick out of many that helped to make her invisible. She kept her energy as low as possible, changing her biorhythm so that she would give very little away to alert Ken and Mari to another’s presence.
She knew the first moment they both became suspicious. Their energy spiked as adrenaline rushed. She continued to stay still, to breathe evenly and keep her heart slow and steady, even as she automatically stretched out her rhythm to include them. She could find a heartbeat in close proximity and work with it, even without touch, but it wasn’t as easy or accurate. She couldn’t disrupt the rhythm, but she could soothe and calm.
She had previously touched both individuals and already committed their rhythms to memory. Each person’s bioelectric activity was unique even in a reversal phase. Saber had a finely honed electrical-magnetic pulse when she wanted to tap into the field her body generated. It was so strong, she had to keep her biorhythm very low indoors and around others to keep from disrupting sensitive equipment, both human and man-made.
The wave was easy enough to disrupt if she was touching her target, but she could still send pulses to coax the rhythm in a direction she wanted it to go. The key was keeping her touch so light it appeared to be natural. She couldn’t allow energy to rise around her, giving her presence away to the enhanced psychic soldier.
She waited until both Ken and Mari settled back into their normal rhythms, and then she began to make her way over the roof, threading the needle between the two GhostWalkers. She had trained against enhanced soldiers for years, moving through secured areas where cameras, motion detectors, and just about every technologic advance in security had been used against her. The last line of defense had been dogs and enhanced soldiers under orders to shoot to kill.
She didn’t flinch as she eased past Mari, staying downwind, keeping her rhythm low so as not to set off natural alarms. She was so close she could have reached out and touched Mari’s leg as she slipped by. She eased over the
