Adam and Custo pulled up to a busy intersection. Cars rushed by with bright headlights, windows down, music blaring. The desert deepened with twilight as night-blooming flowers filtered dusky-sweet fragrance over exhaust. Custo parked along the street. Adam jumped out of the car while Custo listened to his mobile phone, face drawn in concentration as he waited for a detailed crime report for the neighborhood.
Adam took in the layout of the intersection. All the day’s untapped energy, anxiety, and tension transmuted into a certainty that lit a fire in his chest. She was here somewhere.
To the north, small single-story houses butted against tall cinder block walls. The houses broke off abruptly at what appeared to be an old strip of stores. A dirty gas station occupied another corner. To the east, an office building of four or five stories. And behind him stood an apartment complex. Large lettering on the side of the building read MOUNTAINSIDE.
Adam waved Custo toward the entrance. “You find the super.”
Custo nodded and jogged down the broken sidewalk to the main entrance of the building.
Adam turned down a rear access road for a quick canvass of the area before the day’s light was completely gone. The single large building turned into four, arranged around a yellowing square of grass at the center. A long stretch of his legs took him down its length. The busy street hummed to his left, cars speeding though the intersection without slowing. To his right, beyond a rusted, squealing gate, lay a black hole of an alley.
“Anyone there?” His breath suspended for thick moments, the sound of his own heartbeat dominating the pressure in his head. Nothing. He had to check it out in person, but he wished he’d brought a piece. The talk of demon feed made him edgy.
Adam moved into the press of blackness. “Hello?”
“Shhhh,” a voice hissed.
Adam’s eyes adjusted; the darkness thinned to heavy gray. In the litter of the alleyway, a young, filthy woman lay collapsed on the pavement. All eyes in a narrow white face.
Two months of searching, of studying her face in photographs so that he could be prepared for the moment of recognition. He knew every contour by heart. There was no mistaking the angled tilt of her glassy eyes. The curve of her jaw. The straight, thin line of her nose. Talia O’Brien.
The monster glided forward, closing the distance between him and his prey, a man ducking down the alley to help her.
The Good Samaritan was going to die. Talia had witnessed it many times since Melanie: The inhuman strength, the vicious teeth, the kiss. Then the dark, sick pull as the vital essence was ripped from a person.
She couldn’t let it happen, especially now at the end of everything.
A part of Talia stretched, not her lethargic body, but something deeper. The last bit of herself extended a lifeline to curl around the man’s form and mask his presence from the oncoming monster. To share the shelter of her cloak.
Her shadows enveloped then inundated him, his features snapping into focus. Dark hair, clipped short. Pale, intent eyes in an angular face. Vital body, tall and strong. Trim waist, belted slacks. His polo was a perfect fit over a strong chest and shoulders.
And still more. This deep into her veils, her sight penetrated the surface of the man. He was lit inside with a blazing column of purpose and will. Light permeated every cell of his body with vibrant life and intelligent power.
Talia swallowed hard and tried again. “
“Talia O’Brien?”
Frustration closed her lungs. She couldn’t save him if he wouldn’t cooperate. Her shadows weren’t going to be enough.
Talia concentrated on her body. Flattened her palm on the hard concrete, pushed herself upright. Her head swam; the world rocked hard on its axis. She pulled a foot under her, took a deep, shuddering breath, and propelled herself forward.
Adam tried again. “Talia?”
He stepped forward and held his arms slightly to the side, palms open in the universal posture of peace and friendship. He didn’t want to scare her.
Talia darted forward out of her crouch and put a hot hand over his mouth before he could take a full breath of surprise.
“You’ve got to be quiet now.” Her voice was rough, barely audible. Urgent.
The darkness swallowed the alleyway again. He blinked hard, but his eyes wouldn’t clear. Wouldn’t focus. His senses were suddenly muted, except for the press of her hand at his mouth.
She pushed against him, and he allowed her to back him up. He tripped over alley debris underfoot, and a metallic sound rang out, oddly distorted. Then he hit a hard plane—the wall of a building. He raised his chin to disengage her softly, without force. But she held fast, hand clamped over his mouth.
Footfalls shuffle-stepped on the pavement nearby. One or two people approached, no more. Another step, heavy with echo. Just one, then. Probably male.
Adam’s arm circled Talia’s waist. He kept his touch light and easy on her back. She was short and much too thin. Her body heat burned through her clothes as if he were holding on to a bolt of lightning. She smelled sharply rank but feminine. Probably hadn’t seen a shower in days.
He didn’t draw her in, but kept his hold possessive enough to let the other man know she was with him. Now that he had found her, there was no way he was letting her go.
“Here, kitty-kitty.” The man’s singsong voice doubled up and bounced off the buildings, menace lacing his words.
Adam’s gut twisted with understanding: Talia had been trying to warn him. The man was a wraith. A hungry hunter.
He needed a damn gun.
Cold hatred hardened into resolution, blocking all extraneous emotion. No room for fear or panic. Just action.
He yanked Talia hard against him and secured her body with a tight arm around her waist. With his other hand, he found her wrist and forced her hand away from his face.
She resisted, but it took little strength to bend her arm down to her side.
He put his mouth to her ear. “Stay behind me. I can’t protect you if you run.”
Couldn’t protect her in the dark very well either. Why didn’t the wraith attack? The dark wouldn’t have stopped Jacob for a moment.
“He’s a monster.” Her words exhaled across his jaw like a soft caress.
“I know,” he murmured. “I won’t let him touch you. We just have to get to my car.”
Adam shifted her weight and turned so that she pressed against the wall, safe behind his body. He faced the darkness, Talia at his back.
Glass crunched into the pavement. Close.
Adam slowly crouched down until he felt rough concrete under his fingertips. He felt around with his palm until his fingers hit smooth metal. He drew his hand along its hot length, identifying a riveted pipe.
“Kitty cat,” the wraith called. “There’s no way out.”
Adam stood, pipe gripped in his hand. He couldn’t stop the wraith for long. Not alone. Where the hell was Custo when he needed him? Didn’t matter. Adam was not about to fail now. Not when he was so close to finding his answers.
“He can’t see you. Use the dark,” Talia whispered from behind.
Her suggestion didn’t make sense. Not unless this wraith was somehow defective. Wraith senses far exceeded human ones. The woman didn’t know what she was dealing with.
Adam steeled himself. All he had to do was get past the wraith to the street. It would not attack in public and risk exposure. Street and light. Custo and the car. Safety.
