Part 3 (1/2)

When the wave hit me this time, I only rocked on my heels. Half the strength of the slap I'd felt in the main room earlier, even though I was at the apparent locus of the trouble. I filed this away as a lesson in separating residuals from current chaos, then closed my eyes and pivoted, trying to find the exact location- There, around that next corner. I hurried to it, then walked into a wall of darkness. I braced myself as the visions flashed past.

Metal glinted. A blade winked in a flashlight beam. The flashlight clattered to the floor. A plea. No! Please-! The blade sheered down. Hands flew up. Blood sprayed.

I froze the vision there as I panted, my heart racing. I struggled to hold that last thought... and wondered why I was holding it.

Blood sprayed.

Blood.

I fumbled in my purse for my keys, took them out, and turned on my penlight. I waved the weak beam over the walls. There. Blood droplets, invisible in the near-darkness.

6.

Were the blood drops still wet? I almost reached up to one before s.n.a.t.c.hing my hand back. Look, don't touch, stupid. Standing on my tiptoes, I moved the light closer to the specks. They glistened. Still wet, but drying.

I swung the beam to the floor and found faint smears of blood that would go undetected until they turned on the lights in the morning... or noticed they were one security guard short.

So where was...? Follow the trail.

I stopped at a door a few yards away. Tissue over my hand, I turned the k.n.o.b.

I half-expected a body to fall out on top of me. Too many horror movies, I guess.

The door opened into an office. I shone my flashlight around. Nothing.

As the door closed behind me, I grabbed it and twisted the k.n.o.b, to make sure it wouldn't lock me inside. Rea.s.sured, I eased the door shut, and moved toward the center of the room.

As I walked, I picked up a twinge of trouble. Yes, this had to be the right place. So where was the...?

A booted toe protruded from behind the desk. I hurried to it. The desk faced the wall, with a wide gap for computer cord access behind it, and that's where the killer had stuffed the body. One end of the desk was against the adjoining wall and the other against a metal filing cabinet, so I had to crawl onto the desk to peer behind it.

I shone the flashlight beam into the gap, and bit back a yelp.

I resisted the urge to pull away. With something like this, I was sure the council would expect a report, so I had to get a good look.

A man lay faceup in the gap. His eyes stared at me, wide with that last minute of ”I don't believe this is happening” horror. His security uniform s.h.i.+rt was a mess of gaping holes, the edges torn, shredded, unlike anything a knife would do. The flesh beneath the holes looked... mangled. Chewed. It looked as if he'd been- A hand clamped over my mouth.

”Found something you were missing?” a voice hissed.

I kicked backward. My foot connected, but a second arm clamped around my neck, and yanked me off the desk. It spun me around, and I found myself looking into a pair of blue eyes so cold and hard that my heart leaped into my throat. Karl Marsten.

”Did you think I wouldn't smell the body when I walked by?” His voice was as cold and hard as his eyes, all traces of smooth charm gone. ”You would have been wiser to let me leave through the front door.”

I pulled back my fist and plowed it toward his gut. He caught my hand easily and squeezed. Tears of pain sprang to my eyes. Oh G.o.d, you stupid, stupid- He brought his face down to mine, and the thought dried up.

”I'm going to let go,” he said, his voice calm. ”If you scream, I will crush your fingers. Do you understand?”

I blinked back tears and nodded. He took his hand from my mouth and released the other one just enough to stop the throbbing pain, but still gripped it so tightly that I didn't dare even try to wiggle my fingers.

”I will only ask you this once,” he said. ”Who do you work for?”

”The-I told you-the-”

”Interracial council,” he interrupted. ”Is that so? Then tell me, which delegate of the council hired you?”

”I was approached by a representative-”

”Which delegate?”

”He's not a delegate. He works for them.”

He exhaled, as if in frustration. ”All right, then. Which delegates have you met?”

”None. I only work through my contact-”

He cut me off with a humorless laugh. ”Oh, they have you well trained, don't they? I'm sure this story has worked well for you in the past, but it falls a little flat when dealing with someone who actually knows the interracial council, knows most of the delegates, and knows, beyond any doubt, that they do not have employees or recruits or 'agents'-”

A noise from the hall. Voices. Marsten half-turned, his attention diverted just long enough for me to ram my spiked heel into his s.h.i.+n and wrench my hand free.

He grabbed for me. I kicked and lashed out at the same time, my nails clawing his face. He fell back. I ran for the door, threw it open, and raced into the hall.

A split-second decision: run toward the voices or away from them? Running to them might have been safer, but I couldn't-wouldn't-endanger others. I'd already underestimated Marsten once.

I tore down the halls. Marsten's soles squeaked behind me as he wheeled out of the office. That reminded me that he was in flat dress shoes... and I was in heels-with no hope of outrunning him.

I grabbed the first doork.n.o.b I came to. Locked.

I dove for the one across the hall. As my fingers closed around it, I saw Marsten running toward me. The handle turned. The door opened. I darted through, and slammed it.

Even as I turned the lock, I knew I might as well not have bothered. It was a flimsy household privacy lock, one that could be snapped by any strong man, let alone a werewolf.

I reached for my purse but it wasn't on my shoulder. It must have fallen when Marsten yanked me off the desk. No purse... no gun.

Marsten's footsteps had slowed to a walk. Of course they had; he didn't need to hurry. I'd trapped myself in an office with no second door, no windows, no way to escape.

Blockade the door.

The council backup team was on the way. If I could slow Marsten down long enough to call Tristan- The footsteps stopped inside the door. The handle turned.

Someone laughed-the sound close by-and the handle stopped turning. A drunken giggle. A voice, growing closer.

I grabbed the sides of the metal filing cabinet. It didn't budge. The printer stand? Like that would slow down a werewolf.

”Oh,” someone said near the door. ”Didn't see you there.”

”Unless you're staff, this hall is off limits,” Marsten said.