even as they sang to him. Even as they tried to flee from him, realizing too late that he blamed them for the death of his father.
Caterina recalled the words Von had spoken earlier: Lucien asked me to guard Dante from the Fallen.
And that was another marvel--a llygad who took action instead of remaining an impartial observer of events. From what Caterina had witnessed just a few hours earlier, Von had abandoned his essential impartiality and aligned himself with Dante Baptiste--against all precepts of llygaid law.
Caterina sighed, and leaned back in the chair. She had so many questions to ask Von and Dante both. But she realized Dante probably didn't have any answers for her--given how his mind had been ravaged by mortal monsters, his past fragmented and buried deep within him. She tried not to think about Dante's seizures or what they might mean.
And Von? Well, it depended on how much he trusted her. Or if he trusted her.
The less she knew, the better, in all honesty, since she planned to return to the SB. If something seemed hinky or off to her handlers when she spoke to them again, she could find herself facing an interrogator like Teodoro Dion who would destroy her mind as he stripped knowledge from it, piece by piece. And leave her a drooling idiot.
If she was unlucky.
Caterina shivered, goose bumps popping up on her arms. She tightened her grip on the Browning. Her cold, wet clothes would keep her awake. Another Red Bull wouldn't hurt either. In four hours, she'd catch some sleep.
She and Heather both needed to be on their toes, sharp and alert, balanced on a knife's edge for whatever would come next once twilight deepened the gloom.
The light seeping in beneath the door and at its edges vanished. Caterina bolted to her feet, snapped up the Browning. Adrenaline pumped into her system, kicking her heart into high gear. Her focus narrowed. She aimed the Browning head-height.
Blue sparks shot out of the lock's key-card slot, a miniature fireworks display. Caterina's heart kicked against her ribs. She kept her aim steady, though she now suspected a bullet wouldn't stop whoever stood on the other side of the door.
The door pushed in as far as the chain allowed, stopping with a thunk. Another shower of blue sparks. The chain fell from the door, links glowing, molten. Caterina caught peripheral motion and realized Heather had awakened and was swinging up her Browning too.
The door creaked open, but only mist and rain and green leaves swirled into the room on a strangely heated breeze. Caterina's finger flexed against the trigger, stopping just a hair short of firing the gun.
No one entered. But the hair rose on the back of her neck. She caught a whiff of ozone. The mist and rain and green leaves still spun in the air as though caught in a storm-fueled funnel cloud. A man-sized funnel cloud. A funnel cloud that glided into the room with a purpose.
"Shit," Heather breathed.
Caterina swiveled and shifted her aim, the Browning's muzzle now targeting the whirl of leaves and mist.
A voice rang out, chiming, scorching; a bell of fire. "Be still."
Those words rippled into Caterina's mind, searing away all thought. Just as her mind blanked and she plunged into darkness, she thought she saw a tall man with short white hair curling against his temples, thought she saw white wings folded at his back, thought she saw him smile-- dazzling like diamonds caught in a waterfall spray.
She pulled the trigger.
7
DEEPER AND DEEPER
WASHINGTON, D.C.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
March 25
FBI ADIC MONICA RUTGERS strode down the beige-carpeted hallway to her office, stockings whisking, pulse pounding hard through her veins. Something had gone horribly awry at the Wells/Lyons compound.
Not only had Sheridan failed to kill Prejean and Lyons, he was in SB hands.
Worse? Now the SB knew she'd not only disregarded orders concerning Bad Seed, they knew she'd initiated retaliatory action of her own.
And risked the well-being and life of an agent,
Caterina recalled the words Von had spoken earlier: Lucien asked me to guard Dante from the Fallen.
And that was another marvel--a llygad who took action instead of remaining an impartial observer of events. From what Caterina had witnessed just a few hours earlier, Von had abandoned his essential impartiality and aligned himself with Dante Baptiste--against all precepts of llygaid law.
Caterina sighed, and leaned back in the chair. She had so many questions to ask Von and Dante both. But she realized Dante probably didn't have any answers for her--given how his mind had been ravaged by mortal monsters, his past fragmented and buried deep within him. She tried not to think about Dante's seizures or what they might mean.
And Von? Well, it depended on how much he trusted her. Or if he trusted her.
The less she knew, the better, in all honesty, since she planned to return to the SB. If something seemed hinky or off to her handlers when she spoke to them again, she could find herself facing an interrogator like Teodoro Dion who would destroy her mind as he stripped knowledge from it, piece by piece. And leave her a drooling idiot.
If she was unlucky.
Caterina shivered, goose bumps popping up on her arms. She tightened her grip on the Browning. Her cold, wet clothes would keep her awake. Another Red Bull wouldn't hurt either. In four hours, she'd catch some sleep.
She and Heather both needed to be on their toes, sharp and alert, balanced on a knife's edge for whatever would come next once twilight deepened the gloom.
The light seeping in beneath the door and at its edges vanished. Caterina bolted to her feet, snapped up the Browning. Adrenaline pumped into her system, kicking her heart into high gear. Her focus narrowed. She aimed the Browning head-height.
Blue sparks shot out of the lock's key-card slot, a miniature fireworks display. Caterina's heart kicked against her ribs. She kept her aim steady, though she now suspected a bullet wouldn't stop whoever stood on the other side of the door.
The door pushed in as far as the chain allowed, stopping with a thunk. Another shower of blue sparks. The chain fell from the door, links glowing, molten. Caterina caught peripheral motion and realized Heather had awakened and was swinging up her Browning too.
The door creaked open, but only mist and rain and green leaves swirled into the room on a strangely heated breeze. Caterina's finger flexed against the trigger, stopping just a hair short of firing the gun.
No one entered. But the hair rose on the back of her neck. She caught a whiff of ozone. The mist and rain and green leaves still spun in the air as though caught in a storm-fueled funnel cloud. A man-sized funnel cloud. A funnel cloud that glided into the room with a purpose.
"Shit," Heather breathed.
Caterina swiveled and shifted her aim, the Browning's muzzle now targeting the whirl of leaves and mist.
A voice rang out, chiming, scorching; a bell of fire. "Be still."
Those words rippled into Caterina's mind, searing away all thought. Just as her mind blanked and she plunged into darkness, she thought she saw a tall man with short white hair curling against his temples, thought she saw white wings folded at his back, thought she saw him smile-- dazzling like diamonds caught in a waterfall spray.
She pulled the trigger.
7
DEEPER AND DEEPER
WASHINGTON, D.C.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
March 25
FBI ADIC MONICA RUTGERS strode down the beige-carpeted hallway to her office, stockings whisking, pulse pounding hard through her veins. Something had gone horribly awry at the Wells/Lyons compound.
Not only had Sheridan failed to kill Prejean and Lyons, he was in SB hands.
Worse? Now the SB knew she'd not only disregarded orders concerning Bad Seed, they knew she'd initiated retaliatory action of her own.
And risked the well-being and life of an agent,
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