Date: 2011-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Horror; Vampires; Fantasy; Thriller; Suspense
Description: Once employed by a shadowy government agency to battle paranormal threats, Craig Lockman has spent the last fifteen years in forced retirement. But when a teen girl shows up at his door claiming she's his daughter, he quickly ends up back in the fight…because she has unwittingly led Lockman's most hated enemy straight to him. Forced on the run, he struggles to protect the girl from an onslaught of nightmarish creatures, all working for his vicious rival. It soon becomes clear if he wants to put an end to the carnage, Lockman must strike back and finally defeat a man more evil than any of the h
Publisher: Createspace

Darker Things

Book One of the Lockman Chronicles
by

Rob Cornell

Books by Rob Cornell

The Lockman Chronicles

Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1)

Dark Legion (The Lockman Chronicles #2)

Mystery and Thrillers

Red Run

Last Call (A Ridley Brone Mystery)

The Hustle (A Ridley Brone Mystery)

Visit Rob Cornell’s website at rob-cornell.com.

For Beth. It’s our time now, Angel.

Gabriel sips from the ornate cup, the familiar taste of blood awakening his taste buds. It is nearly time. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up as the air in the room turns electric. Heat emanates from the cup in his hands, growing until his palms sting. He swallows the pain along with the blood. He will not let go. Not when he is so close.

Blood still sputters from the lamb carcass on the table before him. Gabriel wishes he had time to find a human sacrifice, but he knows his time is short. They’ll be here soon.

He drinks again from the cup.

His head grows light. The basement floor tips under his feet.

Upstairs, the sound of the front door breaking open and the shouts of weak men who wear body armor and brandish guns. They are coming for him.

Gabriel drains the blood from the cup and mumbles ancient words that do not belong to this world. Besides the commotion upstairs, a buzzing fills his ears. Orange light flares along the cup’s lip where a smear of blood remains. A searing heat burns in Gabriel’s belly, doubling him over.

The cup clangs against the cement floor and rolls away.

The heat in his gut expands, rushes through him like adrenalin set aflame.

What have I done?

The texts on this ritual weren’t specific about the results. All he knows is that it should make him more powerful. Perhaps even immortal. Instead, it feels like it’s killing him.

Heavy pounding of boots on the basement stairs. A moment later the door crashes open and a slash of light shines at Gabriel’s back.

“Freeze! Hands on your head. Hands on your fucking head.”

The flashlight beam mounted to the intruder’s gun casts a mutant shadow on the opposite wall. Gabriel’s head looks as if it is rising from the slaughtered lamb’s body. A sign. He must trust his power.

He raises his hands and slowly stands straight.

“Turn around.”

Gabriel obeys. The flashlight shines in his face, blinding him.

The lamb’s blood boils in his stomach, the orange glow so bright now it shows through his skin and shirt.

“What the fuck?” asks the intruder.

Gabriel smiles. “You cannot kill me.” He reaches behind him and grasps the knife he used to slit the lamb’s throat. He lifts it over his head, ready to lunge for the man with the gun.

A soft pufft sound followed by a sting in his neck. Gabriel drops the knife and reaches up to find the dart right before the effects swim through him. The fire in his belly sputters and goes out. His vision blurs and he falls to the floor.

A man steps over him, looking down like a disappointed parent.

“Did you really think I’d let you die?”

It’s hard to speak. Gabriel’s tongue feels fat in his mouth. His face has gone numb. “I’ll never talk.”

The man smirks. “Oh, you’ll do more than talk, Gabriel. Way more.”

Chapter One

The girl with the dyed black hair and the hoop through her eyebrow stared up at him, shoulders cocked as if one of them bore all the world’s despair. She couldn't have been older than fifteen, but he would have guessed closer to thirteen—which made her awfully young to be standing by herself on his doorstep in the kind of neighborhood he lived in.

All of this could have ended—would have ended with a quick, Shoo, get out of here, this is no place for a kid your age. Except for the name. A name he hadn't heard for as long as this girl had probably been alive.

“Are you Craig Lockman?”

His heartbeat immediately went into twelfth gear. But he didn’t show anything on his face except a mild curiosity. “I’m sorry? Who?”

“Craig Lockman. I’m looking for him and I was told he lived here.”

He looked over his shoulder at the modest living room. The worn leather loveseat with cat scratches on one arm from its previous owner. The handmade wood coffee table he threw together living in the last shithole—a project to keep his mind off of how much life could take a turn...and how much you could lose.

“Here, you said?”

“That’s what I was told.”

That’s when Lockman got the first buzz of fear coming off of her. She had sensed she’d walked into something she might not walk out of.

Lockman wondered if he could actually permanently silence a thirteen year-old girl. He hadn’t had a thought like that in a long time. He didn’t like facing such a decision now.

“Never heard of him,” Lockman said. He smiled, made it look as good and innocent as he knew how. He hadn’t smiled much in the past fifteen years except when customers came to the counter at the car rental place he worked at. He figured those smiles didn’t really count.

“You’re sure? Because he seemed pretty positive this was the right address.”

“Who’s that?”

Again, that buzz. A vibration off her body that she’d slipped up and something venomous might sneak up and bite her. For a thirteen year-old, she had good instincts. But she wasn’t a very good liar.

“My friend,” she said after a second’s hesitation.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who sent you?”

She scrunched up her face. “Sent me? No one. I came here on my own.”

Did she really expect him to believe a teenage girl had compromised him all on her own?

She threw up a hand, dismissive. “Forget it. Obviously the guy was wrong.” She started to turn, her hand coming down from her wave.

Lockman grabbed that hand by the wrist and yanked. The next was easy, and her age had nothing to do with it. She'd let her guard down the second she had dismissed him. Meant her center of gravity was his to manipulate. He twisted her hand with an improvised bit of Aikido. He had her inside and the door closed in less than two seconds.

When he released her wrist she backed away, shaking off the pain in her hand even though he had barely used any force. Hadn't needed to. The sudden move had thrown her equilibrium off, both literally and mentally. Her next move should have been a sprint for the back, get out through the sliding glass door. Instead, she hesitated, more concerned with her hand and what the hell was going on than any kind of survival.

“You're lucky I'm not a pervert,” he said.

“That remains to be seen.”

“I could have you unconscious and under total control within seconds. You aren't even smart enough to run for the back door.”

She glanced over her shoulder as if she was considering it.

“It's too late to get away, so you might as well cooperate.”

She gave him a practiced teenage look, as if she had lived through most her teen years already and had the routine down pat. “I could run. I'm fast.”

“You don't know anything about me, do you?”

Her brow creased. For a second she dropped all the affectations of a teenager. “Are you Craig Lockman or not?”

“Who gave you that name?”

“No one gave it to me. I've known it most my life.”

Lockman's chest tightened. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. “Did Dolan send you? Is he here right now?”

“Look, I'm sorry if I got the wrong house. I'm just looking for Craig Lockman. I don't want any trouble.”

“That's better.”

“What's better?”

“You're scared now.”

She covered her face with her hands and sighed against her palms, making almost a whistling sound. “This isn't going anything like I expected.”

“You should not know that name.”

“So you are him.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to. It's weird. It's like I somehow learned to read your face by watching my own.”

That was it. That strange recognition he'd had earlier. She had described the feeling perfectly. He'd learned to read her face by studying his own.

Then a possibility started to piece together and the screws tightened. Despite every part of him that simultaneously wanted to deny and celebrate the idea the hairs on his arms stood on end.

Whatever the truth, this girl's presence meant nothing good. And just as he realized this, the automatic gunfire chopped a line across the front of his house.

Chapter Two

Lockman dove toward the girl and took her to the floor with him, twisting on the way down so he would land beside her, not on top. Then he pressed a hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her face down against the floor.

She screamed, tried to fight him at first.

He kept her down easily with one hand. “Stay down,” he shouted over the continuous chatter of gunfire.

His front window shattered to pieces. Chunks of plaster snapped and cracked along the wall opposite that window, filling the room with a torrent of dust swirling in the shaft of sunlight pouring in past the shredded curtains.

The girl screamed again, but stopped fighting him, her instincts taking over. She covered her head with her hands and flattened her body to the floor.

In case her instincts turned sour and she tried to run, Lockman kept his hand on her back while he let his own animal mind run wild to look for a way out. This had to be Dolan. At least a group sent by Dolan. They had followed the girl to him. Obvious part out of the way, he had to think like Dolan—a professional, as well as someone who had apparently held a grudge for over a decade and had finally found his chance to even the score. They would have taken the time to surround the house. This wouldn’t be some second-guessed drive-by. After the initial barrage, they would move in from all sides and make sure they had made the kill.

Almost as soon as he thought it, the gunfire ceased.

Silence, except for the fall of a few shards of glass and chunks of plaster. And the girl’s panicked breathing, pushing the edge toward hyperventilating.

That’s all he needed was a frightened little girl holding him back while he tried to escape. But if his suspicions could be true... He grabbed her by the arm and shook her until she looked him in the eye. “Come with me. Do everything I say. Understand?”

“What’s—”

“No questions. Follow my lead, do as I say.” He nodded toward the stairs leading to a loft area above them. Through the black metal railing he could see some of the exercise equipment. He’d turned the loft into a workout area, determined to keep his original conditioning up for as long as he could. Fifteen years was plenty of time for a man to let himself go to waste. “See those stairs? We’re running up them. Now.”

He held to her arm and dragged her to her feet with him. Halfway across the living room something thumped to the floor behind them, hissing a trail of smoke.

Teargas.

He pushed the girl first up the stairs and chugged closely behind to frighten any hesitation out of her.

The trajectory of the initial barrage, now that he thought of it, was on the high side. The shooters had never made much of an attempt to pepper the whole front of the place liked you’d expect if they meant to kill you. It was more like they were trying to pin him down. Then the canister of teargas.

Were they trying to take him alive?

The knowledge would give him an advantage, but only if it was true. He couldn’t assume they wouldn’t cut him down the second they caught him. Yet he’d spent years chasing down Dolan and his regime; he could imagine the bastard wanting to capture him and torture him before execution.

At the top of the stairs he put a hand on the girl's shoulder and guided her across the loft to a window about the size of a large fish tank. He glanced out the window even though he already knew what he'd see. First thing he did when he moved into the house was check all possible routes of entry and escape.

A four-foot wide space ran between his and the neighboring house, what could barely qualify as an alley. The roof of the adjacent building almost aligned with Lockman’s window, about a foot and a half higher than the window's top edge. He snapped the latch on the window and slid it open. A quick check of the alley showed him a group of three figures clad completely in black, from fatigues to ski masks, and even wrap-around sunglasses hiding their eyes. Not a single inch of skin exposed to the California sun.

They shuffled along the narrow path, headed toward the back of the house. Each of them carried what looked like military issue machine guns, though Lockman didn't recognize their make. Something foreign and probably cutting edge. Dolan would use nothing less.

The bitter stink of the tear gas rose to the loft. He noticed the girl's black eye makeup running down her cheeks, the whites of her eyes red and irritated. He realized the burn in his own eyes.

Time was running short.

He knew he could perch on the windowsill and jump across to grab hold of the next house’s roof. Then he could pull himself up. He’d already tested it before. But no way his new companion could make that jump. More than likely he wouldn’t be able to convince her to even try.

He spun to face the loft space, his gaze scanning the equipment, looking for some tool to use as a bridge of some kind. The closest thing he could find was the padded plank on his weight bench. But it wasn’t long enough.

He looked at the girl and tried to deny that recognition he felt when he first saw her. No good. The more he looked at her the more he believed her story and what it implied. Which meant no matter how important it was to homeland security that Craig Lockman escape capture from the likes of Otto Dolan, he could not leave this girl behind.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said to her, his throat constricting as the teargas continued to rise to their level.

The girl—how he wished he knew her name—looked out the window. “Jumping out the window? No shit.” She burst into a coughing fit that doubled her over.

“We’ll have to face them,” he said. He had to fight his own urge to choke on the gathering chemical mist.

She looked up at him, still coughing, her expression plainly incredulous even through her smeared make-up and watery eyes.

“You’ll have to trust me. And stay close.”

“Who...” She couldn’t manage the rest as another coughing fit strangled her voice.

“’Who doesn’t matter,” he said and took her arm. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway.” He pulled her close to the open window. He quickly checked the alley. All three of Dolan’s men had rounded the corner at the back of the house. The attackers hadn’t considered covering the alley from inside, but he had little doubt whichever direction the two of them took down the narrow path would lead to someone waiting and well-armed.

“Stick your head out the window and breathe as much fresh air as you can,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

She leaned over the windowsill and gasped. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta get some things.” He pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, a poor substitute for a gasmask. It would have to work. He needed more than his bare hands to face what Dolan had sent. A couple guns, at least. But based on the attackers’ dress, he had an idea of what else might help.

He raced down the stairs, past the hissing canister on the living room floor, and into the kitchen. The kitchen lined up with a small dining area where a sliding glass door led out to the square of weeds that qualified as a back yard in these parts of Southern California. As he entered, Lockman stayed low, both to keep out of the rising cloud of teargas and to stay behind the kitchen counter and out of view of the back exit.

From the cabinet under the kitchen sink, he retrieved a pair of .45 Glocks with a spare clip for each. Both Glocks and the spare clips were loaded, by default, with silver-tipped rounds. Silver had a lot of use back in what he called his Old Life. He had seen no point in abandoning the element in his so-called “decommissioned” life. He might have had to spend the last fifteen years pretending to be an average citizen, but that didn’t mean he had to pretend the world wasn’t full of the nasty things he’d spent his career fighting. Silver would be the new gold if even a quarter of the world’s population knew the truth about what was out there.

Leaning against the cabinets built into the kitchen counter, Lockman reached over his head and opened a drawer. He felt around the random junk inside—nail clippers, sparkplugs, bundle of pens rubber-banded together—until his hand touched the cool metal he was looking for.

He pulled the crucifix, about the size of a hammer, from the drawer.

The crucifix went long-end first into his back pocket. He tucked the spare clips in each of his front pockets. The guns stayed in his hands.

While the archway that connected the living room and kitchen was narrow enough to block most of the teargas from infiltrating the kitchen too badly, Lockman’s throat felt like he had swallowed a box of needles and his eyes burned like cinders in his skull. The thought of traipsing back through the thick of the teargas made him hesitate. He didn’t think he could make it.

He considered leaving the girl behind again. He could probably fight his way out the back door. It was the most logical option. After all, the attackers had come for him. The worst the girl might have to suffer was the discomfort from the tear gas. Lockman knew State secrets. The country, even the world, couldn’t afford his capture.

But if she is my...

He bit the thought down before it could slip, full-formed, into the light.  Better to leave it half-realized in the shadows at the back of his mind. If he fully contemplated the possibility, it could hamper his ability to focus on the greater good.

He peeked over the counter top toward the back entrance and thought he caught a glimpse of a dark figure moving behind the curtains. Seconds to decide his next move. Up to her or straight out to them?

“Fuck the greater good,” he growled under his breath and duck walked out of the kitchen. Halfway up the stairs he heard the front door splinter, the sound like cracking bones. Then the shattering glass from the back entrance.

He powered his way up the stairs to the loft, found the girl hanging out the window by the waist and heaving in the fresh air. “They’re in,” he shouted as he approached. “We’re going out.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Out where?”

He pointed at the window with the barrel of one of his Glocks. The girl’s eyes locked on the weapon in his hand and a deeper shade of fear colored her expression.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked when he reached her.

She shook her head, her lips so tight it almost looked like she didn’t have a mouth. He reached into his back pocket, drew the crucifix, and slapped the long end into her hand. “Then hold this out in front of you toward the stairs like your life depended on it.”

Her brow creased, some measure of confusion able to break through her total mask of fear.

“Trust me.” He jammed each Glock into one of his back pockets and swung a leg out of the window. “When I drop down, you come after me. I’ll catch you.”

“This is crazy.”

Footsteps thundered into the house below. Voices, slightly inhuman and distorted, called out “clear” as the attackers moved in and searched for any inhabitants.

“You’re with me or them.” He didn’t wait for a response before swinging his other leg over the windowsill so that both hung down with his abdomen and hands braced against the sill. Gripping the sill, he lowered himself as far as his arms would allow, then let go and dropped the remaining four feet to the pavement.

He relaxed his body for the impact and felt only a sting up through the flats of his feet and into his ankles, even managed to stay standing. He looked up to see if the girl was following and heard her scream. Damn. He should have tried lowering her first. The crucifix could stall the attackers—assuming he was even right about their nature—but they were armed with fully automatic weaponry. They could close their eyes to the symbol and fire enough rounds to take her down if they wanted.

“Hey,” he called, not knowing her name and thinking he might never learn it now. He had only felt this feeble and helpless once before. Dolan was behind it that time as well, managing to change the entire direction of Lockman’s life. “You have to jump. Just jump. Now!”

She screamed again, this time the sound cut in half.

Lockman’s whole body went rigid and cold. He waited a second more for a sign she was coming out the window. Silence answered him.

No. Not this time. Not again.

Suicide, his mind answered to what he planned.

Irresponsible.

Treason.

He drew the Glocks and ran around to the front of the house.

A black SUV with fully tinted windows sat at the curb, all four doors and the back hanging open. His front door hung cockeyed from one hinge like a loose tooth. Bullet holes dotted a mostly straight line along the house’s façade, high, fired at an angle probably from only as far as the cracked sidewalk. It did look like they meant to take him alive. Which gave him a little leverage. Not much. Probably not enough.

Weapons at the ready, Lockman crept to the porch and ducked behind the shrubbery under the picture window. Sirens whined in the distance. Someone had called the cops, but a quick scan of the street showed no sign of watching neighbors. Gang shootings happened enough in these parts of LA that folks knew when to duck their heads and stay out of sight. Any other suburb, you might have a dozen nosey people or more poking their heads out or even wandering over, just asking to get caught in some crossfire.

Lockman had never considered such an advantage to living in a shit neighborhood.

The wait felt like an age. Enough time for Lockman to go back and forth a dozen times about the sanity of trying to save a girl he suspected might be his daughter based on her own suggestion and little evidence to back it up except a feeling that prickled over his scalp every time he pictured her face, that note of recognition even though he’d never seen her before. And he had to admit, it wasn’t just his own face he saw in her. He saw Kate. He saw a whole lot of Kate in that young girl. Take out the piercings and clean up the black makeup—her expression, that cocky I have the world in my palm and plan on playing some ball determination.

Sounds of movement in the living room. The shuffle of boots through debris. Then the low, snake-like voices behind the masks.

“No sign of him,” said one.

“The girl claims he left through the upstairs window,” answered a second.

The obstruction from the masks made it hard to be sure, but Lockman felt more certain of his original assessment based on their voices. The crucifix should have worked. Should have at least bought the girl enough time to get out the window.

“Does he know who she is?”

“We’re questioning her further, but he might not. Even if he did, that does not mean he would still not abandon her.”

“We’ll all see the light if that’s true.”

Bolstered by the confirmation of his suspicions—only vamps thought that “seeing the light” was a bad thing—Lockman wiped the sweat off his upper lip with a wrist and checked that he had a round in the chamber of each Glock.

He swung around into the doorway, brought his guns up, and sighted one barrel on each of the pair standing in his living room. He pulled both triggers in synch and landed one head shot on the vamp to his left. The one on his right dodged, too fast for human reflexes. The silver-tipped round grazed its arm, tearing through the fatigues and exposing a sizzling and smoking wound.

The vamp on the left dropped to the floor. The hole in its head sputtered and gurgled, bubbles of blood popping inside like boiling chili.

The surviving creature brought its automatic weapon to bear on Lockman, but Lockman never stopped moving, spinning across the open doorway to the opposite side. He pressed his back against the brick wall. The vamp’s weapon chattered. Chunks from the doorframe snapped and scattered. A splinter nipped at Lockman’s cheek.

The thing with automatic weapons, you could drain your ammo fast in a single panicked burst of fire. Lockman heard the dry click when the vamp’s magazine went empty. He swung back into the doorway and fired a shot meant for the head, but caught the vamp in the throat instead.

The vamp’s weakness to silver exaggerated the effect of the round. Its neck exploded like a blood-filled water balloon thrown against a brick wall. Its head toppled to the floor, body not far behind. The headless body still tried to fire the weapon clutched in its hands for a moment before finally giving in to death.

The battle had brought the attention of the four vamps still up in the loft. All four of them stood at the railing and started firing.

Lockman jumped backward through the front door and slammed onto the cement slab porch. The impact on his back knocked the wind from his lungs. For a second he didn’t think he could make himself move. Too long since he’d seen action like this. And fifteen years, no matter how much you worked out, aged a person. Suddenly, Lockman faced the possibility he wasn’t as strong as he thought.

To hell with that.

He rolled off the porch and into the shrubs, clinging to his guns despite the pain in his back and the thin breath in his lungs.

The rain of bullets from the loft shredded the living room carpet and the cheap floorboards underneath.

So much for them taking him alive.

The barrage ended after an inhumanly loud shout from inside the house. It sounded like a cross between an eagle cry and a bear’s roar, but with a voice.

“Stop!”

The silence that followed was so absolute, Lockman could hear the blood flowing in his ears and the rattle in his lungs as he tried to regain his breath. The distant sirens were less distant.

“Craig Lockman,” the same vamp called, his voice not as loud, but every bit as inhuman. “We have your spawn. Obviously, you know that or you wouldn’t still be here. My men are hungry. Do you want us to feed on her?”

Lockman didn’t bother answering. Bargaining with vamps, especially those under the employ of Otto Dolan, would get him nowhere. Instead, he stayed crouched between the house and the shrubs and thought through the situation. He’d downed two in the living room. At least four remained upstairs. Maybe five since he didn’t see the girl and one of them had to be holding her. That made a total unit of seven vamps. A perfectly capable taskforce to take in one man, even excluding their supernatural prowess. But an odd number. A number that felt wrong.

The hot barrel pressed against the back of his neck proved that feeling right. “Drop your weapons,” said a serpentine voice behind him.

Chapter Three

The seams of Kate’s life had started to split again. She felt those seams tear almost like her insides were coming apart. Eventually, she would be left empty. She pressed her fingers against her mouth. God, get a hold of yourself.

Alec sat at the kitchen table with her. Would hold her hand when she let him. Would sigh sympathetically when she looked at him. But he didn't glance at the clock as often as she did, didn't seem to feel the gravity of each passing hour.

“It's after noon,” she said. “How much longer are we going to wait?”

“Last time she was gone two full days before she came back. The time before that was a day and a half. She's only been gone since yesterday.”

She stared at him, hoping her expression showed how ridiculous a thing that was for him to say.

He squirmed under her scrutiny, looked away. “Kate, I'm just saying. She's holed up with one of her so-called friends and she'll come back when she misses regular meals, clean clothes, and a comfortable bed. Just like before.”

Her face grew warm. “So I should go about my day, not worry about a thing?”

“No.” He heaved another one of those sighs. How come she had never noticed that annoying tick before they got married? “But if we call the police, drag them into this again, and Jess shows up, we'll look like fools.”

He tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. “I'm not worried about looking like a fool. I'm worried about my daughter.”

He leaned back in his seat and played chagrined.

To Kate it came across false, condescending even. It was one of those rare times where she wanted to scratch his eyes out. How dare he belittle her feelings?

“I'm worried, too.”

“Not worried enough.”

“Look, I'm not going to panic every time your daughter pulls a stunt like this. You might be blinded to her faults, but what she really needs...”

“What, Alec? What does she really need that I don't give her?”

His shoulders sagged. “You'd give her the world, Kate. No matter what. You'd give her everything except the discipline she deserves.”

Kate felt her face muscles tighten, her jaw set. She spoke through clenched teeth. “When did you become the expert parent? I raised her on my own for ten years before you were ever in the picture.”

“Don't. This shouldn't turn into that kind of argument. We're together now. I'm here. Jessie is both our responsibility.”

“Except, I don't live up to your parental expectations.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Practically.”

“Don't put words in my mouth.”

“Don't tell me how to raise my daughter.”

She said it before she could take it back, with that slight-but-obvious emphasis on the my. Now it sat out there between them, as ugly as a hocked up glob of phlegm. His rigid expression showed none of the hurt she expected. Either he was holding back his feelings or he really didn't care.

You're staking your marriage to a solid man who’s done nothing but help you on this petty argument?

She exhaled slowly. “I'm sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“That was mean. I just wanted a reaction out of you.”

“I know.” One corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he meant to smile and caught himself. “That's why I didn't.”

“Please.” She took his hand. “You're probably right about where she is, but what if she's not? What if she's in real trouble?”

“I still think we should focus on the trouble she's going to be in when she comes back.”

“Fine. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't call the police. Cover all our bases.”

He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I didn't say you couldn't call the police. If you want to do that? Fine.”

“What happened to Jessie being both our responsibility?”

“That still stands.”

“It feels to me like you've dumped this on me. If I want to call the police, than I can go ahead and do that. Not us or we. Me.”

“You're reading too much into things now.”

She stood. Went to the kitchen counter and took the phone off the hook. She returned to the table, standing over Alec, and set the phone in front of him. “Then call.”

He stared at the phone before him as if it were a slug he'd found in his breakfast cereal. “You're letting your emotions get the better of you.”

“Hey, at least I have emotions. You're sitting there like a cold stone. I don't even know what to think.”

“She'll embarrass us. It's like crying wolf.”

“So that's what you're really worried about. Your fucking ego.”

Alec raised an eyebrow.

She slapped a hand over her mouth. God, how long had it been since she had said the f-word? Her face glowed like an ember and she hated herself for it. Why couldn't she say fucking if she meant it? If she was really that fucking angry at her husband? She lowered her hand and stood straight.

“All right. You stay here and do...whatever you're going to do. But I'm not going to sit around and assume my daughter is safe.” She left the kitchen and retrieved her coat from the closet by the front door.

“Come on, Kate.” Alec stood in the archway to the foyer watching her. “Where are you going?”

She finished buttoning her coat and made sure her keys were still in the pocket. “I'm going to find Jessie.”

Chapter Four

“Or what?”

The vamp holding the gun to Lockman's head made a low gurgling sound that was probably supposed to be a growl.

Time to test how badly they really wanted him alive. “If I make a move, are you going to shoot me? Maybe you think you can wing me? Clip a leg?”

The vamp jabbed with the gun barrel. “Drop them.”

“Again, I ask, 'Or what?'“ Lockman slowly stood straight from his crouched position. The gun barrel remained snug right at the base of his skull. “To stop me, you will have to kill me.”

“I'll take pleasure in draining you before the bullet wounds let you bleed out.”

Lockman smiled. Oh, yeah. Definitely a vamp. As if he had any doubt. But that left the question hanging about why the crucifix didn't work for the girl.

“What would Dolan think if he saw my flesh between your teeth?”

“I don't worry about any human's will. If I want to kill prey, I kill.”

“Nice bluff.” Against every human instinct toward survival, he turned to face the vamp, the animal part of his mind wailing against his will while waiting for the bullet to pierce his brain. Lockman trusted his instincts, but neither did he neglect his intellect.

The vamp jerked back as if Lockman had cocked an arm to hit him. “Enough. Move again and you die along with the girl inside.”

The muscles in Lockman's jaw tightened. “See. That kind of talk just pisses me off.” He swung his left forearm in a traditional block meant for an incoming punch, but used it instead to knock the vamp's weapon aside. He lifted the gun in his right hand at the same time.

The vamp had the advantage of not being human, its reflexes twice that of even the best trained mortal. In a flash, it had Lockman's right wrist gripped and the gun pushed off target, making the two shots Lockman fired thump uselessly into the ground.

Good thing Lockman had another gun in his left hand. Like the best of stage magicians, he used what he did with his right hand to misdirect from his left. At close proximity, shooting from the hip, Lockman took no chances. He kept squeezing the trigger until the gun snapped dry.

Smoke hissed from the holes in the vamp's torso, but it must have worn some protective armor under the fatigues. It merely staggered back a few steps, its grip still firm on Lockman's right wrist.

Anticipating the next move, Lockman dropped his empty Glock and grabbed for the automatic weapon the vamp still held in its free hand. He tried to yank the gun free. The vamp tugged back, trying to loosen Lockman's hold.

They danced in this tug-of-war stalemate until Lockman let go of the weapon and snatched at the vamp's ski mask. He ripped it off in one fluid motion, the wrap-around sunglasses coming with it.

The vamp screamed and let go of both Lockman and its weapon to cover its eyes. With most of its face covered by its hands, the vamp could almost pass as a bald human with slightly disfigured ears. That is, until its skin began to bubble.

Lucky thing the house faced East, directly in the rising sunlight.

Lockman kicked the vamp in the stomach and shoved him out from behind the shrubs. The vamp stumbled back and fell to the sidewalk. Its head caught fire, the flames bright blue like a propane torch. In a matter of seconds the creature's skull caved in and the head blew away in flakes of ash. Only the burnt stump of its neck remained, and even that began to disintegrate as the exposed flesh met with the sunlight. The rest of the body, still clad in black, looked undisturbed apart from the sizzling bullet holes in the torso.

“Fucking vampires,” Lockman said, stomach twisting at the sight. Been a long time since he'd seen one, let alone watched one die. He'd had his fill, but two more came out the front door.

Lockman was ready for them. He used both hands on the Glock, took on a regulation shooter's stance, and nailed them both in the head as they rushed out. He'd lost count of how many rounds he'd fired from which gun, so he retrieved the gun he dropped, released the clips from both guns, and put the fresh clips in.

The approaching sirens now sounded as close as the next block.

Reloaded, cocked, and unlocked, he stooped low and crept back into the house. He walked right by all the dropped machine guns belonging to the vamps. Vamps wouldn't load their own weapons with silver, which meant the rounds would do little more than slow them down. Besides, if he wanted to get the girl out of there he couldn't very well spray the place down with bullets. That wasn't the way to get someone you wanted alive. Too bad the vamps hadn't figured that out before they took on Lockman.

The tear gas had dissipated enough for Lockman to stand it. His eyes watered a little. He refused to wipe the tears away until he had scanned the house. No sign of them up on the loft. But they could be standing back, out of sight. He peered into the kitchen. Undisturbed except for the open drawer where he had stored the crucifix.

The sound of police sirens spiked right outside, then wound down almost immediately. Lockman's ears rang from the gunfire, but through the broken front door and obliterated window he could hear car doors popping open. The tromp of hurried footsteps.

A parody of an old classic song ran through Lockman's head.

Cops to the left of me, vampires to the right, and here I am, stuck in the middle with...

With some little girl who claimed she was his daughter.

What the hell had he let himself get into? If the cops got hold of him, the red tape for the Agency to get him out would be horrendous. They might even let him hang to dry, State secrets and all. And if the vamps got him first, a life sentence served in solitary would look like a luxury cruise in comparison.

Only one answer. Don't get caught. Period.

He glanced at the stairs leading to the loft. If he went after the girl... No. He didn't have time to think this through. Act. Now.

He charged the stairs, both guns up and ready to fire. As he raced up to the loft, his view of the space opened. The exercise equipment came into sight first. Then he saw the girl lying on the weight bench, her hands bound behind her, her makeup a black mess across her face. He readied himself to take careful aim as he cleared the last step.

No vamps.

He froze at the top of the staircase, heard authoritative shouts from the front of the house. The cops. Lockman tried to make out specific words, but mostly heard the tension and panic in their tone.

“Where did they go?”

The girl, crying, looked at the open window.

Then he heard the barrage of gunfire outside. Then silence. Then a horrifying but purely mortal scream. Apparently the vamps had decided the police were a larger threat to their operation than Lockman. And they didn't have to worry about keeping the cops alive.

He rushed to the girl and found her wrists tied under the bench with a plastic zip tie. He dug his pen knife out of his pocket and sawed at the plastic band until it snapped. “They might be feeding on those cops, which will make them a lot stronger. We have to get out of here.”

The girl stared at him with raccoon eyes, her body limp. Lockman checked her exposed skin for signs that she'd been fed upon, didn't see anything.

He shook her. “Snap out of it.”

The girl's pallor had already looked sun-deprived when he first saw her. Somehow even more color drained from her face. Her mouth moved silently.

“Damn you.” He shoved the Glocks into his back pockets, lifted the girl from the bench, and threw her over his shoulder. “What did you do with the crucifix?”

He was mostly talking aloud, not expecting any response from her. But she groaned and said, “Dropped.”

Then he saw it on the floor in the corner by the window. He trudged over and retrieved it. Crucifix in hand, teen girl over his shoulder, he hurried down the stairs. “What do you think?” he asked and headed through the kitchen to the back door. “Is your dad everything you had hoped he'd be?”

She didn't answer.

Chapter Five

Cracked, dry asphalt with the occasional sprig of browning weeds rolled past Jessie's vision. He carried her through an alley. She could smell trash and saw garage doors and dumpsters if she looked to either side, everything turned upside-down while she rode on the muscled shoulder of this guy she thought could be her father.

She wanted to ask him where he was taking her, why there were people dressed all in black shooting at them, why the hell he had given her a metal cross like it might do something to stop them? Questions, questions, questions.

Instead, she hung limp and let him carry her. She didn't have the strength for much more. Not after what she'd seen...and heard.

Their voices. What was wrong with their voices?

They came out of the alley and all at once she was swinging off his shoulder and onto her feet. Her knees gave out from under her but he held her up with an arm around her waist and the bulk of her weight against his hip.

“I know you're in shock,” the man who may or may not have been Craig Lockman said. “But you have to move on your own. They'll smell our trail and be on us again soon.”

Then there were those weird things he kept saying. Like what was that about the gunmen feeding on the police?

She was barely—well almost—fourteen. That didn't make her an idiot. Clearly the guy she thought might be her dad was a nutcase. He was talking about those military dudes like they were animals. Smelling and feeding. Jesus.

“Are you listening?” His face loomed close to hers.

She blinked, nodded, and locked her knees so she could stand on her own.

Lockman pulled a set of keys from his pocket and thumbed a fob. He pointed to a Honda Civic parked at the near curb. “Get in the car.”

A sound, what at first Jessie thought was the screech of tires on pavement, echoed down the alley from where they'd come. Jessie turned and saw one of the masked men standing in the alley. No car, though. And nothing else that could have made that noise.

“Now,” Lockman (had to be him, she might as well stop trying to dodge the truth) said and pulled her toward the vehicle then opened driver's side door.

She glanced from the open door to him. “I...I can't drive.”

“And you can't shoot. I'd rather we took our chances with you behind the wheel.”

Before she could say another word, the masked man from the alley was right there. He'd somehow traveled a distance of thirty or so yards in a few seconds. Impossible.

Lockman, not fazed by the sudden appearance, whipped the cross out from his back pocket and held it forth like...well, like people did in movies with vampires. That was just crazy, right?

The masked attacker recoiled and that shrieking sound buzzed against Jessie's eardrums loud enough to make her shrink back. No doubt this time. The sound came from the man. Or whatever he really was.

“The car,” Lockman growled through clenched teeth.

Jessie didn't hesitate another second. She slipped behind the wheel and grabbed at the set of keys Lockman offered with his free hand.

The masked man/thing had backed away only about ten feet. He hunched his shoulders and scuttled back and forth as if trying to find a way past some invisible obstacle.

Jessie started the engine. Lockman kept the crucifix aimed at the attacker and skirted around the front of the car to the passenger side. Then something landed on the roof of the car.

The impact startled Jessie into kicking the gas pedal and revving the motor while the car remained stationary, still in park. She shrieked as the roof buckled slightly. Another alien screech tore at the frayed remains of Jessie's nerves. She felt her body going cold. This couldn't be happening. None of this.

Gunfire erupted once again. Jessie ducked and covered her head, expecting a bullet to blast her head off at any moment.

Then Lockman dropped into the passenger seat. “Drive.”

Jessie's hands shook. Somehow she managed to put the car in gear and pull away from the curb. She clipped the bumper of the car parked in front of them, but she didn't let that slow her. She mashed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. The engine revved and whined.

“Ease up on the gas,” Lockman instructed.

But she didn't want to ease up. She wanted to get the hell away from there as fast as possible. Focused entirely on speed, she didn't consider accuracy. The steering wheel didn't make the car respond as quickly as she expected. Before she could straighten out on the road she smashed into another car parked on the opposite side. They jerked to a sudden halt and a black clad body rolled off the roof, down the windshield, and onto the hood.

Jessie screamed.

“Don't worry about him,” Lockman said and twisted in his seat. “He aimed one of his pistols over the back of the seat and fired three times through the back window.

Jessie's ears rang. She cranked the wheel all the way to the left and pressed on the gas. The car's front end grinded against the car she’d hit. The engine groaned.

Lockman looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get unstuck,” she shouted in answer.

“Reverse might have been a better choice.”

Reverse hadn't even occurred to her. Despite all the chaos going on around her, she felt her face turn hot.

Before she could switch strategies, their car scrapped along the length of the other and curled away, back onto the road. The body on the hood rolled off the side and out of view.

This time Jessie eased off the gas and lined up the car to the road. Once she felt like they were straight enough, she jammed on the gas again. “Where are we going?”

Lockman fired once more out the back window. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Silver's stopped working.”

She glanced in the rearview and saw another of the masked men, maybe the one from the alley, sprinting along behind them and gaining. A check of the speedometer showed the needle creeping toward forty.

“Back up is probably on the way. More cops are definitely on the way. Shit.”

They were approaching an intersection that came to a T. She would have to turn or end up crashing straight into the face of a tall apartment complex.

“Which way?” she asked.

“Straight.”

“The road ends.”

“Don't worry about the road.”

“I'm worried about a lack of road.”

“Just do as I say. And give it all the gas we've got.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and lifted her butt off the seat so she could stand on the gas pedal. She had imagined a lot of possible scenarios about meeting her father for the first time. Everything from finding a famous movie mogul that took her in and helped make her into the next Spielberg, to his outright rejecting her, telling her he never wanted a daughter and didn't want to get to know her. None of those scenarios depicted anything close to this.

A surprising thrill ran through her.

They careened toward the intersection. Jessie’s heart pounded in her chest. A metallic taste rolled over her tongue. She’s bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed. What was she doing, listening to this guy? If she kept on the gas, they would die. Smashing into the face of a building going nearly fifty miles per hour (and without her seatbelt on, she realized) guaranteed death, if not a permanent vegetative state.

Almost to the intersection, Jessie screamed, “I can’t do this,” and slammed on the brakes. Momentum carried them past the stop sign and into the intersection, the car sliding sideways while the tires howled against the pavement.

Lockman opened fire even while they slid out of control. Each shot felt like a nail through Jessie’s eardrum. She hung onto the steering wheel while centrifugal force wanted to tear her out of her seat and throw her through the windshield. Just as she felt like she couldn’t hold on another second, the car jerked to a halt and Jessie slammed into her seat.

The engine had quit. Horns blared from the cars that had nearly entered the intersection at the same time they had come sailing in. Most of the bleating quit when Lockman fired a few more times at their pursuer. Jessie looked out her window, which now faced the way they had come, saw the bullet’s strike the running figure, once in the leg and once in the chest. The man staggered, but got right back to sprinting for them as if a couple bullet wounds were little more than insect bites.

“Damn. He must have ate good.”

Jessie twisted in her seat to face Lockman. “Ate good?”

He sat forward and dropped his guns to the car floor. “Ammo’s out. Time for me to drive.” He lifted her over his lap as if she weighed nothing, then slid behind the wheel and set her in his place in the passenger seat. He turned the key, got the engine started. “Say what you want about foreign cars.” He peeled out just as the man in black reached the intersection.

Jessie turned to look out the back in time to see the man raise his machine gun and start firing at them.

Chapter Six

“Hi. I’m Kate Cohen. Jessie’s mom.” She held her hand out to shake with the woman who had answered the door.

The woman looked down at Kate’s offered hand as if it held canned botulism. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Jessie. Ryan’s girlfriend?”

The woman’s lip curled. It did not flatter her one bit with all the wrinkles around her lips from what had to be a life-long nicotine habit. Not to mention the stench of smoke that had wafted out when the woman first opened the door. The inside of the house smelled like a bowling alley.

“Ryan ain’t got a girlfriend.”

Oh, nice. “Well, I have met him. He’s been to our house many times.”

The woman shook her head. “Nope. Not my Ryan.”

Kate forced a smile. Looked like her daughter had about as much taste in men as Kate had when she was younger. Of course, she never had anything close to a boyfriend until high school. She had not been at all pleased with the label when Jessie first used it to introduce Ryan Whitaker. But the boy had seemed nice enough, and Kate made sure they were in sight whenever he came to the house. If they did any making out, they would have to do it somewhere else.

“Can I see him?”

“Ryan? What for?”

“I’m looking for my daughter. I thought he might know where she was off to.”

“She ain’t here.”

“Please, Mrs. Whitaker. I only want a few minutes.”

Her curled lip twisted to a thoughtful frown. She shrugged. “Whatever.” She stepped aside and let Kate in. The stench grew twice as thick once over the threshold. She tried to stop herself from coughing and made an even worse gagging sound.

Mrs. Whitaker eyed her wearily. Then she screamed, “Ryan.”

Kate started.

From down a nearby hall came a muffled response. “What?”

“Someone here to see you.” Her shrill voice sounded like it could shatter the glass to a nearby display case featuring a collection of ceramic dolphins. Dolphins and a bowling trophy, complete with golden figure wielding a bowling ball ready to launch down the alley.

“Nice house,” Kate said and tried to hang onto her smile.

The woman grunted as if calling out Kate on her false compliment.

They stood in the living room under one of the more awkward silences of Kate’s life. When Ryan finally came out, Kate almost gasped with relief. His hair was tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked bleary-eyed at Kate and his jaw dropped.

“Hi, Ryan. I’m glad to finally meet your mother.”

Mrs. Whitaker gave her son that same botulism look she’d given Kate at the door. “You going out with her daughter?”

Ryan ducked his head, shrugged.

“You fucking her?”

Kate started for the second time.

“Mom, come on,” Ryan whined. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Well, are ya?”

“No.”

The answer didn’t seem to relieve Mrs. Whitaker. And now that the subject was out there, Kate had to admit she wasn’t too sure herself. She couldn’t watch her daughter at all times. Why did they feel the need to hide their relationship from Ryan’s mother? Did Mrs. Whitaker know something that gave her reason to suspect they were...? Kate squeezed the thought out of her mind. She hadn’t come here to find out about Jessie’s sex life. Not that she wouldn’t file this conversation away for a later date, once Jessie was back home safe and grounded for life.

“Look, Ryan. Jess didn’t come home last night. I was hoping you might have an idea where she is.”

He shrugged again, his gaze still aimed at the floor.

Mrs. Whitaker slapped him upside the head. “You look at the lady when she talks to you.”

Ryan scowled, but he lifted his gaze to meet Kate’s. “I don’t know.”

He said it with a straight enough face. Still, something tingled at the back of Kate’s neck. Call it Mother’s Intuition. She sometimes referred to it as her spider sense. Basically, it boiled down to knowing your kid well enough to know when they were lying. And sometimes that skill translated to her friends.

“Are you sure?” Kate asked.

“I haven’t seen her, sorry.”

Hands on her hips, Mrs. Whitaker turned to Kate. “You want me to search his room?”

“For what?”

“Condoms.”

“No. That isn’t necessary. I...” How could she put this? “Ryan, I know Jess shares a lot with you. You two might think I don’t have a clue, but I know you care about her as much as she cares about you.”

“Oh, miss, I think you’re giving my boy too much credit,” Mrs. Whitaker said. “He’s a good kid and all, but he’s a dog like his father was, too. A dog who doesn’t know when to keep it in his pants.”

Kate tried to ignore the queasy feeling growing in her stomach. “You really have no idea? Maybe a friend’s house? Someone I haven’t met?”

His eyes shifted back and forth. He obviously wanted to look away. Which just bolstered Kate’s suspicion he wasn’t telling the truth.

Mrs. Whitaker made a disgusted huff and marched down the hall Ryan had come out of. “I’m checking for condoms.”

Ryan whirled around. “Mom, no. There isn’t any...” He threw up his hands and turned back to Kate. “We aren’t having sex. My mom thinks I’m having sex with everyone ever since dad left. I was ten when he left. She’s a little messed up in the head.”

Kate didn’t know what to say to that. The kid really shouldn’t talk about his mother like that, but he wasn’t exactly exaggerating either. “Where is she, Ryan?”

He scratched the back of his mussed scalp. He made a low, hesitant sound.

“Please, tell me. I promise not to say how I found her.”

“That won’t matter. She’ll know anyway. Besides, I’m not sure you can find her.”

A cold wave rolled over her skin. She didn’t like the sound of that one bit. She grabbed Ryan by the shoulders and shook gently until he looked her in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know the details. She wouldn’t tell me. Probably because she knew you’d ask me and knew I wouldn’t be able to lie about it.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

“Something she hinted about a lot lately. This crazy plan she had cooked up about... Look, she’s going to come back. She promised me she would.”

Kate wanted to shake him again, a lot harder, shake the answer right out of him. The flash of temper made her cheeks flush. She released Ryan’s shoulders in case her anger got the better of her. Deep breath. “Where did she go, Ryan?”

He sighed, hung his head. “She said she knew where to find her dad. She said she was going to meet her real father.”

Craig? She’d found Craig?

Impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Chapter Seven

Lockman shoved the girl’s head down as the first burst of machine-gun fire struck the back of the vehicle. “Stay low and don’t get up until I tell you to.”

“How can he be alive? How is that even possible?”

He shook his head and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. “You don’t want to know.”

She started to say something else, but another group of rounds snapped and zipped through the car. The windshield cracked into several web patterns. Lockman hunched in his seat to make himself as small a target as possible. The last of their group had obviously given up trying to take Lockman alive. Now the vamp just wanted to get even.

Lockman checked the rearview, saw the vamp running and gunning. It would slow him down and make his shooting inaccurate, vamp or not. The beast had given over to his lesser instincts. That was the problem with hiring supernaturals to do a mortal’s job. Apparently Dolan still hadn’t figured that out.

The girl mumbled something that sounded like a chant or prayer. He tried to make out words and missed them under more gunfire. Had she snapped? He’d seen people go crazy after learning monsters really did exist. He needed to get her somewhere safe, talk her down, then get her back to where she belonged—in a normal life where the supernatural seldom thrashed its forked tail.

Lockman sped toward the next intersection, weary of driving so fast in a suburban area. They would have to get to a highway if they wanted to avoid heat from either more of Dolan’s men or law enforcement. He shook his head at the thought of those poor cops the vamps had eaten. That would be a hell of a thing to clean and cover. Dolan had grown even bolder with public displays of supernatural power. That did not bode well for homeland security. The Agency had its work cut out for them on this one.

What did he care? They’d decommissioned him. Wasn’t his job to worry about that sort of thing anymore.

Just get the girl safe and get relocated. Let the Agency worry about the rest.

He cranked the parking brake and sent the back end of the car swinging around just as they entered the intersection. He slammed the brake handle back home and gassed the engine, speeding down the new street. He would work his way north to the San Bernardino Freeway. From there, he could shoot straight east until he met up with the I-15. Then they could make their way north to Vegas. He knew a safe house there connected with the Agency. But first they had to find a fresh set of wheels. They wouldn’t get far in a bullet-ridden Honda.

He just hoped, after fifteen years, the safe house was still active.

Lockman checked on the vamp, saw it come around the corner where they had turned. It had abandoned its weapon, probably empty. With its hands free, it went down on all fours. Its back bent. Its spine became a hard ridge almost like a fin from neck to tailbone. Its back legs also changed, knees hinged more like a dog. This new form allowed the vamp to travel even faster.

He looked over at the girl, hunched with her head between her knees, still muttering something. This time he could pick out some words. “Matrix...Gladiator...Schindler...Gump.”

“Hey. What are you saying? Snap out of it.”

She turned her head, looking at him through her smeared make-up. “Movie titles. When I get nervous, I just start naming off movies.”

Distracted by her explanation, Lockman didn’t notice the vamp had caught up until it leapt onto the back of the car and ripped away what remained of the safety glass in the window.

The girl started to lift her head. Lockman pushed her back down. “Don’t look.”

He gunned the engine, but the Honda had already given him all it could. Behind him, the vamp clawed its way into the back seat. Lockman tried to swerve hard, shake it loose, but vamp made it inside.

Doing fifty on a road marked for thirty made it near impossible for Craig to react as the vamp grabbed at his neck and squeezed.

The girl screamed.

The vampire leaned forward, its cold breath touching the side of Lockman’s neck. Blood frenzy. The thing had lost complete track of any mission. All it wanted now was to feed.

“Hang on,” he shouted, hoping the girl had enough presence of mind to do what he said. He smelled iron and flesh on the vamp’s breath, probably from one of the cops. In real life, a vampire’s bite was anything but sexy. They sunk their fangs in and tore a chunk out of you before drinking from the gaping hole in your neck.

Lockman wrenched the wheel to the right and floored the gas, a second later smashing into yet another parked car.

The vamp sailed over the seatback and straight through the windshield. Its limbs flopped and snapped as its body rolled off the hood and somersaulted over the top of the car they’d crashed into.

Lockman himself thumped into the billowing airbag. Despite the cushion, the wind rushed out of his lungs and left him gasping a moment.

The girl had thankfully buckled her seatbelt and hung onto the shoulder strap as if it were a lifeline. Her face had gone pale and her expression frozen in horror. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

When Lockman regained his breath, he asked. “Are you okay?”

She trembled. Her knuckles turned white she strangled the seatbelt across her chest.

Lockman touched her elbow. “Are you still with me?”

Her mouth moved, lips forming silent words. Then her voice picked up. “White Christmas. Kramer Versus Kramer. The Godfather. Private Benjamin. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Her gaze floated away from him while she continued to rattle off what sounded like secret code. Then she went quiet, gasped.

Lockman followed the direction of her gaze. The vamp stood on the hood of the car they’d hit. The beast cocked its head to one side as if studying the girl. The mouth-less ski mask made the stare all the more disturbing.

Lockman looked around for some kind of weapon. He could go hand-to-hand with a vamp and maybe hold his own—at least in the old days—but only if the vamp hadn’t fed in a while. This one had just fed. But it also had a few silver rounds in it, had changed form, run after a speeding car, and been thrown from a crash. It had to be a little worn out by now. Besides, Lockman didn’t have much choice. Fight or die.

He snapped off his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. He waved his hands over his head. “Hey, over here. You want to eat something more filling than that scrawny girl.”

The vamp afforded Lockman a glance, but its focus returned to the girl.

The girl whimpered. “I really don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

“Hey,” Lockman shouted. He hefted himself up onto the hood of his Honda and stood between the vamp and the girl. He felt a warm trickle by his ear. He wiped his fingers through it, saw the blood.

The vamp’s head turned slightly. It was hard to tell with the wraparound sunglasses, but Lockman thought he had the creature’s full attention now. For good measure he held out his bloody fingertips.

“Smell that?” He grinned. “Come get some.”

The vamp leapt at him too fast for Lockman to dodge. Instead he moved with the impact, using the energy of momentum to throw the vamp off of him and onto the Honda’s roof. He followed up with a hand chop meant for the vamp’s throat.

The vamp rolled off the car, avoiding the strike.

“Hey,” the girl called.

“Stay in the car,” Lockman said and dove off the hood onto the vampire.

The vamp caught Lockman around the waist and tossed him to the ground. Then the beast was on top of him, pinning his arms with its knees. Lockman kicked and thrashed, but he couldn’t shake the vamp off. Stupid to think he could take on this powerful creature. He’d only lasted a matter of seconds. Now him and a girl he was almost certain was his daughter were about to die horribly.

“Hey, you.”

The voice came from behind the vamp, and it turned to look. Lockman saw the glint of sunlight off the silver cross.

The vamp screamed and leapt off of Lockman. It scampered away on all fours for a handful of yards before turning back.

The girl stepped forward and jabbed the cross in the vamp’s direction. She trembled like a branch in a windstorm, but held her ground.

Lockman was impressed.

The vamp howled, its voice almost in tune with the approaching sirens. It gave Lockman a long stare, then turned and ran off on all fours like a frightened cat.

The girl dropped to her knees. “Oh my God, it worked. Was that really a—”

“Yes.” Lockman stood and helped the girl back to her feet. “Nice job there. I owe you my life.”

“I’d say we’re about even.”

The sirens grew in intensity. More than just a couple squad cars on the way. “We have to get out of here.”

“Why? Sounds like the police are almost here. We’re safe.”

Lockman snorted. “You want to explain to them what just happened?”

“Well, no, but...” She gave him a helpless look, her face a mess of tears and smeared make-up.

“What’s your name?”

“Jessie.”

“Hi, Jessie. I’m Craig. Craig Lockman.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Chapter Eight

Otto Dolan stared at the screen on his Smartphone and the single line text message stared back at him.

Contact with tactical unit lost.

He realized he was squeezing the phone only after the screen cracked. The display flickered and went black. It took all of his self-control to keep from throwing the device across the room.

That wouldn’t do, of course, in current company.

Detroit Mayor Colson Wills set his forkful of linguini and clam sauce on his plate and inquired, “Is everything all right?”

Dolan smiled. “Of course.” He slipped the dead phone into his suit coat pocket and folded his hands on the table. Before him sat a half empty glass of water, room temperature, no ice. Despite the Mayor’s insistence that everything on the menu was exquisite, Dolan had no taste for Italian cuisine. Too many carbohydrates and cream sauce made for a flabby belly. Anyway, he’d come to negotiate, not eat.

“Mr. Mayor,” Dolan said and took a sip of water for dramatic effect. “We need to come to some sort of understanding soon, or our window of opportunity will close.”

“I’m still not sure I understand what you are offering, Mr. Dohering.”

Dohering was Dolan’s latest identity, created especially for dealing with Mayor Wills. “It’s simple, sir. I’m offering a chance to start this city over from a clean slate. Put Detroit back on the map. Make Chicago look more like the Third or Fourth City.”

“The notion is great. It’s the execution that has me confused. How can you reboot a city in a single term? It will take years to reach the kind of vision you’ve suggested.”

Dolan shook his head. He could feel the tweak of a smile on his own face. “That’s where my people come in. We can expedite gentrification by eliminating blight and forcing out...unwelcome inhabitants that have held back the city’s progress.”

The mayor finished chewing before he spoke. “This sounds like some Mafia strong-arm shit. You offering to burn down crack houses and chase out riffraff with baseball bats? You think I haven’t had every wannabe goomba make me an offer like that? Just because I’m Detroit’s mayor doesn’t make me corrupt.”

“I never suggested such a thing. And I can assure you our methods are not nearly as crude as those you describe. No one will leave the city unwillingly. But many will leave, clearing the way for a new generation of Detroiters.”

The mayor glanced over both shoulders as if expecting someone listening in. Probably somebody was. The man had a right to his paranoia. You didn’t become leader of a deadbeat city like Detroit without some skeletons in the proverbial closet. Idealists didn’t actually make it as far as the mayoral office.

Mayor Wills leaned forward, whispered. “You know how you sound? No offence, but if don’t have something a little more concrete for me, I’m going to beg off. I’ve got a city to run.”

The smirk on Dolan’s lips pulled tighter. “Tell me, Mr. Mayor. Do you believe in ghosts?”

The mayor pushed his plate away and drained the last of his wine. “We’re done here.”

“Do not leave this table.”

“In case you forgot, the armed men over by the door are my security detachment. I come and go as I please.”

“What about the men at your home? Are you confident they can protect your family?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Just asking questions, Mr. Mayor. The world is full of questions. Questions are easy. It is always the answers that elude. But sometimes we ignore the answers that stand before us in plain sight.”

The mayor slid his seat back.

Dolan reached across the table and grabbed the other man’s wrist. The mayor’s attempt to jerk free was pathetic at best. And here the man had styled himself as a hip athlete during his campaign. Just another of the many facades in this world.

“Look at my glass, Mr. Mayor.”

“Let me go this instant.” He turned to his security team and waved them over with his free hand. The two men in matching suits with matching bulges under their jackets peeled away from their position at the entrance and started over.

Dolan slid his glass of water across the table to the mayor’s side. “Look. Tell me what you see.”

“It’s water you stupid lunatic. Just...” Something caught his eye. He gazed into the glass, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

Dolan released the mayor’s wrist. “Yes.”

“How?”

“The most interesting question of all. Many are so focused on ‘why?’ But it is ‘how’ that can confound us even more when we see something we think is impossible.”

The pair of security goons reached the table. They came around to Dolan and each took an arm. Dolan didn’t fight. He waited, watching the mesmerized mayor.

The mayor looked up from the glass, blinking as if coming out of an unexpected sleep. It took a moment for him to process what his men were up to, maybe even if they belonged to him or not.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Let him go.”

“Are you sure?”

The mayor went to slam a fist on the table but stopped himself as his gaze returned to the water glass. This made Dolan smile. Mayor Wills wouldn’t want to spill any of that precious water.

“Just leave us,” the mayor said.

The men shuffled away with obvious reluctance.

Dolan straightened his sleeves and leaned forward. “Do you recognize what you see?”

“It’s...” His wide eyes shifted from the glass to Dolan. “It’s my house.”

And sure enough, in the water a shimmering image of the mayor’s home floated like a projection. “It’s call scrying. Mystics and witches of all kinds have been doing it for hundreds of years. Yet the majority of people living today think it impossible.”

The mayor reached at the glass with a trembling hand, his fingers coming an inch from touching the rim, but he did not go any closer.

“As you can see, it is not only possible, it is easy. Almost as easy as getting to your loved ones.” Dolan gently turned the water glass by the stem and the image rippled and changed.

The mayor stared at a moving picture of his wife.

Dolan turned the glass again.

The face of a ten year-old girl floated on the water’s surface.

Mayor Wills gasped. “Alexis.”

“These aren’t spy cameras or bugs, Mr. Mayor. This is a power of a whole different kind. A power I’m offering you to tap into and save the great city of Detroit.”

The mayor’s jaw set. He tore his attention away from the glass and glared at Dolan. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. I don’t care. You do not threaten my family.”

“Let’s not waste time with bravado. I have no interest in harming your family. I want to help your city.”

“Why? What’s in it for you?”

Dolan laughed. “I expect to be paid, of course.”

“How much?”

“How much would you pay to be known as the mayor who saved Detroit?”

The mayor looked down at the glass again. Dolan gave it a turn, showing a view of one of the uglier city blocks. Abandoned houses falling to ruin. Buckled pavement. Trash blowing over dead lawns.

“You can fix this city. They will treat you like a king. At the very least they will reelect you for another dozen terms.”

The mayor smirked, his eyes lighting up. “Tell me how.”

“Yes, back to how.” Dolan almost let himself forget the disturbing message he’d received on his phone. “I had mentioned ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

“Yes. Lots and lots of ghosts.”

Chapter Nine

They traveled north toward Vegas in a Lincoln Town Car Craig had found in a parking garage and hotwired. He chose the car both because of its good condition and the ability of such a car to blend in. The tinted windows helped, too. The car probably belonged to some private chauffer. He felt bad for stealing, but would have felt worse if he and the girl ended up in jail or dead.

Maybe the Agency would track down the owner and reimburse him for the car.

All things out of his control. He had to remain focused on what he could control. For starters, it was time to find out how Jessie had tracked him. The Agency had ostensibly erased Craig Lockman from existence. There was no paper trail, no moving orders, nothing, certainly, that a teenage girl could pick up and follow.

She hadn’t spoken since escaping the last vampire. Her silent obedience to Lockman’s directions spooked him a little. He still worried that shock had done some permanent damage to the young girl. Coming out of the car with that crucifix had shown some serious strength, though. So he let her stay quiet.

But a couple hours had passed. They were on the road now, temporarily safe as long as they kept moving. And he had to get answers.

He turned the volume down on the jazz station he had tuned to after discovering the car had satellite radio. A nice feature he’d never been able to afford.

“We need to talk. Are you ready?”

She stared out her window, her forehead resting against the glass. A dry, brown landscape rolled by outside, broken by the occasional Yucca tree, but otherwise barren desert.

“What are you?” she asked.

He hesitated a second. “I’m human.”

She snorted. “That’s fucked up you could even think that’s what I meant.”

“You really think you should use that kind of language?”

“You really think I give a fuck what language I use after what I saw today?”

He couldn’t help smiling. “No. I guess you fucking wouldn’t.”

She made a shuddering sound that could have been a sigh or a tired laugh. Probably both.

“You’re holding up well.”

She rubbed at one eye, further smearing her dark makeup across her cheek. “Don’t feel like it.”

“I’ve seen grown men turn into blubbering fools after their first introduction to the supernatural.”

She looked at him. “Is that what that was? My introduction?”

He took a moment to pick his words, decided it was far too late to sugarcoat. “Yes. Those were vampires. At least, that’s what most people call them. Essentially they fall into the same class as most other supernatural creatures. Intruders. Things that don’t really belong in our world but found their way here anyway.”

“I thought vampirism was a virus or something. At least, that’s the best explanation for it I’ve read about and seen in movies.”

“You’ll do better not to look for scientific explanations for the supernatural. Scientists have been trying that for longer than both of us have been alive and they all sound like a bunch of lunatics when you talk to them.”

Jessie blinked and shook her head as if she’d been splashed in the face with cold water. “This conversation is too surreal for words.”

“It’s a tough thing to reconcile. Luckily most people don’t have to.”

“You seem pretty cool with all of it.”

The afternoon sun came out from behind a cloud, the light shining into Lockman’s eyes. He pulled down the visor. “You never get used to it. Actually, the more you know the scarier it is.”

“You never once looked scared.”

“You might have figured this out already, but looks aren’t everything.”

They lulled into another silence. Lockman noticed he didn’t mind. He felt perfectly comfortable having the girl beside him. He wanted to ask about Kate. He wanted Jessie to tell him all about her own interests and her friends and school and how long she had known he was out there somewhere. He wanted to apologize for not finding her first, and if he’d only known he’d had a daughter, he...

No. He couldn’t. None of it.

He had thrown the interests of national security out the window by risking capture to save her. Now that she was safe, he had to return to old priorities. Getting her home fit in with those priorities. Getting answers to how she had discovered him also qualified. Catching up with the daughter he never knew, however, did not fit the bill. Self-interests had to go by the wayside. Which meant bringing this discussion back to where he needed it.

“How did you find me?”

“Why did you disappear on Mom like that?”

He fumbled for words, not expecting the dodge and return question. “I understand you have a lot of questions, but they will have to wait.”

“Why? My questions aren’t legitimate enough? I saved your life from a vampire of all things. I think you can tell me why you walked out on my mother after knocking her up. Why you’re living under some other identity across the country.”

“Those are all valid questions.”

“Nice of you to think so.”

“But there isn’t time for that right now. You saw what we were up against. You can’t pretend all that didn’t happen back there.”

She rolled her eyes, flipped a piece of her hair back. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have nightmares the rest of my life after that, thank you much.”

“Then you understand the urgency.”

“You say those guys were vampires. Okay, it kinda looks like that could be real. I know what I saw. That doesn’t explain why they came after you with machine guns and tied me up and...” She covered her face. Her whole body shook as if standing wet in the middle of a blizzard.

Lockman gritted his teeth. The speedometer needle had somehow crept up to almost one-hundred. He eased off the gas and set the cruise control. “Leaving Kate was one of the hardest things I ever did.”

Jessie dropped her hands in her lap and rolled her eyes.

“A lot of guys probably say that, but it wasn’t like I was afraid of commitment or anything. The night I...left, I had asked her to marry me. Did she tell you that?”

Her shuddering calmed slightly. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. Wouldn’t look at him, though.

He kept his attention on the road but conjured that night in his mind as easily as if it had happened fifteen minutes ago instead of fifteen years. “I used to work for a government agency specializing in anti-terrorism, specifically terrorism that utilized supernatural elements.”

She wiped more tears away with the heels of both hands, finally looked over. Lockman could see the torrent of confusion in her eyes. No matter how fast he talked, he couldn’t answer all her questions to any degree of satisfaction. He could only do his best to keep her from coming apart. Then he would get the answers he needed.

“That same night, a terrorist named Otto Dolan had somehow discovered my identity and ambushed me at my home.”

He remembered stepping into the house, that electric feeling in the air, and the metal taste on the back of his tongue. His instincts telling him something wasn’t right. Too late.

“I’d been so distracted. All I could think about was how wonderful life was going to be.”

Something had hit him across the head, smashing his right ear. He dropped to his knees, dizzy, stunned. Another blow to the back of his neck followed and he had blacked out. But not for long.

“See, your Mom had said yes. We were going to get married and that was all that mattered to me. I never saw them coming.”

He blinked away the memory and refocused on the road ahead cutting through the desert. He wanted to glance at Jessie, but didn’t. He felt warmth through his cheeks. After getting debriefed, Lockman never told anyone else about that night. Not until now.

Jessie made a final sniffle and cleared her throat. “What happened then?”

“A good friend saved my life. And then, my identity compromised, I had a choice. Take a desk job or retire, but either way I had to disappear.”

“You didn’t take the job?”

“Hell no. I hate desks.”

“How do you make a living now?”

He smirked. “I stand behind a desk. I guess that’s one good thing about all this. I won’t be going back to that job.”

She laughed. Lockman liked the sound of it and realized right away why. She sounded like Kate. He thought about saying as much, pulled back. He had her responding now. Time to get to his questions.

“You have to tell me how you found me. That should have been impossible.”

“Why didn’t you tell Mom you were leaving, or take her with you?”

Lockman sighed and clung to his patience. They had a long drive ahead, he could afford her a little more. If she kept asking, though, she was bound to get to some questions she didn’t like the answers to.

“I was forbidden. After I was rescued, I had to be immediately reassigned.”

“Bull.”

“The agency I worked for deals with state secrets more dangerous to our national security than anything the CIA, FBI, and DHS combined has on their plate. In other words, I know some pretty scary stuff we can’t afford getting into the wrong hands.”

“That’s why those vampires attacked you? For what you know?”

“Possibly. I think they were Dolan’s men. He’s had it in for me for a while.”

“Fifteen years is a long time to hold a grudge.”

“Well, he’s got a pretty good reason.”

“What?”

Lockman adjusted the visor, but couldn’t quite block enough sunlight to keep him from squinting. “How did you find me?”

“Come on. Why would this guy be after you still?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I almost got killed for whatever it was you did to that guy. I think I have a right to know.”

He thought it over, but didn’t see any reason he should tell her. He didn’t want to waste the rest of the car ride trying to explain his motives. “You don’t need to know.”

She crossed her arms. “Whatever.”

“Why won’t you tell me how you found me?”

“Because you don’t need to know.” The petulance in her voice grated like the incessant drip from a leaky faucet.

He squeezed the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He tried to imagine Kate raising a teenager. Did the girl give her as much trouble? “Are you being difficult just to be difficult?”

She made a huffy teenager noise and crossed her arms.

Lockman could escape an attack by a unit of vampires, but he couldn’t get a teenage girl to answer a simple question.

“I know interrogation techniques,” he said. “I could make you talk.”

She gave him another dose of silent treatment.

“Fine.” He hit the brakes and pulled to the shoulder, kicking up a cloud of dust that engulfed the car for a moment. He reached over Jessie’s lap, opened her door, and gestured to the vast desert stretching to the horizon. “Get out.”

She glared at him, all that makeup on her face somehow making her look smug. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. Get out of this car.”

“You’re not going to leave me on the side of the road in the middle of the dessert.”

“Try me.”

“Mom’s done this to me before. It doesn’t work. You might as well save your breath and get back on the road.”

The hinge of his jaw ached from grinding his teeth so hard. “I just took out a whole unit of vampires single handedly. You think I’ll have any trouble pulling a thirteen year-old girl out of a car?”

“You wouldn’t do that either. And it wasn’t the whole unit. You let one get away.”

“I...” Even though he knew she was pushing buttons, going for a reaction, he felt the heat swell up his neck and through his face. “Your mom might not mean it, but I don’t bluff.”

She stared him right in the eye. “Prove it.”

He tore off his seatbelt, got out of the car, and stalked over to her side. He grabbed her arm and easily tugged her out of the vehicle.

She shrieked, tried to wriggle free, but his grip didn’t slip. He pulled her, scuffling, away from the car and swung her around then gave her a gentle kick in the butt.

She staggered forward then whirled around to face him, lip curled and jaw dropped all at the same time. “You kicked me?”

He marched back to the car and slammed the passenger door closed. “Good luck finding a ride.”

“This is bullshit. You aren’t going to leave me out here.”

“Yes I am.” He got back in the car, turned up the radio, buckled his seatbelt. When she came over to the car he hit the power locks.

She tugged on the locked door and shouted at him through the window. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

He gave her a dopey fake smile, waved, put the car in gear, and left her behind in a cloud of dust.

He watched her screaming after him in his rearview and getting smaller with distance. He felt quite satisfied with himself. Teach her a lesson. See that? Dealing with teenagers wasn’t so hard.

She was almost too small to see when it hit him.

Aw, hell, I just left a thirteen year-old girl out in the middle of the desert.

He slowed down and made a U-turn.

Man, but he was making a hell of a first impression for his daughter.

Chapter Ten

They made the rest of the trip in almost total silence. She spoke to him only once to tell him what to order in the drive through of a fast food taco joint. The desert of California gave way to the desert of Nevada, and before long Vegas itself shimmered on the horizon, the first glimpse like a mirage flickering in the heat waves.

“This is it?” Jessie said, her voice rough from so much silence.

Lockman stole a glance and found her staring out at the city growing closer. “Doesn’t look like much from here, huh?”

“Trying to figure out why Alec comes out here so often. He says business trips.”

“Alec?”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners, mischief all over her face. “My step-dad.”

Lockman’s throat closed up on him a second and he choked on his words.

Jessie turned away, but he could see her smirk reflected in her window.

“Your mom’s married now?”

“Three blissful years.”

“You like him?”

Her smirk wavered. “He’s okay. We don’t hang out much, you know?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think he likes kids. He’s not mean or anything. Just...not there.”

“Doesn’t sound right just the same.”

She burst out a loud “ha” and rolled her eyes. “You should talk.”

Lockman breathed deeply through his nose. He wouldn’t let her get to him again. “Since we’re chatting, you think you could tell me—”

“How I found you? Nope.”

“You’re being immature.”

“I’m thirteen. I’m supposed to be immature.”

He shook his head and gave up. The Agency would have to deal with her. Somehow he had a feeling the presence of a bunch of federal agents in dark suits might make this a little more serious to her. Though how much more serious could something get than machine gun toting vamps?

“You do realize we’re still in real danger? Those vamps didn’t show up the same time you did by coincidence.”

Her brow creased. She folded her arms and stared ahead.

“If you don’t tell me, you’ll have to tell someone. They’ll make you.”

“They? You mean this agency you keep talking about?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll tell them.”

“But you won’t tell me.”

“You left me in the desert.”

“I came back.” He pointed a finger at her. “Besides, none of that would have happened in the first place if you’d just answered me.”

“You can’t bully me.”

“I’m not trying to bully you. I’m trying to protect you.”

She sighed as if he was asking her to get out and push the car the rest of the way to Vegas. “If I tell you...”

“What?”

She shrugged.

“What’s going to happen if you tell me?”

“It’s all I’ve got, okay? I tell you what you need to know, you won’t have to tell me anything more.”

“I answered your questions. What more do you want to know?”

“Don’t you want to know anything about me?”

He felt a pinch in his chest and actually winced. He took a moment to choose his next words. “I have a thousand and one questions I want to ask you. Finding out you exist...that’s huge. But I have to think of your safety and the greater good.”

“Greater good?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what we want. There are bigger issues. I have to stay focused on the larger picture here.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s called being responsible.”

“For a secret agent dude, you are totally lame.” She went back to looking out her window. “Forget it. I’ll tell your agent buddies when we get there.”

Lockman just drove, baffled. He was never that crazy when he was a teen, was he? Unfortunately, much of Lockman’s childhood memories carried a lot of static and fuzz. For some reason he could never remember his younger days like others he knew. But there was no way he had ever acted as irrationally as this girl. Jessie had to have gotten that from her mother’s side.

* * *

While Lockman had long ago memorized the address to the safe house, he had no idea how to get there. He stopped at a gas station inside the city’s limits and bought a street map, then spent a moment in the car with the air conditioning blasting while he figured out his route. A few moments in the afternoon sun had roasted him to the bones. Sweat pooled on his upper lip by the time he got from the gas station’s door to his car door.

He also came back to discover Jessie had changed the radio station to classical. He almost commented, but didn’t want to risk stoking her teenage ire. Nothing wrong with classical.

Route mapped, he started the car and pulled out of the gas station.

Jessie shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable. Lockman could tell she wanted to say something.

Did he dare ask? He kept his mouth shut.

She crossed and uncrossed her arms. Sighed. Tapped her feet. Drummed her fingers on her knees.

“Fine,” Lockman said. If she kept fidgeting like that the friction might set her on fire. “What’s eating you?”

She lifted her chin. “Nothing.”

“You’ve got something to say. Just say it, okay?”

“What happens when we get to this place?”

So she was nervous. Reality finally setting in maybe? “Well, my people will be contacted. Agents will probably be dispatched to Vegas. They will need to debrief both of us.”

“They’re going to interrogate me?”

“They will ask a lot of questions and expect you to answer without giving them trouble.”

“Am I going to get in trouble?”

“Kate doesn’t know you’re out here, does she?”

Jessie shook her head.

“You came all the way from Michigan by yourself? How did you even afford the plane ticket?”

“I run my own business. I make movies and post them online.”

Lockman’s gut did a twist while the hairs on his arms stood at attention. “You what? You’re thirteen.”

“So what? I’m too young to run a business?”

“Too young for that kind of business. How in hell does Kate not know what you’re doing?”

“She knows all about it.”

He almost had to stop the car. His eyeballs throbbed in his skull. The air conditioner at full blast didn’t touch the heat rising inside of him.

“You look like your head’s about to explode. What’s your deal?”

He sputtered and fumbled for words. The very idea of this little girl—his daughter—posting movies of herself online made him want to hunt down every pervert who downloaded one of those movies and rip their testicles through their nostrils.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

She gave him a furled-brow look that clearly said she thought he was crazy. Then a light came in her eyes and she smiled. “Oh, you think...” She broke into laughter so hard it sounded like she might choke.

“How is child pornography a laughing matter?”

Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. Her face turned a purplish red from all the laughing. She put a hand on her chest and took a deep, exaggerated breath. “I guess I should be flattered you’re so interested in protecting my dignity.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. Not all teenagers can be this weird.”

“You’re right. I’m weird. Everyone says so.” Her laughter sputtered out like a stamped fire. “I’m the class freak.”

“That’s not how I meant it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I like who I am and have no desire to be anyone else but me.”

They had strayed a bit from the obscene topic and Lockman was tempted to let it go. But he couldn’t let something like that go. “It’s good you have high self-esteem. But that’s no excuse to...make videos.”

“It’s not porn.”

“Okay. Even if you’re not having sex in them, it’s still not right.”

“No. Listen up, Mr. Clean. I’m not even in most of the films. I write and direct them. They’re short films. Stories. No nudity, but occasionally some violence and fake blood.”

Lockman felt his face flush. “Oh.”

She laughed again, not as hard. “Yeah. What kind of sicko do you think I am?”

“The way you said it. You made it sound like...never mind.”

“I see why Mom liked you.”

He hadn’t expected a comment like that. He tensed, afraid to ask the obvious question, but unable to hold back. “Why’s that?”

“You’re all uptight like she is.”

“Kate’s not uptight.”

“You’re right. More like totally anal to the nth degree.”

Lockman shook his head. “Kate was free spirited. Sometimes she didn’t know when to rein it in.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. This is the woman who ran the naked mile in Ann Arbor every year. This is the girl who stole a rare orchid out of a neighbor’s yard to wear as a corsage to her prom. The painter. The poet. The part-time Wiccan who said she had cast a love spell on me the night after we first met.”

Jessie stared at him with her mouth open. She scrunched up her face. “My mom ran the naked mile?”

“Every year.”

“Bull.”

“Doesn’t she still?”

“Oh, hell no. Woman dresses like a nun’s conscience.”

“Does she still write and paint?”

“There is no way she ever did anything creative like that. She works on spreadsheets crunching numbers for some company that makes widgets or some crap.”

For a second Lockman thought this whole thing was a mistake. This wasn’t his daughter. They were talking about two different Kates. But Jessie had known his name. No. They were talking about the same Kate. The girl had a skewed vision of her mother was all.

“I think you’d be surprised by how free spirited your mom really is.”

“I think you’d be surprised how crazy that sounds.”

They didn’t have time to argue over whose view was right. They had arrived.

Lockman pulled to the curb in front of a small white chapel. A sign out front declared it Las Vegas’s premiere chapel for true lovers. Apparently all the other chapels in Vegas catered to fake lovers. Not that the city hadn’t earned that reputation for its local chapels.

Jessie peered out her window. “I don’t think it’s legal even in Vegas for thirteen year-olds to marry their fathers.”

“Funny.” He surveyed the sidewalk in front of the chapel, then the street, looking for any sign of something off. In the distance he could see a tower with a roller coaster at its peak. Locally, he spotted three other chapels all proclaiming they had Elvis. Cars lined the street on both sides, parked at meters. A number of cabs made up the bulk of traffic along the strip. No peculiar vehicles parked nearby. No black clad figures lurking in the shadows, not that there were many shadows to hide in. Even through the tinted car windows, the sun’s glare looked brutal.

“Okay, let’s go. Stay close.”

“Paranoid much?”

He ignored her and got out of the car. She was out and waiting for him when he rounded the car and reached the sidewalk. He hovered a hand inches from the center of her back, ready to pull her down if he needed to.

Jessie noticed and stepped away from him. “Quit crowding.”

“Could you stop being so pointlessly difficult for a minute?”

“You really know how to sweet talk a girl. Mom never stood a chance.”

He threw up a hand in surrender. “Do what you want. I’m done going out of my way to protect you.”

“Yeah, like how you protected me by leaving me in the desert.”

He turned his back to her and strode into the chapel. The air conditioning hit him with a chill that reminded him of how hot it really was outside. He waited a second by the door, expecting Jessie to join him shortly. She didn’t.

Fine. She could stand out in the sun if that’s what she wanted.

The chapel entrance led to a foyer about the size of walk-in closet. A framed photo of a black Jesus hung on the wall, his pious eyes seeming to judge Lockman.

He stepped through the foyer into a larger receiving area. A glass display case along one wall featured a variety of headpieces—everything from the traditional veil to an ornate, golden crown, to what looked like some alien contraption meant to microwave a human’s brain. What could be more fun that a theme wedding?

With an almost painful suddenness, he found himself back at the night he’d asked Kate to marry him. They had playfully thrown back and forth ideas for their wedding. She became obsessed with having a Star Wars wedding where she would dress like Princess Leia and he as Han Solo.

But who’s going to be the wookie? She’d asked.

I think your mother would be perfect, he’d said and got a soft punch in the arm for it.

“May I help you?”

Lockman looked up from the display case to a woman in a pinstriped pantsuit that probably cost more than Lockman’s entire wardrobe. Especially considering he now wore his entire wardrobe since he had to leave all his things behind.

“I’m looking for Schmitt.”

One of her eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Schmitt.” Whether there was such a person, Lockman doubted. This was the code, though, to alert the contact to his association with the Agency.

Only she continued to stare at him as if he had asked her to lick the bottom of his boot. “There is no one by that name here.”

Possible she worked the legitimate side of the chapel’s business without knowing it was a cover. “Is the manager or owner around?”

“Yes. I’m she.”

“Oh.”

“There are a lot of chapels in Vegas. It’s easy to get confused. But I’m sure whatever Mr. Schmitt is offering, we can meet or exceed your expectations. Is the bride close by?”

“I...uh...”

The door banged open and a second later Jessie rushed in from the foyer. Her chest heaved. “I think they’re here. They found us.”

Chapter Eleven

Kate turned on a cheesy soap opera in the spare bedroom and cranked the treadmill up to a comfortable jog. Some sweat and melodrama might take her mind off of how incredibly powerless she felt. But less than a half-mile into the run she lost track of who was pregnant with whose baby and who had returned from the dead. Her mind kept falling back to him.

She couldn’t even get herself to think his name.

That’s ridiculous. Why fight it?

She swiped some sweat off of her forehead and adjusted the incline on the treadmill. The burn in her calves started almost immediately.

God, she hated running. But it was the only kind of exercise she could find time for, and part of doing it had to do with the self-torture. Her own private punishment for all the mistakes she’d made along the way.

She said she was going to meet her real father.

Real? As if she had a fake one. Kate had never fooled herself into thinking Alec would fill that void for Jessie. All she had ever asked was that Jessie accept Kate’s own need for companionship. Something she hadn’t even realized she was missing until she bumped into Alec at the grocery store.

Kate dialed up the speed a notch.

The burn moved up her calves into her thighs and buttocks. Her breathing inched toward ragged.

How could Jessie have found out where to find him? How far away was she? How had she gotten there? The questions opened up possibilities that turned Kate’s stomach just thinking about. Hitchhiking? Some seedy bus station? Some older friend with a driver’s license Kate didn’t know about?

After four miles, Kate gave up and abandoned the treadmill and soaps. She got in the shower, let the spray caresses her scalp, and remembered his strong fingers running through her hair, how he could work those fingers over the top of her head and get a near orgasmic reaction from her. He knew exactly how to touch her, no matter where he put his hands.

She stepped out of the shower spray, her naked back pressed against the cold tiles. Jesus, what was she doing thinking about him like that?

Out of the warm water she began to shiver and her skin turned to gooseflesh. She quickly rinsed and got out of the shower. She had just finished toweling off when Alec knocked and peeked in.

Kate wrapped her towel around her. “Hey.”

He studied her face a moment. “You all right?”

She tucked a corner of her towel in to keep it around her, then took up her brush and ran it through her hair. “Worried about Jess is all.”

“She’ll probably be back in time for dinner.”

Instead of looking at him, she watched herself in the mirror while she brushed her hair. She hadn’t told him about her visit to Ryan’s house. Alec didn’t know much about Jessie’s father and Kate preferred to keep it that way. Telling Alec what Jessie was up to would make it hard not to breach the subject. “I’m sure you’re right.”

He came close to her, put his hands on her shoulders and massaged.

She set down her brush and closed her eyes, trying to enjoy the contact. It felt good.

But nothing like the way he could touch me.

Kate tried to squelch the thought, but it had already tainted her mind like an oil slick on water.

Alec stopped massaging. “What?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You went tense. Did I hurt you?”

A deep breath and a conscious effort to loosen her muscles in her neck and shoulders. Somehow she managed. She turned to face Alec, kissed him gently on the lips. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Who said anything about being without me?”

“I’m just saying you’re really important to me. I love you.”

He smiled. He slid one of his hands down along her neck and then hooked his fingers into the towel along the tops of her breasts. “I love you, too.” He tugged just enough to make the towel drop away to the floor.

She leaned against him and kissed him hard, could feel him responding immediately. They wasted little time getting him undressed. He lifted her onto the bathroom counter and pushed himself inside of her.

Kate closed her eyes and concentrated on the growing warmth below. But in the darkness behind her eyelids she saw his face. And when she climaxed, it took every bit of her strength to keep from calling out his name.

Craig.

Chapter Twelve

The wall adjacent to the one with the display case had a window facing the street. Lockman moved to the window and peered through curtains as sheer as wedding veils. A black SUV, tinted windows, sat double parked a few cars down from their stolen Town Car.

“Did they see you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I was just standing out there when they pulled up. How could they have found us?”

Lockman ignored the question and turned to the woman in the pinstriped pantsuit.

She looked mildly puzzled, but not the least bit alarmed. This was Vegas. She had probably dealt with all sorts of odd couples. “I take it someone doesn’t approve of the relationship,” she said without a trace of judgment herself.

“You have a back way out of here?”

“Of course. Would you like me to stall for you?”

“It’s probably better if you leave too.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen your share of freaks, but the freak show about to come through your door will make everyone else look like amateurs.”

“Please. How bad can they be?”

“They’ll probably be armed.”

One eyebrow quirked up. “In that case...” She moved to a small, ornate desk in one corner, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a nickel-plated .45 almost as big as she was. She racked the slide. “I’ll be ready.”

“Only in Vegas.” Lockman grabbed Jessie by the arm and pulled her with him into the chapel proper, which amounted to six rows of pews and a raised platform at the head of the room with a small podium. Not nearly as gaudy as one would expect, but this was probably the empty canvas upon which to paint the Vegas wedding only true lovers could appreciate.

The chapel owner followed them in and pointed to a door by the podium. “Through there is a small dressing room and a fire exit to the back lot. And don’t worry. Love defies age. I can tell you two were made for each other.”

Jessie made a gagging sound. “Gross.”

Lockman pulled her down the aisle. “You ever get married in a place like this, I’ll deny having any part in your creation.”

“Wouldn’t change much on my end, would it?”

He noticed the bitterness in her remark. More than her usual sarcasm. He stayed focused and led her out the back, both of them squinting in the blazing sunlight.

They stood in a small lot with space enough for three cars. Two of the spots were taken by a red Ferrari and a white cargo van.

“Are we really going to leave her to face them?” Jessie asked.

Lockman guided her to the cargo van and checked the driver’s side door. Unlocked. “She didn’t want to come.”

“She doesn’t know what’s gonna come through her door.”

“And I didn’t have time to convince her.” He climbed behind the van’s wheel and went to work hotwiring. “Get in.”

“You can’t just leave her.”

“Listen to me. I can only save so many lives in a single day. Right now my priority is reconnecting with my people and getting you safe.”

“I didn’t ask for your protection.”

He got the van started. The motor chugged reluctantly at best. “She’s fine. They’ll probably question her and move on. But we have to make sure we’re gone. Now.”

He no sooner said it when the man in the suit stepped out the back door. He looked no more threatening than a salesman. The oddest feature on him was the thick beard and dark eyebrows. The man spotted them at the van and stalked toward them.

Jessie shaded her eyes with a hand and watched him head over.

“Get in,” Lockman said.

“Maybe that’s one of your people.”

“It isn’t.”

“How do you know? Isn’t this supposed to be your contact place?”

“Not anymore.” He grabbed her and pulled her into the van, lifting her over his lap and tossing her into the passenger seat. He threw the van in gear and stamped on the gas pedal.

The man in the suit froze.

Lockman drove the car right into him.

Jessie threw her hands over her eyes. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”

The man clung to the hood even after impact.

Lockman kept on the gas and smashed into the back wall of the chapel, pinning the man in the suit between the front of the van and the building.

The man jerked and spat blood across the van’s dirty white hood.

Lockman kept his eyes locked on the man’s. They stared at each other for a handful of seconds. Then the man gave Lockman a bloody smile and reached forward. His hands bubbled and morphed. Hair the color of steel wool grew over his knuckles and the backs of his arms. His fingertips drew into long talons.

“Great.” Lockman threw the van in park and cut the engine. “Out.”

He flung open his door and dragged Jessie out behind him. She must have caught a glimpse on her way of the shifting creature because she screamed and came along a lot more easily.

“What’s that?” she asked as they crossed the parking lot to the Ferrari.

“No interest in hanging around to find out.”

This time he didn’t have to tell her to get in the car. She hopped into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt without further comment.

It took a little longer to get the Ferrari started, but he liked the sound of its engine a lot better than the van’s. Of course, a Ferrari wasn’t the low profile kind of vehicle he would prefer. Beggars, in this case, couldn’t be choosers.

The van started to shimmy and shake on its axles from the beast’s efforts to work its way free.

Lockman peeled out of the lot and didn’t look back. But he heard the squeal of twisting metal echo behind them.

They blew by the parked SUV belonging to their pursuer. Lockman felt tempted to stop and look for some weapon or clue he might use for a counter attack. He wasn’t sure the shape shifting monster couldn’t get free, though. He had no desire to see the thing fully transformed. Sharp teeth probably played some role.

“How did they find us?” Jessie asked again.

He resisted flooring the Ferrari. Last thing they needed was to get pulled over for speeding. But he pushed the speed limit, wanting to get as far away from the chapel as possible.

“Either they somehow knew that address used to be a safe haven—”

“Used to be?”

“Yes. We’re on our own.”

She whispered something under her breath and chewed on a thumbnail.

“They could be tracking us as well. Can’t be the cars. Can’t be anything on me or they would have come long ago.”

“You think it’s me.”

“It’s the only explanation.”

“Like, what? They somehow planted a tracking device on me? How would they even know I exist if you didn’t?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You have to tell me how you found me. No more screwing around.”

She nodded. When she spoke, her voice shook. “Okay, yeah. I hired a private detective. He tracked you down.”

“Tracked me down how?” Lockman took the next right, a random decision, and checked the rearview for any sign they were being followed.

“He wouldn’t say. I had money saved that I’d been planning to use to hire someone to find you. The guy I picked found you after a few days.”

“How did you find this guy?”

“Yellow pages. I chose the place with the office closest to home since I had to walk there.”

None of it made sense. “And he wouldn’t tell you how he found me?”

“He said not to ask because he couldn’t tell me. I figured he might have done something less than legal, so I didn’t push the issue. Whatever he did, obviously it worked.”

“We have to go see this PI.”

“What? Why?”

“I have to know how he found me.”

“Why is that so important?”

Lockman didn’t answer for a moment, troubled by what it meant. He took a few more random turns, always making sure to put more distance between them and the chapel, and always weary of any sign they had a tail.

“Because it means someone gave me up. Someone I know. Someone I trusted.”

He could feel Jessie’s gaze on him, smell the fear in her sweat.

“I have to know who.”

Chapter Thirteen

Vampires. Filthy fucking things.

Dolan stood in the middle of the abandoned factory they had commandeered as headquarters in Detroit—thanks to the good mayor. The place used to produce auto parts for one of the Big Three. But the Big Three weren’t so big anymore, and this once glorious monument of industry had turned into another shell hollowed by a failing economy. Times had grown so deplorable, only a visionary such as Dolan, willing to tap into power others feared so much they denied its existence, could save this Nation from itself. One city at a time.

The vampire that called itself Harper stood with its two surviving companions, recently returned from Los Angeles. Their wrinkled, flaking skin. Their yellow eyes. Crooked mouths full of jagged fangs. Ugly enough to turn the strongest of stomachs.

“One man and a little girl,” Dolan said. “Mortals.”

“He knew our weaknesses. He was prepared for our attack.”

Dolan shook his head. “Excuses. You are supposed to be strong. Vampire. Craig Lockman is a mere mortal. But you let him kill more than half your unit. And then you broke protocol and nearly killed him.”

“I won’t feel shame over my bloodlust. It is a sacred state of mind for my people.”

“It’s sloppy and animalistic. Your kind may walk on two legs like mortals, but you’re nothing more than beasts.”

One of Harper’s companions bared its fangs and growled. The irony of that response was clearly lost on the thing.

Dolan sighed through his nose. This setback would cost them. He turned to Father Eberly, who stood fully dressed for Mass with a large golden cross on a staff in one hand and a bible in the other. Several ampoules of holy water hung on a band wrapped around one of the priest’s arms.

If you worked with vampires, you needed a holy bodyguard. Just good business.

“Father, please lead these men to their payment, as promised. I’m done with their services.”

Harper stepped forward. “Give me another chance. We won’t let him get away again.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I am still paying you for your trouble. There’s no need for you to worry about the matter further.”

“I cannot accept payment for a job I didn’t complete.”

Dolan smiled. “A prideful vampire? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“There is much of my kind you don’t understand. Don’t assume you know us.”

“I assumed no such thing.” He twisted his lips to one side as if thinking over the vampire’s offer. “Very well. But you must feed first. The promised virgins await you. Consider it a retainer.”

The one that had growled at Dolan rubbed at its crotch and licked its lips.

Dolan averted his gaze before his contempt showed too plainly on his face. “Father. Take them to their meal.”

Father Eberly nodded and strode away without a word, his robes whispering across the concrete floor.

Dolan stepped aside and gestured for them to follow the priest. The three vampires filed in behind Father Eberly and Dolan took up the rear.

They went through a locker room filled with rusted and dusty lockers. Some still held tattered jumpsuits left behind by the men and woman forced out of employment when the plant closed.

Once through the locker room they entered an open shower with several faucets spaced along the tiled walls. The floor had years of grit corroding the tiles. A series of round drains ran down the center of the room.

At the far end, handcuffed to the showerheads above them, stood a pair of naked girls barely over eighteen. All three vampires made a purring sound at the sight of the women.

The women had rubber ball gags, but at the sight of the vampires they screamed with their eyes. They thrashed and twisted like a pair of hooked bass.

The growler gave Dolan a nasty over-the-shoulder glare. “Only two? But there are three of us.”

“Are you telling me you can drain a single human by yourself?”

“I’m just saying.”

Harper inhaled deeply through his flattened nose. “Don’t mind Parish. He likes to complain. This will be most adequate.”

The third vampire toed one of the drains in the floor. “Smart having them in here. Easy clean up.”

“Of course,” Dolan said and nodded to the priest. “We’ll leave you to your meal.”

Dolan and the priest left the showers. Dolan closed and bolted the door on the way out. The two men walked through the shadows of the quiet factory until they came to the boiler room. A cross painted in gold adorned the main water tank.

“The blessing is complete?” Dolan asked as he stepped up to the shut-off valve to the building’s water.

Father Eberly nodded.

Dolan wrenched the shut-off from the closed to open position. Beforehand, all of the faucets in the showers had been turned to full blast.

It took but a second before the inhuman screams echoed through the empty factory.

Dolan tilted his head and listened. He mentally thanked Hitler for inspiring such an ingenious way to exterminate vampires.

When the screaming stopped, Dolan turned to Father Eberly. “Have one of our mortals check on the women. If they’re untainted, we can use them for a future sacrifice.”

The priest bowed and left the boiler room.

Dolan drew his new cell phone and dialed. Two rings before the voice on the other end said, “Now’s not good.”

“I’m sure I don’t care. Your information was accurate, but I’ve met with some complications.”

“What you get for using supernaturals.”

“We’ll see. I think it’s time to bring the dog home.”

A moment of silence. “You sure?”

“Yes. Everything is coming together. Lockman’s the only missing piece. We have no reason to hold back now.”

“I’ll arrange the pickup myself.”

“You sound worried.”

“Not at all.”

“Don’t give up on me now. You’ve come a long way.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Good.” Dolan ended the call and started for the showers. He was curious to see what remained of a vampire after a long shower in holy water.

Chapter Fourteen

Lockman used an emergency credit card to purchase two tickets from McCarran International to Detroit Metro Airport. He let Jessie take the window seat. He’d rather have easy access to the aisle, not sure when or how they might run into Dolan’s men again.

The four-hour flight went by without incident. Lockman felt the smallest twinge in his gut as they descended. He had no issues with flying. The nervousness came from something else. He tucked the feeling aside. Compartmentalizing emotions was another trait of the survivor. A trait, he’d painfully learned, Jessie did not posses in equal amounts as her good instincts. Probably all those teenager hormones roiling inside of her. It meant Lockman would have to take extra care to control his own emotions in order to make up for her lack.

No problem.

Lockman rented a compact car from the desk at the airport. Just as he had when he bought the plane tickets, he used the credentials under his assumed identity. Even if he wanted to, he possessed nothing showing him as Craig Lockman. As far as all the paperwork went, Lockman no longer existed. But already he found himself comfortable with the old name. Almost missed it.

He closed down that thought, smiled at the woman behind the rental counter as she handed him the keys, then left the airport with Jessie.

She didn’t know how to get to the PI’s office from the airport, but she had an address and the rental came with a GPS guidance device. He had her type the information into the device and they soon headed toward the outer suburbs.

“You live in the burbs?” he asked.

“Where else would we live?”

“Never took Kate for a square lawn and shrubbery type. Figured she’d stay in the city.”

“In Detroit? Yuck. No one lives in Detroit unless they have to.”

“She had an apartment on the Cass corridor while she was going to Wayne State. Studying fine art.”

“Dude, every time you talk about her, I’m sure I knocked on the wrong door.”

By the time they reached the office, night had fallen. They pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall with most of the storefronts empty except for the “Now Leasing” signs. One storefront had the window blacked out and the name of the agency printed in white lettering—Walkowitz Discreet Investigations.

Fluorescent lights looming over the lot hummed, their phosphorescent glow giving things a dreamlike quality. The humid air felt thick against Lockman’s skin, which had long ago adjusted to Southern California’s dry warmth. A mosquito buzzed in his ear. He swatted it away.

“I forgot about the time change,” Jessie said. “He’s probably not open.”

“No harm in trying.”

“What if he’s not there?”

“No point in dealing with what ifs.”

“Just, what will you do? Stay until morning?” She looked at him funny.

He couldn’t read what she was getting at. Hell, the only time he could read her was when she was lying. Or scared. Anything more subtle seemed to get lost in the torrent of her unpredictable temperament.

He would have made a terrible father. Maybe the way things went down was for the best.

“I’ll stay only as long as I need to find out who gave me up.”

“Then what?”

“Then you won’t have to worry about it, because you get to go home tonight.”

“You’re just going to drop me off on the way to wherever? After all I’ve been through to find you, and you’re going to leave again?”

Lockman reminded himself to compartmentalize. Still, something tickled deep in his chest. “I don’t know what you expected to find, but it obviously wasn’t...” He threw his arms out at his sides. “This. As long as you’re near me, you’re in danger. I can’t have that.”

“What about my interrogation? Don’t I need to get debriefed?”

Lockman had never heard such a perfect mix of sarcasm and sincerity. The girl was something else. “The circumstance has changed. I don’t know what’s going on. Until I do, I can’t trust anyone I used to know. Besides, Kate’s probably worried about you.”

She looked away, wiping her face with the back of a hand. “You dick. I just wanted to get to know you.”

That tickle fluttered a little harder. He imagined ice water pouring down his throat and freezing whatever stirred inside of him. “It’s not a good time.”

She glared at him, defiant despite the tears poised on the rims of her eyes. “You had fifteen years before now. When would have been a good time?”

A black feeling bubbled up inside of him. Something too slick to get a hold of and shove away. Something that defied compartments. His only recourse was to leave it unnamed. A lie of omission that did not fool any part of him.

“I’m sorry I left. If I’d known about you, maybe I could have done differently.”

She sniffed and blinked the tears out of her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with so I can go home and get grounded for the next ten years.”

He wanted to say more. But what he wanted didn’t matter. He turned and approached the investigator’s office. He tried the door, found it locked. He rapped on the glass. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, Lockman blew out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

A short, round man wearing a sweater vest over a dress shirt and tie stood in the doorway, blinking at Lockman through round spectacles. He had a dark mustache with flecks of gray. Most of the hair down the center of his head had given way to baldness, but he fought the good fight with the old standby comb over. Somehow it didn’t look as ridiculous on the short fellow, even gave him a disarming appearance.

Lockman would have wondered why the man wore a sweater vest in the middle of summer if he hadn’t felt the rush of cold air coming through the door. He shivered. Guy must have had the air-conditioning set to meat locker.

The man surveyed Lockman then shifted his gaze to Jessie. Light of recognition dawned in his eyes. “Oh.”

Lockman almost laughed. “Yeah. Oh.”

The man Lockman presumed was Walkowitz licked his lips. He frowned at Jessie like a disappointed parent. “I thought we had an understanding.”

Jessie hooked a thumb at Lockman. “He’s got bigger muscles.”

Walkowitz’s attention returned to Lockman. He looked Lockman up and down, spent several seconds studying Lockman’s arms. “I see.”

Lockman stood a little straighter, maximizing his height advantage over the PI. “I’d say we need to talk. But you already know that.”

“Come in.” Walkowitz held the door open for Lockman and Jessie. He pushed it closed once they were in and turned the lock. “After hours I prefer to keep the door bolted. You understand?”

The office had little in the way of style or décor. White drywall with a few generic black-and-white landscape photographs. A metal desk that looked like something borrowed from a teacher’s classroom sat facing the entrance. Behind the desk an open door led into what looked like a similarly undecorated office. “Anyone specific you think might visit after hours?”

“Not at all.” Walkowitz gestured toward the back office. “Please, we can all sit and chat in my office.”

They followed Walkowitz in and took the pair of chairs before his desk, which looked like a standard purchase from an office supply catalog—a lot of pressed wood with fake wood grain.

“You just move into this office?” Lockman asked.

“We upgraded from my home office. My wife and I. But that was a good six months ago. We had plans to do more decorating, but it’s all we can do to pay the lease with the economy the way it is. We upgraded just in time to be too late.”

“Business bad enough you’ll take money from little girls?”

He frowned, but did not look the least bit miffed. Jessie, on the other hand, jerked in her seat and gave him the lip curl to end all lip curls.

“I’m not a little girl.”

Lockman waved a hand. “Be quiet. I’ll handle this.”

Walkowitz adjusted his glasses. “I take it you are the father she was looking for?”

“You should know. You’re the one that tracked me down.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Only you didn’t track a thing, did you?”

The PI’s mustache twitched. He adjusted his glasses again. “I went where the investigation took me. The information I provided the young lady here was accurate, was it not? What else matters?”

“I don’t want to play. Do you understand?”

“No. Sorry.”

“The problem here is you think you can mouth-dance your way out of this. But the only word that matter to me is a name.”

“What name?”

“Who told you where to find me?”

“You came a long way to ask an unanswerable question. I found you the old fashioned way. Detective work.”

Lockman slammed a fist on the desk. A picture frame fell flat with a snap. A crystal paperweight hopped a fraction of an inch across the glossy surface. “Bullshit.”

“Don’t spaz,” Jessie said.

Walkowitz’s mouth turned to a thin line under his mustache. He slipped his glasses off, set them gently on the ink blotter in front of him. “You sound awfully upset at being found. I can understand blaming me. But I’m just the middle man. Don’t you think you should discuss this with your daughter?”

Lockman let his breath ease through his teeth, leaned back in his seat. “This is really how you want to play this?”

“I’m not playing anything. You’re making me into the enemy because you can’t run away from your responsibilities anymore.”

“Jessie. Go wait in the car.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk with Mr. Walkowitz here alone.”

“Duh. Why?”

Walkowitz crossed his arms. “He thinks he can intimidate me. Might even threaten physical harm. Don’t worry. Let the adults work this out.”

Jessie gaped at Lockman. “You’re not really going to hurt him, are you?”

“It’s like he said. I’m probably going to use some harsh language here in a second. I’d rather you not have to hear it.”

She looked back and forth between the men, shook her head. “This is some macho thing, isn’t it? Mom’s always complaining about Alec’s macho act. Guys are all alike.”

“Go, Jessie,” Lockman said.

She huffed, but stood and left the office.

Lockman stared Walkowitz down until he heard Jessie unbolt the outside door and the door close behind her.

“You were only half right. I’m not going to threaten physical harm. I’m literally going to fuck you up unless you answer every one of my questions straight.”

“That,” Walkowitz said, “sounds like a threat.”

Lockman swiped the crystal paperweight from the desk. In the next instant he threw it straight at Walkowitz’s face and hit his target square.

Walkowitz’s head snapped back. The paperweight careened off his nose and thumped to the floor. Blood welled from a cut across the detective’s nose. He cried out and covered his face with both hands.

Lockman launched off his chair and reached across the desk. He grabbed Walkowitz’s tie through the V-neck of his sweater vest and yanked the PI forward.

Walkowitz gagged and took his hands off his face to tug at his tightening collar.

With his face inches from the PI’s, Lockman said, “I don’t threaten.”

One of Walkowitz’s hands left his collar and fell behind the desk. Lockman heard the drawer slide open, was ready when the gun came up. He grabbed Walkowitz’s wrist and knocked his hand hard against the edge of the desk.

The gun toppled out of his hand.

Walkowitz now grunted and jerked, his face turning deep red. He clawed at Lockman’s arm, panic overwhelming logic. The guy obviously didn’t know how to fight or he might have tried digging at Lockman’s eyes or striking him in the throat. Soft, in other words. Easy to break.

“I don’t believe in torture,” Lockman said. “But I do believe in showing a display of strength. Now you know the score. Can I let go?”

Walkowitz coughed. He pleaded with his eyes. It was enough for Lockman. He let go of the tie.

Walkowitz fell back in his chair gasping and working his fingers into the knot of his tie. He pulled the tie loose and whipped it to the floor as if it were to blame. His angry glare came next, but Lockman didn’t worry. The man’s pride depended on him at least acting pissed off, even if he had actually pissed himself.

Like Jessie said. Macho stuff.

“You need a drink of water or something?”

Walkowitz shook his head.

“You let me know when you’re ready to go on.”

The PI dabbed at the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. He looked at the blood on his fingers and groaned. Lockman gave him credit for staying cool, though his hands shook slightly.

“Can I reach in my drawer for a handkerchief?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to have more than one gun handy. Go ahead.”

Walkowitz retrieved a white handkerchief from his desk drawer, folded it in quarters, and pressed it against his nose. “Who the hell are you?”

“You really don’t know?”

“I know your name, both the one you’re using and your real one. I know your address in California. And now I know you’re violent. That’s about it.”

“Looks like that good old detective work didn’t work so well after all.”

“Cut the shit. We both know someone else told me where to find you.”

Obvious all along, but Lockman’s gut still seized when the PI confirmed it. “Who?”

Walkowitz took the handkerchief from his nose and surveyed the bright red stain on the stark white. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you wanted to cut the shit?”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know. After the girl hired me, I started with the basic searches. Mostly computer stuff. I no sooner have your name typed into a few search engines and this guy visits me the same night.”

“He just shows up.”

“Yeah. He looked like a spook. I figured him for FBI or CIA. But he never said one way or the other.”

It took every effort to keep his voice even. “Describe him.”

Walkowitz tossed the handkerchief on the desk next to his glasses. “You’re not the first to threaten me this week. He had me pretty convinced not to say anything about how I got my info.”

“He’s not here. I am.”

“Figured you might say that. I’m a small time PI. Mostly do insurance work. Started this business with my wife after an injury on the force convinced me I didn’t belong in the life. This cloak and dagger stuff is beyond me. Whatever you’re involved with, I want to be left out.”

“I understand. But I can’t leave here until I know who talked to you.”

“We never had children, my wife and I. But I love my wife very much. She’s not good on her own.”

“Don’t.”

The PI’s eyes watered. “I’m just one little man.”

Lockman looked over his shoulder, toward the door where Jessie had left. He stood. Closed the office door. He turned off the voice pleading with him not to hurt this poor man who had found himself in the middle of something beyond his control.

“You’re going to torture me while your daughter waits outside?”

“I’m not going to torture you.”

“Then what?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Walkowitz rolled back in his office chair. He threw a frightened glance toward the floor where his gun had fallen. “What? Why?”

“Because whoever spoke with you can’t know I found you. If you can’t help me find him, I have to make sure you can’t help him find me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Lockman pulled off his shirt. The over-conditioned air chilled his skin into gooseflesh.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want blood on my clothes.”

Walkowitz glanced at the gun again.

“You’ll never make it in time.”

The PI’s shoulders bobbed as he began to sob. “Please.”

“Describe him.”

“Please, don’t.”

Lockman walked around the desk and stood over Walkowitz. He tensed the muscles in his arms and abs. “I can crush your windpipe or snap your neck. I’ll let you choose.”

“Your daughter is right outside.”

“Describe him!”

Walkowitz spun in his chair and flopped to the floor, fumbling for the gun. Lockman kicked the chair out of the way and yanked the portly PI to his feet by his collar while Walkowitz reached out with splayed fingers in vain.

Lockman swung the PI around and slammed him against the wall. He pressed his forearm against Walkowitz’s throat. The smell of sweat and urine wafted from the PI.

“This man. Did he threaten your wife?”

“Yes.”

“He promised to kill you both.”

“He said he would make me watch my wife get raped before they killed her.”

“And you believed him?”

“He knew I was looking for you based on a few searches. For all I know, he’s listening to us now.”

“You think this place is bugged?”

“I don’t know.” He crumbled into sobs. Snot and tears glistened on his face and dampened his mustache.

Lockman’s stomach turned. The taste of bile singed the back of his tongue. He released Walkowitz, walked away.

Walkowitz slid down the wall and sat there weeping like a bullied child.

“I’m sorry,” Lockman said. It sounded ridiculous and hallow even to him. “I’ll leave you be.”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

Lockman picked up his shirt and pulled it on. “Never meant to. But I had to try.”

“What about my wife?”

Lockman stared at Walkowitz with narrowed eyes. “I’m cold blooded. But no killer.”

“But him. Will he kill her?”

“I don’t even know who he is. But if they have anything to do with what I used to do, I’d quit your lease and move the business out of state.”

Walkowitz covered his face. “Jesus Christ. This can’t be happening.”

“There’s another option.”

The PI took his hands away and stared at Lockman.

“You could describe this man to me, help me find him, and I could make sure he never comes near you or your wife ever again.”

Chapter Fifteen

Ohmigod, what did I get myself into.

Jessie ran. She ran as hard as she could, first toward home, then veering off course, no plan on where to go, only that she had to get away from him.

A brute. A monster.

Why hadn’t she done as she was told and waited in the car? Only, if she’d done that she wouldn’t know how much of a psycho her dad really was.

Instead of leaving, she had opened and closed the front door to the detective agency, then waited in the reception area, peering in at her father and the detective.

She almost cried out when her dad threw the paperweight at the detective’s face and started choking him with his tie. She had to clamp her hands over her mouth and barely caught the squeal against her palms.

But things got much worse after he closed the door. With only her ears and her mind’s eye to construct the scene, she grew sick to her stomach.

Those horrible words from her father’s mouth...

I’m going to kill you.

I don’t want to get blood on my clothes.

When she heard the violent thumping against the walls and floor, and the detective’s cries for mercy, Jessie simply couldn’t take anymore.

She had run out the door.

Now, tears hot on her face, she continued to run, thankful that at least she was on familiar ground. No vampires or shape-shifting men in business suits, or torturous biological fathers to contend with here. Just an uptight mother and a douchebag step-father. Normal stuff.

Who are you kidding? Normal just took a flying leap off Mount Kilimanjaro. There is no getting back to normal.

Winded, gasping, she stopped running. She stood on the sidewalk in front of a twenty-four-hour grocery. One of the nearby street lights blinked in a struggle to stay lit. Jessie’s eyes felt raw from all the tears. Her cheeks hurt.

She wanted to forget the last twelve hours. Even if for a little while. Give herself a chance to come down from the madness. To come to grips with the fact that vampires were real. Vampires and who the hell knew what else?

Going home wouldn’t do. Having her mom ream her while Alec stood smugly by with his arms crossed? Screw that.

After catching her breath, she headed for Ryan’s house. They could hang in his basement, gank beers out of the downstairs fridge, play Xbox. Maybe make out. Maybe even let him feel her up like he’d been begging to do for weeks. She wondered what Mom would think about that.

She picked up her pace. Anxious to see Ryan now. And maybe she was wrong. Maybe she could bring normal back from the dead.

Yeah, like a zombie.

Which were probably real, too.

* * *

Lockman set Walkowitz’s gun on the desk between them, but kept his hand on it. “I want you to trust me.”

The PI had picked up the handkerchief again and had his nose pinched in it, distorting his voice. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I take my hand off this revolver, you have two choices. Point it at me and chase me out of here—”

“Or shoot you.”

“—or put it back in the drawer and forget about it.” Lockman lifted his hand.

Walkowitz dropped the handkerchief on the desk and picked up the gun. He thumbed back the hammer and aimed at Lockman’s chest. “I should.”

“Maybe. But that isn’t going to help you. There are people after me, dangerous people, who want me alive. I don’t think they would appreciate you interfering with that.”

“Who’s after you? What’s this all about?”

“I answer those questions and you’re involved. You want that?”

The PI chewed on his lip. He gently un-cocked the revolver and put it away. “I can describe the guy who gave me your info. That’s the best I can do. After that, I never want to see you again.”

“Deal.”

Walkowitz drew a yellow legal pad from a stack of files and flipped to a blank page. From a coffee mug crammed with pencils and pens of various colors he chose a pen and clicked it. He slid the pen and pad across the desk. “You want to take notes?”

An unbidden memory rippled up from the deeper end of Lockman’s mental pool. Kate, teaching him to draw, and Lockman realizing he could take the skill into his own life, using it on a few occasions to draw faces from witness descriptions.

“I can do one better than that.” He traded the pen for a mechanical pencil from the mug. “Start with the shape of his face.”

Walkowitz described while Lockman prompted him with questions to get more detail. And he drew. It didn’t take long. But it turned out Lockman could have skipped the drawing. He recognized Walkowitz’s description almost instantly. He only kept on with the sketching in hope that the PI would mention a feature or mark that proved Lockman’s suspicion wrong.

Instead, he ended up with a perfect portrait of his old boss, Victor Creed.

Lockman dropped the pencil and tossed the pad of paper onto the desk. Something shuddered inside of him as if he’d swallowed an earthquake.

Walkowitz turned the pad around and stared at the face staring back. “That’s him. Fucking bastard.”

Bastard? No. That had been Lockman, the bastard child, and Victor had been like his adoptive father. A role model. A teacher. A friend.

A traitor.

“What’s the matter?” Walkowitz asked, but his voice came from some other universe. “Do you recognize this man?”

Lockman stood. He ripped the sketch out of the pad, crumpled it, and shoved it in his pocket. “Thanks for your help. You’ll never see me—or him—again.”

He rushed from the office and lost his breath when the humid air struck him after all that time in the cold.

Of all the people to betray him.

He took a few controlled breaths and tucked his rage down, saving it for the right time. Now he had to get Jessie home and make sure she was safe. Then he could finish this.

He got all the way to the car and in behind the wheel before he realized she wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat where he expected her.

He checked the back seat. Got out of the car and walked a circle around the car, looking in all directions. No sign of her anywhere.

Had Dolan tracked them down? Taken her?

But if they had come for him, why didn’t they ambush him in the office? Had they learned the direct approach did not work so well against him?

A stupid move, sending her out alone.

“No, no, no.” He punched the rental’s quarter panel and dented it. Pain sparked across his knuckles.

Now what? If Dolan had Jessie, all Lockman could do was wait for Dolan’s next move. Waiting did not agree with him.

There was the chance Jessie had decided not to wait for him. Hadn’t she said the detective’s office was within walking distance from her house?

He let himself relax a little. She probably walked home. The simple explanation was always the better one. Couldn’t assume, though. He had to know for sure. Which meant tracking down Kate’s new home address.

He headed back into Walkowitz’s office and found him still behind his desk, on the phone.

Walkowitz glared at Lockman when he entered. “Yes, dear. I’ll be home soon. I have to go now. Love you, too.” He hung up the phone. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“I need a favor.”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

“I need to track someone down. I hear you’re pretty good at that.”

Chapter Sixteen

Finding someone who isn’t hiding is one of the easiest things to do, given the right tools. These days an internet connection could provide all you needed. With Walkowitz’s help, Lockman not only found Kate’s address, but her married name—Kate Cohen.

He sat in the rental car, parked across the street from her two-story colonial style house with attached two-car garage. The lawn looked as square and the shrubs as trimmed as he expected. Hanging flower pots. Vinyl siding. Everything but the white picket fence.

“Good for her,” he said and could smell the bullshit on his breath. But what could he expect? That she would remain single and pining for him even after all these years? If anything, she probably hated him.

He tried to compartmentalize again. The walls he built in his mind crumbled to sand as soon as he put them in place. This close to Kate, this close to the life he’d abandoned, he couldn’t contain the churning in his chest.

He put his hand on the keys still in the ignition, ready to start the engine and drive away, forget about Jessie and Kate.

Coward.

I have more important things to worry about.

More important than your daughter?

He gritted his teeth, pissed at himself. He could run toward a group of vampires armed with automatic weapons to save Jessie, but he couldn’t face the woman he’d left fifteen years ago.

He pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of the car.

The porch light was on. A swarm of mosquitoes danced around the light joined by a pair of moths that tapped against the clear cover over and over in a suicidal attempt to get at the glowing bulb inside.

He rang the bell. His palms sweat.

When the door opened he felt something catch in his throat, as if his breath had turned solid. She both looked nothing like she used to and exactly how he remembered. In her eyes he saw the same surreal recognition. The doorway between them had turned into a window with a view to their past.

He tried to say something, but found his brain had short-circuited on him. Tears of sweat rolled down the back of his neck at the same time shivers ran up it.

The silent staring went on for what felt like years.

Kate spoke first. “You.”

“Me.”

“You son of a bitch.” She stepped through the doorway, onto the porch, forcing Lockman to retreat. She pulled the door shut behind her, then slapped him. “Where’s Jessie?”

Stunned for a moment, he couldn’t think how to answer her. “You’re mad.”

“Mad? My daughter took off looking for her father, God knows where, and you show up here after fifteen years, for what? A family reunion?”

“No. I had no intention of coming here.”

“Nice. Then why bother, Craig? Because you found out you have a daughter?” She rubbed at her temples. “We don’t need you, if that’s what you think. Don’t feel like you have some responsibility to us. I gave up on you a long time ago.”

His stomach clenched. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are...” She peered around him. Her face hardened. “Where is she?”

“I hoped she’d come back here.”

“You hoped? She’s thirteen. She can’t be trusted to run around on her own.”

“Then how did she manage to get all the way to California to find me?”

Her eyes widened. Her frown put an accent on the lines around her mouth that hadn’t been there before. But the lines did nothing to diminish her beauty. Even now, in the midst of the clusterfuck he’d found himself, he noticed that beauty.

“She was safe with me until about fifty minutes ago. Then she disappeared.”

“Don’t feel bad. She does it to me all the time.” She shook her head. “Craig, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure Jessie got home safe.”

“That’s it? She finds you on the other side of the country and you escort her home?”

“There’s more to everything.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“I missed you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to hear that crap. Not now. I’ve moved on.”

He reached out, touched her cheek, fully expecting her to knock his hand away.

She didn’t.

“There’s so much I want to tell you. Kate, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too late.” She stepped back, out of his reach.

He let his hand drift back to his side. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“My husband’s home.”

“Then introduce me.”

“Right. Hey, hon, this is the guy who knocked me up and disappeared without a word. He’ll likely shoot you.”

“He owns a gun?”

She crossed her arms. “Three of them. Lord knows why.”

“You still don’t like guns.” He remembered her finding one of his pistols at his place when they were seeing each other. He had to make up an excuse about it being a gift from an uncle. He knew she didn’t like guns and he didn’t want her to suspect how familiar with their use he truly was. One of several white lies to keep his secret profession from interfering with their relationship. At the time, he’d thought nothing of it. Now it all felt underhanded. No way to build a relationship.

“I might need to borrow one of your husband’s guns.”

Her brow creased. She leaned away from him even with the several feet already between them. “For what?”

“Jessie could be in danger.”

Her voice shook. “What are you talking about?”

How could he explain a whole world of secrets to her without sounding insane? Should he start with the vampires and work his way to parallel dimensions?  Or begin with the top secret government agency tasked with making sure those dark forces weren’t used by terrorists?

“You have to trust me.”

“Tell me where you last saw her and I’ll go looking for her.”

The initial spell of seeing her for the first time in years began to wear off enough for him to notice the differences. The hard set of her jaw. The tight corners of her eyes. The severe slant to her brow. She had lost the softness he always admired. Time had calcified her and Lockman wondered if he had contributed to most of that change.

“You will need my help finding her.”

“What I need from you is to go back to California and stay out of our lives.”

“Kate, you aren’t listening to me. Jessie didn’t just take off. She could have been taken.”

The color in her face drained. “Is this some sick way of trying to burrow your way back into my life?”

“I don’t have time to explain, and if I did you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“After all this time, I’m just supposed to take you at your word.”

“For Jessie’s sake.” He took a step forward. “Let me talk to your husband.”

“He isn’t going to like this. He isn’t going to like you.”

“I doubt I’ll like him much either.”

* * *

“Wow. So you’re him.”

Alec Cohen had a greasy look to him. At least, that was Lockman’s first impression. But he didn’t trust his own judgment considering his obvious bias. Alec’s hair was thick with hair gel and combed with a neat part. Sideburns neatly trimmed. A thin mouth and dark eyes. He had a model look about him. Not much of a leap to see what attracted Kate to him.

Lockman still didn’t like him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m him.”

“Have to admit, I expected something different. Something that ... I don’t know ... explained things.”

“You mean Jessie? She might have my eyes and my jaw line, but her personality is all her mother’s.”

Kate cleared her throat and busied herself with putting dinner dishes into the dishwasher.

Alec smiled. “You sure about that?”

They stood in the kitchen. Lockman looked around at the décor. A country theme. Blue and white checkered wallpaper provided the backdrop. A rusty colander sat on a shelf like an artifact on display. A red-painted milk can was tucked in a corner. Plaques with sayings like “Home is Where You Hang Your Heart” and “God Bless This Kitchen” adorned the walls. It looked nothing like what he imagined Kate would have. And Alec didn’t strike Lockman as the down-home country type. Maybe she had hired a decorator. If so, Lockman hoped she’d asked for a refund.

“Not one-hundred percent.”

The smile remained on Alec’s face, but his eyes grew dim and studied Lockman up and down.  “So Jessie flew all the way to California to find you. That girl is unbelievable.”

“She’s got heart.”

“You talk like you’ve known her longer than what? Fifteen hours at the most, not counting the time after she slipped away from you.”

“What I saw of her today? I probably know her better than you now.”

Something shattered.

Lockman and Alec both turned toward the sound. Kate stood at the dishwasher, her hands out as if still holding the plate that now lay in pieces on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Lockman and Alec asked together.

She closed her eyes and heaved a large sigh. “Fine.”

Alec went to her, put his hands on her shoulders, and massaged. “Easy, babe. She’ll come back. She always does. At least we know she’s close by and safe.”

She met Lockman’s eyes. He stared back. Looking at her made his chest ache.

“Alec, Craig thinks ...”

“What?” Alec looked at Lockman.

“I believe Jessie’s in danger.”

Alec held up a dismissive hand. “You can stop right there. Obviously, you don’t know Jess as well as you think. See, she has this tendency to take off and make people worry about her.”

“I know she’s difficult. But that doesn’t mean she’s any less at risk. Without taking too much time to explain, there are people after me. People who followed Jessie to my home in California and nearly killed us both in an effort to capture me.”

Kate’s face creased with such agony, she looked like someone had stabbed her. Seeing her like that made him feel a similar stab in his stomach.

“What have you done?” she asked.

Alec put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy.” He pointed at Lockman. “You are crazy.”

He should have known this wouldn’t work, should have walked away the moment he learned Jessie had not returned home like he had hoped. “I’m sorry for your trouble.” He turned and headed out of the kitchen toward the front door.

“Craig,” Kate called from behind him.

“Forget it,” Alec said. “Let him go.”

Lockman felt her hand on his shoulder as he reached the door. He turned. The pain he saw in her face before still marred her expression. But he noticed something more. A fire in her eyes. “Is that why you left? Did you get in trouble with someone?”

“It’s almost impossible to explain.”

“I don’t want an explanation. I want an answer. Yes or no. Is that why you left?”

“It’s not that simple. I—”

“I just made it simple.”

He wanted to reach out and touch her again. Alec stood behind her, glaring at Lockman, probably wishing he had one of his three guns in hand.

“I left because it was best for everybody. And as soon as I know Jessie is safe, I’ll leave again. You don’t have to worry about me burrowing back into your life.”

Her eyes narrowed when he repeated her words back at her.

“Can you think of anything that might help me find her? If she’s still on her own, where would she go if not here?”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Alec said. “We’re her parents. We can take care of it.”

Lockman ignored him, keeping his attention on Kate. “If the men I told you about don’t have her, they still might try to get her. And if they could follow her to California, they could find her here.”

“So help me if anything’s happened to her ...”

“I won’t let anyone hurt her. I promise.”

Some of the pain left her face. “She has a boyfriend. Ryan. She seems to trust him. I had to guess, she went to his house.”

“Okay, I’ll look there first. What’s his address?”

She went back into the kitchen and wrote the address on a slip of paper. When she handed the paper to him she asked, “What if she’s not there?”

“It will make things harder, but it won’t change my promise. I’ll bring her back safe.”

Alec stepped forward. “Listen here, guy. You might have my wife all worked up and confused, but I know bullshit when I see it. I want you to stay the hell away from my family. That includes Jessie. Or I’ll call the cops. Taking a minor across state lines is a serious offense.”

Lockman stared Alec straight in the eye. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“It means if you have a problem with me, you’ll have to solve it yourself. The police can’t help you. Not against me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact.” He cupped Kate’s face in one of his large hands. Some of the softness he remembered returned. “I wish ... so many things.”

He turned and left. He barely noticed the humidity. Barely remembered getting in the car or driving. Every one of his senses seemed dim compared to the memory of Kate’s skin against his palm.

Chapter Seventeen

Princess Leia stared with reproachful eyes while Jessie leaned back on the couch and let Ryan slide his hand up her shirt. Han Solo stood next to Princess Leia looking smug. Poor Luke Skywalker lay on his back, his stiff plastic arm holding up his light saber like a surrender flag.

They were in Ryan’s basement. He had one corner of the place set up like a living room, complete with TV, stereo, Xbox, and a coffee table. The coffee table was where the trio from Star Wars stood in their frozen tableau. Ryan insisted he didn’t play with the action figures, but they always ended up in a different pose or position when she came over. Since Ryan was an only child, either he moved them or his mother did.

His fingers touched the edge of her bra.

She chickened out and squirmed away. “You got any new games?” she asked and picked up the Xbox controller from the coffee table.

A small grunt escaped from between Ryan’s lips. “I guess. You want to play Xbox now?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He slouched on the sofa, arms flopped at his sides. He puffed out a big breath that ruffled his bangs. “Is it because I tried to feel you up?”

“Forget it, okay?”

“Cause we don’t have to do that. I mean, I want to. But I’m cool with just hanging out, you know?”

She thumbed the power button on the controller and the Xbox hummed to life. The logo looked blurry when it came up on the TV and she realized it was because she had tears in her eyes. Jesus, how much could a girl cry in one day? She turned her head to make sure Ryan couldn’t see and ran her sleeve across her eyes.

“This about your dad?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ry, I just want to play a video game, all right?”

He held up his hands. “Way to spaz. Sorry I cared.”

“I’ve had a bad day, okay? I came here to forget about it. Not wallow in it.”

“I just expected you to be grounded or something. When your mom showed up here—”

She turned her head so fast the muscles in her neck strained. “My mom came here?”

“She wanted to know where you were.”

“Did you tell her?”

“She was worried.”

“Aw, crap.” She threw the controller onto the coffee table, bowling over Han and Leia.

“Hey!”

“That’s just great. I trusted you.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. Why didn’t you just ask her about your dad?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? She wouldn’t tell me anything. She doesn’t know anything.” Jessie stood and paced.

The doorbell rang upstairs.

Ryan got off the couch and moved to block her pacing. “You can’t be mad at me.”

“Why not? You betrayed me like everyone else in my stupid life.” She tried to move past him, but he sidestepped back into her path.

“Can I tell you something?”

“No.”

“Please just listen to me.”

She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“You promise not to laugh?”

“I can’t promise something like that. What if it’s funny?”

“It’s not funny. It’s serious. It’s why I told your mom what you were up to.”

She crossed her arms. “Spit it out.”

“I care about you.”

“You got a funny way of showing it.”

He waved his hands as if swatting away a bee swarm. “No. It’s more than that. Jessie, I love—”

The scream from upstairs cut him off and went on a good ten seconds before trailing into silence.

Ryan looked up at the basement ceiling. “Mom?”

Jessie’s heart picked up what felt like a thousand more beats per second. She grabbed at Ryan’s arm with a trembling hand. “We have to hide.”

He acted like he didn’t hear her, still staring up. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Jessie took Ryan’s face between her hands and forced his gaze to her. “We can’t help her. We have to hide or we are going to die.”

“What are you talking about?”

She was struck with the magnitude of what she now knew and couldn’t explain fast enough to save them. “If you love me,” she said, “you have to trust me.”

His eyes cleared and regained focus. He nodded. “Follow me.” He took her hand and led her toward the back of the basement.

Chapter Eighteen

Lockman, out of habit, parked one street over from the address Kate gave him. He glanced around the inside of the rental for some kind of weapon. The rental company provided a plastic ice scraper that sat on the floor in the back. Unfortunately, holy water and guns with silver bullets weren’t optional amenities offered with the vehicle.

He got out of the car and thought about checking the trunk for a tire iron. Even if he were put in a position where he needed a weapon, the kinds of things Dolan would throw his way wouldn’t have much to fear from the swing of a metal bar. And who knew? He could get lucky and find Jessie doing whatever normal girls her age did with their boyfriends.

Wait a sec...

He popped the truck, found the tire iron, and took it with him.

He cut through a neighbor’s yard and into Ryan’s back yard. He didn’t worry much about being seen. The moonless night provided plenty of cover as long as he stuck to the shadows.

The yard didn’t amount to much, though it did make the patch of weeds at Lockman’s house in LA look all the more pathetic. A rusted metal swing set stood in the center of the lawn. The swings themselves were missing the seats, which left the chains dangling from the cross bar like broken shackles.

He skirted around the swing set and approached the back door. Crickets called back and forth with their chirps from the cracks in the cement patio. The blinds were all drawn. The faintest hint of light showed around the edges of the blinds to a back bedroom. Lockman cocked his head, listened. Through the cricket chirps he could hear a television.

Lockman tested the heft of the tire iron while he thought about what to do next. A buzz ran through his body like an electrical current riding his nervous system. The quality of silence bothered him. But after the day he’d had, he wasn’t sure he could trust instincts alone. He’d become conditioned to expect danger.

With the head of the tire iron he rapped on the back door.

The crickets fell quiet at the sound. The television emitted what sounded like a laugh track. No movement, though.

He rapped again, louder. The sound echoed off the face of the house, amplifying the effect.

Still no answer.

It didn’t mean anything. Jessie might not have come here in the first place. Ryan and his family could have been out. Maybe they were deep sleepers.

Plenty of possibilities. None of them good enough to bet on.

He turned the knob, but when he pushed on the door a deadbolt kept it in place. Committed now, he tapped the glass pane closest to the doorknob. The glass broke easily. He rattled the tire iron in the hole he’d made to break away enough glass to fit a hand through, then reached in and undid the deadbolt.

The backdoor landing had two possible exits besides the one leading outside. One led to a staircase down to the basement, the other opened to a kitchen. The layout was strikingly similar to Kate’s house. Apparently when the houses were built in these suburbs there was a shortage of original blueprints.

He readied the tire iron and crept into the kitchen.

The woman lay on the tile floor, limbs akimbo, hair splayed in the pool of blood seeping out from under her head. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, one lazily, the other wide and terrified.

Lockman scanned the rest of the kitchen and what he could see of the adjoining family room. No sign of anyone else. He crouched by the body and checked for bite marks, though vamps usually went for the throat, and it wasn’t like in the movies with two tiny pin marks. If a vamp had killed this woman her neck would be half gone.

The bulk of the damage seemed to come from the back of her head, smashed against the tiles so that it looked like her head had sunk into the floor when in fact her skull had collapsed.

A simple fall wouldn’t cause that kind of damage. Someone—or something—slammed her head against the floor. An odd way to kill. Time to analyze the what and how could come later, though. If Jessie was in the house, he had to find her.

He kept the tire iron ready and slunk from the kitchen and down the hall to the back bedroom he’d seen the light coming from. As he approached the room the sound of the television grew louder. A cheesy jingle about toilet cleaner piped out from the open door.

When he entered he found the covers on the bed rumpled as if someone had been sleeping there. The TV stood on the dresser, canted at an angle to face the bed squarely. But the TV played to an empty room.

Lockman checked the other two rooms. One looked like a pretty typical teen boy’s room, with posters on the walls and a smell that hinted at the overactive glands of puberty. The other room had a desk with a computer and a set of file cabinets. Both rooms were empty. He peered into the bathroom. No one.

Upstairs covered, that left only the basement. He crossed back through the kitchen. When he reached the staircase, he looked down and saw a section of carpeting and a portion of paneled wall. A swatch of light cut across the floor at the bottom of the stairs, the source from around the corner.

He felt certain Jessie was down there, or had been. He tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon and started down the stairs.

* * *

“I know you’re down here.” His voice sounded like a gust of wind through tall grass. Just hearing it made Jessie shiver.

Ryan had led her to a small room built to house the furnace and water heater. Not much larger than a closet, the space barely afforded them room to squeeze by the two machines and crouch into a dark corner.

Ryan had his arms around her and hugged her close. Nothing could rid her of the chill flowing through her blood, though.

“I heard you cry for your mommy.”

Jessie squeezed her eyes shut and couldn’t tell the difference from having them open in the pitch blankness. Whoever was out there, he might have a strange voice, but it didn’t sound like the vampires had in LA. Still, she would place a bet the dude was not really a dude at all. Swamp monster? Space alien? Sasquatch? Who freaking knew?

Ryan stroked her hair. She could feel the tremor in his hand. Nothing compared to how she shook. Of course, Ryan didn’t know how scared he should really be.

“I’m going to find you.”

Jessie grabbed Ryan’s hand and squeezed so tightly she thought she could break his fingers. He squeezed back and pulled her more tightly against him.

We’re going to die.

Knowing that, accepting that, thawed the paralyzing cold inside of her. She moved her lips against Ryan’s ear and whispered, “I love you, too.”

“How sweet,” the voice said, impossibly close.

Then she saw the phosphorescent glow of the face poking through the wall as if the wall were no more substantial than air.

Jessie screamed, and Ryan screamed with her.

* * *

Lockman heard the voice when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m going to find you.”

His gut tensed. He peered around the corner. A section of the basement looked like a make-shift living room, with a TV and couch. Beyond that, a larger portion of the space held metal storage shelves carrying neatly labeled boxes. Two walls in the back corner jutted out, forming a small room with a closed door. Probably a utility room for the furnace and water heater. By the door to this room stood what looked like a distorted hologram of a person with a phosphorescent greenish tint. The thing was hard to make out in the light. A quick glance might have left Lockman thinking his eyes had tricked him, conjuring an image in the corner of his vision. But even when he blinked, the translucent figure remained in sight.

Lockman had seen many strange things during his work with the Agency. This one was new.

The figure bent at the waist and poked its head through the wall of the utility room.

The screams came next.

Lockman raised the tire iron and strode forward. But the thing stepped completely through the wall before he could close the distance.

One of the screamers stopped. A boy’s voice. The scream did not stop abruptly, but trailed off as if strangled.

Lockman dashed to the door and flung it open. The light from behind him flooded into the room, chasing off the shadows. In the back of the room, Jessie crouched next to a boy around her age, long hair hanging close to his eyes, styled to look messy.

No sign of the transparent man.

“Where did it go?”

Jessie shook her head, her voice still pitched at a near scream. “I don’t know. It disappeared.”

The boy looked ready to puke.

“Is this Ryan?”

Jessie nodded.

“Is he okay?”

“What do you think?” she yelled, voice quivering. “What was that thing?”

“Never seen anything like it.” He held out a hand. “We have to get out of here.”

Jessie’s nostrils flared as she took a few sharp breaths. Then she got to her feet. “Come on, Ry. This is my dad. He can help us.”

Ryan looked up at Jessie as if he didn’t recognize her. Then he turned his head and stared at Lockman.

Just what he needed. Another kid in shock after his first brush with the supernatural. This routine was getting old.

“Get him on his feet or we’re leaving him.”

“No.” She crouched back by the kid’s side and took his hand. “Can’t you see he’s scared out of his mind?” She hesitated, something occurring to her. “Did you see his mom?”

Lockman closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh. Oh, no.”

He opened his eyes. Jessie had Ryan on his feet, and while it was clear she understood what had happened to his mother, Ryan didn’t look like he could grasp any concept more complex than breathing.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry. But—”

“Mommy’s dead.” The boy smiled. “I know. I killed her.”

The hairs on the back of Lockman’s neck stood on end.

Jessie tried to pull away from her boyfriend, but the kid held onto her hand and wouldn’t let go.

“Ryan, what are you talking about? Let me go.”

Ryan yanked her toward him and wrapped his other arm around her neck, her throat in the crook of his elbow, her body in front of him like a shield.

“If you want your daughter alive, you’ll come with me.”

“What are you doing?” Jessie shouted.

Lockman’s shoulders sagged. “That’s not Ryan anymore.”

The boy nodded at the tire iron in Lockman’s hand. “Put that down and come peacefully, all right? Otherwise, I’ll be tempted to switch bodies. You know, when I leave them, they’re never quite the same. Poor mortal souls can’t handle the occasional passenger. It’s really sad.”

Jessie gave Lockman a wet and desperate look. In that moment she resembled her mother, that same expression of pain he saw when he’d told Kate Jessie was in danger.

Lockman felt something tear inside of him. He tamped down the feeling, set his jaw. “What are you?”

“An ex-mortal.”

“Ghost? Dolan must have some serious hold on a thing like you to be brave enough to let cross to our side.”

“I’m no slave.”

“Every damn one of you that comes here is a slave. You don’t belong. You’re here because someone else willed it.”

“A convenient accident that allows us to feed on the weak of your world.”

“The party won’t last.”

The boy cackled. “Mortal hubris. Always good for a laugh.” His face went from mirthful to menacing in a fraction of a second. “Drop the bar and let’s head upstairs.”

“Ryan, stop it,” Jessie pleaded. “Whatever’s happened to you, you have to fight it.”

The boy put his mouth an inch from Jessie’s cheek. “He can hear you. And he’s trying to fight. He’s very brave.”

“Keep fighting.”

“Don’t worry, he will. He’ll fight until he tears his very soul in half. It’s what they all do. But don’t worry, sweetheart. If Dad does as told, I promise not to make your boyfriend smash his skull in like I did his mother.”

Jessie went visibly tense in the boy’s hold.

“Of course, maybe you’d prefer I put him out of his misery rather than leave him a drooling catatonic?”

“You son of a bitch.”

Ryan laughed. “While I would love to talk about family trees, it’s time to go. Like I said, I would love to slip inside of your daughter. Possessing a young lady like this could make for some pleasurable days ahead.”

“Fine.” Lockman’s skin felt ready to peel away from the heat burning through him. “But when I see Dolan, I’ll make sure I find what he’s got that binds you. And when I do, you’ll be my bitch.”

“Something tells me Mr. Dolan won’t give you the chance. He’s quite hot to have you visit.” He gave Jessie a shake. “Now drop it.”

Lockman dropped the tire iron to the floor.

Chapter Nineteen

Kate opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. The drawer held mostly shirts and blouses she had grown tired of or grown out of. There was a time she could eat anything without a thought to her waistline. Age did cruel things to a metabolism. Even with her running, she could never get back to her old weight.

But Craig? If anything, age had improved him. Taken off the too-slick coating of youth and left lines of character in his face. His body had somehow remained pretty close to what she remembered.

Bastard.

She reached into the drawer, rooting past the clothes to the small wood jewelry box she kept back there. The box held only one piece of jewelry. For some reason she thought it might be missing when she opened the box, but it lay waiting for her untouched. A simple silver chain with a silver pendant. The pendent itself looked like an ancient coin. One side of the quarter-sized disc was perfectly smooth. The opposite side had a collection of religious symbols engraved on it. A cross. The Star of David. A pentagram. And others she didn’t recognize.

When he had given it to her, she thought it the strangest gift. She would never forget what he said when he placed the chain around her neck.

This will protect you.

Protect me from what? She’d asked.

From the darker things.

At the time she thought he meant it as a metaphor or something. Though he said it with the authority of someone who had seen darker things.

Was that what this was all about now?

She lifted the pendant from the box and clipped it around her neck. If there was ever a time to get superstitious, now seemed good. She tucked the pendant into her blouse, put the box back into the drawer. She closed the drawer then stood and looked at herself in the mirror. Somewhere inside the woman staring back at her was the woman she used to be. The woman Craig would recognize. The woman Kate had to leave behind because she had a responsibility to her daughter. And in the years since she had convinced herself that who she was now was superior to that younger self. Then Craig shows up out of the blue, and he had her wondering if she missed the old Kate.

What difference did it make if she did? There was no going back.

“Honey,” Alec called. “Can you come out here?”

She curled her lip at her reflection. Why can’t you come in here? She rolled her eyes. Pettiness did not make for a good marriage. She would be the bigger person.

“Coming.”

She touched the pendant through her blouse. What am I doing?

Tempting fate was what.

She found Alec in the family room. A masked man stood behind him with a gun to the back of Alec’s head.

She started to scream, but a gloved hand covered her mouth before the sound could escape. Something hard and narrow pressed against her skull. “Just relax.” A woman’s voice, muffled as if she wore a mask, too.

Kate stared at Alec with wide eyes. He stared back. “Just do as they say.”

She wanted to ask what they wanted, but the hand over her mouth kept her from voicing any questions.

Darker things.

The thought crossed her mind right before the hood whipped down over her head and trapped her in darkness.

* * *

“Okay,” said the specter—as Lockman came to think of the thing that wore Ryan’s body. “Now turn around and walk.”

“Let go of my daughter.”

“Come on. I’m ready to take her. I don’t care what happens to her. If I thought I could otherwise motivate you to come along, I would have taken her already.”

“Why not take me? Then you can march me right into Dolan’s place.”

“I told you. A mortal mind can’t handle sharing a soul. It drives you mad.”

Lockman shrugged. “So? You delivered me alive. That’s not good enough?”

“Mr. Dolan was quite clear that no harm come to you.”

“That’s good to know.” He looked Jessie in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep you safe, but I have to think of the greater good.”

The boy’s brow creased under his shaggy bangs.

Jessie went still. Her lips parted slightly. “What?”

Lockman returned his attention to the specter. “Go ahead. Take her if you want. I won’t give myself over to Dolan.”

Not-Ryan smirked. “Nice bluff.”

Lockman bent over and picked up the tire iron. “This look like a bluff?”

“Don’t waste any more of my time.”

“Take her.”

“I will.”

“Show me. I want to see what it looks like.”

Jessie’s eyes watered. Her lip quivered.

Lockman tried not to notice.

“All right, then. I’ll call your bluff.” The specter stroked Jessie’s cheek. “Maybe I’ll have you fuck your own father. Wouldn’t that be nice and twisted?”

Jessie screamed and elbowed Ryan in the gut.

Lockman reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the specter. Then he swung the tire iron and knocked Ryan so hard on the skull, his head bounced off the wall before he crumbled to the floor. Lockman already started moving before Ryan’s body landed. He tugged Jessie along with him. He didn’t think the specter got knocked out along with its host.

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner and started up the steps, a breathy howl chased after them.

Halfway up the staircase, the specter, back to his green phosphorescent self, rose up through the stairs as if in an invisible elevator.

Lockman and Jessie jerked to a halt.

“You cannot outrun me.”

Lockman growled and threw the tire iron at the thing. The metal rod flew end-over-end and passed right through the specter’s translucent torso.

The specter laughed.

“I don’t have to outrun you,” Lockman said. “You can’t possess me, and if you go near Jessie, I won’t cooperate.”

The specter’s face distorted, the humanlike face replaced for a moment by something grotesque. There and gone so fast, Lockman couldn’t pick out details, but he was left with a subliminal unease.

“If not for our coming ascension, I would rape your soul and your daughter.”

“You’ve got a serious incest fetish, huh?”

“Jokes will not save you. And it will not stop us.”

“Stop who from what?”

The specter smiled. “Those of us who deserve life will taste it again.” The glowing shape dissipated into what looked like a green storm cloud. The cloud broke apart into a mist. The mist swirled around them, blowing their hair, and then it streamed out of the stairway, chased by a freight train scream.

Jessie covered her head and started rambling off movie titles again, half of which Lockman didn’t recognize.

Lockman squinted through the whirling wind and stared in the direction of the specter’s retreat. “I don’t think he’s done with us.”

Something smacked across his arm. He turned and Jessie punched him in the chest. When he didn’t react, she punched again.

“You can be as mad as you want, but the fact is, you’re still alive and he’s gone for now.”

“You prick. You righteous prick. What if he—”

“I wasn’t going to let him.”

“And Ryan. Oh my god.” She turned and trounced back down the stairs before Lockman could protest.

He followed her down. “We don’t have time—”

“Shut up.”

He hung back while she went to Ryan and crouched at his side. She stroked his hair, revealing a smear of blood from the boy’s scalp.

“Did you kill him?”

“I can see he’s still breathing from here.” He took a step forward. “I know you’re upset, but we have to go.”

“I’m not running around anymore with you. I’m tired of it.”

“The whole reason I left was to avoid putting the people I care about in danger. That didn’t work. But I’m still not going to let you or Kate get hurt.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “I thought you didn’t have a choice. They made you leave.”

He took a deep breath. “Half true. I could have taken Kate with me. My boss offered me to take someone. I told him there wasn’t anyone to take. He wasn’t supposed to know about Kate.”

“But he did?”

“He’s the one gave me up to the PI. He must have known about Kate, about you. And that you would lead Dolan’s men to my door. It’s backwards. He could have told Dolan and left you and Kate out of it, but I won’t know the details until I talk to him myself.”

She shook her head and looked down at Ryan. “You think it’s true? You think he’ll wake up crazy?”

“Probably.”

“Don’t sugar coat it.”

“Not one of my skills.”

She snorted, barely hanging onto the stone face she’d put on. “I noticed.”

“We have to go.”

“I’m not going to leave him like this.”

“We can call an ambulance on the way out. Jessie, we need to get back to your mom.”

Her back went stiff. “Why?”

“You know why.”

She hung her head. “Finding you really messed things up, huh?”

“I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Just you? Against...” She waved her hand toward the ceiling. “...all that.”

“Behind all that is one man. I stop him, none of these things will have any reason to come after you or Kate.”

“But they might still come after you?”

“If I piss them off enough. Me and the supernatural never did get along very well.”

Chapter Twenty

“What do you think that thing meant about the ‘ascension?’ Sounds like something out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

Lockman completed the left turn that took them into Kate’s neighborhood before answering. “Been mulling that myself.”

“You don’t have a clue, huh?”

“These things, supernatural beings, follow their own brand of rules. But they all have one thing in common. They were almost universally brought here, to our world or plane of existence, or whatever, by some malignant means.”

“Like, what?” she asked with a laugh in her voice. “Sacrificing virgins?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” He turned onto Kate’s street, slowed to give them a chance to finish the conversation. “Blood sacrifice is the most efficient way of summoning and controlling those forces. Not all of them can be controlled once they’re here, though. There are plenty of vampires out there, for example, some of them made by the vamps that were brought here initially.”

“Brought here? Brought from where?”

“Most people familiar with these things refer to it as another dimension or an alternate reality. If you talk to a physicist about it, he’ll get into all the different possible worlds parallel to ours. But I think most of the scientists are full of shit. This isn’t science, its mojo. Magic. Stuff people shouldn’t be messing with.”

He pulled into Kate’s driveway and cut the engine. He watched Jessie try to process what he was telling her. He saw the next question rising in her face, knew what it was maybe before she did. The patterns were predictable. For those that got past the impossibility of the supernatural, the follow-up questions held pretty close to standard form.

“How come we can’t conjure up some mojo of our own? If there’s a dark side, there has to be a light side, right?”

“I told you these forces defied rational explanation. Believe me, people have tried to find the so-called light side for hundreds of years. There’s no such thing. Mojo is bad, period.”

She shook her head. “Good and evil. Heaven and hell. Ying and Yang. Everything has an opposite. There has to be good magic.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the opposite of zero?”

“Not...zero. Nothing verses something.”

“I didn’t say ‘nothing.’ I said ‘zero.’ The number. It has no opposite.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I don’t make up the rules.”

“No. You just buy into whatever they told you. Even though they are the ones that screwed you over.”

“That thing that killed Ryan’s mom by making her smash her own head into the floor? How can there be any good in that?”

“If there are demons, there are angels.”

“Those are just names. Names mean nothing. Call them vampires because they feed on the blood of humans and burn in sunlight. But take away all the mortal literature, and what you’re left with is a vicious animal that doesn’t belong among us. I don’t care what you call it. It does not belong.”

Jessie stared out her window, her slouched posture telling him she didn’t like what he said. He didn’t blame her. Knowing that mankind had managed to pull pure evil into our world to the exclusion of its opposite fucked with your head. It went against everything kids were raised to believe. God verses the devil. Good guys versus the bad. The truth: there were bad guys and there was everyone else.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “Your mom will be glad to see you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Don’t doubt it. She loves you very much. It’s written all over her face.”

She shifted in her seat, looked at him. “You don’t know my mom. All she cares about is turning me into a little automaton like her. Be a good girl who does what she’s told.”

He shook his head. “For a thirteen year-old, you are both really smart and really stupid.”

“Nice.”

“I might not know Kate as well as I used to. But I know what’s at her core. That doesn’t change. She’s doing her best.”

“What about you?”

“Open ended question.”

“What’s at your core? Are you doing your best?”

“I could have done better.”

She popped open her door. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

After her door shut, Lockman sat for a moment in the silence. I have a daughter, he thought as if he had only just discovered this.

Then he remembered the fear and pain in her eyes when he told the specter to take her, pretending not to care.

He got out of the car.

Jessie stood halfway up the approach to the front porch. Night had settled thick and full, the sky darker here than it ever got in LA. “Are you coming?” she asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t want to face the dragon lady alone. I need you to vouch for me.”

“Not about that. About earlier. In Ryan’s basement. I should have never challenged that thing and put you at risk.”

Her eyes shifted. She crossed her arms and shrugged. “No big. You were bluffing, right? You had it under control.”

“I didn’t have anything under control. I gambled with your life. I won’t do that again, no matter what.”

“What about the greater good?”

“I’ve been burned by my own people. The greater good can go to hell.”

She smiled, just barely. “Cool.”

They stepped onto the porch together. He opened the door for her and let her walk in first.

“Mom?” Jessie shouted once inside. “I’m home and ready for my grounding.”

Lockman winced. “Probably not the best way to play this.”

Instead of an angry or worried Kate marching into the room, the house was so quiet Lockman could hear the occasional snap and pop of it settling.

“Oh shit,” Jessie whispered.

“Maybe they stepped out for a moment.” He moved by her and into the kitchen. No sign of struggle. The light over the sink was left on. A couple lamps on in the family room. The TV playing with the volume low. “Kate?”

“They were taken, weren’t they?” Jessie stood in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Her skin looked pale except for the shadows under her eyes. Lockman realized she must have washed the rest of her makeup off. None of the black gunk marred her sweet, round face. If she could cast off the look of someone who had, literally, seen a ghost, she might have looked like a regular kid.

“TV’s still on. Lights are all on. That sound like something they would do if they went out?”

“My mom is an energy freak. No way she’d leave all those things on. Maybe Alec. But if she thought I was coming back with you...”

Lockman nodded. No way Kate would have left this house until she knew her daughter was safe. “They were taken.”

“There you go,” she said, her voice thick with tears, “sugar coating again.”

He crossed the kitchen and, without thinking, took her in his arms and hugged her. “I’ll get them back.”

She cried against him, whole body shaking. He held on. He knew they shouldn’t hang around, but he wouldn’t rush her. She’d been through enough.

She pulled together quicker than he expected. “Thanks,” she said. “We have to go, don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“What will happen to them?”

“I don’t know. It depends on what Dolan has planned. So far, none of this makes sense.”

“Where to, then?”

“Regroup. Rearm. And pay my old boss a visit.”

She nodded, so much strength behind her eyes it made Lockman quit breathing for a second. An amazing kid. Unpredictable. Unreasonable. Irrational. But amazing.

She deserved her normal life back.

She would have her normal life back.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kate lost all sense of time after the hood went over her head. The masked strangers had guided her out of the house and put her and Alec into the back of what she was pretty sure was a van. They had to sit on the van’s floor. Her hands were bound with a plastic zip tie behind her back. Each hump in the road the van hit threatened her to tip her off balance and onto her side. She leaned against Alec for support, and he did the same against her, so they managed to make the trip without rolling over. The ride itself felt like an age. The hood and her hot breath trapped inside started making her claustrophobic.

She didn’t ask for them to remove the hood, though. She didn’t want to see them. If she didn’t have any faces to identify, they wouldn’t have to kill her. At least, that’s how it worked in the thrillers she read. Only, how often did that work out?

This wasn’t a thriller. This was real. Cold comfort for anyone who watched enough news.

Eventually, the van had stopped, the engine cut, and she and Alec were pulled from the back.

Now she sat somewhere musty, with an echo that made every foot shuffle sound like the batting wings of a giant moth. Based on the hard, cool feel against her back and the metal seat she could feel with her bound hands, they had her on a metal chair. Alex sat nearby. She could hear his breathing and had heard him grunt when they sat him down hard.

Their captures’ footsteps clopped away, leaving them in silence.

“Babe, you okay?” Alec’s voice sounded strained, as if on the verge of screaming. She appreciated him holding back his fear, she only wished he was better at it.

Her heart pumped hard in her chest. Her throat felt thick. “Why are they doing this?”

“I thought you might know.”

“Me?”

“That old boyfriend of yours shows up, says Jessie’s in danger, then armed men whisk us away. Who is he?”

A valid question and one she realized she didn’t have the answer to. She exhaled slowly and smelled a bitterness on her breath.

The echo of footsteps traveled toward them. Several sets of feet. With the echo, impossible to determine how many approached. Her breath felt twice as hot and smelled twice as bitter under the hood. Her heart ached it beat so hard.

Eventually the footfalls came to rest. Kate imagined a line of masked men with big guns staring at her, lifting their barrels, prepping to cut her and Alec down like a firing squad.

A deep voice that sounded like it belonged on the radio spoke instead. “Split them apart and question them separately.”

A set of hands grasped her arm and pulled her from the chair.

“Please, what do you want? We don’t know anything.”

Kate felt the presence in front of her. He must have stood very close.

“How do you know what you don’t know until you’re asked?”

The slick sound of his voice made her shiver. “We’re just a normal couple. What could you possibly want from us?”

“If I told you, that might ruin the surprise.” The pressure of his presence eased. “Do it.”

The hands on her arm pulled her. She tried to pull free, instinct more than logic guiding her. Where would I go when I got free? But a second pair of hands clutched her free arm, destroying any hope of escape.

“Kate?” Alec shouted. “Kate.” Her name buzzed in the hollow room.

A soft thump, like a punch to a pillow, came from the direction of his voice. He grunted and fell silent.

It took all she had to keep from screaming as these people took her away from her husband. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Most of all, she hoped Craig had found Jessie first.

* * *

Dolan sat in what used to be the foreman’s office. The company had left behind an old metal desk, but Dolan’s people had not found a single chair in the entire factory. They had to provide their own chairs. The one Dolan sat in at the cleaned up desk was made with real leather and had a seatback that reached all the way to his head. He had never sat in a piece of office furniture so comfortable. An indulgence, but Dolan did not want for capital. Not with the mayor’s dutiful funding.

Two of Dolan’s soldiers brought Alec Cohen into the office and dropped him in a plain folding chair on the other side of the desk. The soldiers stepped back, but remained in the room waiting for orders.

Dolan smiled. Even mortals could prove loyal to the cause if you could get them to listen to reason. “Leave us.”

They both hesitated a second, but only that. Once the office door closed behind them, Dolan stood and moved around the desk. He yanked the hood off and tossed it on the desk.

Cohen’s hair was disheveled. A dark shadow of beard coated his face.

Dolan clapped his hands. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’d studied at Julliard.”

Cohen scrunched up his face, lip curled. “Are you bringing me in finally?”

“Not just yet.”

He growled. “I’ve been at this for three years. I can’t stand the smell of her anymore. I never could.”

“Well, you do have a more sensitive olfactory system than most of us.”

“At least unbind my hands.”

“No point. We’re putting you back in place as soon as I’ve debriefed you.”

Cohen stood. He had a good six inches on Dolan, but Dolan didn’t flinch. He had something better than height on Cohen.

“You don’t have a choice. Sit down.”

“I’ll stand.”

“You’ll sit like a good dog or I’ll make sure you never see your pups again.”

The rumble at the back of Cohen’s throat managed to tweak Dolan’s own hackles to a standing position. So he took a step forward. One could never show fear to the likes of Cohen.

“Sit.”

Cohen sucked a deep breath through his nose and sat.

“Good boy.” Dolan returned to his seat and propped his feet on the desk. “Explain to me how Lockman was in the house with you and you let him get away.”

“Short of breaking my cover and tackling him right there, I had no options.”

“You could have contacted us before he left instead of after.”

“I didn’t have a chance. He was only there for a few minutes.”

Dolan chewed the inside of his cheek. “He doesn’t hold still for long, does he? Son of a bitch—no offense—hasn’t changed much after all this time.”

“Why is he worth all this trouble?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t need to worry about.”

“You take my family. Take three years of my life, making me pretend to care for something that repulses me. I deserve to know what is at stake.”

“The only thing you deserve is a rolled newspaper to your nose.”

“You didn’t get the girl, did you?”

If there was anything that annoyed Dolan more than most, it was insolent supernaturals that acted as if they had more brains than the animals they were. “I’ve been patient with you. Maybe too much.”

“And where are the vampires?”

“They didn’t work out.”

“Things are falling apart. You’re losing control of your operation.”

“I still have you.”

“You are one mortal. You think you can keep juggling our kind without one of us breaking free?”

“The only leash you need worry about is your own. You’ve already lost one of your pack.”

Cohen’s eyes smoldered. The stubble on his face grew darker right before Dolan’s eyes. “Who?”

“It’s hard to tell. All you pups look the same to me, but I believe it was a brother of yours. We lost him in Nevada. He didn’t wait for back up and suffered for it.”

Cohen’s nostrils quivered as his breath hissed in and out. “I’ll rip your entrails from your belly.”

Dolan dropped his feet from the desk and leaned his elbows on the edge. “Not today. Today you go back to playing house with the woman. You get her to lure Lockman back to where we can capture him.”

“Then you will let my brood free.”

“I’ll do better than that. I will send you all home.”

The rage fell from Cohen’s expression like a pulled drape and left him slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “That’s possible?”

“You get me Lockman and a lot more than that will be possible.”

“I don’t understand. How? What does he know that no one in mortal history ever has?”

Dolan felt the smile stretch across his face despite all the recent complications. “It isn’t what he knows now. It’s what he used to know that will change mortal destiny forever.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You’re certain you don’t want to wait in the car?”

Jessie contorted her face in condescending teen fashion. “Parked in the middle of downtown Detroit at three in the morning? Yeah, that would be safer.”

Lockman pointed at the red apartment door, the tarnished metal 66 at the center followed by an additional 6 in black marker. “The person who lives here could be upsetting.”

“Upsetting how? Like he’s a perv or something?”

“He is not human.”

“Oh.” Her brow furled. “Wait. I thought you said all those things were evil.”

“I said they don’t belong. They’re unnatural. They’re bad.”

“They’re evil.”

“This guy is different.”

“Different how?”

“He’s neutered.”

She opened her mouth and made a gagging noise. “Now I’m disturbed.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Basically, the Agency fixed him so he isn’t dangerous anymore. At least not in the supernatural sense.”

“They did this why?”

“To keep him as a source of information.”

“And he still lives in Detroit, in this apartment, after fifteen years?”

Lockman looked at the door. “I hope so.” He knocked.

The door opened almost immediately. Lockman felt Jessie start beside him and the aura of tension surrounding her. He hoped he hadn’t scared her too much, but he wanted her to be ready.

Only the woman who answered the door was not who Lockman expected. Not even close. She stood barely taller than four foot. Blonde hair cut in a page-boy style. Her hips were nearly as wide as she was tall. Her eyes bulged behind large glasses. Between the height and her odd appearance, it was impossible to guess her age. But she was definitely human, despite her gnomish features.

“I was wondering if you’d actually knock. I heard you two yapping out here.”

“I apologize.” Lockman’s insides crumbled. “We must have the wrong place.”

“No you don’t, hon.”

“I don’t?”

“You’re looking for Marty, right?”

“Does he still live here?”

“I don’t appreciate the way you described him to the young lady.”

“She’s...new to the supernatural. I wanted to make sure she was prepared.”

The short woman appraised Jessie. “You his kid?”

Jessie cleared her throat. “Yeah.”

“He take you to nice places like this often?”

“So far? It’s the only kind of place we’ve been together.”

The gnomish woman turned back to Lockman. “You know Marty back from his Agency days, huh?”

“I’m surprised he shared that with you.”

“We share everything. It’s what married folks do.”

No chance Lockman could have kept from showing the shock all over his face.

The woman smirked. “That’s right, bucko. Seven years now.”

“Congratulations,” was all he could think to say. “Can I talk to him? It’s important.”

“He always said one of you would end up back here. It’s why he refused to move to the burbs like I wanted. Maybe we get this over with, I can finally get him to upgrade. Start a family.”

Lockman offered no input on that score. He wasn’t even sure a human and a supernatural could start a family, let alone if it was a good idea. But the fact that Marty had expected a visit from someone in the Agency intrigued him.

Marty’s wife waved a hand. “Come in. Shoes off at the door. I got nice carpet in here.”

They kicked their shoes off and entered the main living area. The inside of the apartment betrayed every expectation based on the outside. Plush furniture. A spotless and thick carpet. Shining entertainment center with all manner of electronic gadgets hooked into the widescreen plasma in its center. Prints of Monet and Picasso and Munch hung on the walls.

Off to the left, the kitchen glistened with brand new appliances. A hall led off to the right. Marty emerged from that hall.

Jessie shrieked.

The ogre pushed seven-feet tall. His dark green skin looked rougher, scalier than Lockman remembered. Maybe the effects of age. A red stubble peppered Marty’s head. He wore a Detroit Red Wings jersey that would normally hang like a dress even on Lockman’s build, but fit tightly to Marty’s muscled torso.

“Craig fucking Lockman,” Marty said, his voice stuffy and deep.

“Marty.”

“You’re still ugly as sin.”

“You’re pretty as ever.”

“Fuck you, bitch. You know you want to suck my big green dick.”

“Hey, Marty. This is my daughter. She’s thirteen.”

A hint of red tinged his green cheeks. “Excuse my mouth, hon. I didn’t see you standing there.” He ducked under the hall archway and came into the great room. His gaze remained locked on Jessie. “Daughter? Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“What makes sense, Marty?”

The ogre frowned. “Eliza, could you get us some drinks. Beer for Craig here. A soda for the young lady?”

Jessie had not moved or made a sound since her initial shriek at the sight of Marty. Her chin dipped almost imperceptibly, might have been a nod. “’Kay.”

“Never seen a Gulogich before, huh?”

Jessie stared.

“We call them ogres here,” Lockman said. “Marty is more culturally proud than most supernaturals.”

“And I fuck...er...flipping hate that term. Supernaturals. Like we’re out of a comic book or something. We’re living beings like everybody else, and we don’t all come from the same place. I mean, do I looking like a goblin to you? Do I look like I could even come from the same plane of existence?”

Jessie gaped silently.

“You’re asking the wrong person, Marty.”

Marty ducked his large head. “Fair enough. Have a seat guys.”

Eliza, the ogre’s wife, set three cans on the coffee table while Marty, Jessie, and Lockman sat down. The beers were Pabst. The soda was orange. Jessie stared at the can in front of her but didn’t touch it.

Lockman snapped open his beer and chugged deep. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the trip to Nevada. Adrenaline had fed him so far. It wouldn’t be long before he shut down. After he got what he needed from Marty, they would have to find a place to hole up.

Marty sipped his beer, his pinky finger, thicker than Lockman’s thumb, sticking out like a Brit at tea time. “I knew I’d see you again.”

“Me specifically?”

Marty nodded. “It was foretold.”

Lockman rolled his eyes. Ever since the Agency had implanted a microchip in Marty’s brain that prevented him from performing violent acts, the ogre had taken to religion—though not any recognizable mortal religion.

“All you’ve seen, yet you still have no faith.”

“The only thing I know for sure is you and your kind don’t belong here. You know it, too.”

“Who is to say? Maybe the Lords have made our worlds cross for a reason.”

“I don’t need a preacher, Mart. I need a source.”

The ogre leaned back in his chair. The leather upholstery groaned under his weight. “That’s all I am to you?”

“Let’s level. If you didn’t have that chip in your head, you would have ripped my head off the second you saw me.”

“Not true.”

“And you sure as hell wouldn’t have married a mortal.”

Marty’s red eyebrows rose. He looked over Lockman’s shoulder to where his wife stood. “You want to hit him, you can.”

“Not worth it,” she said. “I’m going to go out. Try not to make this visit too long.”

No one spoke while Eliza gathered her coat and left the apartment. Then Marty set his beer can on the coffee table and sighed. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that in my own home.”

What could an ogre expect? That he would be accepted here? But hadn’t Eliza accepted him? Which only meant there had to be some screw loose there.

“I didn’t come here to insult you.”

“You came here for weapons.”

“You still deal?”

“What other kind of work could a six-eleven ogre get on this plane?” He pulled a pen and small moleskin notebook out of his pants pocket. “Tell me what you’re hoping for. I’ll have to check the storage shed.”

“I’m not sure yet. I need to know what I’m up against.”

“You think I can tell you that?”

“What does your prophecy say?”

Something smacked the side of his leg.

Jessie said, “Stop being a dick.”

Marty grinned, yellow teeth and all. “I like her.”

“She’s still under the delusion there’s good mojo out there.”

“There isn’t?”

Lockman slammed his beer can onto the coffee table. “You know there isn’t.”

Marty shrugged. “You can’t prove a negative. Just because it hasn’t been witnessed, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“Fine, you two can talk philosophy after I get my info and my guns.”

Jessie picked up her soda can and opened it. “He doesn’t seem evil to me.”

“That’s because you didn’t see him kill half a dozen good men with his bare hands.”

Marty closed his eyes and grimaced.

Jessie froze with her soda can halfway to her lips.

“That was before the chip, of course.”

Marty opened his eyes. They looked moist. “That was before a lot of things.”

“I want to make sure my daughter has a full picture of both sides. Now can we cut the shit and get on with this?”

“What do you need?”

“I’ve tried to reconnect with the Agency, but my channel was cut off.”

“That’s because there is no Agency anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Priorities change. Even ultra-covert operations require funding, and Washington isn’t interested in threats it doesn’t necessarily believe in.”

Lockman raked a hand through his hair. “Then what’s your story? Why are you still here?”

“Because I was waiting for you. You don’t have to believe in my religion. But I know things. Things told to me in dreams and the patterns of the world around me. The Agency calmed my natural rage with this chip.” He tapped a thick finger to his temple. “But my Gulogich nature remains. It manifested in a new way. My people used to be shamans before they grew to hunger for battle. I’m going back to those roots.”

“Clairvoyance is documented among some supernaturals and even a few mortals.”

“It’s not clairvoyance. It’s more than that.”

“Then tell me why I’m here?”

His eyes lit as his gaze turned to Jessie. “As a test, or because you really don’t know?”

“I think I liked you better when you spoke in grunts and crushed skulls.”

Jessie spat air. “You’re being a dick again.”

Lockman ignored her for the moment. If vampires, a shape shifter, and a ghost couldn’t convince her of the danger of the supernatural, nothing he said ever would.

“I’m here because Dolan found me, Marty. And he’s coming at me with all sorts of crazy supernatural shit. On top of trying to take me alive, he’s nearly had my daughter killed and he’s taken her mother. That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m not in the mood for any mojo bullshit.”

Marty leaned his elbows on his knees. The sleeves on his hockey jersey slid up to reveal the red curls on his wrists. “Otto Dolan.”

“The one and only.”

“The Agency hid you away, so if he found you, someone from the Agency must have helped.”

“Not just somebody. Victor Creed.”

“No effing way.”

“I was hoping you could hook up a meeting with him, but if the Agency was liquidated...”

“Yeah, I don’t have any more ties there. That doesn’t mean I can’t find Creed.”

“How?”

Jessie groaned as if she thought Lockman was so dense. “You haven’t listened to him at all, have you?”

Lockman looked back and forth between his daughter and the ogre. He wasn’t sure at the moment which was more fantastical. He had accepted the reality of ogres long before the idea of being a father.

“You’re talking about mojo.”

Marty smirked and rubbed his chin. “I always wondered why you guys in the Agency called it mojo instead of magic. After all, you refer to those of us from other plains by the common names of your literature.”

“Is that a question?”

“Sort of. Though I think I know the answer. It’s one thing to accept a being that’s far different from you. It’s a whole other deal to embrace the power that so defies your physics.”

“That’s insightful, Marty. And beside the point. I don’t care how you do it, if you can tell me how to find Creed, I’m in.”

“Then I’ll need to brew some tea. While the water’s boiling we can go over the weaponry you think you’ll need.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. “Maybe we can do better than a little cross this time.”

Marty bellowed with laughter. “A crucifix, Lockman? Really?” He pointed at Jessie. “You better watch out for this one.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“That was fun,” Jessie said as Lockman pulled out of the self storage facility where Marty had loaded the trunk with their arsenal.

He waited to reply, trying to pick his words carefully. Dawn tainted the sky with pale light. Lockman had to keep blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Are ogres nocturnal?” Jessie asked.

“No.”

“Then what was he doing up at three in the morning as if it was the middle of the day?”

“Ogres do not sleep.”

“So than his wife must be the nocturnal one.”

The right words did not surface, so he went with the first words. “This is not a game. It isn’t fun. The dangers are real.”

“Hello? I was there when the vampires shot up your house. It was my boyfriend possessed by some glowy spirit thing. And it’s my mom and stepdad who were kidnapped.”

“And yet you sit across from an ogre as if he’s the dad of one of your friend’s from school.”

“He was perfectly nice. I’d even say charming.”

“And you’d say that based on a couple hours with him. Like I said, he wasn’t always so...charming. He killed people, people I knew well.”

“People in the Agency?”

“Yes.”

Lockman picked up the map Marty had printed from the internet with his directions scribbled over it. How the ogre had come up with the location he couldn’t begin to guess. It turned out the tea wasn’t for reading leaves, but for him to sip while gazing at a computer screen, scrolling through a popular satellite map site. Seemingly at random, Marty would zoom in on the map, or scroll along, until eventually he had honed in on a specific address.

No flashing lights. No elaborate ritual. Just checking a map on the internet.

Turned out Creed hadn’t moved far. Assuming the info was legit, Lockman’s old boss lived in a small farming community in southeast Michigan. From the satellite map, it had looked like he lived on a large amount of acreage, possibly an old farmstead. Not the kind of place Lockman pictured his old boss retiring too. Then again, he never imagined his boss would retire in the first place. He saw the old man sticking to the job until he keeled over in the middle of an operation.

Jessie tapped on her armrest, a specific rhythm to a song that must have played in her head. “He didn’t have to help us.”

Lockman set down the map. “That garbage about prophecy and the foretelling of my arrival? He has his own agenda, I’m sure.”

“You don’t believe that foretelling stuff?”

“I believe he believes it. Whatever he thinks is going to happen, he has his own angle.”

“Everyone’s got an angle to you.”

“That’s because everybody does. Including you. You didn’t travel across the country to see me for my benefit.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I’m out to get you.”

“I never said Marty was out to get me. I said he has an angle. That means his interests come first.”

“You don’t think anyone does anything just to be nice?”

“No. And before you forget it, Marty is not your friend. He’s dangerous, chip or no chip.”

“People change.”

“Maybe. But Marty isn’t a person.”

* * *

Kate waited for them to question her as the man with the radio voice had promised. How long, she didn’t know. Time had warped and stretched after they put the hood on her head. Her claustrophobia had leveled off to a manageable level, probably because she was more afraid of what would happen if they took the hood off. Whatever questions they had for her, she was certain she didn’t have the answers. And when she couldn’t answer? What then?

She thought about Jessie and Craig. Hoped he had found her and was keeping her safe. Hoped he would be willing to continue doing so for some time if Kate didn’t make it out of this alive.

The idea of leaving Jessie behind burned her. She twisted her wrists against her bonds, trying to pull some slack into them so she could slip out. The plastic cut into her skin and forced her to stop before she hardly got started.

The bitterness on her breath sharpened. Hot sweat rolled down her sides from under her arms. “Come on you assholes. Question me already.”

The shrill echo of her own voice answered back. Nothing else so much as stirred. Could they even hear her?

In her mind’s eye she saw Jessie grinning proudly as she screened her first short movie on their TV at home, Kate the only audience member. This was before Alec. The movie had a few friends made up like zombies with several scenes showing the zombies chewing on the leftover barbeque chicken Kate had made for dinner earlier in the week to stand in for human flesh.

She remembered laughing. Exactly the wrong reaction. Jessie’s face darkened, shoulders hunched. She turned off the movie before the end and stormed out of the room. Kate’s apologies had no effect. From then on, Kate had to view her daughter’s creative efforts the same way as everyone else—on the web. No more special screenings just for her.

Despite the pain, Kate tried to pull her hands through the zip tie around her wrists. She bit down as lines of fire seared across each wrist. Tears welled in her eyes. She tasted the salt of her sweat off her upper lip.

She had to stop when her head grew light and her ears rang from holding her breath against the pain. Wet warmth coated her wrists. She hoped it was just sweat, but suspected she had drawn blood.

Her daughter was out there, needed her. She had to escape, no matter the pain. Even if she had to tear the skin from her wrists, she had to get free.

She took a deep breath to steel herself. A good, hard yank might be enough to tear a hand free. The pain would no doubt be magnificent.

On three.

One.

Two.

The sound of rust corroded hinges cried out close by. The door to the room they had taken her to. Footsteps marched in.

“What have you done with my husband?”

At least three, maybe four, bodies moved to surround her. Two sets of hands grabbed her by the arms again.

A man said, “Christ, look what she did to her wrists.”

“Shut up and let’s go,” a woman answered.

Then they had her on her feet and stumbling along to God knew where.

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake? I don’t know anything.”

The crew escorting her didn’t speak. Their silence disturbed her more than any possible reply. It spoke of disconnection, a denial of her humanity, just as an executioner would not speak to a prisoner to be hanged.

“Please don’t kill me.”

They walked through what sounded like a large space based on the quality of echoes their footsteps made. A moment later the thinnest breeze touched the skin on her arms. They had taken her outside. She could hear car traffic in the distance.

Certain they had taken her to a back alley of some kind to put a bullet in her brain, she let loose with all her fear and anger as fuel. She kicked and pulled and thrashed. Her elbow connected with the side of someone’s head. A kick landed on another’s shin. Then something hard collided into her stomach and knocked the air clean out of her.

She dropped to her knees, gasping for air, made all the more difficult with the hood over her head. She kept sucking and getting the hood’s fabric in her mouth.

Her lungs finally opened enough to allow the air back in and the clenching in her chest gave way to the deep ache in her belly.

She no sooner caught her breath and the hands grabbed her again and lifted her off her feet. A dizzying moment as they held her aloft then the hands released her and she tumbled onto a familiar surface—the carpeted floor of a van.

“You never questioned me,” she said. Her voice sounded weak and stunned to her. “What about Alec? Where is my husband?”

“Kate?”

She twisted on the floor to face the direction of his voice. “Alec? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did they—”

“Shut up.” The van rocked as someone climbed in back with them. “Time enough for family catch-up later.”

The van doors slammed shut and the engine rumbled to life.

Kate struggled to a sitting position then scooted until she came against Alec. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered.

“A little banged up, but I’m fine.”

“I said, ‘Shut up.’”

Kate rested her head on Alec’s shoulder and waited for whatever came next.

It turned out what came next was easy. Too easy.

The van stopped. The door thunked open. Again hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the vehicle. The heat of a body stood close behind her. She felt pressure on the tie around her wrists, which excited the pain from the damage she’d done to them. Then the pressure released and her hands hung free.

The heat from the body behind her grew closer. Hot breath touched the back of her neck below the line of her hood. “Count to one-hundred, then you can take the hood off. A second sooner, you and your hubby become corpses.”

He moved away from her.

She started counting as the van’s doors shut. After a while, the sound of the van’s engine faded. By the time she reached one-hundred, all she heard was the chatter of birds and what sounded like a humming air conditioner.

She yanked the hood off. Standing beside her, Alec pulled off his a second later. They both looked around.

They stood behind a grocery store. Opposite the store a cement wall separated them from a wooded area. A bird’s nest sat on a bough that had grown to hang over the wall above where they stood. A mix of smells from sour milk to old fish leaked from a nearby trash bin.

“Where the hell are we?” Alec asked.

“Not far from home.” She pointed to the wall. “That’s got to be Grady Park. Which means this is Donald’s Market. We’re only about six blocks from the house.”

She turned to Alec. “What did they want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Didn’t they ask you anything?”

“They asked me if I knew where Jessie and your old boyfriend were.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth. I didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why kidnap us like that, question you, not bother questioning me, then just let us go back in our own neighborhood?”

Alec held his hands out at his sides. “I have no idea. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She lifted her hands and looked at the groves she had carved into them from the plastic tie. They didn’t look as bad as she had thought, but the smeared blood made it look like a bad suicide attempt.

Alec took her hands and gently kissed each wound.

Kate felt a sob growing thick in her throat. She swallowed it. If she started crying she worried she wouldn’t stop for a while. She didn’t have a while. She needed to find Jessie. “We need to call the police.”

“No,” Alec said. “They told me if we call the police they’ll kill us both. I believe them.”

“We can’t just let this go.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“I do. We need to find Jessie and get her the hell away from Craig. You were right. All this started with his arrival. If it’s him they want, I want my daughter far away from him.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lockman chose a chain motel one step up from seedy. He would have preferred something even more obscure, but didn’t think Jessie could stomach the by-the-hour kind of place he had in mind. The advantage to the lower-class accommodations was a lack of questions and a practiced disinterest. But he didn’t want to expose a thirteen year-old girl to that environment. Bad enough he had introduced her to all manner of supernatural beasts. She didn’t need to have a run in with a drug dealer or hooker on top of it all.

Lockman had Jessie stay in the car while he checked in using his stale credentials. After fifteen years getting used to the name, when the clerk thanked Mr. Banks it took Lockman a moment to realize she was talking to him.

Jessie got the bed. Lockman took the floor. He expected to crash the instant he pulled the sheet over him. Instead, he lay on his back listening to Jessie’s breathing as it slowed and steadied.

He had drawn the curtains closed, but daylight seeped out along the sides. Lockman watched the room grow lighter as he lay awake.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep. No go.

When the clock on the nightstand read seven AM, Lockman threw the sheet off and started his morning sit-ups. By the time he flipped over to do his pushups, Jessie stirred. She peeked down at him over the edge of the bed.

“I can barely lift my head. How can you exercise?”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead. Which is a really crappy metaphor now that I think about it.”

He continued with his pushups as he spoke. “I’m trying to decide if I should leave you here for a night or take you with me. I don’t like either option.”

Jessie propped her head up on her hand. “Are you asking my opinion?”

“Do you have one?”

“Does it really matter if I do?”

Lockman exhaled a laugh as he pushed up, locked his arms straight. “You really have to make every little thing a struggle, don’t you?”

“Now you sound like mom.” She dropped her head, buried her face in the mattress, and howled.

Lockman pulled his knees in and knelt up. “I told you we would get her back.”

She lifted her face off the mattress. Her eyes bore into him. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“They won’t harm her until they have me.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It means we have a chance to get to her before anything bad happens.”

Her lips pressed together. The color around her mouth drained. “You think your boss is going to hand mom and Alec over because you asked?”

“I’m not going to ask.”

Jessie puffed her cheeks and blew out a long breath. She sat up, swung her legs off the edge of the bed. Lockman noticed even her toenails were painted black.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” she said.

Lockman held back a smile. He didn’t want to give her any reason to change her mind. “It’s your choice.”

“Yeah,” she said, “but that’s the choice you want anyway.”

He stood and padded to the phone. “Let me call the front desk and tell them we’re staying an extra day.”

* * *

Since Creed’s property sat off a rural dirt road with a driveway long enough to qualify as a road all its own, Lockman did not have many surveillance options. He thought about parking down a ways and hiking around the back of the property, but based on the satellite map, most of the acreage was open land. The moment he approached the house on foot, Creed would spot him.

So he decided on the direct approach and pulled into the driveway. About a quarter of a mile long, the driveway snaked through a line of trees that blocked the property from sight of the main road. Once through the trees Lockman spotted the old farmhouse on a hill, its arched windows like hooded eyes keeping sentry on the surrounding landscape.

The driveway led to a restored pole barn with the original door replaced by a retracting metal one like you would find on a garage. A muddy pickup truck sat parked in front of the door. A wild turkey stood on the side of the driveway opposite the house and watched, like a disinterested bouncer, as Lockman approached.

He parked behind the truck and got out. The turkey flapped its wings and wriggled its waddle, but did not give up its post.

“Hey fella. You waiting for Thanksgiving?”

The bird cocked its head first to one side, then the other, studying Lockman.

“His name’s Able.”

Lockman spun toward the voice and found Victor Creed standing on the porch of the farmhouse. He wore a short sleeved plaid button-up with a pair of dusty coveralls. His ruddy face and tousled gray hair only added to the farmer look and Lockman wondered for the first time if his former boss actually worked the land on this farm. When he glanced toward the acreage behind the house, sure enough he saw a seemingly endless stretch of soybean plants that rolled out to the far tree line at the back of the property.

“I wondered how long it would take you,” Creed said. “Longer than I expected.”

Lockman pulled the .44 Magnum Desert Eagle from the back of his waistband—one of several items courtesy of Marty. He trained the weapon on Creed. “You gave me up.”

Creed calmly raised his hands. “You think it’s worth shooting me over?”

“You’re god damned right.”

Creed narrowed his eyes. “I did what I thought was best.”

“For who? Sure as hell not the interests of national security.”

“Aren’t you blowing this out of proportion?”

Lockman’s skin prickled. Out in the open, a breeze cut the humidity, but not enough to cool the heat boiling within him. “You sent Dolan’s vamps right to my door. You betrayed me.”

Creed staggered. His face creased with new lines formed by old age. “You’re mistaken.”

“You deny you gave that PI my location? You’re the only one who had that information.”

Creed rubbed a hand over his mouth. His eyes looked shallow and haunted. “Put the gun down, Craig. Let’s talk this through.”

“I can talk just fine like this.”

“Well I can’t. I’m too damn old to have my heart beating this hard.”

Lockman tilted his head toward the soybean fields. “But you can farm all that land without trouble?”

Creed’s face cracked open with a grin. “You think I work that field? That’s all rented out to a local down the road. Most I do is work on my tomato garden around the house. I guess the coveralls are a bit disingenuous, but everybody wears them in these parts.”

Lockman’s ears burned. How could Creed stand there so smug, making jokes? He pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

Creed lifted his hands a little higher. “Whoa. Honestly, there’s some mix up. Dolan is old news. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Then those were your vamps?”

“What vamps?”

“The ones that followed my daughter to my home and vented it with automatic fire, nearly killing us both in the process.”

The old man’s face turned ashen. “Is Jessie with you now?”

“So it was you.”

“Did I tell that PI how to find you? Yes. But only so Jessie could find you, too.”

Lockman’s arms started to ache from holding the gun out and tensing his muscles. He relaxed his grip on the weapon and bent his elbows slightly. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I don’t know anything about any vampires or Otto Dolan. I’ve been keeping an eye on Kate and Jessie ever since you left.”

“How did you know about Kate?”

“Craig, I had to keep tabs on all my people. I knew about your relationship with her from the beginning. I also know you were engaged the night Dolan ambushed you.”

“You’d been spying on me while I worked for you?”

“Like I said, I kept a close watch on all my people. How do you think we got to your place that night in time?”

That had always nagged at Lockman, but he never got the chance to ask, and didn’t think it important anyway. What was important was that Tanner and Creed had saved his life that night.

He felt a jolt shoot down his spine.

“It was Tanner you had watching me.”

Creed looked off at the wall of trees blocking the frontage from the road. “He’d kill me for telling you. He never felt right about it after the way you two bonded. But that was his assignment. He didn’t have a choice. If you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

My boss and my best friend both spying on me. Creed might have called it keeping tabs, but the truth was plain enough—the Agency did not trust its own agents.

“This is all probably a lot to process,” Creed said.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. If you burned me now, there’s no reason to think you hadn’t done it before.”

“I never burned you. Whatever happened out in LA had nothing to do with me. If I wanted to send vamps to kill you—which is ridiculous—why bother sending along Jessie, or tipping off that PI? I could have sent them right to you.”

“I figured we could go inside and you could tell me all about it.”

Creed’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You’re pissing on the wrong fire hydrant. Jessie desperately wanted to find her father and I figured I could give her that chance.”

“You did it all for my daughter, who you apparently have known about and never thought maybe you should tell me.”

“It went against protocol to contact you unless it was an emergency.”

“Bullshit. Using a PI to feed a thirteen year-old classified information sure as hell ain’t protocol.”

“Fair enough.”

“Even if what you are saying is true, Dolan couldn’t have known about Kate or Jessie.”

“You’re sure it was Dolan’s work?”

“The last supernatural I tangled with confirmed it.”

Creed’s arms wavered. “Can I at least put my hands down without you shooting?”

“Go ahead.”

Creed eased his arms down until his hands hung at his sides. “Somehow Dolan must have known about Kate and Jessie, too.”

“How?”

A cloud rolled into the path of the sun, drawing a shadow across the farmhouse and all the surrounding land. A breeze ruffled the soybeans and carried the scent of manure with it.

“Only I knew where to find you. I made sure of that. But I wasn’t the only one who knew about Kate.”

An acidic fire rose in Lockman’s chest, like refluxing battery acid. “You mean Tanner.”

“An impossible thought. But I know I didn’t give you up, Craig. You have to believe that.”

“Instead, I should believe my best friend is the person responsible for giving me up to the same person he saved me from fifteen years ago.”

“I can’t make you believe anything. I sure as hell don’t have the answers.”

Lockman stared into Creed’s eyes. He tried to see any sign of deception. But the man was a pro. Lockman doubted neither age nor time out in the sticks had softened Creed’s edge.

“I don’t know how I can trust you.”

“You know I always had your back.”

“So did Tanner. You want me to choose between a father figure and a man I thought of as a brother.”

“If I had known leaking your location would have led here, I never would have done it. I honestly thought it was for the best.”

The gun had started to tremble in Lockman’s hands. He steadied himself. He couldn’t just take Creed’s word for it. There was too much at stake.

“Let’s go inside, Victor.”

“You’re still pointing the gun at me.”

“Yes.”

“I guess that means we aren’t going inside to talk things out.”

“You’ll talk. I’ll listen.”

“You don’t have to do this, Craig.”

The image of Ryan, possessed by that specter, holding Jessie around the neck, flashed across Lockman’s inner eye. A knot twisted low in his gut.

“Yes I do.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The thing with Jessie, she just couldn’t sit by and wait. Despite knowing damn well what she was doing was the worst idea of the decade, the thought of sitting in a cheap motel room trying to stomach daytime television sounded worse than death.

That’s why, right before Craig left, Jessie told him she was off to raid the snack machine in the lobby and not to bother waiting for her. Then she went right to the car and put herself in the trunk, right next to the oversized duffel with all the weapons he got from Marty.

The ride proved rougher than she had expected. Between feeling every bump in the road and constantly thumping up against the hard edges of the things inside the duffel, the heat nearly made her pass out. She decided then and there never to put a scene in one of her movies where someone hides in a trunk without portraying it realistically. Sometimes Hollywood had no freaking clue.

Now she sat, sweat soaked, listening to the car tick as it cooled. Craig’s muffled voice had moved away. She couldn’t hear anything but her own breathing.

She pulled the trunk release—at least she had been smart enough to check this car had one of those—and pushed the lid open. The air that rushed in felt so good she shivered, taking a moment just to breathe.

She climbed out of the trunk and surveyed her surroundings. Looked like something out of Amityville Horror. Creepy old farmhouse. No sign of life or civilization. The chuckling leaves of whatever the crop was that covered the land behind the house.

She eased the trunk lid down but left it unlatched. Then she crept up the porch and into the house.

A smell filled the house, something spicy and earthy at the same time. The front room was empty. Voices trailed out from the direction of the kitchen. She recognized Craig’s. The other voice sounded strained, scared.

She strode right to the kitchen’s entrance and found her father standing at a dining table with one the chairs turned out and an older man strapped to it with what looked like bungee cords. On the table close at Craig’s hand sat a pair of pliers, a large metal file, a box of nails, and a staple gun. He looked ready to start building something, but Jessie knew better. Those tools wouldn’t put something together; they were meant to take the older man apart.

“Looks like it’s a good thing I came.”

Craig had started reaching for the pliers and froze at the sound of her voice. He looked up and his cheeks turned red at the sight of her.

The old man lifted an eyebrow. “Jessie.”

That took her off guard. “You know my name?”

“I know more than that.”

Craig picked up the pliers. “He’s been keeping an eye on you and your mom for a while now.”

“Why?”

“To keep you safe,” the old man said.

“You’re the one who told that PI how to find Craig?”

The old man nodded.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Lockman said. “You’ll have to wait in the car.”

“No fucking way.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“You’re seriously telling me to watch my language when you’re about to torture a dude?”

“Do you want your mother back or not?”

The old guy snapped his gaze to Craig. “Something’s happened to Kate?”

“Like you don’t know,” Lockman said.

“I already told you I had nothing to do with the people after you.”

“And I can’t afford to take your word for it.”

“So what?” Something slick and wet turned in Jessie’s stomach. “You put nails through his hands or staple gun his face and you think that’s going to change his story?”

“You don’t understand how these things work.”

“I want Mom back. I do. But this isn’t right.”

“Go outside, Jess.”

She crossed her arms. “You want to torture him, you’ll have to do it in front of me.”

“You think I want to do this?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking. What did you do to that poor PI to get him to talk? You can’t go around beating on people for your greater good.”

“I’m not doing this for the greater good.” His face turned a deep red. “I’m doing this to protect you.”

She sucked a deep breath through her nose. Her insides vibrated. “I’m not leaving.”

Lockman grabbed the old man by the chin and bent down into his face. “What does Dolan want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you tell the PI where I was?”

“So Jessie could find you.”

Dust motes infested the shard of light coming through the window above the kitchen sink. Jessie stared at the floating swarm as the old man’s words sunk in. “Why would you do that?”

The old man’s eyes turned to her while Craig kept his chin gripped firmly. He had to speak through his teeth. “Because it was time.”

“Time for what?” she and Craig asked at the same time.

“You deserved to know who your father was, and Craig deserved to know he had a daughter.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Victor?”

Victor Creed looked at Craig for a long while. A screen door led from the kitchen to the back porch. Jessie heard a set of wind chimes clink in the breeze outside.

“I trained you to be suspicious. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. But you have to believe I did not want any harm to come to you or Jessie.”

A knot tightened in Jessie’s chest. She did not know this man that talked about her as if he knew her. That didn’t mean she wanted him hurt. She thought about Ryan and felt buried by the knowledge if she ever saw him again, he wouldn’t be the same. Whoever this Dolan person was, he was as much a monster as the things he’d sent after them. She would not stand to see her father act like one of the monsters himself.

“I believe him.”

Craig gave her that look that made her feel stupid and young. “You’re the one who wants to make friends with an ogre.”

“Stop that. Stop treating me like—”

“A naive thirteen year-old.”

“—like I’m stupid. I know what’s at stake. I get it, okay? But hurting him isn’t right. And I believe him. His story makes more sense than anything else.”

“Occam’s razor.”

For a second she thought he had said something in a foreign language. “What?”

“The simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

She stared at him, afraid to speak and derail his train of thought.

His eyes softened. He dropped the pliers on the table and let go of Creed. “You win.”

She let loose a shaky breath.

Craig went to removing the bungees from around Creed. When he was free, Creed grabbed at Craig’s shirt. Craig tensed and Jessie could see his fist clench, ready to swing.

Creed stood, pulled Craig toward him, and embraced him. “Jesus Christ, Craig, it’s good to see you again.”

And even though Craig had been about to torture the man a moment before, Jessie saw tears in her father’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“No, you’re not.” Alec stood in the doorway, blocking Kate from getting out of the house.

She clenched a fist around the keys in her hand. “Give me one good reason.”

“Those people could be out there, watching us. If you piss them off, who knows what they’ll do?”

“How would visiting Jessie’s boyfriend piss them off? Is there something you know you aren’t telling me?”

He jerked his head back. “What? No. That’s just it. I don’t know what they’re thinking, what they’re planning.”

“I will not sit cooped up in this house waiting for my daughter to show up. This isn’t like all the other times, Alec. Surely you can see that now.”

“What if they’ve already been to Ryan’s?”

A chill dripped through her. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

She straightened, inhaled slowly, then let the breath ease between her parted lips. “Then I have to know. She’s my daughter. I would die trying to protect her.”

He stared at her hard. Looking back into his eyes, feeling their intensity, made her dizzy.

“I don’t want you to die,” he said.

“Then grab one of your guns and come with me.”

He stared at her for a silent moment. “Are you serious?”

“I’m going, with or without you.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. “Family is important to me, too.”

“I know it is. I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m the only one who cares.”

“Let me go get my gun.” He stepped around her and headed upstairs.

Kate absently touched at the round pendant under her blouse. She wished Jessie had something to protect her from the darker things.

She did.

Jessie had a loving mother and step father. They didn’t need Craig, who had brought this all on them in the first place.

We’re coming for you, baby. Hold tight.

* * *

Dolan felt like tearing his hair out, only he didn’t have much of it left anyway. Always better to take one’s frustrations out on someone else. It never paid to do self-harm.

The soldier standing in front of Dolan’s desk had turned the color of chalk. The young man must have heard how Dolan dealt with setbacks. But mortals were too squishy. The kind of agony Dolan preferred to inflict was better directed at a supernatural.

“You lost my ghost?”

“Not...not me sir. He went off the grid.”

“Of course he did you fuckhead. He’s a ghost. Do you know how long it took me to manifest that thing? Bringing mortal spirits back from beyond the veil is nearly impossible.”

“But I thought we were going to raise—”

“Never mind what you thought. Your thinking is based on a tiny sliver of the whole picture. Your thinking is irrelevant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve suffered a good many setbacks these past few days. That’s my fault. I expected this to go more easily, but I should have known Mr. Lockman would give us trouble.”

“Why not send a mortal unit to obtain him, sir?”

Dolan spun in his office chair so that he faced away from the soldier. The replacement view consisted of a stack of water-damaged cardboard boxes filled with indiscriminate plastic parts. Another pile of relics left behind by this once prosperous institution. Another reminder of the casualties under the rule of the corrupt and inept government. The jobless, the hopeless, the ignored. He would lead them all to a new era of prosperity and simultaneously reveal to humanity what really lurked in the dark corners of their world.

This last was, of course, only a bonus. But an important one. He had grown so tired of the ignorance. People deserved to know what power was out there for the taking.

“Sir?”

Dolan grunted. No time for reverie. Big plans required bigger effort. He spun his chair back to face the young soldier. “We have to destroy the ghost before we do anything. I can’t have a rogue spirit out there wreaking havoc. Not yet, anyway.”

The chalky-faced boy broke into a sweat. “How do you kill a ghost?”

“You destroy what brought him here in the first place.” Dolan opened his desk drawer and drew a set of keys. He tossed the keys to the soldier. Despite the obvious fear, the young man caught the keys smartly.

“Room fourteen B. There is a woman in there. Kill her.”

The soldier swallowed. “Who is she?”

“The ghost’s living wife. I promised him a meeting with her when I brought him over. I’m reneging on our deal.”

“How will that destroy a ghost?”

“You’re an inquisitive young man. Usually, that would annoy me, but I appreciate your thirst for knowledge about the supernatural.” He stood and walked around his desk until he came within a foot of the soldier. He leaned in like a drill sergeant about to chew out a boot. He whispered instead.

“Remember the golden rule. Everything can be destroyed.”

The soldier’s quick intake of breath betrayed his discomfort.

Dolan slapped the young man on the shoulder. “Go kill her. And make it nasty. The more gruesome and painful, the faster our ghost will be driven back to where he came from. When you’re done, Father Eberly can hear your confession if you’re into that kind of thing.”

* * *

Alec drove. He parked the car across the street and down one house. Kate turned to him. “Why don’t you pull into the drive?”

“Because this is safer, trust me. I’ll wait in the car and watch the house.”

“You sure you weren’t a private eye in a former life or something?”

“Just be careful.”

“I’ll be fine.”

When she got out of the car, her stomach tumbled like a stone in an avalanche. She didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on the door. Probably Ryan’s unpleasant mother made all the more unpleasant by Kate’s return visit.

She set her jaw and marched up to the front door, knocked, waited in the quiet morning. Her face felt tight from lack of sleep. A baseball-sized knot had lodged itself in her lower back.

Please let me get Jessie safe and have this whole nightmare over with.

No one answered her initial knock. She tried the doorbell, but couldn’t hear any chime, so she hammered at the door again. Probably harder than she needed to.

Nothing.

Now what? She never thought they might not be home. She could wait in the car with Alec until someone came back. As she turned, she spotted the car in the driveway. It didn’t mean much. They could have had a second car. But hadn’t Mrs. Whitaker made it clear her husband was out of the picture? A single mother with two cars didn’t jive.

She turned back to the door and knocked once more with the same morning silence in response. So she tried the knob. It turned. An easy push and the door swung open.

The metallic scent hit her first as her eyes adjusted to the dark house. Then she saw through the living room, into the kitchen, and the body lying on the floor.

Kate’s throat closed. She gasped, stumbled back.

“Is everything okay?”

The sudden voce made Kate cry out.

The woman standing on the cement approach stared up at her with suspicious eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Kate put a hand on her chest, felt her heart thumping hard against her palm. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The woman had gray streaks running through her thick mane of hair. The gold pantsuit and Dolce Vita shoes outshined the lines in her face, taking a handful of years off without need for Botox. “I’m the next door neighbor. Are you looking for the man and young lady that were here earlier?”

Craig and Jessie? Could it really be he’d found her? Did that mean he had something to do with the still body on the floor? “You saw them?”

The woman nodded. “They left in quite the rush. I don’t usually spy on my neighbors. I just happened to see them is all.” The woman stepped up on the porch.

Kate instinctively took a step backward. If the neighbor did see Jessie leave here with Craig, she would assume the worst if she also saw inside the house. Kate reached behind her and pulled the door shut.

The woman eyed Kate, her face cold and unreadable. “Are you friends with the family here?”

Strange. Why phrase the question like that? Friends of the family here? As if the woman didn’t know their names. Not that Kate knew all of her neighbors personally, but she at least knew most of the family names for the houses closest to her.

“My daughter dates the Henderson boy.”

The woman smiled, but her eyes had no part in the expression. “Ah, yes. He’s a sweet kid.”

A loud buzzer sounded in Kate’s mind. Wrong answer, lady. A bead of sweat rolled between her shoulder blades. She glanced toward the car and could barely make out Alec’s silhouette inside.

“Are the Henderson’s home now?” the woman asked.

“It doesn’t look like it, no.”

“But you were about to let yourself in. Are you sure they aren’t inside?”

“I don’t want to be rude. Maybe they’re sleeping in.”

The woman stepped closer. “You say your daughter dates the Henderson boy?”

“Actually,” Kate said and tensed, “she dates the Whitaker boy. Ryan Whitaker.”

The woman’s brow furled. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t know these people. You don’t even know their real name.”

A smile cracked the woman’s face. “Busted.” Then she had a butcher knife in her hand with the blade’s point aimed at Kate’s belly. “Why don’t we step inside?”

“Who are you?”

“If the girl is your daughter, then I suppose I am a friend of your husband.”

“You mean Craig? He’s not my husband.”

“Does it really matter? Get inside before I gut you right here.”

Kate shot another look at their car. With the woman’s back to the road, Kate didn’t know if Alec realized she was in trouble or not. She tried to think of some unobtrusive way to signal him, but the woman poked the point of the knife against Kate’s stomach and forced her back.

“Okay. Easy.” She opened the door and they both stepped inside.

The woman kicked the door closed with a heel. She pointed with the knife into the kitchen. “You’ve already met with Mrs. Whitaker I take it?”

“What happened to her?”

“I killed her. And that’s the last question I’m answering for you. You have to answer for me now.”

“Who are you?”

The woman lashed out. The knife slashed at the air in front of Kate’s face, and at first she thought that’s all the woman had cut—air. Then the sting welled up on her cheek. She touched at the painful spot with her fingers and the tips came away bloody.

“Sit down,” the woman said and gestured to the couch in the living room.

Kate didn’t think she could move. Her joints had locked. Her brain had turned to a whitewashed blank.

You have to move or she’ll cut you again. You have to move. Move. Now.

With all her will focused on putting one foot in front of the other, she made it to the couch and sat down.

“Now, you’ll answer my questions or I’ll fuck you with this knife, understand?”

Kate trembled so hard she felt she might shake apart. Her limbs felt cold. Shock setting in. But the shock did not numb the pain from the cut on her face, nor the blood’s sticky wetness on her cheek.

“Do. You. Understand?”

Kate nodded. All she could manage.

“The man and girl you came looking for? Craig Lockman and his daughter, correct?”

This time Kate tried to answer aloud, but her constricted throat squeezed her voice. She swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded again.

“Where are they?”

Kate shook her head.

The woman put the knife tip inches from Kate’s nose, close enough for Kate to see her own blood on the blade. “Speak up. Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” Kate finally blurted and felt like her stomach might drop out of her mouth with the words.

“Where are they?”

“I just told you. If I knew where they were, I wouldn’t have come here.”

“But you knew they would come here.”

“I thought they might. I didn’t know for sure.”

“Good.” The woman drew a circle with the blade’s point in front of Kate’s eyes. “We’re making progress. Now tell me where they might have gone from here.”

Every part of Kate’s body felt like quivering gelatin. A virulent cold seeped through her. She rubbed her arms to work some heat into them with little effect. “I honestly have no idea.”

“You must have some idea. This is your daughter and her father.”

“I haven’t seen Craig in nearly fifteen years before today. I have no idea what he’s involved with or why you people are bringing my family into it.”

“What people?”

“You. And those masked men that kidnapped us. If you wanted to ask me questions, why didn’t you do it then?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You were kidnapped and questioned already?”

The uncertainty in the woman’s voice set Kate on edge. Wasn’t she involved with whoever had taken her and Craig? None of this made any sense. “My husband and I were kidnapped. They questioned him, but not me.”

The woman’s lips twisted to one side while she seemed to stare through Kate at some distant thought. “Interesting.”

“Who are you? What do you want from us?”

“They took you, then let you go?”

“Yes.” Kate tried to scoot back on the couch and put distance between her face and the butcher knife. “I don’t know where Craig went. I just want my daughter back.”

“If you’ve already been taken and released...” The woman’s gaze seemed locked on the thought in her mind even as her eyes continued to aim at Kate. It made her look like a blind person. “He thinks I’ve failed. He will betray me.”

Kate didn’t understand a word this woman uttered. She didn’t care. While the woman was distracted by her arcane thoughts, Kate had an opportunity she might not get again. She batted at the woman’s hand holding the knife, knocking it aside to give her the space to launch off the couch and around the woman.

The woman shouted in surprise, but recovered quickly. Kate no sooner cleared the couch when the woman grabbed Kate’s hair.

Her balance already shaky, Kate felt her feet kick out from under her as her head snapped back. She pounded to the floor, her scalp on fire.

The woman kept her grip on Kate’s hair, tugging it tightly so that the pain cut Kate’s struggles. “I’m not finished with you.”

“He might have gone back to my house.” Tears welled in her eyes at the pain crackling across the top of her head. She reached up and tried to pull her hair back to at least relieve some of the tension on her scalp.

The woman jerked hard.

Sparks flashed across Kate’s vision.

“I don’t care about Lockman anymore. I need you for something else.”

The tension on Kate’s scalp released. She shrieked at the sudden freedom and flipped to her hands and knees, ready to defend herself against whatever the woman had in mind. As she shot to her feet, she anticipated a slash from the knife and staggered backward to put space between them.

The attack never came.

The woman stood still, arms loose at her sides. The knife dropped to the floor. Her eyes widened. She went rigid and gasped as if someone had slipped an ice cube down the back of her shirt.

Then her skin began to glow like a green traffic light.

The woman’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the floor. Standing in her place—the impossible. A transparent figure. A man. With sunken eyes and deep cracks in the skin around his lips. But if she stared straight at his chest she could see through him to the spot on the couch where she was just sitting.

Kate could feel her mind tear itself in half. One half denied the existence of any such thing as ghosts—which was what this looked like to her. The other half simply presented the facts as her senses processed them. She could see the ghostly figure standing in front of her. She could feel the cold wetness like an autumn fog wafting off his body. And that faint smell of earth and rot.

He smiled, deepening the cracks around his mouth. “After I make sure Dolan doesn’t do anything foolish, I think I might find your daughter and have the two of you do nasty things together.”

Even with her mind split, Kate realized that this thing had possessed the woman now lying on the floor, and that he intended to do the same to her. But a split mind did not make for quick reactions. Between the battle going on in her head and the fear gripping her body, she could not make herself turn and run. And both halves of her mind had a feeling running wouldn’t do any good.

The ghost reached out and put his spectral hand into Kate’s chest.

Kate felt his cold fingers caress her heart much like a living man would caress a breast.

“So strong,” he said, an addict’s shudder in his voice. “So alive. I remember what it was like to live. To love. When I was at rest, I did not have to think about these things. Now, they consume me.”

Somehow Kate found her voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

“He is going to kill my wife. You are the only hope I have of stopping that now.” He stepped closer. Then closer still. So close now, Kate could feel him stepping into her.

Nothing in her life had felt so cold.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They sat on Creed’s back porch, the wind chimes a soothing background noise in an otherwise massive silence Lockman hadn’t experienced since camping in the California desert. Creed had even brought out a pitcher of lemonade which sat nearby on a wicker end table between matching chairs. Jessie rocked gently on the porch swing attached to the overhang by a pair of chains. All three of them stared out at the open land before them as if looking for a sign on the horizon.

When Lockman finally dared oppose the silence, his voice felt craggy in his throat. “You’re going to have to make a damn good case, Victor.”

The old man nodded, his gaze still fixated on the distance. “What other explanation is there?”

“I already gave you one scenario.”

“I thought we’d cleared the air on that.”

“How can I trust you? After all that’s happened?”

“You’d rather suspect me, even if the pieces to fit, than your best friend. I understand that.”

“The pieces don’t fit for Tanner, either. What possible reason would he have for sicking Dolan on me? The man saved my life.”

Creed shook his glass, clinking the ice cubes together. He sipped some lemonade while still not turning to face Lockman. “Toward the end, when we realized the Agency was losing support to more conventional anti-terrorist operations, Tanner grew bitter. Something had changed in him. Though it probably started earlier, after his sister committed suicide.”

“Wait. He had a sister?”

Creed lifted his glass to eye level and squinted at the contents as if reading something there. “You surprised he didn’t tell you?”

“A little.”

“You never told him about Kate.”

Lockman picked up where Creed was headed. “Because we weren’t supposed to share personal information.”

“Now you know why.”

“Only he knew more about me than I did about him because you had him spying on the team.”

Creed set his glass aside and finally looked at Lockman. “Our operation was privy to the world’s darkest of secrets. Part of my job was making sure my people could be trusted with that kind of intel.”

“So you had Tanner watching us. But who was watching Tanner?”

“I was. At least, I thought I was. Obviously, not close enough.”

Lockman looked past Creed to Jessie on the swing. She held her lemonade in her lap, pushing at the porch with her feet to keep the swing going. She stared off as if not even aware there was anyone else on the porch with her. But Lockman had a feeling she was taking in every word.

He pulled his attention back to Creed. “His sister’s suicide doesn’t make Tanner a traitor.”

“Do you remember Dolan’s mission, Craig?”

“The use of supernatural elements to terrorize Americans.”

“But why? Every terrorist group has an ideology. What was Dolan’s?”

“He wanted to expose the world to the supernatural. It was like a mission of truth for him.”

“There was another angle. He saw himself as a savior. This country has fallen on hard times lately. I think Dolan has had something in the works for a while, something that we managed to disrupt while we were operational.” Creed made a fist and rubbed his knuckles. “I haven’t heard the name Otto Dolan since we saved you from him that night. Not until you showed up here.”

“What does any of that have to do with Tanner?”

“Tanner lost his best friend. Then he lost his sister. Then he lost the job he had dedicated his life to. What else does an operative who specialized in the supernatural do but go freelance and work with others that deal with the supernatural?”

“That’s a pretty huge speculation.”

“I know it is. But when you add that he is the only other person besides me that knew about Jessie and that she led Dolan to you...” He held up his hands.

Lockman tried to shake off Creed’s reasoning, but it stuck like a splinter. He kept trying to imagine a man he had trusted with his life helping the likes of Dolan. He couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.” Lockman set down his own glass. “I have to go ask him. And you have to help me find him.”

“And breach security protocol?”

“What’s one more time? Besides, if I can’t get an answer from Tanner, that leaves me with you. And someone is going to pay for putting my daughter in danger.”

“Relax, Craig. I have every intention of helping you. Let me print out his file.” He stood and winced, favoring his left leg. “Damn age.”

“You have files on the team?”

“They’re not all up to date, but I made sure to keep some mementoes before they axed our division, just in case.”

“Just in case, huh?”

“I’m not a fool. I knew something like this would happen eventually.”

“Marty said the same thing.”

“Pretty smart...for an ogre.”

* * *

“There’s still something I don’t get.” Jessie planted her feet on the porch and stopped the swing.

Lockman had gone back to staring at the horizon, trying to enjoy the peaceful lull he knew couldn’t last while Creed got Tanner’s file. He blinked and looked at her. “What?”

“This Dolan guy is going through a lot of trouble to get you. Not just kill you. But get you alive.”

“So?”

“You don’t wonder why?”

“I already told you, I pissed him off.”

“It must have been pretty serious. But even if this is all about revenge...” She shook her head. “No. It’s too convoluted. He wants you for something else.”

“And like I said, I know a lot of national security secrets. He probably thinks he can pump me for info before he tortures me to death.”

She pursed her lips, seemed to think about that. “Seems more specific than that.”

“What does? Did you talk to him or something?”

“Vampires in LA. A shape shifter in Vegas. A ghost here. Any one of those things could have killed you if they didn’t have to take you alive. You would think he would have given up by now.”

“Does it matter?”

“It might make it easier to figure out how to stop him if you know what he wants.”

He appreciated her input, but she was looking for logic behind a madman’s actions. And not just any madman, but one with access to a lot of supernatural muscle. He leaned back in the wicker chair. “No. He’s doing this because of what I did to him.”

“Fine. What did you do?”

“Nothing I’m proud of.”

“Seriously. He’s a terrorist. What could you have done to him that would make you feel guilty?”

“I never said I felt guilty.”

“Whatever. Same diff.”

“Please stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”

“Oh, trust me. I won’t even go there. You obviously have serious daddy issues. No thanks.”

“Daddy issues?”

“Yeah. Like your relationship with your father must have sucked. Kind of like mine.”

“Your father didn’t even know you existed until less than two days ago.”

“Tell it to the judge.”

Lockman rubbed his temples. “I don’t remember my father.”

Her brow creased. The sarcastic edge to her voice dulled. “Did he leave when you were young?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember my mother either. I don’t remember much of anything about my childhood.”

“That’s weird.”

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it. My earliest clear memory was joining the marines when I turned eighteen. I remember feeling like I was running away from something. I don’t remember what.”

“God, I remember when I learned to tie my shoes.”

“That’s because it wasn’t that long ago.”

“Thanks. Jerk.”

Lockman smiled. “I figure there’s a good reason I can’t remember. I’m probably better off.”

“That’s a big part of your life to lose.”

“I can’t complain if I don’t know what it is I lost.”

Jessie looked down at her glass of lemonade, still as full as when Creed poured it for her. “You think this Tanner person will know where Mom is?”

Lockman wanted to say “no way,” but he knew she had been listening to her and Creed hash it out. “I can’t be certain about anything anymore.”

“At least you were certain about some things. I don’t even know what that’s like.”

“Yes you do.”

She flashed him that lip-curled look of total skepticism. Lockman didn’t mind. He had missed her attitude. He didn’t like the somber, disconnected Jessie, even if he did have to take a few jabs.

“What about Ryan?” he asked.

She winced.

Lockman cringed inside. He shouldn’t have brought the kid up.

Jessie recovered, nodded. “You’re right. I loved him. I know I did.”

“And he loved you?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s better than most people have.”

“Do you still love Mom?”

The question took Lockman off guard. While he fumbled for an answer, he hemmed and hawed like an amnesiac who had been asked his name.

Jessie laughed. “That’s a yes.”

“I don’t even know her anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t over her. You still pine.”

“Pine?”

“Like only a true lover could.”

Lockman rolled his eyes. “You’re full of it.”

Jessie stood and walked over to sit in the wicker chair Creed had left. She set aside her glass and leaned her elbows on her knees like a conspirator laying out a plan.

“Why won’t you tell me what you did to make Dolan hate you so much?”

“I thought you wanted to make movies when you grew up, not be a shrink.”

“I already make movies. I don’t have to wait until I ‘grow up.’”

“Fine. Stick to what you know then and leave my personal life out of it.”

“You’re my dad. I want to know you.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

Did he want her to know him, though? Hadn’t he made the decision to stay emotionally detached? But at every turn he had let his emotions undermine the larger danger. Whatever Dolan wanted, it couldn’t be good. If Jessie was right, and there was some specific piece of intel he wanted, it could only mean terrible things for the nation’s security. Which made it all the more important he keep out of Dolan’s clutches. Which also meant he should consider walking away. Disappear again, this time on his own, so no one could trace him.

“I get it,” he said. “But you’re making a mistake. Getting to know me isn’t going to fix you.”

“Okay, that’s lame. I don’t need fixing.”

“Why come all that way, Jess? Why go through all the trouble to find me?”

“I was just curious.”

“You’re unhappy with your mom and your stepdad. So you thought finding your biological father would change something. But it won’t.”

“That’s a shitload of assuming you’re doing there.”

“Forget it. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She pushed out of her chair and stalked down the porch steps.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

Lockman stood. He should let her go. She would cool off, come back. If he’d hurt her feelings, it was for the best. Neither of them could get emotionally attached.

“Jessie, wait.”

She rounded the porch and started toward the front of the house.

Lockman went to the railing. “I killed his brother.”

She stopped. “What?”

“Dolan was using his brother’s basement as a weapons cache. We found out and hit the house. His brother was home and in the heat of the moment I shot him.”

Jessie looked up at him on the porch, mouth open and silent.

“We don’t know how involved he was in Dolan’s operation. Maybe complicit just by allowing him to store weapons in his home. But still...”

“Sounds like an accident.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No. Guess it wouldn’t.”

He leaned on the porch railing. “Forgive me?”

“I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

“Water under the bridge.”

The screen door knocked against the jamb behind Lockman. He turned.

Creed held a sheaf of papers in one hand and a pen in the other. He took in the scene of Lockman on the porch and Jessie around the side. “Everything all right?”

“It’s cool,” Jessie said. “I was going to check out that turkey while you guys talk strategy.”

Lockman could tell Creed wasn’t fooled, but the old man played along. “Don’t go feeding him anything. He’s spoiled enough as it is.”

Jessie waved and strolled off toward the barn. Lockman watched her until she disappeared around a corner of the outbuilding.

“Thirteen and tough as Kevlar,” Creed said. “Reminds me of you.”

“Funny,” Lockman said. “She reminds me of Kate.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The young man tasked with killing the ghost’s wife went by the moniker Chaz while among his fellow soldiers in the Movement. His real name, Charles Eaton, he kept to himself. But alone with the woman in the cement-floored room with the cinderblock walls, he didn’t feel like Chaz at all.

Make it nasty, Mr. Dolan had said. He had even offered the services of their resident priest. Truth was, Charles didn’t believe much in God. He believed in vampires, werewolves, and ghosts. But he had seen those things with his own eyes. He had never seen any evidence of God.

Right now he wished he had.

The woman’s blouse had soaked up so much of her sweat, it barely provided much cover. She was an older lady, in her mid fifties, a little younger than his own mother, crying, and handcuffed to an exposed pipe.

She gazed at Charles with wet eyes and a tortured face. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

He hadn’t bothered with his ski mask, as her ID-ing him wouldn’t be an issue after she was dead. He wanted it, though. He didn’t like the idea that his face would be the last she ever saw. Especially knowing that sometimes the dead came back and Mr. Dolan himself planned on raising a whole lot of dead right here in Detroit if all went according to plan. Her ghost could be one of them. She might want to come after Charles for a little postmortem vengeance.

Didn’t matter. He had a job to do.

He set the metal toolbox he’d brought with him on the floor by his feet. Flipped it open. Not a usual assortment of tools, though some would look at home in any suburban garage or shed. Hammer. Pliers. Duct tape. Power drill. After that, though, not so much the average tool selection—syringe and pack of needles, rubber tube, brass knuckles, some contraption consisting of a leather strap pierced with evenly spaced nails and a set of stripped wires wrapped between them. That might also explain the car battery that sat beside the toolbox when he had retrieved it.

These were Mr. Dolan’s tools, and either he had let them get rusty or he never bothered to wash the blood off from previous victims.

Charles reminded himself that whoever had received the brunt of these tools had deserved it. They had stood in the way of world enlightenment.

His stomach twitched like a big nervous slug.

“What are you going to do?” the woman asked.

“It will be easier if you don’t talk.” Easier for him, anyway.

“Who are you people? Why are you doing this?”

She had no idea why she was here. Charles wondered why Mr. Dolan hadn’t shared with her the glory of enlightenment. Wouldn’t she want to know that her husband’s spirit had been brought back? Knowing that, wouldn’t she want to join them?

But it sounded like she was the only way to destroy the ghost on the loose. She had to be sacrificed, just as many others were sacrificed to harness the great powers.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Charles hovered his hand over the selection in the toolbox, uncertain which would provide the necessary energy to banish the ghost. He understood the rudimentary physics behind the supernatural. Much of the work behind splitting the barrier between here and another reality involved high levels of emotional distress. Somehow that distress generated the power necessary to create a rift. Not all rifts—very few, in fact—manifested as an actual tear, though. It wasn’t like walking through a door, it was more like pulling—or throwing—something through the surface of a pool.

In this case, Mr. Dolan must have figured the emotional connection between the husband’s ghost and his living wife would provide the necessary means to send him back where he came from. Charles was curious how the ghost had been summoned in the first place. As far as he knew, mortal spirits didn’t respond well to living mortal command. Raising one ghost was hard enough. And yet, Mr. Dolan planned on raising an army of them. Charles’s rank in the Movement did not qualify him to know the method behind such a feat.

“You’re hesitating.”

Charles looked up from the toolbox at the woman. The agony in her expression had softened some. The effect only reinforced her motherly appearance.

“I’m just trying to work some things out.”

“How old are you?”

The hammer. It would work to start. He pulled it out of the box and tested its weight in his hand.

“You can’t be much older than twenty.”

He needed to work her up before death. He would have to start small. He could hammer at her knee caps.

“I have a son not much older than you.”

“You need to shut up now.”

“I don’t need to do anything. If you’re going to kill me, I have nothing to lose.”

He took a step toward her. She sat with her legs tucked under her, her body twisted to the side to accommodate the way her hands were cuffed to the pipe. “Stick your legs out straight.”

“I’m sorry honey, but I’m not going to do that.”

He feinted with the hammer. “Do it.”

She tucked her chin against her chest and scrunched up her face, anticipating the strike. When it didn’t come, she looked up at him, eyes watery, quivering lips. She did not move her legs for him.

“Are you nuts, lady?”

“Do you really expect me to make it easy for you to torture me? You want me to move my legs, move them your damn self.”

A shrill hysteria wrapped her words like barbed wire, but he still couldn’t believe the way she was talking to him

“You don’t want to do this,” she said. “Otherwise you would have already started.”

“Lady, what I want doesn’t make a bit of difference.”

“God gave everyone free will.”

Charles lifted the hammer over his shoulder. “The man I work for doesn’t give a damn about God. I’m sorry.”

He swung the hammer.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Turned out the address Creed had on file for Benjamin Tanner was no longer valid. But the location of his sister’s funeral plot sat within Detroit’s city limits. Lockman and Creed both figured, based on Tanner’s psychological profile, that he wouldn’t move far from where his sister was buried. So Lockman prepped himself for a long surveillance.

“Can you watch her for me?”

“You trust me enough?”

Lockman and Creed stood by the kitchen table, Tanner’s file spread across the surface—photos, maps, and pages of data that included a full psychological profile as well as a family tree and medical records dating back to early childhood.

Lockman looked over all the papers. “You have a file like this on me.” Not a question, but a way to deflect the conversation Creed seemed to want to have that Lockman did not. Talking about trust did nothing more than rub the shine off of any trust already there.

“It’s not as extensive. Tanner was one of my first men. And since he did a lot of internal affairs work for me, I had to know more about him than most.”

“You have my records from when I was a kid?”

Creed’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking about that?”

“Just wondered since I don’t have much memory of that time myself.”

Creed clapped him on the back. “I wouldn’t worry about it. And don’t worry about Jessie, either. I’ll guard her with my life.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“So you do trust me?”

Lockman stared at him a moment. “I trust you know that if anything does happen to her, I’ll get the tools back out and I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

Creed raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. “You couldn’t have just said ‘yes’ to make me feel better?”

“Not my style.”

* * *

Lockman found himself wondering about Jessie while he sat in his car inside the entrance to the cemetery. He sipped a bottle of water. He wanted to chug it. Even with the windows down, the heat seemed to sap every bit of moisture from his body. But he had another long day ahead of him. The water would go right through him and then he would have to urinate. He was prepared to use one of the empty water bottles to relieve himself in, but the less he had to do that, the better.

This was day two of his cemetery stakeout and already he felt antsy. In the past he had conducted surveillance jobs that went on for weeks. He didn’t have that kind of patience anymore. The only thing that kept him settled was thinking about Jessie, conjuring what if scenarios about how life could be after this was over with. Ridiculous ideas that had him playing a major role in her life.

Not all of the what ifs held such a cheerful sheen, though. Sometimes he worked out worst case scenarios. Many of them ended with one or more of them dead—him, Kate, Jessie.

Bored beyond the reach of any mind games, Lockman picked up the pre-paid cell phone he bought shortly after arriving in Detroit. He dialed Creed’s number, which he had programmed into the phone.

Jessie answered.

“Where’s Victor?” Lockman asked.

“He’s here. But I saw it was you on the caller ID. I figured you wanted to talk to me.”

“You did, huh?”

She laughed. “You’ve only called about a hundred times to check if I’m okay. I’m fine. Mr. Creed is pretty cool, actually. He’s telling me stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“About you, of course. Did you really have a priest bless a fire hydrant so you could wipe out a vampire nest with a fire hose?”

“Not single-handedly. My team backed me up.”

“That is so awesome.”

“Are you going to say it?”

She groaned. “It’s so lame.”

“It’s not lame. It’s a precaution. If you are safe, say it.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Good. Next time I call, the phrase will be, ‘The farm sure is beautiful.’”

“You make these up on the spot, or did you write a list.”

Lockman drew a pen from the center counsel and crossed off a line in the spiral notebook on the passenger seat. “I make them up as I go.”

“Okay. Now that I’ve said the secret phrase, is there any progress on your end?”

Lockman rubbed the stubble on his face and realized it didn’t qualify as stubble anymore, but more like the beginning of a beard. “Quiet so far. Did Creed have any more luck tracing Tanner in the area?”

“He says he’s tapped out. If Tanner’s in the area, he’s covered his tracks.”

“And you’re sure he’s treating you okay?”

“Do I sound like I’m in distress?”

He did feel a little better after establishing their routine with the code phrases that he changed every time he spoke to her. If Creed had any connection to Dolan, even remotely, Dolan would have hit the house by now. He wouldn’t be talking to Jessie.

Which only made things look worse for Tanner.

A light green compact car pulled into the cemetery grounds. Lockman tried to peer through the car’s windows to see the driver. He couldn’t make out details. It did look like a man. And he was alone.

“You still there?” Jessie asked.

“I’ll call you back in a bit.”

He disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He watched the car drive toward the center of the grounds. The basic layout of the cemetery mimicked a wagon wheel with blacktopped roads that fed out of a center hub, each spoke ending in a sort of cul-de- sac. Plenty of trees lined the roads, providing shade to the graves nearest these paths. The only change in the standard pattern was at the entrance. An additional pathway curved off to the cemetery’s main office. Lockman had chosen this driveway to set up shop and had paid off the groundskeeper to keep his questions to himself. It gave him the perfect vantage point to watch vehicles enter the grounds and he found a spot where he could see through to the central hub. Depending on which way the vehicle turned from there, Lockman would know if it warranted further study. He had taken note of how to get to Tanner’s sister’s plot.

The green compact pulled through and disappeared behind a line of maple trees. A few moments later, the car returned to view in the hub and took a ninety-degree turn to the left.

Toward the sister’s grave.

Lockman started the car, hoping he could finally end this. The compact didn’t look like anything Tanner would drive. He always favored sleek, impractical cars that either went too fast or burned too much fuel—or both.

Fifteen years changed things, though. Lockman wondered if Tanner had a family now. Kids of his own. Kids he had the opportunity to see grow up and participate in their lives.

He eased the car onto the entry road and headed toward the hub. This wasn’t the first time Lockman followed a car down here. Plenty of other graves were accessible down the same path. He had to check them all.

He drove slowly, giving the visitor plenty of time to find their destination and pull to the side of the road. Lockman would coast by and see where the man headed. If it looked like he might be going toward the target grave, Lockman would turn around in the cul-de-sac and come back. If he found the man standing at the sister’s grave, or could ID Tanner...

Well, that part would come when it came.

Lockman made the appropriate left turn and had to hit his brakes almost immediately. The green compact had stopped in the center of the road.

Heat waves rippled from the exhaust pipe. The driver sat still behind the wheel, but Lockman had the feeling he was being watched in the driver’s rearview mirror.

Had he been made?

The cars break lights dimmed and the car started backing up right for Lockman’s.

Lockman put his hand on the gearshift, but stopped from throwing it into reverse. Instead he laid on the horn in case this person really did not see him and was merely backing up absentmindedly.

The compact turned, curling back so that it came perpendicular to the road, driver’s side closest to Lockman. Peering through the window at him—Tanner.

Lockman instinctively grabbed for the Desert Eagle he had tucked under the driver’s seat. By the time his hand touched the gun he heard the shots snap through his windshield and whip over his head. He grabbed the Desert Eagle, racked the slide, and thumbed off the safety, all while remaining crouched behind the dashboard at an awkward angle. A muscle kinked in his back. Despite all the working out and preparation, age had tweaked him both physically and mentally. He should have figured Tanner would spot a surveillance car right off the bat. Sloppy work on Lockman’s part. Now he would have to improvise.

First move, take away Tanner’s offensive advantage. Lockman let his foot off the break and jammed on the gas. The engine revved and the car shot forward. Slammed into Tanner’s vehicle.

The shots stopped.

Lockman chanced a look over the dash and saw Tanner climbing across his front seat and out the passenger side door. Lockman aimed through the windshield and fired a trio of shots over Tanner’s head, forcing him down.

It bought Lockman enough time to throw his car in reverse and sail back into the hub. Then he jammed the gearshift to drive and stomped on the gas again. With the added distance, this time when Lockman’s rental T-boned Tanner’s compact, he managed to move the opposing vehicle a couple feet sideway.

Tanner scampered out from behind his car and ran for the nearest tree line, firing a few blind shots from a pistol on his way.

Lockman threw his door open and rushed after him.

Tanner ducked behind a tree then threw his gun arm around and snapped off two more blind shots.

Lockman hit the ground and rolled, knowing a blind shot from someone like Tanner was better than the average gun owner’s aimed shot.

He trained his own weapon on the tree he saw Tanner disappear behind and waited. The grass under him was wet from a recent watering. The sun had a cloudless sky to itself and took the opportunity to brutalize the earth below with a heat Lockman felt prickle across his skin like tiny, hot needles.

No sign of movement. Had Tanner moved to another tree when Lockman dove to the ground? He scanned the neighboring trunks. Nothing. And lying out in the open wasn’t doing him any good.

He belly crawled to one of the larger tombstones and lined himself up behind it. Meager cover, but the best he could do without getting up and making a bigger target of himself.

Lockman wanted to call out to Tanner, start a reasonable conversation, maybe end this peacefully. But if Tanner was mixed up with the likes of Dolan, the hope for reasonable anything dropped through the floor.

So he waited.

Turned out Tanner called to him. “Craig? You going to kill me before I even get the chance to explain?”

Lockman tried to pinpoint Tanner’s location from his voice. He didn’t sound like he had moved far from the first tree, if at all. “You tried to kill me first.”

“Sorry about that. You spooked me. I didn’t realize it was you until after I started firing.”

“Not like you to shoot so blind like that. What would Creed think about his agency spy?”

Tanner’s laugh sounded disembodied coming from the trees. “So that’s how you found me. He still have all his files?”

“I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens. What do you want, Craig?”

“You know damn well.”

“Whatever you think you know, you don’t even know a fraction. Trust me.”

“Why don’t you toss the gun out and come forward with your hands up so we can talk about it?”

“So you can shoot me in the gut the second I come out?”

“Why would I shoot you?”

“Aw hell. Let’s stop fucking around. You know I put Dolan onto your little girl and that’s how he traced you to LA. You’re pissed off. You want revenge.”

“I want answers.”

“I’ve got plenty, none of which you’ll like.”

The back of Lockman’s neck, exposed to the sun, burned. He didn’t dare let the discomfort distract him. He could tell by the tone of his old friend’s voice that he was about to make a move.

“What’s Dolan after?”

“You.”

“But what do I know that he wants?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

Any minute now, Tanner would make his play. Lockman hunkered down and kept his weapon ready.

“Then talk slow. I’m sure I’ll understand.”

“Don’t,” Tanner said, dragging the word out, “move.” His voice came from right behind Lockman.

Before Lockman could react, the barrel of Tanner’s pistol pressed against Lockman’s neck.

“But you were behind the trees. I heard you.”

“You mean that guy?”

Tanner came out from behind the same tree Lockman had seen him duck behind moments before. He stepped into the open and waved.

But the gun barrel still nestled against Lockman’s neck. “A glamour of some kind? Dolan’s got you using the mojo now, too?”

The Tanner that came from behind the tree exploded into a cloud of dust that blew away and dissipated in seconds.

“It has its uses.”

“Who was tortured and killed for you to pull off that trick?”

“Toss your gun aside, Craig.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? Dolan will have a hard time getting his information from a corpse.”

“You’d be surprised what you can get a corpse to reveal, actually.”

“Is that your plan, then?”

Tanner leaned into his weapon, driving the barrel into Lockman’s neck like a dull nail. “Quit being a douche bag and toss the gun.”

“No.”

“You going to try and shoot me over your shoulder?”

“Good idea.”

“How do you expect to protect Kate and Jessie if you’re dead?”

Lockman gritted his teeth, then threw the Desert Eagle aside.

Tanner backed off. “Now stand.”

Lockman pushed to his hands and knees. That muscle in his back twitched again. He froze, tried to stretch it loose.

“We’re not as nimble as we used to be,” Tanner said when Lockman finally got to his feet.

“Limber enough to break your windpipe with my hands.” He turned to face his former friend for the first time in over a decade.

He hadn’t changed much, outside of the flecks of gray around his temples and the well-trimmed beard he sported that made him look more like a college professor than ex-military. The beard had a distinct patch of gray in it as well. But instead of making him look unkempt, it gave him a distinguished look.

“You look cute,” Lockman said.

“Don’t let the image fool you. I haven’t let myself get soft like you have.”

“Tell that to the team of vamps, the shifter, and the specter that tried to take me.”

“Yeah, well, I never put much faith in supernaturals. This plane isn’t their turf. Their physics don’t mix well with ours.”

The heat crackled over Lockman’s scalp. It was hard to tell how much of that came from the sun and how much was pure rage. “You were my friend. I trusted you.”

“Your mistake.”

“So this has been going on a while? Even from the beginning?”

“How do you think Dolan found you the first time?”

A dizzy wave rolled through Lockman. His vision closed around the edges. “You? Impossible. You saved me.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t on purpose. I had to choose between my cover and pretending to save your ass. I was too key an asset to get blown, even for you.”

Lockman hung his head. The muscles in his neck turned to steel rods. “Why me? Out of everyone in the Agency, I was the most green. Hell, with your position you could have went straight for Creed.”

The corner of Tanner’s mouth curled up. “You still don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Ho, man. I can’t believe Creed didn’t tell you. Even after all this time the old bastard has to keep his secrets.”

A cold sweat washed over Lockman and his stomach roiled. He felt as if he stood on a wayward ship in the middle of a storm. “What are you talking about?”

“Christ, bro, I’m not sure I’m the one who should break it to you. Maybe Dolan can lay it out for you.” He waved his gun toward the cars. “Your ride looks the most drivable. We need to get out of here.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“Then I shoot you and carry you.”

Craig lifted his chin and stared Tanner in the eyes.

Tanner grunted disgustedly and rolled his eyes. “You are seriously going to make me shoot you? You know, your daughter will be devastated.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Damn, you’re cold. Were you always like this? I don’t remember.”

“You can’t fake a friendship like that. Parts of it were real.”

“Hey, man, I’ll admit it. I thought you were kick ass. If you knew the larger picture, you’d see that isn’t such a stretch.”

“What larger picture? Quit talking in riddles.”

“Get in the fucking car, Craig. The last thing either of us want is local cops getting a hold of our asses.”

“You won’t shoot me.” Lockman took a step forward, closing the gap between his chest and Tanner’s gun.

“Do I want to? No. But I will.”

“Dolan wants me alive.” He took another step forward. Barely half a foot between his sternum and the gun’s barrel. “You can’t shoot me.”

Tanner smiled. “You’re right. You are to be returned to Mr. Dolan unmolested. But I’m not like those dumb supernaturals, Craig. I came prepared.”

The electric jolt shot through Lockman’s body and rendered him immobile except for the jittering. He remained standing long enough to see the Taser in Tanner’s free hand. Then he dropped to the ground.

Tanner crouched at his side.

Lockman tried to command his arm to move so he could reach out and grab Tanner by the neck. His muscles twitched uselessly.

“I could hit you again to make sure you’re down. But why don’t we do this? Why don’t you come along willingly so I don’t have to send a team of vamps to gang rape and feed on your daughter? How’s that sound?”

Lockman could only manage a grunt.

“Is that agreement? You still sound a little angry.”

“Kill...you...”

“All right caveman, you leave me no choice.”

Tanner jabbed the Taser against Lockman’s neck and sent him rattling into darkness.

Chapter Thirty

Charles had lost his fucking mind.

When he swung the hammer, he didn’t have any intention of striking the woman. Instead, he clanged the metal head against the pipe her hands were cuffed to. Just to scare her.

He got the reaction he wanted. She screamed and fell into sobs. But hearing her cry, Charles again thought about his mother and the last conversation he had with her. How he told her he hated her and never wanted to see her again. How her cries followed him out the door before he slammed it behind him.

That’s when he found himself trying to console the cuffed woman. Then realizing he could not kill her, let alone brutalize her in the process. Which had left him with two ugly options—tell Mr. Dolan he had to get someone else to do the job, or get the woman the hell out of there.

Now he held her hand and peered around the corner down a hall he knew led to a back exit from the factory.

He’s going to kill you, you dupa.

Yeah, well, this might be the craziest move of his life, but it could very well make up for some of the dumber ones, like getting involved with people like Mr. Dolan.

This part of the factory, they hadn’t bothered replacing or putting up new lighting. The shadows swallowed the hallway. But Charlie could only wait so long for his eyes to adjust. He still didn’t want to run through there. Some of the things working for Mr. Dolan had no problem seeing in the dark. This portion of the factory very well may have been left to those things.

“What are we waiting for?” the woman whispered. “There’s no one back here.”

Charles put a finger to his lips. He didn’t have time to explain about those things that lived in the dark. Frankly, the woman was better off not knowing.

The woman gave him an impatient look. Now that she didn’t have the handcuffs on, she wasn’t so meek anymore. Charles started to regret his decision, but too late now. No way the woman would let him take her back quietly. And he’d still be left trying to explain why she was loose in the first place.

Despite the moniker of soldier Mr. Dolan gave his mortal followers, he didn’t really have an army. But he had enough mortals and supernaturals to make Charles expendable. Besides, in this world, no death was wasted when it could fuel some ritual or other to conjure magic.

He squinted into the darkness once more. There. Something moved. He thought. Maybe. He continued to stare another few seconds. Nothing. He must have imagined the movement. The shadows had taken on a life of their own in Charles’s paranoid imagination. The longer he hesitated, the worse it would get.

“Okay,” he whispered. “We’re going.”

He led the way into the shadows. The woman kept close. Too close, really. He could smell her sweat and the hint of urine, as if she had wet herself at some point during her capture. Charles hadn’t been part of the unit that grabbed her. Maybe she had more experience with supernaturals than he thought, depending on who (what?) had brought her in. The first time he saw a werewolf he had wet himself a little. Just a little, though.

Halfway down the hall they now walked in perfect darkness. Seemed strange not to have any light back here. He tried to remember what this section of the factory had looked like on his initial walk through. Hadn’t there been windows? It was the middle of the day. Even if the windows were boarded over, there should be some light. Right?

A cold, wet breeze licked the back of his neck and he heard something. A snort?

“What was that?” the woman asked.

If she heard it too, Charles couldn’t pass it off as his overactive imagination. Which meant something else was back there with them, living in the dark.

Now he was positive there had been windows back here. Which meant someone had carefully covered those windows to block out light totally.

“Oh, shit.”

Another snort, followed by that moist puff of air. Something was literally breathing down his neck.

“This one is for us?” a voice like stones in a blender said behind him.

“I...um...no. Sorry. I’m taking her out back.”

“Another to the fish? It isn’t fair. Tell your master we demand sustenance or we shall feed on his own.”

“You, um, are confined to the dark?”

“The daylight cannot last forever. In the mean time, we will take this one.”

Charles reached to his belt where he had a mini Maglite clipped. He plucked the light from the holder. “Sorry, but I can’t let you have her.” He spun toward the voice, flicked on the Maglite, and aimed it right at where he thought the creature stood.

The beam hit the monster right in the face—a hideous face Charles couldn’t process through his fear.

The woman shrieked at the sight.

The beast threw a furred arm across its eyes and howled. He grabbed the woman by the arm and ran down the hall, using the flashlight now to cut a path through the darkness.

He could hear the rustle of waking things around them as they ran. He dared not look. He kept his eyes on the metal double doors at the end of the hall which he knew led to a loading area at the back of the factory.

When they reached the door, Charles hit it with his shoulder while pushing the bar to work the latch.

The sunlight seared his eyes as they stumbled through the doors. Screams echoed through the hall behind them. He shoved the door shut and wanted to take a second to breathe. No time, though. After that ruckus, they had to keep running.

The woman whimpered, but she kept pace as he tugged her around the back of the factory that lined the Detroit River. He glanced at the water as they raced away from the building and into an adjoining property with yet another decaying industrial complex. He wondered briefly what the thing inside had meant by the fish, and decided himself lucky he wouldn’t have to find out.

Chapter Thirty-One

Either her dad had stopped being a paranoid freak, or something was wrong.

Jessie sat on the back porch swing at Mr. Creed’s house. The waves of green stretching to the back tree line and the music of the wind chimes soothed her. After all she had been through, a little bit of peace felt good. But she also thought a lot. Too much. About Craig. About the kind of person he was. About the danger he had pulled her and the rest of her family into.

Yeah, but none of that danger would be an issue if you hadn’t gone looking for him in the first place.

How could she have known this would happen? Who in their right mind would even imagine such a screwed up nightmare?

Now she sat and worried because her father had broken his pattern. He hadn’t called at his standard interval.

She stood and went inside to find Mr. Creed. He sat in the living room, on a plaid couch, with a whole bunch of guns laid out on the coffee table.

She froze at the sight.

He looked up from the pistol he was cleaning. “He hasn’t called.”

“I know.”

“Something’s gone wrong.”

“Are we going after him?”

He frowned. “He would kill me if he found out I put you at risk. He would also kill me if he learned I had left you alone.”

“He do a lot of that?”

His eyebrows rose. “Killing? Only those who deserved it.”

“Says who?”

“No matter what you might come to think, your father is a good man. I’ll go to my grave vouching for him.”

“So are we going after him?”

He sighed through his nose and looked down at his arsenal. “You don’t know how to fire a gun by any chance?”

Jessie laughed, the humor dial turned low. “You’re kidding, right?”

* * *

Lockman’s whole body belt like microwaved meat. He felt like his scalp had split open and something was trying to burrow out from inside his skull. His tongue felt like he had licked the frayed end of a downed power line. The handcuffs pinning his hands behind his back didn’t help, either.

He sat on a metal chair in the middle of an open room framed with unfinished drywall. The exposed floorboards were streaked with a light coat of wood treatment. A rectangle cut in one wall waited for the door meant to fit there. Lockman didn’t have a good angle to see out that rough doorway, but it appeared to lead to more unfinished construction. No circulation, so the air in the room boiled.

“Tanner,” he shouted. “I’m conscious. Let’s get this over with.”

Footsteps thumped against more exposed floorboards in the hall outside of this room. A moment later, Tanner stepped into the doorway and leaned against the rough edge. “I had to Tase you three times before you finally stopped struggling.”

“Go me.” Lockman twisted his neck, trying to work a kink free and maybe ease some of the pain in his head. “Where’s Dolan?”

“He comes later. I wanted a shot at you first.”

“He won’t like that.”

“You think I give a fuck what a nut job terrorist thinks? He’s already paid me enough to retire and never worry about money again. Everything I do now has more to do with my curiosity.”

“Money? That’s the reason you betrayed your country? Your friends?”

“Would you rather I told you I believed in Dolan’s cause? That I want the veil between the natural and supernatural permanently drawn? I can play crazy, if that’s what works for you.”

The same face. The same voice. But Lockman did not recognize the Benjamin Tanner standing before him now. “What do you want?”

“Dolan is after an artifact that he believes only you can obtain.”

“An artifact? You mean like those mojo devices we confiscated in Brazil?”

“Very similar. There are powerful artifacts left behind from mortal cultures and supernatural intruders alike. Just laying around out there, waiting to be discovered and powered.”

“Dolan’s pissing in the wrong pool if he thinks I know anything about some artifact. Those things we recovered from Brazil were all trashed.”

“This isn’t about Brazil. This is about another device. One tuned specifically to raise the spirits of the mortal dead.”

The hairs on Lockman’s arms stood on end despite the stagnate heat in the room. He thought of the specter he’d faced in Ryan’s basement. “He must already have his artifact. I’m pretty sure I had a run in with one of those spirits.”

Tanner smiled, though he did not look at all amused. “That was a one shot deal. A really stupid idea, too, if you ask me. But Dolan doesn’t often ask my opinion when it comes to playing with the supernatural. No, this device wouldn’t raise just one spirit. It would raise thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands. A ghost army.”

“And he thinks I know where it is.”

“You do know where it is. You just don’t know you know.”

Despite everything, Lockman laughed. “You were right. You can play crazy.”

Tanner raised his eyebrows. “Since we’re on the topic of artifacts, did you know our dear Victor Creed has a nifty one of his own?”

“Is that so?”

“Do you want to know what it does?”

“What’s the point of trying to turn me against Creed? You’ve got what you wanted. Leave him out of this.”

“Unfortunately, we need his artifact, too.”

“Then you’ll have to ask him for it.”

Tanner sucked at his teeth and stared off for a moment. “I really want to tell you. The look on your face will be priceless.”

“Quit dicking around.”

His focus returned to Lockman. “Don’t you ever wonder why your childhood memories are so shaded?”

“Are you going to take me to Dolan or not?”

“You aren’t listening to me. I know the biggest secret about your life, Craig. A secret you don’t even know. Dolan and people like him aren’t the only ones using magic. You think the U.S. government hasn’t worked a little mojo here and there?”

“I know about the experiments. The trials. I know they discovered they couldn’t replicate the results of the terrorists without inflicting serious emotional and physical harm to mortals to power the mojo. So they quit trying.”

Tanner shook his head. “They never quit trying. There is too much at stake. They just quit trying to avoid the inevitable.”

“So the U.S. is torturing and killing people to use magic? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“And you, Craig, are a prime example of what they managed to accomplish by wielding that power.”

Lockman tried to stand. His cuffed hands looped behind the chair took the chair up with him and prevented him from straightening his legs enough to stand. The chair, and him with it, slammed back into place. “Enough bullshit, Tanner.”

“You know I’m telling the truth.”

“Look at me. Do I look like a supernatural to you? I’m pure mortal.”

“Oh, you’re mortal all right. You’re just not the mortal you think you are.”

Lockman glared at Tanner. He wouldn’t play into the prick’s mind games. Tanner had already done enough damage by betraying him. That made everything out of his mouth ninety-nine percent lie as far as Lockman was concerned.

“That artifact Creed has? They call it a soul machine, which always sounded like a good band name to me. It has the ability to transfer and store mortal souls.”

A tremor rode up Lockman’s spine. Even in the stuffy room, a chill came over him as if he stood in the shadow of a giant foot about to stomp out his world.

“You are not Craig Lockman. There is no such thing as Craig Lockman. The person you think you are today is a mishmash of souls pieced together to make a perfect agent loyal to the United States of America. Your true identity is held within that artifact. Safe to retrieve whenever the need for intelligence arises.”

Lockman couldn’t keep his silence any longer. “You expect me to believe anything you say?”

“Doesn’t matter. Once Dolan has you and the artifact, you’ll be back to your old self whether you want to believe it or not.”

“And who is that? Who was I supposed to be?”

Tanner smirked. “This is the best part. You were Dolan’s right hand. His best friend and greatest asset. Right before the Agency captured you, you hid the artifact Dolan wants so badly. But I would bet Dolan wants more than just the artifact. Otherwise, we could have gone after the soul machine and tried to extract the necessary information without you. No, I think Otto misses his old best friend, his most ardent supporter.”

Lockman pulled his wrists apart, charged with the feeling he could break the chain on the cuffs based on rage alone. The chain resisted him. His blood pulsed in his face.

“Relax,” Tanner said. “You’ve got a long day before Dolan can fix what the Agency did to you.” He checked his watch. “I imagine Creed will come after you soon enough, once he realizes you haven’t checked in. Then we can all go back to his place to gather the soul machine. Delivering you and the means to fix you is sure to earn me a bonus.”

“I thought you said you had enough.”

“To retire on comfortably, sure. But I always wanted a private jet. Have lunch in Paris. Dinner in New York. And I’ll need something nice to replace the car you destroyed.” He shrugged. “Guess I can never have enough.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

For an old guy, Mr. Creed drove a sweet car. They pushed almost ninety-five miles per-hour on the I-94 East. The old Mustang had to have been built before Jessie was even born, but you couldn’t tell that by looking at it. Glossy, gray sheen to its paint. A motor that sounded like a napping tiger having a good dream. Too freaking cool.

Something about the car made her think about Ryan. She could see him driving something like it when he finally got his license. Only he wouldn’t get his license, would he?

She tried to draw back from the thought. Too late. Tears swelled in her eyes.

“He’s going to be okay,” Mr. Creed said. “Your dad is a tough son of a bitch.”

She wiped her face. “Yeah.” She didn’t feel the need to correct him. She wondered, though, if something did happen to Craig if she would cry for him? Had she known him long enough? Did she really know him at all?

Mr. Creed reached across her lap and opened the glove box. He pulled out an antique of a cell phone. Jessie had seen video cameras smaller than the chunk of electronics in his hand.

He flipped the phone open, doubling its clunky size and hit a single button, the whole time weaving through traffic with a NASCAR driver’s ease.

“Rodriquez,” he said after a pause. “It’s Creed. Are you secure?” He paused a moment. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

“Who are you calling?”

Creed tipped the receiver away from his mouth. “Backup.”

“I thought you were retired.”

“I’ve made a point to stay in touch with some of the team, just in case.”

“You all knew something like this was going to happen. You knew Dolan would find Craig eventually, didn’t you?”

“We had to plan for it.”

“Why? What is the big deal about one guy?”

“Your dad...” He held up a finger and put the phone’s receiver back to his mouth. “Yes. Condition black. Can you activate the chip? Good. And gather the others. We convene on his location ASAP.” He flipped the phone closed and handed it to Jessie. “Put that back in the glove box for me?”

She turned it around in her hands before putting it away. “Big phone.”

“Old tech. But it does the trick when I need a secure line.”

“So what’s condition black?”

“What we’ve prepared for in case of a situation like this.”

“How do we even find him? You talked like you knew right where he was.”

Mr. Creed dug another device out of his pocket. This one a little more sleek. “GPS,” he said. “Your dad has a tracking device implanted in his heel.”

“Are you for real?”

He tapped a few buttons on the device then set it on the dashboard. “You have no idea how important your dad is.”

“You keep saying stuff like that, but you won’t tell me why.”

His brow creased. He gave her a disappointed glance. “Don’t you want your dad back?”

“I never had him to begin with. I haven’t had a chance to think what I want.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Maybe. But you’re not going to convince me by repeating that over and over.” She hesitated when she saw his face tighten. “Not me you’re trying to convince, is it?”

He jerked the wheel, cutting into the next lane, and barely avoided clipping the bumper of an SUV in front of them. His gaze stayed locked on the road. He did not answer her question.

“You don’t think he’ll give up whatever top secret info he has over to Dolan, do you?”

Creed shifted gears and pounded the gas, pushing the speedometer needle over one-hundred.

“Well, do you?”

“Craig is a good man,” he said, as if it answered anything.

Jessie tightened her seatbelt and hunkered down. She never felt so lost in her entire life. She would give up her makeup, piercings, and wardrobe like Mom and Alec wanted her to, just to get her old life back.

She would even admit to Mom that she loved her. She would give anything to tell her that now.

* * *

“You really think Creed is going to stumble into a lame trap like this?”

Tanner sat on the floor of the room, his back against the wall, his legs straight out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, lounging like he had all the time in the world. He kept his gun in his lap, casual. He checked his watch.

“You don’t know a whole heck of a lot about your value, do you?”

“If you’re going to start up that BS about my real soul, you can skip it.”

“An asset like you, you think someone like Creed would let you fall easily into enemy hands?”

“I’m not worth risking his life. Besides, he has a more important duty.”

“Protecting your daughter? Forget that, bro. He’d drop her in a flat instant if it came down to a choice between the two of you.”

Lockman’s arms ached from hanging behind him for so long, the circulation stunted. He tried to adjust, but didn’t find much comfort. “Don’t you think your plan would have worked a little better if you hadn’t taken me from the cemetery? They’ll never find me here.”

Tanner leaned his head back against the wall and laughed. “It’s so sick how short the leash they have on you is, yet you don’t even realize you’re choking.”

“That’s supposed to mean something to me?”

“You have a tracking device planted in your right foot. Creed knows exactly where you are.”

“Fine. Let’s say you’re right. When he shows up and finds you on your ass there, what’s the big plan? Talk him to death like you’re doing to me?”

Tanner scrunched up his face. “Please. I have backup.”

“More vamps?”

“Better. Angels.”

Lockman gaped at Tanner for a moment, trying to decide if he was serious.

Tanner cracked a grin. “I’m screwing with you. I’m not dumb enough to trust supernaturals to have my back.” He holstered his pistol, stood, brushed off his slacks. “He’ll be here soon. If you excuse me, I have to make sure my men know to keep the old man alive, but anyone else is expendable.”

Lockman jerked against his restraints. The chair jumped and slammed back to the floor. The sound echoed like a shot in the bare room. “You better hope he doesn’t have any backup. Because if I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you’d killed me when you had the chance.”

Tanner must have thought his teeth sparkled considering how much of them he showed when he smiled.  “You’re such a badass. Gives me chills.” He pretended to shiver then strode out of the room.

Lockman leaned forward and got on his feet, bringing the chair off the floor. He could do a half-assed duck walk with the chair pinned behind him, but he wouldn’t get far. He rocked backward and slammed back into place. He thrashed and jerked against the cuffs. A waste of energy. He only tightened the cramps in his arms. All he could do was wait and hope—first off that Creed had managed to round up some form of backup, and second, that he didn’t have Jessie with him when he came.

* * *

Dolan gripped the head of the young soldier with the shaved scalp and slammed his skull against the concrete wall a second time. The sound of the crunch satisfied Dolan’s angry hands. The red blood smeared across the soldier’s pale pate soothed his crazed eyes. But it took three more strikes against the wall, until the soldier slipped out of his grip to the floor with part of his head smashed in like an overripe pumpkin, to quell the rage pumping in his heart.

The four other soldiers who had rushed to report their findings after the commotion from the imps stood in a semi-circle around Dolan. They stared. None of them dared speak.

Dolan pointed at the body on the floor. “This could have been any one of you.” He heaved a few breaths, winded from his sudden burst of violence. “It might still be if you fuckers don’t get out there and find our escapee and the fucktard that helped her.”

The female with the blonde brush cut stood at attention. “Sir, all of us? Half of our mortal contingent is on the field. Now that we’ve lost Charles and,” she nodded at the dead man, “Mortimer, that would leave you with limited mortal support at HQ.”

Dolan’s ears turned hot. He regretted the day he told his mortal followers they were his soldiers. Some of them took it to heart and used such ridiculous lingo, he didn’t understand them half the time. “I have imps. What the fuck do I need mortals for?”

The blonde flinched. “Yes, sir.”

He waited. They all stood there ogling the corpse at Dolan’s feet. He lifted his arms and waved them. “What are you waiting for?”

The soldiers filed out. Dolan watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he kicked the man on the floor. Fucking mortals and their consciences. He should have killed the woman himself. Here he thought he was giving that young soldier an opportunity of a lifetime. Control over the supernatural. But no. The boy pussied out and ran for it instead.

Now Dolan had an angry ghost on the loose and no way to contain it, which wouldn’t be such a big deal if the ghost weren’t angry with him.

He almost regretted melting the vampires. Almost.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jessie sat quietly in the passenger seat while Mr. Creed cruised past the aborted condominium complex for a third time. She had seen it already, so she watched him, looking for some sense of his thoughts. Obviously Craig was somewhere in that complex, either in the newly minted yet empty condos or the half completed shells covered with torn plastic and exposed studs. She was anxious to know what came next. But the silence felt necessary. She didn’t want to disrupt whatever Mr. Creed was doing with a whole bunch of stupid questions.

Finally, he looped around and parked in a side street, facing the condos. He cut the engine and the silence grew ten times as heavy. Jessie’s heart had picked up tempo, though she didn’t know when it had started. The cool air blowing from the vents died with the engine. While the air in the car remained comfortable, Jessie started to sweat.

She looked at Mr. Creed, who stared ahead at the condos as if in a trance.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “What are we going to do?”

He picked up the GPS device from the dash and studied the screen, tapped a button, studied it some more. Then he tucked the device in his shirt pocket. “You’re going to stay here. I’m going to go in, find his exact location.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably already here.”

“Probably?”

“They’ll be here when I need them.” He reached over the seat to grab the duffel he had packed with guns before they left. Apparently these Agency guys liked to carry weapons in gym bags. He withdrew two guns. One silver and one a dull gray. The dull gray one looked boxy, more like a kid’s toy than a real gun. That’s the one he held out to her. “It’s a Glock. There’s no safety, so be careful. I’ve already put a round in the chamber. It’s point and squeeze the trigger.”

She stared at the offered gun, her head buzzing. “I thought you were kidding before.”

“This is last resort. In case someone comes after you out here.”

“You know I’m more likely to shoot myself with it, right?”

He lifted the gun slightly. “Take it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

He set the gun on the dashboard. “I’ll leave it there. If you don’t take it, you better hope a cop doesn’t drive by while I’m gone. That would be an awkward conversation.” He tucked his gun into a holster he got from the bag and clipped the holster to his belt.

“Be careful,” Jessie said. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’re walking into a trap.”

He patted her knee and got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition.

Jessie watched him cross the street and enter the complex grounds. Several clumps of condos were built (or half-built) as connected units. Jessie could see at least three of these groupings from her vantage point. There could be more on the other side of those facing the street. Her dad was in there somewhere. A man almost as old as her grandpa was going in to save him. Here she sat, helpless.

Seriously. What had happened to her life?

* * *

When the shooting started, Lockman had managed to move to the gaping doorway. From there he could see down a short hallway as unfinished as the room he was in that bent to the left. The sound of the shots buzzed down the hall. A quick series followed by eardrum torquing silence. Lockman cocked his head, listening. Footsteps, soft and careful but definitely there. Getting closer.

Another shot rang through the house, the naked walls amplifying the sound ten-fold and bouncing the noise around, making it hard to pinpoint where the shot came from. A man in a police uniform staggered backward into the hall and thumped against the wall. He clutched at his belly. His hands grew slick with blood. Another shot snapped his head back and stained the clean wall behind him. He dropped to the floor without a second gasp.

Cops?

Lockman wasn’t sure if he should retreat back into the room or stick where he was. Either way probably didn’t matter. Might as well face his fate head on. But he had no way to expect the face that came around the corner.

“Craiginator,” the familiar man with the familiar hillbilly twang said. “I thought for sure Creed was fucking with me when he said you were back.”

Same half-cocked smile. Same shock of black hair, though with a hairline that had lost some ground in the intervening years. Same red, round nose, that had earned him the nickname, Clown. A thousand memories flocked Lockman’s mind at the sight of his old teammate.

“Vincent, fucking, Corwin. The Clown himself.”

Clown waggled his eyebrows. “I’m here to rescue you, fair princess. Now let’s get—”

Just as Lockman was getting used to seeing a familiar face, that face blew apart in a spray of skull, bone, and brain. Lockman shouted and jerked helplessly against the cuffs. The shotgun explosion rang in his ears as he watched Clown fall backward onto the cop’s body in the hall.

Tanner stepped into the hall and pumped his shotgun to eject the shell. He looked down at Clown, shook his head. “Stupid redneck.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Save it. If Clown had known who you really are he would have shot you cold.”

“Creed,” Lockman shouted. “Get out of here. It’s a trap.”

The butt of Tanner’s shotgun crashed into Lockman’s nose. Lockman twisted with the impact and momentum tipped him and the chair over. He thumped onto his side. The second he landed he realized the chair back had slid down the loop made by his cuffed wrists. He played up the agony from getting hit in the face—the tear-jerking pain made the act easy—and cocked one leg up until he could hook a heel against the chair’s seat.

Tanner mashed the barrel of his shotgun into Lockman’s cheek. “Stay down and stay quiet. This will all be over soon.”

“Fuck you.”

“Better chill, my man. One of my crew spotted a young girl alone in a car across the street. Seems Creed forgot how thorough I am.”

Lockman breathed through his teeth and honed the focus of his mind on one thing—killing Benjamin Tanner. The time would come. Wait for it.

Wait.

Automatic gun fire roared from somewhere downstairs. The pressure of the barrel on Lockman’s face eased. An answering barrage of single shots silenced the automatic fire.

“Damn,” Tanner said under his breath. He pulled the barrel off of Lockman, loaded another shell, then peeked around the corner of the hallway. The stairway leading to the second floor must have been in view from there. And whoever came up those stairs would be an easy target for Tanner.

Lockman pushed with his heel and slid the chair away from him. Before Tanner could respond to the noise, Lockman leapt to his feet, then leapt again, swinging his cuffed wrists under his feet like jumping rope. He had his hands in front and ready when Tanner swung around to face him.

Lockman ducked low and shoved the cuff chain between his wrists against the shotgun barrel, knocking Tanner’s aim high.

Tanner squeezed off an instinctive shot and chips of drywall and dust rained down on them.

Lockman kept charging forward and used his shoulder to hit Tanner in the gut. He poured all his anger and sense of betrayal behind the thrust and lifted Tanner off of his feet and sailing backward.

Tanner let the shotgun drop as he hit the floor. He reached for the pistol in his shoulder holster and Lockman realized his mistake. He should have kept them close, but he’d managed to give Tanner the clearance he needed to gun Lockman down before Lockman could reach him.

He backpedaled around the hall corner. A chunk of drywall exploded by Lockman’s ear and embedded shards in his face. He didn’t stop moving. Dropped to the floor and retrieved Clown’s Beretta, then scrambled back into the room where he came from.

Another shot sparked above him.

Once in the room he dove to one side and aimed the Beretta at the doorway.

He waited.

Then he heard Tanner’s feet twist in the drywall dust on the floor and his footsteps fade as he retreated through the house.

“No,” Lockman shouted and scurried out after him. He couldn’t let that traitor get away. No fucking way.

He leapt over the bodies in the hall and rounded the corner, catching a glimpse of Tanner on the stairs going down. Lockman charged after him and fired a couple of wild shots, hoping to get Tanner to stop his retreat to dive for cover.

Tanner ignored the shots and kept running.

Lockman followed him down the stairs into what was probably meant to one day serve as the condo’s living room. The interior wall separating this room from the next had yet to have drywall hung, the studs left bare.

Tanner weaved between a pair of studs and headed for a doorway beyond that led to the outside with only a sheet of plastic separating inside from out.

Lockman chanced another shot, but it went wide. He bolted along Tanner’s path and slipped between the same pair of studs. By the time he reached the doorway, Tanner was out of sight. He blasted through the sheet of plastic which tore loose and tangled around him. His hands cuffed and holding the Beretta, he tried to push the plastic off of him with his elbow. The plastic caught under his feet and he stumbled like a rookie on his first foot chase. He rolled into the fall and quickly returned to his feet, free of the plastic, but disoriented for a precious second.

He heard the shot. Then felt the burn on his side as if a flaming whip had lashed against his ribcage.

Lockman twisted in the direction he thought the gunfire came from and squeezed off blind shots. He caught sight of Tanner sprinting toward another row of condos, but in the open. Lockman took a knee, lined up the sight on his weapon with Tanner’s back, squeezed.

Tanner jagged left, but a spray of blood plumed from his shoulder. He staggered, managed to keep running.

Each breath felt like inhaling fiberglass. Lockman’s chest ached. So much adrenaline coursed through him he shook like a caffeine junkie. He tried to line up another shot, but Tanner disappeared around the corner of the opposing building.

He forced himself back to his feet and jogged on. He ignored the searing pain along his side. He could feel a warm wetness sticking to his shirt.

While he had lost his edge in so many ways, he did have enough presence of mind to stop at the corner of the building he saw Tanner go around instead of blindly chasing after him and possibly into a bullet.

He leaned against the brick façade of one of the few completed buildings on the grounds. He peered around the corner. This must have been the front of the complex. The building he stood by faced a road with an overgrown lawn in between.

No sign of Tanner.

Lockman inched a little closer to the corner to get a view of the face of the building. Several cement staircases led up to the front porches of the individual condos making up this row. The porches were all inset, out of Lockman’s view. Tanner could have scurried into any one of them like a rat into a hole in the wall. If Lockman tried to break for the street, he would offer his back to Tanner for target practice.

Then he remembered what Tanner had told him—Jessie was in a car somewhere across that street. He scanned the several cars sat parked at the curb on both sides. He didn’t see any that obviously had someone inside. Would Creed really have left her right out in the open?

No. But he would have tucked her within sight of the condo. A side street maybe. The closest side street was about fifty yards to Lockman’s left. At the corner, a maple tree thick with leaves provided shade for the yard of the ranch style house there. An old Mustang in prime condition sat parked under that same tree. With the tree’s shadow over the car, he couldn’t see inside.

Lockman called out Tanner’s name. “You’re not getting out of here. Show yourself.”

Tanner made the smart move and stayed quiet.

Lockman glanced toward the Mustang again. He peeked back around the corner of the building. Looked back the way he had come. Tanner had to have at least two more men with him. Had Creed brought more than Clown? He didn’t hear any more gunfire. Maybe Creed and Clown had taken out Tanner’s backup. But if Tanner really had Detroit cops at his disposal, more could be on the way.

He had to make a decision soon. The pain in his side went from a burn to a shark-toothed chewing.

Move forward. Capture or kill Tanner. Go.

Gun up, he rounded the corner and inched his way to the first porch. He took a deep breath, stepped sideways, pivoted so his gun led the way in.

Tanner lay in the porch cubby, his gun on the concrete stoop, blood soaking through his shirt from a gash in his shoulder. His eyelids drooped. His head lolled to one side. His chest heaved with labored breaths.

Lockman kept the Beretta trained on Tanner’s heart. He wasn’t taking chances. “Wake up.”

Tanner’s eyelids fluttered. He lifted his chin just enough to look at Lockman. Then he smirked. “You stupid asshole. That’s twice you fell for the same trick.” He melted like a sugar cube in the rain, until the residue on the porch blew away and left nothing behind.

A second later Lockman heard a car engine start. He spun around.

The Mustang squealed its tires and tore off down the road.

Chapter Thirty-Four

She should have taken the gun.

Jessie sank back against her seat as the Mustang accelerated. She stared at the place on the dash where Mr. Creed had left the Glock, now empty. When Tanner had flung open the driver’s side door and hopped behind the wheel, he grabbed at the gun immediately.

“Don’t want to have any accidents,” he said through heaving breaths and tucked the gun in the back of his waistband.

Jessie tried to open her door and escape, but Tanner grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “I might need you.”

She bit his hand as hard as she could, tasted the salted metal of blood, and spat.

But his grasp slipped, allowing her to shove her way out of the car and scramble away.

He didn’t come after her. Started the car and peeled out, the sound of the squealing tires like a scream in Jessie’s ears.

She staggered to the opposite curb and sat down, her whole body shaking. She clenched her hands into fists. They still shook. She pinned her hands between her knees. He legs trembled. God damn, she was so sick of being afraid. She couldn’t take anymore. So she welcomed the rage that coiled like a snake in her gut. She taunted that rage, dared it to spring and bite. Which made her realize she could still taste Tanner’s blood on her lips. But instead of disgust, she felt a righteous hunger. That man was behind so much of her fear. Behind the threat to her mother. She wasn’t going to blame Craig anymore for the things Tanner and Dolan were doing. She would focus all her anger on them.

She thought of the Glock Tanner had taken from her. Imagined what might have happened if she hadn’t left it on the dashboard. No safety. One in the chamber. She could have squeezed the trigger the second he got in the car.

Instead, he had the gun. Tucked in his pants. She wished the gun would misfire and blow another hole in his ass. Wouldn’t that be great? Then Jessie could catch up to him, laugh in his face. See that, asshole? That’s what you get for sticking a gun without a safety down your pants.

Then she heard the tortured cry of rubber on concrete. The symbol crash of metal against metal followed close behind.

Jessie stood and jogged to the corner. Down the road she spotted the Mustang. It had veered to the left and smashed into another car parked at the curb. A wisp of steam trailed out from under the crumpled hood.

The driver’s door popped open and Tanner limped away from the vehicle, clutching at his lower back. He dropped to the ground and writhed. Jessie heard his howl from at least a third of a mile away.

The iron taste of his blood flared in her mouth for a brief moment, then evaporated completely. She touched her lips and her fingers came away clean. What the hell had just happened?

A hand touched her shoulder. She shrieked and spun around.

Craig stepped back, hands held up, one of them holding a massive gun. He nodded toward the Mustang. “That Tanner?”

“Yeah.”

“You shoot him or something?”

She turned to look down the road again. Stared a second, mouth wide. “Or something.”

* * *

“Well?” Jessie asked as Craig huffed back with an unconscious Tanner over his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Looks like a Glock he had tucked in his waistband fired. He’s bleeding pretty good. We have to get him someplace fast or we’ll lose him.”

Jessie’s stomach flipped a few times. Seriously? Had she somehow made that happen? No. Had to be a coincidence. But after all she had seen—vampires, ogres, secret agencies versus terrorists using dark magic—she could not deny the possibility.

“Let’s go,” Craig said. “We’re almost home free.”

“I thought you wanted to kill him.” She pointed at Tanner.

“I do. But not until after he tells us where Dolan is, and where he’s holding Kate.” He hiked Tanner’s limp body higher on his shoulder and winced. The wound in his side oozed with fresh blood. “Come on. We need wheels and we need to find Creed.”

* * *

Creed found them first.

As Craig shoved Tanner into the backseat of a hotwired minivan, Jessie stood watch. Amazingly, no one seemed to have called the cops. Not yet anyway. She spotted Mr. Creed come around one of the condos with another man in black and grey camouflage. It looked like Mr. Creed had to lean on the other man for support while he walked.

Craig finished belting Tanner into the back seat by the time Mr. Creed and the other man reached them. He looked at the man in the camouflage, squinted. Then he smiled. “Rand.”

“Lockman.”

Rand was actually taller than Craig, with arms almost as thick as Jessie’s waist, and ebony skin that shone in the sunlight as if polished. He looked like he could crush cinderblocks with a stern look, but his smile brightened his whole face in a way that made Jessie like him right away.

“You look like shit,” Rand said to Craig.

“I’ve looked worse.”

“Oh, I know it.”

“Who else we got?”

“Just me and Clown. But Rodriguez will rendezvous once he gets here.”

Jessie saw Craig’s jaw clench. “Clown didn’t make it.”

Rand looked over his shoulder at the condos. “Damn.”

Craig nodded at Mr. Creed. “You hit?”

“I threw out my back of all damn things.”

“Easy does it old man,” Rand said and slapped Mr. Creed on the back. “We’ll get a nice home picked out for you. One of those places with the pretty nurses willing to spoon feed the resident relics.”

“Fuck off.”

Rand looked at Jessie. “Who’s the new recruit?”

“We’ll have time for intros later” Craig said. “We have to get Tanner here some medical attention. Dumb fuck shot himself in the ass, and I’ve got questions I want answered before I let him bleed out.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lockman drove the minivan. Rand took his own vehicle. Jessie rode shotgun with Lockman. Creed sat in back with Tanner and a gun handy in case he woke. Creed had pulled some rags from the back of the van and cut a section from a seatbelt to make a rough bandage to staunch some of Tanner’s bleeding. From what Lockman had seen, the wound didn’t look detrimental in any way other than the bleeding. Which would be bad enough if they didn’t get it stopped soon.

That’s how Lockman kept himself focused. Remain on task. Get Tanner fixed up enough to question. Never mind that crap he had spewed earlier about stolen souls or whatever.

Only, the drive proved too quiet. He caught himself looking in the rearview over and over at Creed. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“How’d you find me?”

Jessie started to say something, but Lockman cut her off.

“Let him tell me.”

Creed met Lockman’s eyes in the rearview. “What was the question again?”

“How did you track me to that condo complex?”

Creed sighed. “I take it Tanner talked some while he had you.”

“Some.”

“What all did he say?”

“Crazy shit.”

“Oh yeah?”

Lockman looked at his old boss’s reflection. “Is any of it true?”

Creed’s eyes shone, bright blue and liquid. He blinked and some of the shine leaked away. “I don’t know what he said.”

“You have an idea.”

“He told you about your tracking device?”

“Yes. Why would you do that to me? When did you do that to me?”

“You’re important, Craig.”

“Important how? Seems like everyone but me knows. Am I really just a brainwashed source of intel?”

“If that’s all you were, I would never have put you in the field for our side.”

Lockman’s heart pumped hard. His mouth went dry. “So it is true?”

“I believe in you. Whatever you were before doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I’m a lie. I don’t really exist.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Tanner said you wiped out my original soul and replaced it with pieces of others. I’m not even someone else. I’m a jigsaw puzzle. Worse, I’m everything I’d spent my time at the Agency fighting against. I’m unnatural. I don’t belong.”

“You’d rather be a psychotic dabbling in the darkest kinds of evil this world has ever seen?”

Jessie twisted in her seat so she could look at Creed. “What are you guys talking about?”

Lockman throttled the steering wheel in his hands. “Stay out of it, Jess.”

“Sure. Like I asked to be a part of this messed up stuff in the first place.”

“It’s like I told you,” Creed said. “Your dad’s a good man. Nothing else matters.”

“I’m not a man at all. I’m a shell, a vessel for your supernatural experimentation.”

“No. You’re one of the best Agents we ever had. What we did to you, the secrets we kept. A day never went by that it didn’t eat at me. But what you became after we did our part, that’s all you. That’s who you are now. A good man.”

Lockman’s vision blurred red at the edges.

“I don’t understand,” Jessie said.

“It’s simple. Creed here used mojo to turn one of Dolan’s top men against him. Good for the Agency, good for America. Not so good for the person who just learned his whole life as he knows it is a fucking fabrication.”

* * *

Lockman sat on Creed’s porch swing with Jessie. Creed and Rand had Tanner in the pole barn, strapped down to a workbench while Creed stitched him up. Creed had the most experience with the medical stuff, but when he offered to take a look at Lockman’s wound, Lockman had Rand do it instead. While Rand had stitched him up, Lockman asked a few questions to feel out what he knew about what was done to Lockman, but he didn’t seem to have any idea about the truth.

Lockman wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed. After all, Rand’s friendship depended on the lie. Like Tanner had said of Clown, if Rand knew the truth, he would probably shoot Lockman on sight.

“You’re more broody than usual,” Jessie said.

“You heard it. I’m really the enemy.”

“You’re also the guy who saved my life, several times already.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I’m responsible for so much destruction. The things I did for Dolan? I was Dolan’s personal Himmler.”

“Was, was, was. Doesn’t anything you’ve done since matter?”

“It won’t make up for the lives I destroyed.”

“Look, I’m no expert on all this mojo stuff, but the way I see it, the person that did those terrible things was not you. He was in that same body, but he wasn’t the same person I’m talking to now.”

“The person you’re talking to now is nothing more than an amalgam of other people.”

“No. There’s no such thing. That might be how they made you to begin with, but that’s not who you are now. You’re Craig Lockman. You’re my dad.”

His chest squeezed. His throat felt dry and he knew if he tried to talk his voice would break. He looked at Jessie, at her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones, and he saw glimpses of himself. Which meant, genetically, that still made her the daughter of a terrorist. He also saw traces of Kate in Jessie’s face. And what of Kate? Did what he know about himself negate what he had had with her?

He closed his eyes and listened for the wind chimes, but the air had gone still and they hung silent.

“What are you going to do?”

Lockman opened his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Now that you know the truth, are you still going to go after Dolan, save Mom?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged. “If you’re one of the bad guys, why keep running? You can take the thingy that has your original soul and run off to Dolan.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Do you have any idea what Dolan could accomplish with the knowledge I have?”

“So you still want to stop him?”

“Of course I do.”

“Hm.” She smirked a know-it-all smirk and leaned back as if she had just won a bet. “Guess that makes you one of the good guys.”

“Don’t get cocky. The world isn’t so black and white as that.”

“You’re the one that tried to convince me there was only bad magic.”

“I stand by that.”

“Then explain to me how I made Tanner shoot himself in the butt just by thinking about it?”

“What are you talking about?”

She told him what she had experienced after she had bitten Tanner and escaped the car. The feelings flowing through her. The blood on her lips that seemed to burn away right before Tanner crashed the car.

Lockman listened, his stomach curling in on itself as she related the story.

“Sounds more like coincidence to me.”

“What about the blood? It...evaporated. Like it was used up.”

“There is that.”

“So there. I stopped the bad guy with magic. You’re wrong. Magic can be used for good.”

“Intentions mean nothing when it comes to mojo. Don’t you see what happened? If you are responsible for that misfire, it’s because you fueled the mojo with his blood and your anger.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He rubbed his temples, a headache burrowing through his brain. “Jesus, of all things, you had to be a sensitive.”

“A what?”

“Some mortals are more sensitive to mojo than others. Could be genetic. Which makes some sense since obviously the person I was before was also a sensitive.”

“Are you telling me I could be a wizard or something?”

“Don’t be stupid. This is not something you will ever try to repeat. People have a hard time turning away from that kind of power once they start. Even with the unfortunate side effect that you need to kill and torture to get continued results.”

“No,” she said, her voice so damn earnest and naive Lockman wanted to shake her. “I’ll figure out another way to make it work. There has to be another way.”

He grabbed her wrist and stared into her eyes. “No. Don’t screw around with this stuff. Ever. Understand?”

She tried to pull her hand away. His grip held true. “You’re hurting me.”

His face turned hot. He let go. “Promise me you’ll forget all about trying to do magic.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

But she didn’t sound the least bit convincing. The only way to put an end to her notions was to get her out of this world and back to a normal life. Get her back with her mom and her stepdad, safe in suburbia, make mojo nothing more than a vague memory for her, a half-remembered dream.

Which meant he had to get some answers from Tanner.

He stood.

“Where you going?” Jessie asked.

“They should be done patching up Tanner. I need to talk to him.” He strode down the porch steps and headed for the pole barn.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lockman stepped into the pole barn through the side door and pulled the door shut behind him. Rand and Creed looked up from the worktable where Tanner lay naked on his stomach, arms at his sides as if waiting for a massage. Straps around his torso and legs held him pinned to the table. Crumpled, bloody wads of gauze lay scattered on the floor. A jagged gash zigzagged across Tanner’s right buttock, the stitch job one of the ugliest Lockman had ever seen.

“You butcher him like that on purpose?”

“Saw no point in being careful.” Creed studied Lockman. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” He circled the table until he could see the shoulder where Lockman had clipped him. Another gnarled stitch job. “He been awake at all.”

“I sedated him. But it should be easy enough to wake him now.”

Lockman nodded. “I want first dibs.”

Rand folded his arms. “You sure? You two were tight back in the day. You think you can stay objective?”

“No problem. This piece of shit will sing. You just make sure Jessie can’t hear the screams.”

Creed wiped his hands with a bloody rag. “We’ll take her uptown. There’s a good ice cream parlor there.”

“I want Rand to take her. You can stay the hell away from her.”

Rand looked back and forth between Creed and Lockman, but he didn’t ask questions. “All right.” He clapped Lockman on the back and left the barn.

Creed threw the rag onto the workbench. “I’m not your enemy, Craig.”

“You sure as hell aren’t a friend. I don’t know what to make of you.”

“Look at it from my perspective. If you knew we had a chance to turn one of Dolan’s key men to our side, someone who supplied Dolan with ninety-percent of his mojo, you’d jump at the chance. Bringing you in essentially shut Dolan down. He was a nobody without...”

“Me.”

“But you understand, right?”

“Would I take that man down? Yes. Would I use the very thing we’re supposed to be against to erase his memory and turn him into someone else? That’s crazy. You could have got the intel you needed traditionally.”

“But we had this artifact. We saw a unique opportunity we couldn’t pass up.”

“The science team was in on this, too?”

“Of course.”

“So they knew, Tanner knew, and you knew. None of the others?”

“No.”

“Did you ever intend on telling me the truth?”

His gaze dropped. “Why would I? We made you a better person.”

Lockman pointed at him. “See? That’s it right there. The power trip. That artifact made you think you were God. That you were fixing me.”

“You’re going to have to drop that yin-yang view of things if you want to keep fighting against the likes of Dolan. We can’t let the terrorists have all the power.”

“Who died?”

Creed cheek twitched. “What are you talking about?”

“To power that artifact. I know how this shit works. Who had to die to make it work?”

“Nobody died.”

“That’s bullshit. Human sacrifice is the only way to make mojo work.”

“Not with an artifact. They have inherent power of their own. What we did with it did not require a life.”

Lockman crossed the distance between them and gripped Creed’s arm. “There’s more to it. Tell me.”

“We had to use...extreme interrogation techniques.”

“Only you weren’t interrogating. So call it what it is. You tortured someone. Made them bleed. Used the blood to fuel the artifact.”

Creed wouldn’t look Lockman in the eye. He nodded.

“Who?”

A deep breath. A shudder Lockman felt in the old man’s arm. “You.”

Lockman released Creed’s arm and shuffled away. He felt like someone had clubbed him on top of his head, even saw starbursts across his vision. He tried to say something. Couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t fathom a single phrase that expressed the acidic mix of emotions eating away at his insides. He looked at Creed. He looked at Tanner.

“Wake him up.” He barely recognized his own voice. Maybe this voice, with its frayed edge, belonged to the man he used to be.

“I had no idea at the time how this would all turn out. You’ve got to believe me. I thought we were doing the best to serve our country.”

“Wake him up, or I’ll do to you what I’m planning to do to him.”

“All right.” Creed retrieved a vial and a syringe from a tackle box on the edge of the worktable. He filled the syringe with the fluid from the vial and injected it into Tanner’s leg. A second later, Tanner gasped. His eyes opened wide.

Lockman came around and crouched by the table so Tanner could see his face.

Tanner jerked, trying to get up, but the straps held him to the table. Lockman saw the realization dawn in Tanner’s face an instant before he started shouting.

* * *

Jessie was following Rand out to his car when she heard the shouting from the barn. She turned toward the sound, the skin on the backs of her arms and neck prickling.

Rand shuffled to a halt himself and backtracked to Jessie’s side. “Let’s go, honey.”

“My dad is torturing Tanner, isn’t he?”

“Tanner’s probably just in pain from his injuries.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Never said you were.”

She took a couple steps toward the barn. “That’s why the sudden urge for ice cream.”

“Hey, I like ice cream. Don’t need no excuse to get me a banana split.”

Her stomach jittered as if she’d eaten too much sugar. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“I’m not letting you stick around here right now. This is no place for you.”

She turned to him. “You’re okay with it?”

“It ain’t that simple.”

“Sure it is. Torturing people is wrong.”

“Don’t you want your mom back?”

That was it, wasn’t it? She wanted Mom safe. She wanted back to her normal life. And part of her was okay with letting Craig do whatever he needed to make that happen. Which made her more than a little disgusted with herself. Her eyes watered.

Rand’s huge arm circled her shoulders. “Come on.”

Jessie let him guide her away from the barn and to his car. As they pulled out of the long driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, windows closed, and the whir of the air conditioning from the vents, she still thought she heard another scream. Had to be her imagination, right? No one could scream that loudly.

Right?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“You want me to leave?” Creed asked after Lockman finally gagged Tanner to keep him from shouting.

Lockman rubbed his hands together, worked a kink out of his shoulder. “No. Seeing your face will motivate me to hurt him more when I need to.”

Tanner shook his head and mumbled into the gag—a dirty rag Lockman found among some tools on a bench along one wall of the barn.

“You have something to contribute?” Lockman asked.

More frantic grunting through the rag.

“I take it out, I want a calm tone. No more of that shouting. We’re on twenty or more acres of farmland. No one will hear you.”

Tanner nodded and rested his cheek on the table.

Lockman yanked the rag out of his mouth. “Speak.”

Tanner hacked up some bloody phlegm and spit it onto the table. “You don’t have to torture me. I’ll talk. Dolan isn’t paying me enough to hold out for him.”

“I will believe that the second you give me some useful information.”

“The woman and her husband. They’re free. Dolan let them go.”

Lockman’s bullshit detector pinched at the base of his skull. “Why would he do that?”

“Because they didn’t know anything useful.”

“Dolan would keep her as bait to draw me in. He’s already tried that with Jessie. He wouldn’t just let her go.”

“Dolan’s a psychotic. Who knows why he does anything?”

Lockman paced along the length of the table. “You’re setting us up.”

“I swear to you. You can check for yourself. Give them a call. They’re home.”

“Right. Kate answers the phone, says everything’s fine, then we go to pick her up and Dolan’s men, or vamps, or who-the-fuck knows what is waiting to take us down.”

“Sure. Dolan’s probably got people on the house. You mean to tell me you’d let something like that keep you from trying to get her?”

“What’s he got for us? More vamps? Mortals? What?”

Tanner lifted his head as best he could while bound facedown to the table. “I don’t know. That’s the straight truth. Dolan doesn’t share with me. I’m just another source to him.”

Lockman looked to Creed. “You got a hacksaw or something?”

“Yeah.” He went to the bench where Lockman had found the rag. The tool bench had wooden drawers built in. The bench itself looked handmade, possibly even Amish. From a drawer, Creed withdrew a hacksaw with its signature thin blade.

Tanner tried to look over his shoulder to see Creed. “What? What are you doing?”

Creed came over and handed the saw to Lockman. Lockman showed the saw to Tanner. “I can do a finger. A hand. A whole arm. I could take out your knee caps. Even sever your spine and paralyze you.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Are you telling me if the tables were turned, you wouldn’t do the same?”

“I had you. I never tortured you.”

“Because I didn’t know anything you didn’t already know yourself. In fact, you gave me one hell of an education. You liked talking so much before, why not go with it? Tell me what Dolan’s got waiting for us at Kate’s house?”

Tanner blinked frantically as if trying to clear his vision of some horrific scene. Lockman figured he was seeing all the variations of pain coming his way if he didn’t talk. “You won’t believe the truth.”

“Try.”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You have no idea what the trap is you’re trying to send us into?” Lockman turned the saw so the blade caught the sterile light from the fluorescents suspended above them.

Tanner’s gaze locked on the blade. His breathing became ragged. “It’s not a trap. Nothing formal. Just a detail put there in case you return.”

“What kind of detail?”

“I don’t know.”

Lockman sighed, going for the dramatic. “Take deep breaths, Tanner. Last thing I need is you passing out on me.” He gently waved the hacksaw. “I thought you’d be a little tougher in an interrogation.”

“It’s like I said. Dolan isn’t worth covering for. It was always about the money for me, not the ideology.”

“That still doesn’t mean you aren’t lying. Because you know damn well we’re going to put you in a hole, no trial, no due process. Aiding a terrorist in supernatural warfare? Big time offence.”

“The Agency doesn’t exist anymore, Craig. There aren’t laws on the books for this kind of thing. You think Washington or the Pentagon is going to back you?”

“I didn’t say anything about Federal prison, did I? Maybe I’ll dig the hole we put you in myself.”

Tanner rested his cheek on the table and groaned. “You cut me up, the answers will be the same. I don’t have a handle on Dolan’s operation beyond the small part I played providing intel and assisting in your apprehension. I have no place in his hierarchy.”

Lockman stepped around the table and gripped Tanner’s right arm above the elbow. He rested the saw blade against the arm on the other side of the elbow. “Only one way to prove that.”

“You won’t cut off my arm. You’re not like that. You never were.”

“What do you mean, never? I was a lot worse before the Agency scrambled my brain. This kind of thing looks like cheating at Candyland compared to the shit I did as Dolan’s man.”

“But you’re not him anymore.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Lockman said and started sawing.

* * *

The muscles in Lockman’s abs cramped as he heaved a fourth time, his stomach already emptied into the toilet and nothing but bile coming out now. He rested his forehead on the cold porcelain edge of the bowl, tried to focus on his breathing without seeing the torn flesh, feeling the grate of the saw blade against bone, or smell the iron of Tanner’s blood.

No good.

He heaved again and broke into a coughing fit.

What had he done? Tanner’s screams still vibrated in his ears. The begging cries. The whimpering defeat.

His eyes watered and his nose ran. Once he got control of the coughing, he stood and staggered to the bathroom sink. He put his face under the faucet and turned on the cold water. The icy blast on his skin shocked his mind clear for a moment.  He rubbed his nose and eyes clean with his hands, rinsed out his mouth, and turned off the faucet. His reflection stared at him, sunken-eyed, from the mirror above the sink. Lockman stared back as the water dripped down his face.

Who are you?

At one time, he had been so sure. Even during the decade and a half he lived under an assumed name in Los Angeles, he had known who he really was. Or thought he had. Nothing remained to separate him from the likes of Creed, or even Dolan. He hadn’t just tortured a man, he had brutalized him. Surely, Lockman could have spun some serious mojo out of Tanner’s agony.

He turned away from his reflection and patted his face dry with a towel on the counter. Then he closed his eyes and let the full experience of what he’d done to Tanner play through his mind. His gorge rose. He concentrated on pushing it down. He took two deep breaths and left the bathroom.

He caught up with Creed in the kitchen. He had gathered up Tanner’s file into a neat pile and sat at the table with his elbows resting on either side of the stack of pages. A cordless phone lay on the table to his left. His gaze flicked up when Lockman entered.

“You all right?”

“Fine. Had to wash the blood out from under my fingernails.”

“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Craig.”

Lockman waved him off and took a seat at the table. “Doesn’t matter. We did what needed doing. He stabilized now?”

“He’ll live. Wish I had hogs on this farm. Would be easier getting rid of the limb.”

“Nice.”

Creed held out his hands. “If we’re playing hardasses, we’ve got to talk the talk, right?”

“What’s your take?”

“He doesn’t know anything else than what he’s told us or he doesn’t care about having to go lefty from now on.”

Lockman ran his hands through his hair. His throat burned from the bile he’d purged, and his head ached from the pressure of the dry heaves. An old-fashioned cuckoo clock tocked on one wall. “We’re missing something. There’s some blind spot in all of this.”

“If Kate and her husband are free, you feel comfortable leaving them in the open?”

Lockman bounced a fist on the table. “No. We have to extract them before Dolan realizes we got to Tanner. Otherwise, he might step up whatever he’s got on them, or grab them again and make this even harder.”

“Then what?”

“Once everyone is safe, I go after Dolan and finally end this. No more running. No more hiding. No more pretend lives.”

“Bad idea. If Dolan gets you alive, he could get to that ghost artifact, not to mention whatever else his number two had access to.”

“You mean what I had access to.”

Creed held up a hand. “I’m not having this argument with you again. In my mind, you and him are two different people. End of story.”

If only it were that simple. But it served no purpose chasing Creed in circles on the topic. Lockman stood. “When Rand gets back with Jessie we meet back here.” He pressed a fingertip to the kitchen table. “What’s Rodriquez’s ETA?”

“His flight landed at Metro thirty minutes ago. Knowing the way Rod drives, he’ll be here within the hour.”

“Me, Rodriguez, and Rand will extract Kate and her husband. I’m leaving you with Jessie. But so help me, Victor, don’t let her get anywhere near Tanner.”

“Of course not.”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done to me. I have more important things to deal with now, but when this is over, I’ll deal with you.”

Creed visibly swallowed. “Deal with me how?”

“That all depends on how helpful you are between now and then.” He pointed at the phone. “Hand me that. I need to call Marty.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Let’s do another sweep,” Lockman said into the Bluetooth earpiece that came with the phone Marty had supplied. He sat behind the wheel of a black cargo van he had also procured from Marty’s supply of goods.

Rodriguez answered through his own matching earpiece. “We’ve done four sweeps already. There’s nothing to see, bro.”

Rand threw in his two cents. “I’m looking at the spectrometer. No irregularities that would indicate supernatural presence.”

Lockman gritted his teeth and looked out his windshield toward Kate’s house. He was parked more than half a block down. They had waited until full darkness before heading out. Most of the houses on the street stood dark and quiet. Kate’s had the porch lights on and a light in the front room that illuminated the curtains in the picture window.

“That science shit isn’t reliable when it comes to mojo and you know it.”

“Sure,” Rand said. “But we’ve each circled the perimeter at various distances and haven’t seen any sign that anyone or anything is on this house.”

“Which make me all the more nervous. No one on the house? Either Dolan’s stupid, or we’ve missed something.”

“We ain’t missed shit,” Rodriguez said. “Look, I know I came to the party late, but I’m also the only one who’s still been in the game since the Agency tanked.” When he finally arrived at the farm, Rodriquez had given the group a quick update on his life since the Agency. He worked freelance tracking supernaturals brought over to the mortal plane and then set loose. Apparently it happened more and more these days. “The area is clear. The only way any supernaturals are watching this couple is if they are in the house.”

Possible. Tanner had said Dolan set them free, but that could have been bull. Maybe they had someone holding them inside their own home. “Give me a second.” He reached into the duffel on the passenger seat and pulled out a pair of thermal goggles. He started the van and rolled down the street by letting it idle. When he came to Kate’s house, he pulled the goggles and tapped the break. A lot of interference from the lights, but he could make out two distinct heat signatures that looked like people. Nothing else. Even a vamp, which typically ran cold when at rest, would give off a recognizable signature.

Could Dolan really have let them go and left them alone?

He pulled off the goggles and gently accelerated. He circled the block until he reached his original position and parked. “I don’t understand it, but I think we’re clear.”

“Like I said,” Rodriguez quipped.

“We’re still going to play this safe. I’ll approach the front. I want the two of you to cover me. Rand, you pull your vehicle across the street from the house. Rodriguez, you get on foot and plant yourself somewhere dark. Make sure you bring Ms. Betty.”

“I don’t go anywhere without Ms. Betty.”

“You have the photos memorized of our objectives, I assume?”

They both came back with affirmatives.

“Then let’s do this and do it clean.”

“Just like old times,” Rand said.

Lockman could hear the big grin in Rand’s voice. Felt a little charge himself. No denying it. He remembered working with these men, enjoying the thrill as they charged into some unknown, often to face things most mortals didn’t even know existed in their world outside fairytales and horror flicks. He had trusted these men with his life, and they had trusted him with theirs in turn. Back then, that kind of trust meant everything. But these guys hadn’t known who they were putting their lives on the line for. They had trusted a lie. Which made their trust, something he had taken pride in, a hollow thing.

“Yeah,” Lockman said. “Just like old times.”

* * *

They called him many things. Ghost. Specter. Spook. Spirit. Labels like that didn’t matter. He knew who he had been. Who he still was. Marcus VanDemere. Only he looked nothing like himself when he looked in the mirror like he did now.

Right now he looked like a woman. A pretty woman. He traced her pretty jaw with her pretty fingertips. Touched her pretty lips. Fingered the strange pendant that hung around her neck. Then he stepped back from the mirror so he could admire her naked breasts. He caressed them with her own hands, tweaked the nipples, and reveled in the dual pleasure of feeling them and feeling with them.

Otto Dolan may have dragged VanDemere out of eternal sleep against his will, but he found he liked this new way of living—if that’s what you called it. The ability to possess a living person’s body had come to him as instinctively as a newborn nuzzling at his mother’s breast for a first taste of milk. Only a few minutes after arriving on the mortal plane, he had known everything about what he could accomplish here. A strange and instant education. But as quickly as he became aware of his place in this plane, he forgot about the one he had left. He realized this was only right and natural. One could not exist on two planes of existence at the same time, even in memory. Which made it all the easier to want to stay on this side. He had no recollection of what his existence was as a spirit beyond the veil. It could have been paradise or eternal suffering. Either way, he would not be going back. He had decided that for certain the moment he slipped into his latest body.

Pretty little Kate.

He slid her hand down to the thatch of hair between her legs. How would it feel to give her an orgasm? God, the possibilities. Dizzying. So much so, he almost forgot what had brought him back to this plane in the first place.

Millie.

He clenched Kate’s teeth. Dolan had somehow used her grief over her loss of VanDemere to drag him here. How he had loved Millie. She had put up with so much from him. His clinical depression. His gambling habit. But she always forgave him and did everything she could to help him.

She hadn’t been able to help him outrun the depression.

Amazing. He could remember his own death when he thought about it. He could remember the noose around his neck. The slick feel of the oak chair under his stocking feet. That last minute worry that he might mess the living room carpet after he kicked the chair away.

He wondered if he had.

He snapped himself out of the reverie. Looked his new body over in the mirror once more, then began dressing. He had to get to Dolan before Dolan found a way to send him back. After that, VanDemere would have all the time he needed to experiment with Kate’s body. When he was done with her, he could find another male body and try reconnecting with Millie. Or maybe he could keep Kate’s body and convince Millie to love him as a woman.

He noticed a dampness between his legs and smiled. So that’s what it felt like for a woman when she got wet.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lockman adjusted the new Desert Eagle tucked under his shirt at the small of his back. Marty had given him a hard time about losing the first one. After that, Lockman had made a point not to mention he’d lost everything else when he abandoned the duffel in the trunk of the rental car at the cemetery.

He rang the doorbell and took a step back to give Rodriguez a view of whoever answered the door. No doubt the man was watching him now through Ms. Betty’s scope. Ms. Betty was one of the few pieces of gear that did not come from Marty—a M107 .50 caliber sniper rifle Rodriguez claimed he never left home without.

Despite Lockman’s hopes, Alec answered the door instead of Kate. He thought he might have a better chance convincing Kate to come with them than Alec. He could tell from the look in Alec’s eyes he had not expected Lockman to show up on his porch again.

“You.”

“Yeah, me.”

Alec stared at him a moment, sighed through his nose. “Come in.”

“Really?”

That didn’t get an answer. Alec turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open for Lockman to follow if he wanted. He looked over his shoulder. He could see Rand’s car across the street. He didn’t know where Rodriguez had set up, just that he was out there somewhere. He nodded, letting them know he was good so far, then went inside.

Alec continued on into the kitchen and Lockman started to follow but stopped as Kate came out of the hall, nearly running into him.

She backed away, bumped into the wall, fear obvious in her eyes.

“Easy,” Lockman said and held up his hands. “Just me.”

“Yeah,” she said. She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath through her nose. “Sorry. You just startled me.”

“You’re okay?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Did they hurt you?”

Her eyes shifted back and forth, lips parted slightly. “Um.”

“We’re fine,” Alec said coming out of the kitchen with a gun in hand at his side.

Lockman looked at the gun, then at Alec. “You much of a shot?”

“I can hit what I’m aiming at.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“What are you doing here?” Kate asked.

“Getting you out of here. I don’t know why Dolan didn’t hang onto you or why he doesn’t have a whole squad parked around the house, but we can’t assume we’re going to stay so lucky.”

“We’re fine, though. Right, hon?” She turned to Alec and rested a hand on his arm, but it looked forced.

Lockman wondered if there was trouble with the relationship and couldn’t help but find himself hoping there was. He pushed the notion out of his mind. Not only did he not have time to entertain such a ridiculous idea, what were the chances she would want him anywhere near her when she learned who he really was?

Alec gave Kate a brow-furled look. “I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Kate and Lockman asked in sync.

“He knows what’s going on. He obviously has a plan. And he probably has Jessie. Am I right?”

Lockman watched Kate when he answered. “Yes.”

Kate hesitated a second. She looked as if she was fighting some urge inside. “Oh, thank goodness.”

What the hell was wrong with her? Had Dolan done something to her? Worked some kind of mojo on her? Maybe that was the piece they were missing. Dolan’s secret ace. “Did Dolan give you anything when he had you, Kate?”

“Like what?”

“Make you drink anything? Or eat? Even had you inhale something?”

Alec moved closer to Kate. “Why are you asking that?”

“I guess I could ask you the same thing. Neither one of you are acting normally.”

“Hey.” Alec stepped into Lockman’s personal space. He was built, but nothing close to Lockman’s size. The gun probably helped his bravado. “Our daughter was taken from us. Then we were kidnapped. There’s some crazy shit going on and we don’t have any answers. What do you expect?”

Everything after Our daughter didn’t even register in Lockman’s ears. The idea that this stranger claimed fatherhood over Jessie rankled so profoundly, he had to fight to keep from grabbing him by the throat and crushing his windpipe. “You have garlic with dinner, ‘cause I can smell your breath this close and I’m not about to kiss you.”

Alec’s eyes bore into Lockman’s. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now.”

“Because you’ll miss. And I’ll make sure you wish you hadn’t.”

“Enough,” Kate shouted. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“We need to go,” Lockman said without looking away from Alec’s challenging stare.

“Then let’s go,” Alec said.

Lockman glared at Alec. Alec glared back. One of them would have to back down, or they would stand there all night. Lockman knew it should be him. Take the high road. But he couldn’t fathom letting this prick think he had won. Jessie was his daughter, and he had loved Kate first. As irrational as he knew those thoughts were, they possessed him as strongly as the specter had possessed Jessie’s poor boyfriend.

Kate waved a hand between their faces, giving them both an easy excuse to break the stare-down. Almost in unison, they turned to her. “We don’t have time for this,” she said. “A terrorist has threatened my daughter more than once. Craig, if you know a way to get to him, then we’re coming with you.”

She sounded like she wanted to strangle Dolan herself. Understandable. Not that Lockman would let her get anywhere near the likes of him. He would be damned if he put Kate and Jessie in jeopardy again.

Chapter Forty

Jessie stood on the front porch and watched the black cargo van and Rand’s Dodge Charger roll up the driveway, spinning dust into the air from under the tires. Her heartbeat quickened. She felt like she did before an algebra test, all swirly stomach and jittery hands. She chewed on her lip and held back from leaping down the steps and running to meet them.

Craig had called ahead and Mr. Creed had shared the news—Mom and Alec were okay and on the way.

It felt like decades since she’d seen them last. How would they react when they saw her? Would Alec take his usual pose as the disappointed dad, arms crossed and eyebrow lifted? Would mom start screaming the instant she stepped out of the car? How could you do this to us? Was a question Jessie could imagine coming out of either of their mouths.

She had rehearsed a dozen different reactions of her own after Craig’s call. Take the offensive and accuse them of driving her away so she had to search for her real dad. Beg forgiveness and admit she had made a dumbass mistake. Silent treatment while they pounded on her for how irresponsible and thoughtless she was. She never expected to feel like she did as the pair of vehicles pulled to a stop. The tug in her gut. The wetness in her eyes.

Then the back doors to the cargo van flung open and her mom stepped out.

“Mom,” Jessie said through a sob-clogged throat. She jumped off the porch, skipping the steps altogether, and sprinted toward her mother.

Her mom saw her coming and stopped short. She didn’t look angry, but she definitely didn’t look happy to see her either. A strained expression passed over her face for an instant. Then a smile replaced it.

Jessie plowed into her mother and wrapped her in her arms. Her mom let Jessie squeeze, but she didn’t immediately respond to the embrace until Alec came over and wrapped his arms around them both. Only then, as if taking a cue, did Mom hug Jessie back.

She had to be in shock was all. Maybe she had run into some freaky shit like Jessie had. Vampires or ghosts or whatever. At least she wasn’t screaming.

Alec kissed Jessie on top of her head. “My girls, back together at last.”

Nothing like Jessie had expected. She hugged her mom even tighter, then wrapped an arm around Alec to include him. She cried like a girly-girl, but she couldn’t hold it in. She had her family back. It was all that mattered.

Alec rubbed her back. “Easy. It’s okay.”

Her mom said nothing, felt a little stiff in Jessie’s embrace.

Jessie pulled back and looked in her mom’s eyes, dry as toast. “Are you mad at me?”

Mom smiled, shook her head. “Just glad to see you again.”

Jessie wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I should have never took off to California like that. Dumbest idea ever.”

“No argument from me,” Alec said. “But what’s done is done. Let’s put it past us, okay?”

Jessie couldn’t believe how nice Alec was being to her. He seemed to like her more than her own mother. Maybe not strange for some stepdads, but sure as heck strange for hers. “Okay.”

The others had filed out of the vehicles by now and stood around pretending not to notice the family reunion on the front lawn, though Rand couldn’t hide his big grin. Craig stood by the van, the only one openly looking at them. She gave him a small wave. He answered with a two-fingered salute. His eyes were pinched, though. He looked like he was thinking about a better time.

Mom straightened and turned toward the group, a scowl on her face. “I want to find the motherfucker who threatened my family. Where do we go from here?”

Jessie tried to swallow, found she couldn’t. She had never heard her mom—not ever, ever, ever—use the F-word. What the fuck was up with her?

* * *

“Something’s wrong with Mom,” Jessie said.

Lockman leaned in the archway connecting the kitchen with the living room, listening to Creed and Rodriguez argue over strategies to infiltrate the factory building Tanner had given up during interrogation. Lockman had some ideas of his own, but he let the two men bicker a bit because they used to do it all the time back in the day and Lockman knew they were reliving some of those glory days now. They’d had a lot more men and resources back then, though.

Lockman turned to Jessie. “What’s that?”

Jessie glanced toward the kitchen table where everyone had gathered, Kate included. She stood looking over the map of the area Creed had pulled out and spread on the table, her arms crossed, gaze focused as tightly as sunlight through a magnifying glass.

“Can we talk?” she whispered.

Lockman backed out of the kitchen. He strode through the living room and out the front door. Jessie came out with him and he closed the door and took a seat on the porch steps.

Jessie sat next to him. “Something is wrong with Mom.”

“You noticed, too?”

“What’s going on?”

He looked up at the blue sky full of thick, clean clouds. The humidity had abated some, which made the heat bearable in small doses. “I’m not sure. I’m worried Dolan might have done something to her when he had her.”

“Like what?”

“Who knows? The way he plays with mojo it could be anything.”

“No.” She grabbed his arm. “I just got her back. I’m not going to lose her to some...anything. We have to know what he did.”

A knot tightened in Lockman’s chest at the sight of Jessie’s desperate look. “Might be she’s just shaken up.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You know me by now. I like to stay cautious.”

“Then how do we find out what’s happened to her?”

Lockman craned his neck and looked off toward the barn. “There’s one person might know.”

* * *

Jessie watched him slip into the side door to the barn and close it behind him. She tried to imagine what kind of setup they had in there. All she could put together came from bits and pieces of television shows and action movies. Tanner tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth. A metal tray with instruments that belonged in some mad dentist’s office.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook away the images.

Back inside, she stood where Craig had when she pulled him aside. Mom still stood at the table with Creed, Rodriquez, and Rand. No sign of Alec, though. Rand tapped on the map with a thick finger, now part of the debate between Mr. Creed and Rodriguez. Mom’s gaze followed the argument as it bounced back and forth between the men. She looked obsessed. A suburban housewife suddenly interested in military strategy with an eye toward vengeance.

A toilet flushed down the hall.

Jessie looked toward the sound.

Alec came out of the bathroom and started down the hall. He jerked to a halt when he saw her. His eyes widened. He put a finger to his lips.

That’s when Jessie noticed the gun with the long barrel in his other hand. She realized the barrel was so long because he had a silencer or suppressor on it. She opened her mouth to shout, but he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her into the hall.

He pressed the gun barrel against her forehead, leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I plan on sparing you and your mom. Don’t make me change my mind.”

She gaped at him, her brain scrambling to make sense of what was happening. Moments ago he was acting nicer toward her than Mom; now he held a gun to her head.

“Nod if you understand what I said.”

She nodded even though she didn’t understand any of it.

He let go of his grip on her hair and put an arm around her shoulders to guide her back down the hall and into the bathroom. “Sit,” he whispered and pointed at the closed toilet seat.

She sat, her arms cold and crawling with gooseflesh. Her throat pumped in time with the beat of her heart. “Why are you doing this?”

“Not another word.” He bent and opened the cupboards under the sink, rummaged through the contents, knocking over plastic bottles of mouthwash, rubbing alcohol, and peroxide. Unsatisfied with his findings, he stood, not bothering to clean up or close the cupboards. He stared at Jessie for an eternity, though he didn’t look like he saw her at all. “I don’t have time to find something to tie you up. So here’s the deal. You stay right there, keep this door shut, and don’t make a sound no matter what you hear, I’ll let your mom live. Got it?”

The tears welled up despite her efforts to hold them back. She had done so much crying, had spent so much time being afraid. She was sick to death of it. Couldn’t take it anymore.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

If she had managed to focus her mind and make Tanner shoot himself, she could do something similar with Alec.

“Got it?” Alec repeated.

She nodded.

He eyed her like he didn’t believe her.

She stared right back and let the tears roll free. Her fear, her anger, her confusion—she could use it all to power her own magic.

What about the blood?

No. She didn’t need blood. She believed if there was wicked magic, there must be good, no matter what Craig might think.

Finally Alec came to some internal decision. He left the bathroom and closed her inside.

Okay, focus.

Unlike Tanner, Alec didn’t have a gun with no safety tucked in his pants. She didn’t know enough about guns to imagine a scenario where his weapon could malfunction in a way that would hurt him. Something else, then. Make him trip and fall. Before he had a chance to take the others by surprise.

Jessie closed her eyes and pictured Alec creeping down the hall. She conjured such a vivid movie in her mind she could hear his actual footsteps in time with those in her vision.

A loose floorboard? No. Hall had carpet. How many times had Jessie tripped over her own feet? Everyone did. Alec could, too.

She worked at seeing him in her mind’s eyes move a foot too close to the floor, his sole catching on the carpet knap, throwing his balance, causing him to stumble, drop the gun, stagger out of the hall into view of the others in the kitchen, then flop to the floor, the gun in plain sight, everyone’s gaze jerking to the gun, then back to Alec, putting the scene together, realizing his intent, then rushing him before he could recover, tackling him, holding him down, questioning him, getting answers to...

A strange metallic hiccup sound cut through her concentration and shattered the movie playing behind her eyelids. She opened her eyes at the second sound. The sound of something heavy thumping to the floor. Actually, two somethings, one close after the first. Then a shout. Mr. Creed?

Another hiccup.

Another thump to the floor.

Then a shrieking voice. Mom. Her exact words muffled through the walls.

Alec’s deep voice responded. More confused conversation between both of them.

Jessie stared at the bathroom door.

It hadn’t worked.

Could she run for it?

Craig was right. The Tanner thing was just dumb luck...

Could she get out of the bathroom and through the front door before Alec shot her in the back? Or worse, shot Mom?

...dumb luck or bad magic, fueled by blood. Am I really capable of that?

She stood, approached the door, reached for the knob.

The door swung open, nearly knocking Jessie across the face if she hadn’t jumped back in time. Alec stood in the hall, his gun pressed into the small of Mom’s back. He looked at the toilet seat where he’d left her, then into her eyes. “You never were one for doing what you’re told.”

“I’m a teenager. I rebel.” Her efforts to sound glib fell flat at the first crack in her voice.

“You’ve got bite, I’ll give you that.”

Mom stood stiffly, offering no words of comfort or complaint. As if she had already given up.

“Mom?”

Her gaze, which had stared toward the floor, moved up to Jessie. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll be all right.”

What the hell was going on with her? With Alec? Everyone she knew had gone nuts. Except Craig. Who was out in the barn with Tanner. Their only hope of getting out of this now.

“Did you kill them?” she asked. “Mr. Creed? Rand? Rodriguez?”

Alec shrugged. “Nothing personal.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s finally time for me to get back to my real life. I’m so tired of pretending I can stand the smell of you two.”

She had never gotten along with Alec. Had told him a few times, in fits of anger, that she had hated him. But the naked animosity he now showed for her and Mom still felt like a betrayal and a loss.

Jessie looked to Mom for some reaction. She didn’t look nearly as fazed as Jessie. “Are you listening to him? He’s been lying to us all along.”

“It’s terrible,” her mom said without the faintest hint of emotion. “What happens now?”

Alec pointed his gun in at Jessie. “I have to tie you two up while I take care of Mr. Lockman. Then I’m trading you to Dolan for my real family.”

Jessie’s stomach turned. “All this time you pretended to be a husband and father to people you don’t care about to save your own family?”

Alec waved her a hand at her. “Come on out of there. Let’s go.”

She obeyed.

He guided them both back into the kitchen. Jessie’s stomach twisted inside-out when she saw the three men on the floor. The puddles of blood looked like red glass in the sunlight streaming through the windows. “You didn’t have to kill them.”

He pulled out two chairs from the table to a clear spot on the kitchen floor, away from the blood. “Both of you, sit.”

Mom took her seat without protest. This convinced Jessie once and for all that Dolan had messed with her somehow, and she hoped Craig was getting answers, or already had them so he could get his ass back here to rescue them.

“Sit,” Alec said to Jessie while pressing his gun barrel against the back of Mom’s skull.

Jessie squeezed back the bawling that wanted to explode from her. She couldn’t control a few tears, but she sure as hell wouldn’t let Alec see a full-on water show.

She took the empty seat.

On the kitchen table sat a pair of orange, outdoor extension cords Jessie hadn’t noticed before. Alec must have found them before he started his planned attack. Which made Jessie wonder.

“Why not just kill us?”

Alec began wrapping her to the chair with one of the extension cords. “Is that what you want?”

“Just doesn’t make sense. If your mission is like all the others, to get Craig to Dolan, then why bring us along? He could come in here and find you at any minute. Why waste the time tying us up?”

“Good point,” he said and poked her in the side with his gun. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”

“It’s too late. You already decided you wouldn’t kill us. I think I know why.”

He yanked the cord tightly around her, fastening her to the chair back with her arms pinned uselessly to her sides. “Okay, little Miss Smarty. Why?”

“Because after all that time, you grew to like us. You’re not a bad guy. You just want your family back.”

He crouched in front of her to look her in the eye. “Let me make this clear. I do not like you. You disgust me. All of your kind does. But whatever you people might say, me and mine are not monsters.”

Jessie’s heart felt like it might explode at any moment. “You’re not mortal.”

He grinned. “No sweetheart. I’m the big bad wolf.”

Chapter Forty-One

Lockman paced a circle around the worktable with Tanner strapped to it. Tanner’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular. But Lockman could tell he wasn’t sleeping.

“How you feeling?”

Tanner continued playing opossum. His skin looked like frozen milk. The wrapped stump of his arm lay above the strap that crossed his back, unlike his other arm which remained secured under the same strap.

“You’re not fooling me. Open your eyes. I’ve got questions.”

Tanner grunted. Eyes still closed, he asked, “You gonna take the other arm?”

“Maybe a leg this time.”

Tanner coughed or laughed or both. The sound echoed in the barn and grated in Lockman’s ears.

“You surprised me. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I don’t need your approval.”

“But I’m so proud. You’re growing up. Not such a naive kid. More like you’re crazy real self.”

“Tell me what Dolan did to Kate.”

Tanner groaned. “We went through this already. He let them go.”

“I know. She’s here with us now.”

Tanner opened his eyes and lifted his head. He tried turning to see Lockman, but Lockman had circled around to the foot of the worktable.

“Here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Her husband make it okay, too?”

“He’s fine. They are all fine and safe with us now. There’s no point holding out anymore.”

This time Tanner’s laugh didn’t have to fight through a cough. “Mazel tov. Good work, Lockman.”

“Did he drug her? That would be too common for the likes of Dolan. Unless it was some mojo concoction.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The light sound in his voice rankled with Lockman. Tanner acted as if he really was happy Lockman had got the best of Dolan and had Kate and Jessie safe. Which only meant he knew exactly what was wrong with Kate.

He stepped around to Tanner’s side with the severed arm. He gripped the end of the stump and squeezed.

Tanner screamed and thrashed so hard he banged his face against the table. The blow stunned him silent. He trembled.

“What did Dolan do to Kate?”

“Nothing. Nothing I know about anyway.”

Lockman squeezed again. The bandages grew warm and moist against his palm.

Tanner whimpered, no more scream left in him. His breath wheezed between his lips like an asthmatic. Tears streamed off his face and pattered on the wooden surface of the worktable.

“Please. I don’t know.”

Lockman let go of Tanner’s arm and looked at his own hand. Splotches of brownish-red covered his palm. He checked Tanner’s bandage and saw the blood soaking through.

He found a clean rag from Creed’s tool bench and wiped his hands off. “Let’s assume you don’t know what’s happened to Kate. Take a guess. What might have Dolan done?”

Tanner opened and closed his mouth like a landed trout.

“Come on, Tanner. I don’t have a lot of time. We’re going to move on Dolan and I need to know if someone on our side is compromised.”

Tanner closed his mouth. His pale lips curled into a smile on his chalk-white face. He looked insane. “Oh, you are so barking up the wrong tree.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kate isn’t the issue, Craig.”

“She hasn’t acted herself since before Dolan took her. He had to have done something to her.”

“Just because she isn’t hot for you anymore, doesn’t mean it’s Dolan fault.”

Craig drew his Desert Eagle and charged at Tanner. He aimed for Tanner’s smug face. “Stop fucking around.”

“You have no idea how badly you screwed yourself. You brought him right into your own den.”

“Who?”

“The wolf.”

The side door to the barn banged open behind Lockman. He spun around with his Desert Eagle. Too late.

The last thing Lockman saw was a mass of black fur and a jaw full of sharp teeth barrel toward him.

Then darkness.

Chapter Forty-Two

“I’ve told you a hundred times. This is a bad idea.”

The ghost’s wife, who had introduced herself as Millie, glared at Charles from the passenger seat of the car he had stolen. They had driven out of Detroit into a nearby suburb called Sterling Heights. Now they were parked across the street from Millie’s house—the absolute last place they should be.

“First,” Millie said, “you tell me we can’t call the police because the man who kidnapped me has an arrangement with the Detroit mayor. Then you tell me this is somehow related to my dead husband, but won’t tell me how.”

“It’s the best I can do. I’m sorry. I’ve put my life on the line taking you out of there. You heard those things in the dark? They wanted to eat you.”

Millie squeezed her eyes shut as if she had taken a bite of something cold and the chill had gone to her head. “Why is half of everything you say completely crazy?”

“I don’t have time to explain it all. Every second we sit here is another second we risk getting caught.”

“You really believe they’ll come after us?”

“I know they will.” He pointed toward her house. “And this is one of the first places they are going to look for you.”

“I won’t be bullied out of my own home.”

Charles threw up his hands. “You sure are stubborn. Fine. You want to go home, go. I’m out of here. Maybe I’ll move to Iceland or something.”

She hesitated a second, one hand on the door handle while she watched him.

He looked away, uncomfortable from the scrutiny.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping me.”

He looked up. “I can still help you. Come with me. We’ll find someplace safe for you.”

“Where would I go? I have a life here. A job. Family.”

“The police can’t protect you. Even if you get the FBI involved, they aren’t equipped to deal with the likes of Otto Dolan. No one is.”

She shook her head as if trying to jostle the pieces together in her mind. She would never fully understand, though. Charles still didn’t grasp all the complexities of what existed beyond the veil. Or even the strange magic that existed on the mortal plane. Probably not even Mr. Dolan comprehended all that he dabbled in.

“Take care of yourself,” she said and patted his knee. Then she got out of the car and walked up to her front porch.

He started the engine, put the car in gear, but he couldn’t get himself to take his foot off the break.

Come on, Chuck. No reason to throw away your life for one old lady. You’ve done more than enough. She wants to risk her life, that’s her thing.

He pushed the gearshift back into park and turned off the engine. He pocketed his keys and hurried after her. “Millie. Wait.”

She had just opened the front door when Charles reached the edge of the front lawn. She turned to the sound of his voice while pushing the door the rest of the way wide. She did not see the man in black fatigues standing inside the house.

A jag of adrenaline shot straight through Charles’s heart. He jerked to a halt and pointed. “Look out!”

Millie turned and saw him. She opened her mouth to scream, but Dolan’s soldier grabbed her and pulled her inside before she made a sound.

Chapter Forty-Three

Lockman came to with Tanner staring down at him. Lockman lay on his back, body held down by leather buckles to a gurney. An IV bag hung over his head, the tube snaking down and disappearing under a taped wad of gauze on the back of one hand. The room’s lighting had a strange, flickering quality that cast as much shadow as illumination.

“Good morning,” Tanner said. “You are so damn lucky. With our positions reversed like this, I would love to take off both your arms and ram them up your asshole. I will expect an apology when you’re back to your normal self though.” He lifted his stump and gave it a small wave.

Lockman swallowed the sand in his throat. His head throbbed. “Jessie? Kate?”

“The wolf man must have been feeling a little soft. Can you believe he spared them? Think he’s spent too much time among mortals.”

Something growled in the room.

Lockman turned toward the sound and saw Alec standing by an open door. A five o’ clock shadow covered his face even though the last time Lockman saw him he was clean-shaven. “Werewolf?”

“You killed one of my pack,” Alec said. “Back in Vegas. You remember?”

How could he not? “Thought it took a lot more to kill your kind than a little fender bender.”

“We bleed just like you, mortal.”

“Good to know I can save the silver rounds for the vamps.”

The hair on Alec’s face darkened like an actual shadow. His eyes flashed red.

“Enough,” a familiar voice said, echoing in the room.

Lockman looked toward the voice.

Otto Dolan crossed his arms and smiled. He stood before a massive display of votive candles, set in tiered rows that covered an entire wall. The candles, Lockman realized, were the source of room’s odd light.

“It’s so good to finally see you again,” Dolan said.

“Not feeling it.”

“Don’t worry. You will once we get the real you back.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? Creed has the artifact with those old memories.”

“Creed,” Tanner said with a Christmas giddiness, “is dead.” He held up his hand which held a small, bronze cube not much larger than a toy block. Intricate patterns like hieroglyphs covered every surface of the cube. “And this is your brain. Or soul if you want to call it that.”

“Of course it’s his soul,” Dolan said. “How else could they have turned him into such a morally bankrupted individual?”

Lockman glared at Tanner. “I thought it was just about the money. You sound more like a zealot.”

Tanner lifted his stump again. “It was only about the money until you took a hacksaw to me. You think I would let something like that go?”

Lockman gave him the smuggest of smiles he could muster. “Too bad you can’t do anything about it. Your boss won’t let you.”

Tanner set the artifact aside and grabbed Lockman’s throat. Even with just the one hand, he had remarkable strength.

The edges of Lockman’s vision turned fuzzy as his brain starved for oxygen.

“You think I can’t hurt you? I could kill you if I wanted to.”

Lockman wanted to quip back, but Tanner not only squeezed his throat, but leaned down on his esophagus. He could neither breathe nor speak.

“What? Nothing smart to say now?”

Dolan appeared next to Tanner. He put a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “Stop. Now.”

Tanner’s lips pressed together until his skin turned white around his mouth. His nostrils flared. The cold look in his eye could have kept a glacier solid in the middle of the Sahara.

“We can conjure something to replace your arm, my friend. We cannot, however, replace Mr. Lockman.”

Tanner released his grip and spat in Lockman’s face.

The hot line of saliva rolled down one cheek and into Lockman’s ear. He gulped air and choked on it at first. His throat burned. Eventually, his breathing steadied.

Tanner stalked away from the gurney.

Dolan patted Lockman’s arm. He picked up the bronze cube from the edge of the gurney where Tanner had left it. “As you can imagine, I’m very excited. After all these years, I almost gave up on ever getting you back.”

“I’m touched.”

“Sure, sure. Make light. It’s okay. None of this life will matter to you once we’ve fixed you.” He licked his lips. His expression grew dark. “The thing is, you really did become a whole different person. A person I’ve come to hate very much.”

“We have that in common, I guess.”

Dolan waved a hand as if it didn’t matter a wit to him what Lockman thought. “The point is, Tanner and Alec here aren’t the only ones that want to do you harm. I very much want to make Craig Lockman suffer.”

The fire in Lockman’s throat still raged, but nothing like the stove in his belly, stoked by the knowledge of all this monster was responsible for. Worst of which was driving Lockman away from someone he loved and someone he could have spent the last fifteen years loving if he hadn’t been forced to run away and hide.

“Get on with it,” he said.

“All right.” Dolan looked across the gurney and nodded to Alec.

Alec slipped out the open door. A moment later he entered holding Kate by the arm. Behind him another of Dolan’s mortal goons in black fatigues dragged a squirming Jessie into the room. Both women hand their hands bound behind them and gags in their mouths.

Jessie’s eyes went wide at the sight of Lockman on the gurney. She screamed through her gag.

Lockman turned to Dolan. “Leave them out of this. You’ve got me. You don’t need to hurt them.”

“But by hurting them, I can hurt you without having to hurt you.”

“No. This is between me and you. What happened to your brother was a mistake.”

Dolan’s face lit up. He laughed. “Have you been feeling guilty about that all these years?”

Lockman stared silently at this monster, worse than anything from beyond the veil.

“How ironic. Really, you have no idea.”

“You’ll have to excuse me for dusting off an old cliché, but you’re a madman.”

“So many visionaries were seen as mad. Now we look at them as heroes. Great thinkers. All I’ve ever wanted was what was best for the world. The truth. To share the untapped power to everyone who wishes to yield it.”

“What you want is to give evil even more of a grasp on our world than it already has.”

“Evil? I am not evil. Is it my fault that nature dictates I can obtain great power at the expensive of other lives? It’s really very Darwinian. Survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed.”

“Let them go, Dolan.”

“I’ll let one of them go,” Dolan said. “But I need the other to power this for me.” He held up the cube and turned it in his hand as if appraising a precious jewel. “And I’ll let you pick.”

“No.”

“No what? You’d rather they both die?”

Lockman ground his teeth together. He looked at Jessie and Kate. Kate looked so resigned. All this time he thought Dolan had done something to her, used some mojo to change her, because he couldn’t except that her strange behavior was his fault for bringing this horrific world of monsters and mojo into her life. Of course she wasn’t acting like herself. She was scared out of her mind.

Yet Jessie still fought. She pulled and kicked at the man holding her until he had to push her down to the floor.

Lockman shook his head. “You can torture me to make it work. That’s how they did it in the first place. You don’t need them.”

Dolan winced. “And you say I’m evil? I won’t harm you physically, because your body isn’t going to be yours for much longer.”

“Who cares? I won’t remember.”

“But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Craig Lockman doesn’t even exist. You don’t have to hurt them to punish someone who doesn’t exist.”

“This is so complicated.” Dolan blinked quickly and rattled his head. “Who is who and what is what? No. I can’t torture you. You’re my brother.”

A legion of worms crawled over Lockman’s skin and writhed in his belly.

Dolan leaned close and spoke with a rasp. “Pick one, Lockman. I’d like to hurry up and get back the brother they made you think you killed.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Marcus VanDemere could not believe his luck. In Kate’s body he had managed to get kidnapped and brought right to Otto Dolan. No need to convince Craig Lockman and his team to let her come with them. No need to abandon Kate’s body, which he grew more and more fond of with each passing minute.

Now he stood in the room with Dolan, the only mortal standing between him and a life on the mortal plane.

Unfortunately, Dolan was not alone. Not counting the little girl and Lockman tied up on the gurney, he had three other men to worry about. He might have time to possess one of the men and use his weapon against the others. That would mean leaving Kate’s body, and like many things in this world, he knew instinctively he could not return to a body with a ruined soul.

Ah, well. There would be other bodies to possess. Poor Kate. VanDemere felt bad at the prospect of leaving her stark raving mad.

Accepting this sacrifice, he turned his mind to how to tackle the problem at hand. Dolan was the largest threat. He knew much about the supernatural, how it worked. He had to get to Dolan first. He could hop right into Dolan’s body, but Dolan had information he needed—like how he had brought him here, and how he could make sure he stayed—and VanDemere, unfortunately, had no access to his host’s thoughts or memories. Besides, he wanted some time alone with the mortal. Time to torture him. Time to threaten his loved ones as he had threatened VanDemere’s.

No. He had to get at Dolan without killing him outright. And Dolan had just given him the perfect opportunity.

He made Kate step forward and grunt through the gag to get Dolan’s attention.

Dolan looked up from Lockman. “You wish to say something?”

VanDemere nodded.

“Remove the gag. If she screams, no one can hear her. Besides, I have a feeling we’re in for a good debate.”

The man that had posed as Kate’s husband—an ingenious move on Dolan’s part, VanDemere had to admit—pulled the gag down.

VanDemere lifted Kate’s chin, trying to look as noble as possible while bound. “Pick me, Craig. If they have to kill one of us, you know it has to be me.”

* * *

At her mother’s words, Jessie screamed through her own gag. She knelt on the floor where the guy in the fatigues had pushed her. Using her shoulder, she managed to work the gag out of her mouth. “No. Mom. You can’t.”

Her mom looked down at Jessie. “I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

“Well, I’m not going to let them hurt you.” She turned to Craig. Her heart hammered in her chest and the words that came from her mouth frightened her more than anything she had seen in the last few days. “Me, Craig. Don’t let them hurt Mom. She doesn’t deserve any of this. I’m the one that started this by running away to find you.”

Craig’s intense eyes tracked back and forth between Jessie and her mom. “Both of you, stop. I’m not going to pick.”

“You have to,” Jessie said. “Or he’ll kill us both and you know it.”

“He’ll kill you both anyway.”

Dolan laughed. “Wow, she’s a firecracker. If it helps, I might be less inclined to kill her since she is technically my niece. But I can’t make the decision for you.”

“Please,” Jessie said.

“I can’t,” Craig said. “I won’t. You have a whole life ahead of you.”

“He’s right,” Mom said.

“Then it’s settled.” Dolan nodded to Alec.

Alec grabbed Mom by the elbow and pulled her forward.

Jessie screamed, tears searing her eyes. She hopped to her feet and charged at Alec, slamming her shoulder into the small of his back.

He barely budged.

Jessie bounced off of him, lost her balance and, without the help of her hands, dropped to her ass on the tiled floor.

Dolan drew a thin blade from a leather sheath on his belt. A filet knife. Not the ornate and bejeweled sort of blade one would expect for ritual sacrifice.

“No!” Jessie cried.

“Tanner,” Dolan called. “Come hold the artifact over my soon-to-be brother here.”

Tanner took the cube from Dolan and held it about a foot over Craig’s face.

Alec brought Mom around the gurney to Dolan’s side.

Dolan touched the tip of his knife to the top of the cube as if the blade were a magic wand. “You see, Jessie, once upon a time, mortals conducted elaborate rituals to conjure spirits or bring down curses. But all that pomp and circumstance isn’t really necessary. You just need to shed blood or drain life and know why you’re doing it.”

He swung the tip of the blade to point at her mom’s throat and held it an inch from her skin.

“Add some super-charged emotion to the mix, and you have the greatest power ever granted mortal men. With enough sacrifices and enough suffering, I could rule the world. Which sounds so sinister, right? Not really my goal, though. I just want this power out there for the people. Let them decide for themselves who should rule. Certainly not the corporate owned bureaucrats pretending to be leaders.”

“What if there was another way?” Jessie said through tears.

Dolan cocked an eyebrow. “What other way?”

“What if you could work magic without killing people?”

“You can. You torture them. Feed off their pain. Bleed them, but not enough to kill them. It’s how your father’s friends turned him against me. Disgusting, no?”

“What if you didn’t need blood or pain or any of that?”

“It’s been tried. And it isn’t possible.”

“How can you know for sure? There has to be some way.”

Dolan shrugged. “Even if there were such a way, I don’t have time to find it. I’m sorry, Jessie. This is for your own good.” He turned to her mom. “You want to share a few words with your daughter before you die?”

Mom’s lip curled. Her angry expression looked like nothing Jessie had seen on her before. She almost looked like someone else. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The flash of spectral green jumped from her mother to Tanner, still standing over Craig and holding the artifact. Mom’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the floor. Tanner’s eyes jerked wide, then narrowed. He smiled.

Dolan, busy looking down at Jessie’s mom, did not see Tanner swing his good arm at him. Tanner knocked the blade out of Dolan’s hands then followed up with a sucker punch to his ear.

Dolan staggered aside.

“What the hell?” Alec lifted his gun too slowly.

Tanner drew his pistol and fired three times into Alec’s chest.

Alec sailed off his feet, arms flailing, and dropped to the floor, his head making a sick tock against the concrete.

More blasts of gunfire over Jessie’s head drove her face down on the floor. She could still see that flash of green. A familiar luminescence. She understood why Mom had been acting so strangely. And she realized her mom was long gone.

Chapter Forty-Five

Lockman saw the flash of green pass between Kate and Tanner and realized the worst. He only had a nanosecond to let his heart break, though. Then the shooting started. Alec went down. The guy to his left in the black fatigues started firing at Tanner. The young guy had terrible aim. His shots went wide while Tanner dove to the floor.

Lockman could feel the zip of bullets flying over him. He tried to flatten himself as much as he could against the gurney, helpless to do much else while strapped down in the middle of the crossfire.

Tanner hit the floor and fired a cluster of shots out from under the gurney.

The barrage shredded the kid’s crotch, blood spraying in a mist that fell over Jessie hugging the floor.

She grimaced as her face was dotted with red, but she didn’t lift her head even while her hands remained bound behind her back.

The kid flopped to the floor, screaming. His gun rattled across linoleum.

“Now,” Tanner said, and got to his feet. He turned toward where Dolan had staggered, only Dolan was nowhere in sight. “Where did he go?” He spun to face Lockman, pressed his pistol against his breastbone. “Where?”

“I didn’t see. But I can help you get him. I know who you are.”

Tanner grinned. Lockman knew Tanner’s smile and this looked nothing like it. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a feeling you might try to take him from me. And I have plans for that fucker.”

“You going to kill me, then?”

“Nah. You’re too valuable to be dead. I still want the ascension Dolan promised. You’re the key to getting it.” He chucked Lockman’s chin with the barrel of his pistol then ran out the door. “I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch.” His voice echoed.

Lockman turned his head to check on Jessie. “Jess, you good?”

She lifted her head and scanned the room. Her gaze froze on something at floor level.

He didn’t have to ask. He knew she was looking at Kate. “Maybe she’s all right.” His words tasted like dust.

She rolled onto her side, then up to a sitting position. Tears streamed down her face, making the soldier’s blood run down like rain dappled war paint.

Lockman wanted to offer some more comfort, but knew it wouldn’t do much good, and they had to get out of there. He began rocking his weight back and forth until the gurney rocked with him from one set of wheels to the next. Eventually he gained enough momentum to tip the whole gurney. He crashed sideways with it, the straps keeping him pinned to the contraption. In view now were Kate and Alec. Kate lay in a crumpled ball as if she had merely fallen asleep on the spot. Rivulets of dark blood ran off Alec’s chest and pooled on the floor around him. The hair on his face and arms had grown thick, nearly masking the skin beneath.

His chest rose and fell.

Not good.

Lockman scanned the floor and found the knife Dolan had intended to use on Kate. It lay only a few feet away, but with his arms strapped at his sides, it might as well have been a mile.

Footsteps from the other side of the gurney, out of Lockman’s view.

He tensed. Had Dolan come back?

But the footfalls were light. Then Jessie came around the gurney. She sat down next to the knife and picked it up with her bound hands behind her back. She turned the blade and worked it under the zip tie around her wrists and sawed through the plastic, freeing her hands.

“Nice work.”

She didn’t speak. Her eyes were red and chapped around the rims. A seething glow in her eyes had replaced the tears. She crawled over to Lockman and unbuckled the straps.

The relief when he rolled free of the gurney rushed to Lockman’s head and he was dizzy for a moment. He tried to stand and his foot slipped out from under him, sending him to his hands and knees. He saw the back of his right hand and realized the IV was still stuck in him. They must have pumped him full of something to sedate him. He yanked the needle out of his hand, shook his head to try and clear it, then attempted to stand. This time he found his feet.

Jessie sat with her mother’s head in her lap, stroking her hair. Her touch looked so gentle, yet the fury in her face put a steel sheen on her. She looked older than her thirteen years. Too much older.

Lockman crouched at her side. “We have to go.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“Alec isn’t dead. And he isn’t human. We can’t be here when he wakes up.”

“I said I’m not leaving her.”

He touched her shoulder. “You’ve shown a lot of strength for a girl your age. More than some of the men and woman I worked with at the Agency.”

“I don’t want a pep talk, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“No. Never.”

She looked at him. “Suddenly you care?”

“Suddenly?” Lockman glanced at Alec.

The werewolf’s chest rose and fell a little more steadily. The blood had stopped flowing so freely. Tanner’s gun obviously hadn’t been loaded with any special rounds. The wolf would be up any second now.

He returned his gaze to Jessie. “I cared from the moment I realized you could be real. My daughter. I haven’t been there for you your entire life. Now that I’m here, you can’t get rid of me.”

“Dolan’s going to get away.”

“So what? Dolan has nothing without me. And I’m not so sure that specter will let him get far.”

“So what? We just leave? Leave mom?”

Lockman looked down at Kate. When she woke, she would be insane. Who knew how the tearing of a soul would manifest itself? Jessie didn’t need to see her mother like that. But how could he leave her behind? Simple. He couldn’t.

“Come on.” He lifted Kate’s limp body and threw her over his shoulder. “We’re all getting out of here.”

Jessie got to her feet, started to say something, but a wolfish growl cut her off.

Alec—or what used to be Alec—crouched on the floor, teeth bared and eyes shining. A wolf the size of a full-grown man, hate and hunger rumbling in its voice.

Chapter Forty-Six

Charles ducked behind his car as more automatic gunfire cut a line through the air. Bullets pummeled the car and obliterated most of the windows. He kept low until the barrage stopped. Then he pulled his own weapon and skirted the back of the car. He rested his gun arm on the hood to steady his aim and fired into the doorway where the gunman who had pulled Millie inside still stood. Someone else had pulled her out of sight. Charles just hoped she wasn’t near the door anymore.

He fired three shots, squeezing them off like his dad had taught him so long ago, back when Dad still talked to him. All three shots clustered in the middle of the gunman’s chest, just like hitting the paper targets at the range. The gunman dropped his mini Uzi and flailed backward into the house.

Now what?

Charge the house. He would be damned if he’d come all this way with Millie to let these guys kill her for Dolan. Gun up, he raced across the front lawn straight at the door, ready to dive to the ground at the first sight of a second soldier.

All his focus on the door.

His mistake.

The shot came from the right, from the driveway. It spun Charles around and slammed him to the ground as if he’d been tackled by a linebacker instead of a .45 caliber round. He didn’t feel the pain right away. He lay on his back, looking up at the sky, trying to catch his breath but the wind had been knocked clean from his lungs.

“I’ve got him,” someone shouted.

Charles thought he recognized the voice. Couldn’t place it in his agony. He felt around his torso until he found the wound in his side. Probably shattered his ribs. Bits of bone probably stuck in his internal organs like splinters. Not a scrape or a clip. Not a wound he could survive, maybe not even with immediate medical attention.

And the solider looking over him now wasn’t about to call Charles an ambulance.

Chapter Forty-Seven

With Kate slung over his shoulder, Lockman took a careful step backward from the werewolf. Jessie visibly trembled, her gaze locked on the thing that had played her step-father for the past several years.

“Easy, Jess. Step back with me.”

“What good will that do?”

“He’s an animal. You can’t think of him in any other way. In this form, he’s operating more on instinct than anything. If we don’t come off as an immediate threat, he might go away.”

He no sooner said it when the wolf bounded for him.

Lockman had barely a second to react. He spun sideways as if in a ballet with an unconscious partner. As smoothly as he could, he set Kate on the floor.

The wolf leapt through the space Lockman had just vacated, but he recovered quickly and crouched for a second pounce.

Lockman ducked low and waited for the wolf to make a move. His heart thundered in his chest. The odds of him taking on a werewolf in hand-to-hand combat did not stack high. He would have taken a nest of vamps over this one wolf any time. Unfortunately, you can pick your friends, but your supernatural enemies usually pick you.

The wolf growled from deep in its throat. While its glimmering red eyes looked all wolf, they had a human-like focus, an intelligence behind them. Lockman realized he was wrong about werewolves, or at least this one. Even in wolf form, the thing could think and reason like a mortal. The perfect melding of logic and instinct.

Scary shit.

The wolf jumped.

Lockman threw out his hands and gripped fur before the wolf’s jaws could snap into his throat. The impact threw him back. He let the momentum carry him and rolled onto his shoulders while kicking out with his legs. One foot caught the wolf in the belly while Lockman rolled backward and the wolf yelped and fell away.

On his feet, Lockman prepped himself for another attack. He spotted the wolf padding around Kate’s body. Strings of saliva hung from the wolf’s teeth. Its black hackles stood on end. It snapped at Kate’s ear without actually biting her.

Jessie shrieked.

“Get away from her, Benji. She’s had enough of your rabies.”

The wolf’s jaw opened wide, showing yellow teeth and a pink tongue spotted with black. It gently rested its mouth against Kate’s throat, but didn’t clamp down.

Lockman’s gut clenched. His face burned.

“Do it.”

The quality of Jessie’s voice sent a chill down Lockman’s spine. He turned to her, slack-jawed.

Her hard gaze stayed on the wolf. “She’s going to wake up insane anyway. Might as well put her out of her misery.”

The wolf hesitated. Lockman thought he could see some conflict behind the wolf’s eyes. It seemed ridiculous, but Alec was still in there. This was not just an animal. And Lockman would do well to remember that.

“You pretended to love her a long time,” Jessie said. Even with fresh tears in her eyes, she looked cold-blooded. She looked like Lockman. “But you’re just an animal. So get it over with. Kill her.” She bent down. The knife Dolan meant to use for his sacrifice lay at her feet. She picked it up and stood straight. “Then I can kill you.”

“Jessie,” Lockman said. He opened his mouth to say more and found himself empty of words. So he joined her in glaring at the wolf, the dare on the table, the choice with the monster.

The wolf backed away from Kate’s body and closed its mouth.

Lockman held out his hand to Jessie. “Knife, please.”

The wolf pounced for Lockman again.

Jessie tossed the knife and Lockman dove to meet it halfway. He reached out and grabbed it by the blade. The blade cut him, but he had no time to sweat the small stuff. When he landed from his dive he threw the knife at the charging wolf.

The thin blade buried itself between the wolf’s eyes, nearly to the hilt. The wolf stopped short with a yelp, then dropped to the floor.

Panting, Lockman stood and walked over to the wolf. He stepped on the top of the wolf’s skull and pried the knife free. Then he swung a leg over the wolf’s back as if mounting a horse. “You might want to look away,” he said to Jessie.

She stared at him without a flinch.

He grabbed the fur on the back of the wolf’s head and lifted it back to expose the neck. The blade had a sharp enough edge that Lockman cut easily through the wolf’s throat until he hit the spine at the base of the neck. That’s when he had to saw. Eventually he had the wolf’s head clean off. He threw it aside, stood.

Jessie looked him up and down.

Lockman felt the blood all down the front of his pants. He didn’t need to look. “Can’t take chances. Sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not.”

He didn’t like that vacant tone to her voice. Didn’t like the matching blank stare. He approached her and took her by the shoulders. “You need to get a grip.”

“I’m fine. I get it now. There’s no such thing as good mojo.”

“It’s a hard lesson to learn.”

“Whatever. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Lockman nodded and turned to retrieve Kate.

Kate sat up, watching them both with wide eyes.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Dolan searched through his desk for something sharp. The soul artifact sat on the desk’s surface. It felt as if the artifact were staring at him, demanding to know why it hadn’t received the blood sacrifice it so craved.

No one is more disappointed than me.

Bottom drawer he found a rusty letter opener left behind by the plant manager. The edges were dull, but the point might work. The rust was a concern, though. Last thing he wanted was lockjaw.

He smirked. Lockjaw for the sake of Lockman. Funny.

He stuck the letter opener in his belt like a pirate’s dagger. Retrieved the soul artifact. Started for the office door.

Tanner’s voice, with an altered edge, echoed nearby. “I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go to your office.”

Dolan froze in the center of the room. He gripped the artifact so tightly the corners gouged at his palm.

A second later, Tanner stepped through the office door. “Or maybe you are that stupid.”

Dolan’s insides quivered. He held out a hand. “Now, Tanner. Let’s talk.”

“You know I’m not Tanner, right?”

“How? How can you be inside of him?”

Not-Tanner shook his head. “You summon up things you have no idea how to control.”

“Oh, I know how to send you back. My men are on it right now. They just called, in fact. They have your wife and they are going to kill her, which will send you right back where you belong.”

Tanner raised his gun. “Call them off.”

“Like hell.”

“Call them off or you die with her.”

Dolan felt himself shaking and couldn’t do anything to stop it. “All right. Easy. I’m calling them now.” He drew his cell phone with a trembling hand. God damned ghosts were worse than vampires. But if he could make it through this and still carry on as planned, unleashing hundreds of others like this one...the mind boggled at the damage that would create in a city like Detroit. He hadn’t known about the possession thing. Wasn’t sure how that would play. He would have to make sure he was a lot farther away from the city than he’d originally planned. Like, in another country.

He speed-dialed Melinda’s phone. She usually had things under control the most. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

The phone rang.

And rang.

Rang.

A generic voicemail message asked Dolan to leave a message. He looked at Tanner who hadn’t taken his gaze, or his gun, off of Dolan the whole time. “Melinda,” he said into the voicemail void. “I want you to call off the execution.” He paused, pretending to listen to a non-existent voice on the other end. “That’s right. Well done.” He hung up. “There. All done.”

Tanner waved the gun. “Put the phone on the desk, then get on your knees.”

“What? Why?”

“Because now that I have some time, I’m going to have some fun.”

“I don’t understand. I brought you back from the dead. You should be thanking me.”

Tanner’s eyes narrowed. “Thanking you?”

It was eerie how the man’s face looked so unlike the one Dolan recognized as Tanner just from the way his expressions had changed. A different consciousness had a different way of showing emotion. The supernatural world truly was a frightening and amazing thing. Even after all these years of study, Dolan still had so much to learn.

“You pull my spirit from beyond the veil by using my wife as...bait? A magnet?”

“More like a magnet, yes.”

“Then you threaten to keep me in control by threatening her life.”

“A person is defined by what they will do for those they love. It’s a powerful weapon that transcends all plains of existence.”

“You think you’re so...” His head jerked as if he’d heard someone call his name. “Millie?”

Dolan smiled. A little late, but it looked like his team had finally put the ghost’s wife down. “I believe that’s the sound of death calling you back home.”

Not-Tanner bared his teeth and opened fire on Dolan.

Dolan scampered back as the bullets whizzed by him. He was caught in the open with no place to dive for cover. He braced himself for the feel of a bullet punching through his chest. One shot nipped the side of his thigh.

Not-Tanner stopped shooting before hitting his target. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the floor. A greenish mist swirled above Tanner’s body making a sound as loud as a full-sized tornado. Dust and debris blew and fluttered through the office. Then the green cloud shot like a comet through the ceiling and out of sight.

Dolan dropped to his knees, heart pulsing hard in his chest. Then he broke into a laughing jag that brought tears to his eyes. Once again, he had successfully wielded the powers from beyond the veil, had controlled the uncontrollable, and had shown his mortal dominance over the supernatural.

He lifted the cubic artifact to eye-level. Imagine what he could yet do when he got his brother’s memories.

* * *

Charles knew he was going to die. And he could accept that. What he couldn’t accept was that Millie would die, too. A woman that reminded him of his mother. A woman pulled into the real scary side of the world against her will all because a power-hungry idealist needed to use her to raise a ghost for his bidding.

For the first time in his life, so close to death, Charles had a purpose. Not the false purpose of the Movement. He couldn’t believe he had bought into all that bull to begin with. It took an innocent woman that looked like his mom to show him how stupid he’d been. The bullet in his side had helped, too.

Fear of death will do crazy things to a man.

The soldier standing over him aimed his weapon at Charles’s face. “Why’d you go rogue on us, Chaz?”

Charlie smiled. “You shouldn’t have asked me that.”

“Why?”

“Because it bought me time.” Charles pulled the trigger on his gun, which he’d aimed up into the soldier’s crotch.

The soldier jumped, his finger twitching on his own trigger.

The burst of automatic fire chewed a hole in the lawn by Charles’s head, then the soldier dropped backward.

Charles fired two more shots into the soldier’s chest and went to work on getting to his feet. The pain chewing through his side doubled. His vision narrowed. He blinked away the dizziness swooping over him and stood. He waddled toward the house. Police sirens cried in the distance. You couldn’t have a good firefight in the suburbs without someone calling the cops.

Charles laughed at his own thoughts. Then laughed when he realized how delirious he must be. Somehow he made it to the front door and inside. He heard Millie crying and begging in the next room. The next room was the kitchen. Charles staggered in and found a third soldier holding a gun to Millie’s head while she knelt on the floor. This soldier, a woman, had her back to Charles, but he recognized her blonde buzz cut. Melinda. At one time, when he first joined the Movement, he had a crush on her.

Now he aimed at her head. “Mindy.”

She turned, had a second to show her surprise.

Charles shot her in the face, then twice in the torso once she dropped to the floor.

Millie was screaming, still kneeling on the floor and faced away. She had no idea what was going on.

Charles fell to his knees beside her. He felt the life leaking out his side. “Just me,” he said. “You’re okay now.”

She turned to him, noticed the wound in his side. “Oh, God.” She grabbed at his arm. “Oh, thank you.”

“It’s all good.” He coughed up some blood. “Think I finally earned my badge for assisting an elderly person.”

Her tear-streaked and raw face broke into a smile.

Charles couldn’t think of anything better to see right before dying. He touched her cheek. “You remind me so much of my mom.”

“It’s funny. You remind me of Marcus.”

“Marcus?”

“My husband.”

He tried to smile, but his face felt numb. His body had started filling with a bitter cold. He grew sleepy. Wanted nothing more than to lie down, so he did. Despite the cold inside of him, his face felt feverish and the cool linoleum felt nice against his cheek.

Millie knelt by his side and held his hand. “You saved my life.”

“Your husband.” Charles gasped. God, but it was hard to speak. “He’s...around.”

Her face creased in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He’s...” Something colder than the cold already inside of him sluiced through him like liquid air. “...here.”

* * *

Millie looked into the eyes of the young man who had saved her and saw the impossible. She saw Marcus. Not like before, how he had reminded her of her late husband. No. She saw Marcus’s soul in the eyes of another man.

“Windmill,” the young man said, but only Marcus had ever called her that.

“Marky.” Her chin quivered and her throat felt thick. Every nerve ending buzzed. Especially in the fingertips she used to trace his lips. “Is that you?”

“It’s me, Mill.”

“How? What happened to Charles?”

“I don’t think I have a lot of time to explain. I don’t know if I could.”

Millie cried. A waterfall flowed through her. “Oh, Marky, I’ve missed you like the devil. I hope you’re in a better place.”

“I don’t know. I...I’ve done some shameful things.”

She shushed him. “Don’t waste this time. Even if I’m hallucinating.”

“You aren’t hallucinating. It’s real. I’m real.”

“I love you. Never stopped.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I...” Charles winced, but Millie recognized her husband in the expression. “I think I’m going back.”

“Wait. I...there’s so much to say. God, Mark, every time something happens, I think to myself, I can’t wait to tell Mark that. I forget you’re gone. Even after all this time.”

“I’m not gone. I’m around. Talk to me. I think I’ll be able to hear you.” Another wince.

It occurred to Millie that Marcus was dying along with Charles. It made no sense, but it sounded right in any case.

“Something I have to...” He coughed. Blood bubbled between his lips.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing...just...” His eyes fluttered closed. His body fell still.

Millie wept as the police rushed, shouting, into the house.

Chapter Forty-Nine

“You have no idea the effects on the temperature when the world is spinning.”

Jessie stared at her mom, trying to process the words she had just spoken, even though there was no making sense of it. Mom had gone crazy.

“It’s all so blurry. The temperature.” She looked at Craig and spat. “Warlock. This is your doing.”

Jessie felt Craig’s arm loop around her shoulders. She shook him off. She didn’t want comfort. She wanted some way to fix this. She moved closer to her mom.

Mom sat with her legs splayed in front of her and her palms on the floor behind her to hold her up. She kept blinking as if she had something in her eyes. Her tongue would dart out between her lips and lick at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze did not rest on anything for longer than a second. “It’s so warm.”

Jessie crouched in front of her. “Mom. It’s Jessie. Do you recognize me?”

“Harlot. Bringer of the dark age. Princess of the fallen days, when mortals become slaves.”

Jessie’s chest squeezed. “Mom, please.”

Gunfire echoed through the building, making Jessie and her mother both jump. Jessie’s mom screamed. “They’ve found us. This is when they make us beg for our lives.”

“Sounds like Tanner found Dolan,” Craig said.

Jessie couldn’t hold back any longer. She cried. The sadness buried her anger. No matter how badly she wanted to let that rage burn off the fear and sorrow, she couldn’t bring it back. For a moment she felt like Craig. She had learned the hard lessons about the darker things in this world. She had faced off with them and survived. Now her cynicism would carry her the rest of the way.

It wasn’t fair. She was a thirteen year-old girl who had essentially lost her mother. An orphan. No matter what Craig had promised, he could not replace Mom. He could not make Jessie forget all the harm she had caused by seeking him out. And she could never go home again.

“You think you know me,” Mom said, pointing at Jessie. “I have traveled whole worlds you will never see.”

“You’re right,” Jessie said, crying. “I don’t know you. I never did.”

Craig rested a hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “She’s not really talking about you. You know that, right?”

“It sounds like she is.” She inched closer to Mom and reached out to touch her leg.

Her mom swatted Jessie’s hand away. “Don’t touch me, Princess Death.”

“I’m your daughter.”

“You are the harbinger of the end of times.”

Jessie wiped the tears out of her eyes, shook her head. “I. Am. Your. Daughter.”

“Dark one.”

“And I love you.”

Her mom hissed and recoiled. “Lies from its tongue.”

“I used to tell you that all the time when I was little. But I haven’t in a long time. I love you, Mom. Even all those times I said I hated you, I loved you. Did you know that?”

“The earth will know the end of mortals. This plane will open to the next and flood its rival.”

She turned to Craig. “What is she talking about?”

“Nothing. It’s nonsense. We need to get her someplace safe, Jessie.”

Jessie tore through her mind to find some solution. There had to be a way to bring Mom back. Again she thought about magic. She had believed there was good magic. She knew better now. But there was still magic. That part was real.

She looked at the knife Craig had tossed aside after beheading the wolf. (You mean your step-father.) She ran over, picked up the knife, and sliced her left palm. The pain shot all the way up her arm to her elbow and back again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Craig asked.

She looked him in the eye. Said nothing.

Lockman shook his head. “It won’t work.”

She held up her hand. “Blood.”

“It will take more than a little cut.”

“It didn’t take anything close to that for what happened with Tanner’s gun.”

“That was a coincidence, not magic. You should know enough to recognize the difference by now.”

“I have to try.” She rushed at her mother before either of them could object. She pressed her bloody hand against her mom’s forehead. “Come back to me, Mom. Please.”

Her mom thrashed away from her. She pointed at Jessie. “Princess Death tempts fate. This is how it starts.”

“Mom,” Jessie said, holding out her cut hand. “Come back.” Blood pooled in her palm and dripped onto the floor.

“This is how it starts,” her mother screamed.

Jessie stepped forward and flicked her hand, spattering her mother with her blood. “Come back, God damn it. Your daughter needs you. Come back.”

Her mom screamed and dug a hand at her chest. She pulled something out from under her blouse. A pendant of some kind on a chain. The pendant glowed a blue-white that grew brighter and brighter.

Jessie had to squint and shade her eyes. She noticed her blood glowing the same color and eventually reaching the same intensity.

“She kept it,” Craig said.

Jessie turned to him. “What?”

“The pendant.”

The light grew too bright for Jessie to keep her eyes open. She had to turn away. She could feel heat behind her as if her mother burned on a pyre. She smelled something sweet in the air, like candied raspberries.

Then it all stopped—the light, the heat, the smell—gone as suddenly as it had begun.

Jessie opened her eyes and looked at her mother. All the blood was gone. As was the wild look in her mother’s eyes.

Mom reached out a quaking hand. “Jess?”

“Mom?” She ran to her side and hugged her. The feel of Mom’s arms hugging back sent a thrill through Jessie. “Oh my God, Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything,” she said and cried into her mom’s shoulder, this time knowing it was really her.

Craig crouched down on Mom’s other side. He stared at the two of them, wide-eyed, as if they had dropped from the sky. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

Mom looked up at the sound of his voice. “Craig?” Her gaze traced the front of him, following the smears of blood on his clothes.

Jessie felt her start to tremble. She hugged her mother more tightly and whispered inane comforts. Lies, basically. “It’s okay. It’s all right. You’re fine now.” But none of them were fine, might never be. Not after all they had witnessed.

“Where’s Alec?” her mom asked and gently pushed Jessie away so she could look around the room. Her gaze found the wolf’s head and she gagged.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Craig said. “We don’t know what Dolan has crawling around this place.”

Mom’s face turned white. “What is going on? What have you brought us into?”

“A nightmare,” Craig said. “And I’m sorry. All I want now is to get you out of it.”

Mom looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m not leaving without Alec.”

“Mom...” Jessie started with no clue how to continue. How did you explain the unexplainable?

“He’s dead,” Craig said. “He died saving your life.”

Jessie watched for Mom’s reaction, trying to anticipate how to help her get through the next few moments. She expected a melt-down, even with Craig’s white lie. Turned out her Mom wore a tougher shell than Jessie realized.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, looking into Craig’s eyes. “I could always tell when you were lying.”

“Not always.”

“You mean all this?” She waved a hand as if all their nightmarish experiences of the last few days hung like paintings on the walls. “I knew there was more to you than what you told me. Even back then.”

“Then you know that I hated having to lie to you. And you must know I hated having to leave you.”

Mom’s face went flat and unreadable. “Alec,” she said. “He was on their side?”

“Do you remember anything after the ghost possessed you?” Jessie asked. After the question left her mouth she made a face at how ridiculous it sounded, no matter how real.

“Pieces,” she said, looking back at Jessie. “I was here. But I felt crowded out of my own mind. I can’t even explain it. Like I was half-asleep while someone else took over.” She glanced at the wolf’s head again. “More and more is coming back to me. Like the morning after a bad night of drinking.”

“You don’t drink, mom.”

Mom smiled. “Not so much anymore.” She pointed at the head without looking at it. “That’s Alec?”

“A werewolf,” Craig said. “Or that’s what we call them anyway.”

“How is any of this real?”

“I wish we had more time to talk it over, but we need to get safe. And this place is not safe.”

Mom nodded, held up her arms. “Help me up.”

Jessie and Craig each took an arm and lifted Mom to her feet. Then Mom turned to Craig and rested a hand on his shoulder. Jessie had seen her mother’s intimate touch on Alec, but she saw something different here. The curve of Mom’s spine, the splay of her fingers on his bicep, the tilt of her head, all together made her mom look younger, softer.

“Thank you.”

Craig’s eyes grew more intense than Jessie had yet seen them. It was kind of cool and kind of gross to see him look at her mom that way.

“For what?” he asked.

“For protecting Jessie. And for knowing the difference.”

“What difference?”

“The difference between me and that thing that was inside of me.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Chapter Fifty

Such a better idea than cutting himself.

Dolan jammed the letter opener into Tanner’s throat and worked a good-sized hole to let the blood out while it still flowed from his dead body. The puddle rolled across the dirty floor. Dolan had to jump to his feet and step aside to avoid getting it all over his clothes.

He took the bronze cube and set one side face down in the blood like filling a stamp with ink. Then he turned the cube to coat another side. He repeated this until all sides were coated. Tanner’s blood ran through the grooves carved in the artifact and stained the bronze surface with a muddy hue. Dolan held the cube with his fingertips to avoid sapping more blood from its surface than necessary. He did not mind the slick feel against the pads of his fingers. He had started playing with blood at seven years of age. It fazed him no more than it would a butcher.

A sacrifice. Not an ideal one. Most of the passion of Tanner’s death had passed as quickly as the death itself. But it might be enough to awaken the artifact. He might not get his brother back as he had hoped, but he might be able to erase Craig Lockman from this world and peel away enough memories to tell him where to find the stash of artifacts.

He had every confidence Lockman was still in the building. The imps covered all obvious exits, a wise precaution he had made the moment they had Lockman inside. Otto Dolan would not underestimate him again. Better yet, Dolan still had the Detroit police force on call, courtesy of the Mayor. Tanner’s unfortunate fate was a minor setback in the scheme of things. The plan would continue, and the Movement would have its day.

Artifact in hand, he stepped over Tanner’s body and headed out to find Lockman.

* * *

Lockman paused, staring into a darkness that thickened the deeper it went.

“This is insane,” Jessie said.

“I took the flashlight off that kid back in the room. No worries.”

“Seriously,” Jessie said. “This is like my worst nightmare. We can’t go this way.”

“The other ways will be the same.”

“How is Dolan getting around?” Kate asked.

“Aside from his own flashlight? He probably knows the place. It’s his little funhouse we have to find our way out of.”

Jessie raised a hand. “Um, not really feeling the fun.”

“We can’t just sit here.” Kate grabbed the flashlight from Lockman and turned it on. The darkness seemed to swallow the petty beam.

Jessie cleared her throat. “I vote for sitting, rather than going into the dark hallway of doom.”

Lockman stared into the dark. A chill whispered through him. He felt as if something stared back. Could be his imagination getting carried away. He was playing right into Dolan’s plan, letting paranoia make him second guess himself.

He looked over his shoulder toward the way they had come. The room Dolan had set up for his ritual used to be a break room judging from the cracked linoleum flooring and the battered and empty soda machine in one corner. One tiny room in a potential labyrinth of dark hallways and home to who knew what.

“Maybe you girls should stay with the light. I’ll scout ahead to make sure it’s safe.”

“That is the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” Kate said.

“Sexist?”

“The girls can’t handle the dark?”

“This girl can’t,” Jessie said and pointed at herself.

“I didn’t mean it as sexist. I have the guns.” He indicated the pair of guns tucked into his waistband he had picked off Alec and the kid in the fatigues. “And I know how to use them.”

“You taught me how to shoot. Don’t you remember?”

Jessie’s gaze ping-ponged between Lockman and her mom. “You what?”

Lockman waved a hand. “I tried to show you how to shoot. Once. And after you took out my windshield, I realized shooting was not your thing.”

Jessie snorted laughter.

“Are we really going to stand here and criticize my shooting when there’s a lunatic out there with ghosts and werewolves and space aliens out to kill us?”

Lockman reared his head back. “Really? Space aliens?”

She threw up her hands. “Why not? You’re going to tell me you don’t believe in little green men?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“I never saw a werewolf until my husband turned into one.”

“Okay, guys. Can you save the snarky banter for the movie version,” Jessie said. “I want out of here.”

“She’s right,” Kate said. “But we’re doing it together. No one stays behind or scouts ahead.”

Lockman studied Kate. He let himself crack a smile. “Okay. But no questions, follow my lead, and—”

“Do as you say,” Jessie finished. “Think I’ve heard that before.”

Kate bent down in front of Jessie and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “You okay with this?”

“No,” she said with a straight face. “But if I was going to let fear get the best of me, I would have quit when the vampires had me.”

Kate’s brow furled. She looked at Lockman. “Vampires?”

“When we met, it was vampires.”

“Probably why Dolan’s keeping the place so dark,” Jessie said.

“Maybe.”

Kate rattled her head. “Vampires. But no space aliens. Right. Got it.”

Lockman drew one of his acquired weapons. “Let’s go.”

“What did you mean by maybe,” Jessie asked as the three of them crept into the dark hallway.

Lockman swept the hall with the flashlight as they moved forward. “Maybe it’s dark for the vamps. But we haven’t seen a single vamp since LA. I think Dolan gave up on them. Then he tempted fate by trying to control a ghost. If I had to guess, there’s something else creeping around in the shadows here.”

Jessie’s breathing quickened, echoing in the hall.

He looked for her, but they had strayed far enough from the break room and the votive light that darkness obscured her face. “You okay?”

“Of course she isn’t,” Kate said. “Hell, you made me wet myself a little. Try to be a little more positive, will you?”

Lockman snorted. Positive? She wanted positive from the man who had to behead her husband? Even for an ex-agent with a paranormal ops unit, he found himself in weirder territory than ever before—and not only because of the supernatural. He afforded a wistful thought back to his determination to keep himself emotionally detached.

“I’ll do my best.”

The flashlight twisted the shadows before them like black taffy, never quite able to tear through. The temperature dropped a few degrees. Lockman’s arms rippled with gooseflesh. He stopped.

Jessie and Kate stopped with him, their shoes scuffing on the gritty floor.

“Anyone know what time of day it is?”

They both said no. Lockman thought it still should be daylight out, which meant this hall was purposefully kept dark. Which also meant the drop in temperature couldn’t have come from the draft through an open window. Lockman doubted Dolan put any money into heating or cooling.

The temperature was unnatural. Supernatural.

“We need to turn around.”

“Why?” Kate asked.

“No questions, remember? Follow my lead. Do as I say.”

Something snuffed in the dark like a bull.

Lockman swung the light around, scanning the floors, the walls, up the walls, the ceiling.

The gray, wet face squinted in the light beam and opened its serrated mouth to scream.

“Run. Run!”

The three of them spun and charged back the way they came. Lockman did his best to keep the light in front of their rushing feet. Behind him, the sound of hooves clopping on the cement floor followed close.

He could hear Jessie’s labored breathing. She was hyperventilating. After all she had been through, the darkness was what finally got to her. And he had led her right into it.

He grabbed her by the arm and pumped his legs harder, hoping he could spur her to run faster. Each breath rattled louder than her last until she broke into a steady heaving. She couldn’t keep on like this. He pushed her ahead and swung around, slicing down with the flashlight beam like a sword. He struck the approaching beast square in the face and it scampered to a halt, its hooves grinding against the floor like stone against stone.

Lockman took aim and opened fire.

The combination of barrel flashes and the shaking beam from the flashlight filled the hall like a disco strobe. Lockman caught flickering glimpses of the damage he wrought on the creature before him as he continued squeezing the trigger. Gray bits of flesh and blood the color and consistency of hot tar flung from the beast and hit the walls and floor with wet slaps.

The pistol locked empty.

Lockman kept the flashlight aimed at the creature which had fallen to the floor. It looked like a cross between a bald Billy goat and a bat. The smell of mold and earth wafted from its carcass.

“Kate? Jessie?”

He faintly heard Jessie’s labored breathing over the ringing in his ears from the gunfire.

“We’re here,” Kate said. “Jessie’s hyperventilating.”

Another sound rang through the dark hall.

Lockman lifted the flashlight beam to shine down the way.

Something moved in the shadows. And again that sound. Like a bowling ball hitting a single pin. Or a hoof clopping against a cement floor.

“All the way back to the room,” Lockman said. “Into the light. There’s more of them.”

Chapter Fifty-One

When they filed back into the break room, Dolan was waiting for them.

Lockman reached for the second gun in his waistband, but Dolan grabbed Jessie around the throat and shielded himself.

Lockman lined up the pistol’s sight with Dolan’s head. “Let her go.”

Jessie was still hyperventilating. Her face had turned a beet red and glistened in the room’s remaining candlelight. Despite that, she tried to stomp on Dolan’s instep.

He leaned back until she hung by her neck in the crook of his arm, her feet off the floor.

“Jessie,” Kate shouted.

“All I want is you,” Dolan said. He raised his free hand to show the cube-shaped artifact now smeared with blood. “Put the gun down and come over here and no one else will get hurt.”

“Forget it.” Lockman pulled back the hammer.

“Craig, don’t.” Kate put a hand on his shoulder.

His muscles stiffened. He looked into Jessie’s suffering eyes.

She shook her head, but he didn’t know what she meant. Don’t shoot? Don’t give in? She was just a young girl. She couldn’t make that kind of call. He had been trained to make calls like this. He knew the right move. Take the shot. If Dolan got hold of him, managed to access the memories from his former self, the results could be catastrophic to national security. Hell, world security.

Take the shot.

Odds were he could hit Dolan without hitting Jessie.

Dolan seemed to read Lockman’s calculations. “I can use this on her as easily as on you. Should I rip out her soul? Maybe hers can be a part of the government’s next experimental agent. After all, you’re family, right?”

“You do that, you’ll lose your charge. You won’t get to me.”

“Are you saying you’re willing to take me down at the expense of your daughter’s soul?”

“Craig, please.” Kate’s voice shook.

Jessie closed her eyes and seemed to will her breathing to steady. “Shoot him.”

A muscle twitched in Lockman’s cheek. A vein in his forehead felt ready to burst.

What about the greater good?

Lockman eased the hammer on his pistol forward, turned on the safety, and dropped the gun to the floor. He kicked it across to Dolan.

“Nice,” Dolan said. He shoved Jessie at Lockman.

Lockman caught her, held her tightly.

She continued to gasp but hugged back at him. “You stupid ass. That one ghost was bad enough. What do you think is going to happen with a whole city full of them?”

“Just make sure you and your mom aren’t anywhere near here when it happens.”

She shoved him away. “That’s good enough for you?”

He looked to Kate. “Make sure she’s safe.”

Dolan picked up the pistol, thumbed off the safety, and aimed at Lockman. “Lift up that gurney and lay down.”

Lockman ruffled Jessie’s hair then stepped over to the gurney and righted it. “You have me. Let them go.”

Dolan sucked on his teeth. He studied Kate and Jessie. “I could still sacrifice one of them to fully power this thing. I’m afraid Tanner’s cold blood won’t have the juice to do a full soul transplant, so to speak.”

“You try it, and you’ll have to kill me first. Then you’ve got nothing.”

“This whole affair has given you an inflated sense of self, hasn’t it?” He lifted the cube to eye-level, turned it one way, then the other. “I suppose I could put Gabriel’s soul back in any old body if I figured out how this thing worked more precisely. Then I wouldn’t need you at all. Alas, the mayor has paid me a pretty sum to haunt this good city. I don’t have the time. Besides, I don’t think our relationship would be quite the same. I think I’ve come to resent my brother a bit. Ironic, no?”

“Shut up.” Not much more to say to a psychopathic magic wielder.

“Right.” He waved his gun at the girls. “As you already know, the hall you tried to take out of here is filled with hungry imps. All the exits are covered by them. The only way out is the roof access.”

“Where?” Lockman asked.

“There is a utility room down the hall, not the way you came. A ladder in that room leads to the roof. Getting off the roof is up to you, though I suppose you could jump into the river.”

The thickness of Dolan’s voice at this last suggestion set Lockman’s teeth on edge like claws on a chalk board. “Stay away from the river. He’s done something to it.”

Dolan smiled. “See? There’s still a part of my brother in you. You know me so well.”

“Too bad you’ll never see him again.”

“Never say never.” He turned the blood-smeared cube in the candlelight. “Assuming this procedure doesn’t kill you. I’m not exactly sure how well this will work with half-congealed blood. We better get on with this.”

Lockman turned to the girls. “Go. But be careful.”

Jessie shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Fuck that,” she shouted. “I finally found you. You’re nothing like I thought you’d be, but I don’t care. I found you.”

The air felt thicker in Lockman’s lungs. The smoke from the candles stung his eyes, made them water. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I would have if I’d known.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” She laughed through her tears, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “That would have put me in danger and threatened the greater good.”

Kate stepped up behind Jessie and put her hands on Jessie’s shoulders. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Go,” Lockman said.

“We’re wasting time, Lockman. I’ll shoot them both if they’re not out of here in three seconds.”

Lockman grabbed Jessie and hugged her. He looked up into Kate’s eyes. “Get as far away from here as you can. Don’t look back. If I get out of this, I’ll find you.” He pushed Jessie gently toward Kate then turned his back to them both, trusting Kate to do the rest, even if she had to drag Jessie from the room.

Jessie sobbed, but her cries faded as she left the room with Kate.

Dolan pointed at the gurney with his gun. “Take a load off.”

“You think you can do this ritual and keep that gun on me at the same time?”

“I’ll manage.”

Lockman lifted himself onto the gurney and lay on his back. “Do it.”

With one hand, Dolan pressed the barrel of his pistol to Lockman’s temple. The other hand set the artifact against his forehead. “Let me see my brother’s soul.”

Sparks flashed in Lockman’s eyes. A sickle of pain cut through the right side of his head. His body jerked. More sparks. His vision turned into a night sky with only bursts of light to break the darkness. He lost track of his body. Could no longer feel the gurney under him, smell the hot wax of the burning candles, could not even feel his own breath enter and exit his lungs.

Something screamed.

He recognized the voice. His.

More flashes of light, bigger, brighter. Then bits of color. Snaps of images. Images that he could feel. Smells. Birthday cake. Freshly poured asphalt on the parking lot at his elementary school. The face of his first lover when he was thirteen, and the feel of her tongue against his when they kissed. A darkness. A hard pain low in his body, in a place that had been violated, and the steady grunt of a man he knew was his father.

More images, moving, flowing, bleeding together. A lifetime of memory pouring through his head like sand through the neck of an hourglass. Too fast to glimpse. Only feelings. Rage. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Thirst for vengeance against the man who had broken him. And finally the discovery that all that emotion could lead to something...something powerful.

One last image and a flood of senses with it.

The smell of burning flesh while his screaming father tried to shake off the flames that had engulfed him from out of nowhere. Only they hadn’t come from nowhere; the flames were born from his rage.

Lockman’s eyes snapped open. His chest heaved. His throat felt raw as if he’d been screaming. The torrent of memories already began to fade like the threads of a nightmare. He lifted his head at the sound of someone sobbing.

Dolan sat on the floor, the artifact gripped in one fist, the gun held fast in the other. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You didn’t know your father was raping your brother, did you?”

“Shut up,” he screamed and got to his feet. He jabbed the gun barrel into Lockman’s cheek. “It’s a lie.”

“If it is, it’s not my lie.”

Dolan’s nostrils flared. His upper lip curled. “It doesn’t matter. I found what I needed.”

“Now what? You kill me? You kill your brother?”

“You are not my brother!” He reared back his gun hand to pistol whip Lockman.

Lockman rolled off the gurney and Dolan struck the thin mattress and rattled the frame. Before Dolan could recover, Lockman clamped both his hands onto Dolan’s wrist, pinning it to the gurney.

Dolan squeezed the trigger.

Pain tore through Lockman’s gut, but he wrenched the gun from Dolan’s hand before he could fire a second shot. He tried to hang onto the pistol. His hands felt clumsy and numb. The weapon dropped to the floor. Lockman looked down at it and saw the bloody hole in his belly.

That’s when the gurney came skating toward him.

He threw up his hands to catch the rolling bed, missed, and the edge of the metal frame hit him in the gut, tripling the pain from the gunshot wound. He shoved the gurney away and doubled over. The edges of his vision closed in. Sparks popped and fizzled across his eyes a lot like the sparks he saw when Dolan first touched the artifact to his forehead. A memory of gutting a lamb on a stone alter rushed through his head, followed closely by the image of an ornate, golden cup that glowed orange like an ember.

He blinked away the image in time to see Dolan run for the door. Lockman staggered to the dropped pistol and picked it up. His fingers felt fat and useless. Chills rattled through him in steady waves. Shock setting in. Bad in the long run. Good enough to carry him a little further and finally take Dolan out of this world.

He raised the weapon and fired right before Dolan slipped out of the room.

The shot tore a chunk out of Dolan’s shoulder. Dolan staggered sideways and bounced off the wall before dropping to the floor.

Lockman held his aim, despite the screaming pain in his gut.

Dolan writhed and groaned on the floor.

Lockman stepped forward, but something stopped him. A rustling from the hall. The distinct sound of a hoof clopping against concrete. He glared down at Dolan. “Your imps are coming.”

Dolan looked up with wet eyes. “I’ve been starving them. They smell our blood.”

“Then we need to get out of here before they block the way.”

He laughed. “Why? So you can interrogate me? Torture me? Arrest me?”

The sound of several sets of clopping hooves now rang through the darkness in the hallway. Growing closer. The acoustics in the hall made it difficult to know how close for sure.

“Last chance, Otto.”

“We can’t outrun them. Not like this.”

The clamor of hooves swelled, as if all the bulls of Pamplona had made a wrong turn and found themselves in the dank hall outside this room. Cold air billowed in through the doorway like the edge of a November rainstorm.

Lockman backed away from the door, one hand on his wound, the other holding the gun out, ready to fire at anything that tried to come in.

The dark hall filled with twisting shadows and childlike screams. One of the beasts leapt through the doorway, into the light.

Shock and panic undid all of Lockman’s training. He opened fire on the imp, squeezing off shot after shot, most of them sparking against the floor or chopping at the walls. Then the gun locked, empty.

The imp’s skin turned to black liquid in the light. It screeched and scampered back into the darkness, leaving behind a brackish smear on the floor.

A moment later the galloping hooves came to a halt. A chorus of heavy breathing echoed just beyond the doorway.

Lockman was so focused on the imps, he never saw Dolan get up. The punch to Lockman’s belly dropped him to his knees. He gasped and heaved, the pain so incredible he thought he might pass out. He willed himself to stay conscious.

Dolan grabbed Lockman by the hair. “I should have just killed you.”

Strength leaking from his body, Lockman looked up at Dolan. “I have a message from your brother.”

Dolan’s eyes widened.

“He wanted you to remember...”

“Remember what?”

“To feed the imps.” He chopped at Dolan’s kneecap with the empty pistol, the impact hard enough to knock the bone out of place.

Dolan shrieked and lost his footing. He landed hard on his ass.

Lockman swung the pistol again at Dolan’s face and cracked his nose. He tossed the pistol aside, grabbed Dolan by the ankle, and used the last of his strength to drag him across the floor to the doorway.

Dolan moaned, but the blow to his face had stunned him beyond struggle.

As close as he dared get to the doorway, Lockman lifted Dolan to his feet. “I’ll tell your brother you thanked him for the reminder.” Then he shoved Dolan out the doorway and into the darkness.

“No,” Dolan screamed.

The cacophony of greedy squeals rose to such a pitch that Lockman had to cover his ears. He stumbled away and dropped to the floor.

Dolan bellowed one last time before the sound of his tearing flesh silenced him for good.

Lockman curled up on his side and listened to the wet smacking sounds of imps feasting on his worst enemy, who had also once been his brother.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Time folded in on itself for Craig Lockman. He felt like he lay there in the quivering candlelight for only minutes and also for days. Either could be true. Probably somewhere in between. Many of the candle wicks had drown in melted wax, their flames snuffed. Eventually, the room would fall into darkness. The imps would come for him then.

He hoped he bled out before that, but he doubted it. A gut shot took its time with killing.

His cheek rested against the cold linoleum flooring. Across the way he could see the cube-shaped artifact where Dolan must have dropped it. The blood that had marred its bronze surface had vanished completely and the candlelight made it shimmer.

Because he couldn’t do much else, he tried to remember more of his old life, but whatever memories that had rushed through him had not stuck for long. He could only see bits and pieces that he had a chance to process consciously. The ornate cup. The slaughtering of the lamb. The rape by his father.

His father?

Or Gabriel’s father?

Who was he? Lockman? Still? Even though he had touched the memories of his former self and could even recall a few of them?

Didn’t matter. He was dying. He just hoped Jessie and Kate got out all right. Lucky Detroit missed out on a full-on haunting. He deserved a medal from the mayor, only the fucking mayor was in on it. And would get away with this untouched. Who would believe he had hired a terrorist to haunt the city? With the Agency disbanded, there was no one to take on people like that.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, these same thoughts circling his mind like the last bits of flotsam rolling into the sewer after a flood. More candles sputtered out. The room grew darker. And colder.

The imps waited at the door. He knew it. Could feel their hunger. Could smell Dolan’s flesh and blood on their breath.

Screams woke him for another doze. A horrible sound followed, like cavalry in a cave, so loud his ear drums quivered and his head pounded.

A blinding beam of light struck him in the face. He put up a hand to shield his eyes.

“In here,” a voice shouted from behind the light.

Another brilliant beam joined the first. “Craig? Oh my god.”

He tried to wet his lips with a sandpaper tongue. “Kate?”

One of the lights came closer and he could see a silhouette behind it. She turned the beam away from him.

His eyes adjusted and he saw her kneeling beside him. Kate. “You guys shouldn’t have come back.”

“Then what would we have done with these industrial-sized flashlights we found in the SUV parked outside?”

He looked toward the other light, no longer pointed directly at him. “Jess?”

“I’m good. We’re both good. You on the other hand? You look like shit.”

“Don’t use that kind of language, kid.”

Kate pointed her light at his belly and hissed through her teeth. “Can you walk?”

“For you? Anything. Just help me up.”

Jessie came over and the two of them helped Lockman to his feet. The gnawing in his gut awoke. He clenched his jaw. “Pick that up before we go.” He nodded toward the artifact on the floor.

Jessie went over and picked it up. “What about Dolan?”

“You didn’t see him when you came in?”

“No.”

“Then he must have tasted good.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, gross.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Lockman hated hospitals. Jessie and Kate both tried to make it as easy on him as possible. Frequent visits. Flowers. Jessie even brought in her laptop to play some of the movies she’d made. He didn’t understand a lot of them—too much unexplained angst between the characters and a lot of weird camera angels—but they looked professional. Not the work of a thirteen year-old.

Kate didn’t say much during her visits. What could he expect? He was happy enough that she came at all, though he didn’t know if she was there only for Jessie, or for him, too.

Then Kate showed up one day without Jessie.

“She’s visiting Ryan,” she said when he asked. “He’s staying in a psych ward of all things. Jessie, she...”

“She thinks she can fix him.”

Kate fussed with a limping flower arrangement. “I don’t want her to get her hopes up, but she did it for me somehow.”

“I think she can do it for him, too.”

She turned away from the arrangement and looked at him. “You do?”

“When Dolan used that artifact on me, I saw things, glimpses of memories. Whoever I am, or was...I had power. I could connect with mojo in some way I’ve not seen before in anyone else. Except for Jessie.”

Her brow creased. “You think she’s some kind of witch?”

“Witch. Sorcerer. Wizard. What you call it doesn’t matter. What matters is this stuff is real.”

“I don’t know if I like the idea of my daughter involved with all that.”

“I don’t like it one bit. That’s why she has to believe what happened with you was a fluke.”

“Lie to her?”

Lockman reached out and took her hand. “For her own good.”

“Like you lied to me all those years.”

The sting in his gut had nothing to do with his wound. “For her own good.”

Kate pulled her hand out of his. “Okay.”

* * *

They agreed that, at least for the time being, they should stick together. They rented a cabin in Northern Illinois on twenty-eight acres of woodlands. Jessie would start back at the local school again in the fall, under a new name. Kate took a job at a local grocery, also under a new name. Lockman was still recovering from his injury, but would seek employment when he was fully healed.

Lockman stood out back, listening to Jessie shouting at Kate over something. Every little thing seemed to set her off lately. He knew it was because of Ryan. She complained often that they had taken her away from Ryan before she had a chance to help him. Kate and Lockman stood by their initial agreement and told her there was nothing she could have done for him.

He stood by the woodpile he had cut for their fireplace. He held his axe and stared at the bronze cube he had placed on the stump where he normally chopped the wood. The artifact held his other life, his very soul. He had every right to hang onto it. He might find a way to access the memories. Gabriel Dolan had held a great deal of power and resources. Who knew what else he might have access to? A means to fight back against the darkness that bled into their world? A way to undo some of the damage Dolan, and others like him, had done by bringing beings from other planes here where they did not belong?

But did the risks of that knowledge outweigh the benefits? Jessie was a good kid who managed to make mojo work for her. She had saved Kate from madness. He had seen it with his own eyes. Maybe they could use that power for good, despite what he had always believed.

He lined up the axe blade with the artifact.

Destroying it doesn’t just benefit the greater good. It keeps Jessie and Kate safe.

He lifted the axe over his head.

Keeping it could do the same. More, even.

He squeezed the axe handle. A line of sweat rolled down his forehead. His abs ached where his wound continued to heal. The wood chopping had been as much about mending as making logs for the fire.

A mosquito buzzed at his ear.

Do it.

But there was no Agency left. For all he knew, Lockman was the only man standing between Armageddon and the world’s future. Who would carry on the mission? Who would continue to fight for the greater good?

Him?

With what? A pair of silver-loaded Glocks and a crucifix only went so far.

He lowered the axe and leaned it against the stump. He picked up the bronze cube and walked further into the woods behind the cabin. He looked for something that would stand out only to him and found a round-topped rock about the size of a loaf of bread. He lifted the rock and dug a pocket in the mossy earth big enough to hold the artifact. He set the artifact in the hole and replaced the rock.

When Lockman returned to the cabin, he found Kate at the kitchen table, wearing the green smock she wore when she worked at the grocery. She stared at an untouched sandwich on a plate in front of her.

“Everything okay?” Lockman asked.

Kate pushed her plate away. “Apparently, I washed her IPod. Of course, she’s the one who left it in her jeans pocket. But Mom’s to blame for everything.”

“She’ll come around.”

“I have to get to work.” She stood. “Did you...take care of it?”

Lockman looked her in the eyes. She needed to believe him. “It’s done.”

“Now what?”

“We piece our lives back together.”

“Whatever that means.”

He cupped her face in one hand. “Hopefully it means we stay close.”

She smiled, placed her hand over his.

Looking in her eyes, Lockman let himself forget about the supernatural and mojo, about the darker things, about who he used to be. He let himself have this moment and let the moment have him. He leaned forward, kissed Kate long and hard.

When she responded in kind, Lockman knew he had a second chance.

He would defend it against anything. Everything.

At any cost.

About the Author

An accidental nomad, Rob Cornell grew up in suburban Detroit, then spent five years living in Los Angeles before moving to Chicago to receive a BA in Fiction Writing from Columbia College. He has traveled full circle, now living in rural southeast Michigan with his wife, two kids, and dog, Kinsey—named after Sue Grafton’s famous detective. In between moving and writing, he’s worked all manner of odd jobs, including lead singer for an acoustic cover band and a three-day stint as assistant to a movie producer after which he quit because the producer was a nut job.

For more information and to contact the author, please visit rob-cornell.com.

The Chronicles Continue…

Dark Legion (The Lockman Chronicles #2)

Now available!

Books by Rob Cornell

The Lockman Chronicles

Darker Things (The Lockman Chronicles #1)

Dark Legion (The Lockman Chronicles #2)

Mystery and Thrillers

Red Run

Last Call (A Ridley Brone Mystery)

The Hustle (A Ridley Brone Mystery)

Visit Rob Cornell’s website at rob-cornell.com.

Published by Paradox Publications

Copyright © 2011 by Rob Cornell

All rights reserved.

Darker Things is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.