CHAPTER 5

If they were frightened by either our presence or the sphere of flame hovering above them, there was little sign of it. They were too busy eating.

They weren’t feeding on rubbish. They were feeding on bodies.

Human bodies.

Memories stirred, and a shudder ran through me. I’d seen scenes like this all too often in times of plague and other calamities. The rats had always been there at the end, growing fat on the flesh of the unfortunate.

But in this case, the unfortunate were probably better off, because the flesh the rats were feeding on was that of the red cloaks.

“I guess that answers the question of what happened to the cloaks.” Jackson’s voice was grim.

“Not entirely,” Sam said. “There’re probably only twenty or so bodies here. Luke had a much larger force than that.”

“The rats wouldn’t be back if there were some cloaks still alive,” I said. “Rats are many things, but they’re not stupid.”

“And if there were some left alive,” Jackson said, “they’d surely be hungry enough to have swarmed both the military and us by now.”

“True,” Sam said, “but it does make me wonder why Rinaldo—if he is able to control them—would only keep a small force of them alive to attack you two.”

“Those cloaks attacked Frederick before they turned on us, remember, and I doubt Rinaldo would have ordered that.” I shrugged. “If he does control them, maybe his connection is telepathic rather than hive based.”

“A possibility with those who, like me, are infected but not hive bound,” Sam said. “But the cloaks had no mind to control.”

He took a cautious step forward. The nearest rats briefly glanced his way but otherwise didn’t move.

“Bold bastards, aren’t they?” Jackson said. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m rather reluctant to walk through a damn sea of them. So if no one minds . . . ?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; he simply unleashed the heat that had been building within him. A thick stream of fire shot past Sam, then spread out, becoming a fiery wave that hit the nearest rats, setting both them and the remains of the cloak they were feeding alight. As their high-pitched cries of pain filled the air, the wave rolled on, seeking out the rest of them. But they were already on the move, scurrying away into the darkness beyond both Jackson’s fire and the mother’s light.

I briefly raised the intensity of the fire to put the burning rats out of their misery, then cindered the bodies of the cloaks. The light breeze stirred the ashes into a gentle flurry, and brought with it the stench of burned flesh.

But it wasn’t coming from the dead inside the room. It was coming from somewhere up ahead.

I sent the sphere of light forward. It revealed a low row of skeletal offices and a door at the far end.

An open door.

“Now there’s an invitation if I ever saw one,” Jackson said. “Anyone care to bet on it being a trap?”

The sphere hit the doorway and went through. There didn’t appear to be anything more than rubble and rubbish in the street beyond, though that wasn’t to say there wasn’t a cast of thousands hiding in the shadows beyond the illuminated area. I released the mother’s light and allowed the darkness to close in around us again. If it was a trap up ahead, then I needed to conserve as much energy as I could.

Sam led the way forward again, stirring up the remains of the newly cindered. I cupped my hand over my nose and mouth. I knew it was unlikely the ashes could infect me, but I had no desire to draw them into either my lungs or my body.

“We should be almost level with the top of the barrier that sits atop the rubble now,” Sam said. “Em, feel anything different?”

“No heat or fire, just the lash of magic. What about you?” I asked. “Sensing any life out there?”

“Not human life.”

“What about nonhuman?”

“None of them, either.” He shrugged—and it was only then that I realized the heavy darkness was beginning to lift. “If there’s anything else waiting out there, we’ll have to uncover it the hard way. The senses of a pseudo vampire aren’t up to dealing with the spirit kind.”

And yet he’d always been able to sense my presence in a room, even before he’d become aware that I was something more than human. But maybe that stemmed from a connection of hearts and souls than anything else. That connection still seemed to exist, and part of me hungered to believe that somewhere deep down he still cared, even if his actions of late suggested the exact opposite.

But as much as my crazy heart might wish otherwise, he was this lifetime’s heartbreak. And given fate had allowed no other outcome in all the many centuries I’d lived, loved, and lost, I couldn’t see it having a change of heart this late in the game.

The sting of magic suddenly got stronger, the weight of it so powerful, I stumbled. Sam half twisted around and somehow caught me before I could run into his back.

“Okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “We just hit the barrier.”

“I know.” His voice was flat and filled with frustration. “I can’t move.”

I frowned and stepped sideways as he moved back a step. “But you just did.”

“Yes, backward, but I can’t move any farther forward.”

“So much for the hope that this warehouse wasn’t protected.” Jackson took a cautious step forward, then a second, and a third. “Interesting that the barrier stops you and not me.”

“That’s because Rinaldo wants us in there.” I took several cautious steps forward until I was level with Jackson. The weight of magic lifted so abruptly, I almost stumbled again.

“He what?” Sam’s voice was sharp. “Why?”

I swung around in surprise, eyebrows raised. “I thought you read our report.”

“I did, but that wasn’t in it.” His annoyance burned the air. “What does Rinaldo want you to retrieve?”

“Research matter. What that actually means, I have no idea.”

“Meaning he has the scientists?”

My confusion deepened. “Yes, and I certainly did mention that.”

“Well, it wasn’t in the damn report.”

“Then maybe the agent who took the report simply forgot to add it.”

“Rogers never forgets.”

“Well, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m not fucking lying, Sam, whatever you might believe.”

“I’m not saying you are—”

I snorted. “Maybe not verbally.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “We can argue about it later. Right now, we need to keep moving.”

Sam released a frustrated breath. “Indeed. I’ll monitor the situation from here. Keep the mics open and the cameras on.”

“Why?” I bit back. “It’s not like anyone can come running if we get into trouble.”

“True, but we nevertheless need to know what’s going on in there.” Sam’s voice was every bit as sharp as mine. “We will send people in here once the witches manage to breach the barrier. It’d be nice not to send them in blind.”

“But it’s perfectly fine to send us in blind.” Which wasn’t fair, but sometimes annoyance got the better of common sense.

“If I had any choice in the matter, I’d gladly swap positions,” he growled. “So cut the crap, Em, and just go. And be careful, both of you.”

I opened my mouth to reply, then thought better of it and simply swung around and strode toward the open door. Jackson drew a gun as we neared it. I simply flexed my fingers; sparks spiraled through the darkness.

What do you think? He paused to the left of the door.

My gaze skimmed what I could see of the street. There were shapes out there, shapes that vaguely resembled human bodies. More dead cloaks, no doubt, and the dead could hardly hurt us. And yet, that vague sense of unease was growing. Which hardly made sense given it was unlikely Rinaldo would have set a trap for us; not when he wanted us to retrieve whatever information the scientists had left behind.

I think there’s a reason Rinaldo and his pet witch didn’t come in here themselves, I replied. And I believe we might just be about to uncover it.

Can you see anything more than dead cloaks? Sense anything more?

No. Not even magic. I took a deep, calming breath. I’ll go left; you go right. On three.

I raised a hand and began the countdown. As my last finger dropped, we moved as one. He headed left and high; I went right and low.

Nothing happened. The street was empty of life, but it was not empty of death. There had to be at least fifty cloaks between this side of the road and the other, all of them in various states of decay. The stench was incredible.

“Rinaldo didn’t do this.” Jackson’s nose wrinkled with distaste. “He might be a strong telepath, but even he wouldn’t be capable of such mass destruction. And I can’t see any sort of evidence of bullet wounds.”

“No.” I stopped beside him and surveyed the street. The fiery dome that arched high above us cast a weird, almost surreal light over the entire area. There was fire here, but it was some distance away, and the force of it was fading. Whatever fuel had been feeding, it was running low; I doubted it would last much longer.

The remains of the building I’d brought down partially blocked the street to my right, but beyond it I could see a number of run-down two- and three-story buildings. The street itself was a dead end, however, thanks to the high wall of metal and old building material that now blocked it. It was a similar story to our left. Luke had obviously wanted this area isolated from the rest of Brooklyn, which possibly meant this had been the heart of his hive.

Was this where he’d kept the scientists?

De Luca had denied it, but that didn’t mean anything—especially given we’d been sent in to retrieve their research material. Frederick had been a part of Luke’s plans for a while now, so he’d have at least some idea of what was—and wasn’t—going on in the area.

My gaze stopped on the building directly opposite. Even though it was coated in ash and grime, it was in far better shape than any of the other buildings in the area. There was little sign of the decay and destruction that blighted the rest of them. The double-glass entranceway was whole, and open.

We were very obviously meant to go that way. There was even a vague path through the mass of decaying cloaks.

“I’m not liking the feel of this.” Though Jackson’s voice was soft, it seemed to echo across the silence. Something stirred in response.

Or maybe that was simply my fear, projecting forward.

I flexed my fingers again, sending sparks spinning like fireflies into the night. “Shall we take the obvious path, or go sideways again?”

Jackson hesitated, and then shrugged. “There’s only one building that looks in good enough condition to house a laboratory, so I can’t see the point in checking the others first.”

And with that, he moved forward, into the sea of dead. I followed, body tense, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Nothing did. The stench of rotting flesh increased, until it became a putrid cloak that clogged my pores and overwhelmed my senses. I stepped over arms and legs that had become detached from torsos, and avoided eyes that had rolled out of sockets and seemed to glare at me with an odd sort of life. It was macabre and frightening, and all I wanted to do was get the hell off the road. Jackson increased his pace and, in very short order, we were free of the dead and walking through the glass doors that led into a wide, dark foyer.

I created another sphere of fire and tossed it into the air. Other than a thin layer of dust and soot, the area was in pristine condition. The guard station could have still been in use; there was a coffee cup sitting next to the phone, and a half-unwrapped sandwich sitting on the desk, suggesting the guard had been called away before he’d been able to eat it.

Jackson walked across and picked it up. “No mold.” He finished unwrapping it, then sniffed it. “Chicken’s off, though.”

“So it’s possible it could have been there for anywhere between one and three days.”

He dropped the sandwich back onto the desk. “It’d have to be three—no one has been in this area since the trench was created.”

“Meaning this place had been secure right up until the very end. Wonder what happened to the guard.” I spotted the stairs and walked across. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and soot fell across my face and arms. Faint echoes of life reverberated through me, and I shivered. That ash had once been human, but whether it was a cloak or someone else, I couldn’t say.

“He’s probably either dead or hiding with the scientists.” Jackson came up behind me. “They have to be here. There’s no way they could have gotten out.”

“You forget the helicopters that attacked us.” I opened the door fully and sent my sphere upward. It revealed nothing more than an everyday concrete stairwell. “Besides, while De Luca might have confirmed Luke had the scientists, he didn’t actually say where they were being kept.”

“De Luca was a self-important, delusional prick.”

“Yeah, but he was a prick who had the foresight to steal the original research notes both scientists had made on this virus, and secure them where they could not be found.” Sam’s voice was somewhat tinny as it echoed in my ear. “How about less conjecture on the dead, and more details on the current situation?”

I began to climb the stairs. “Why? Aren’t the cameras working?”

“Randomly. There seems to be some sort of interference.”

“So do you want me to go back and intimately describe the foyer and the dead sandwich?” Jackson’s voice was bland.

“No, I do not. Stop being an ass, Miller.”

I grinned. “We’ve found the stairwell and are heading up to the first floor. The building has six floors; not sure if there’s a basement.”

“Is the building you’re in directly opposite the one I’m in?”

“Yes.” I reached the entrance to the first floor and carefully opened the door. The light from my sphere fanned out, illuminating several doors immediately opposite.

“I’ll bring up the floor plans. They might help.”

And they might not. But I refrained from saying that and stepped into the corridor. It stretched to either side of us and had a series of doors running off it. “I’ll go left; you go right.”

Jackson nodded, his expression somewhat distracted. A heartbeat later, a sphere of light appeared in front of him, though it was larger and more volatile-looking than mine.

He flashed me a rather pleased grin. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. Meet you around the other side.”

I headed left, providing a running commentary as I checked each room. Jackson was doing the same. Most of them were empty, without even cobwebs or dust. The lack of webs was decidedly odd if the rooms had been abandoned for some time. Daddy longlegs, at the very least, should have taken up residence by now. At the far end of the long hall, I found a room filled with filing cabinets. I quickly checked them, but all were empty.

I rounded the corner; there were no offices, just a short corridor that led to the other side of the building. I repeated the process there, and the result was the same—nothing.

Jackson cautiously opened the stairwell door and sent his sphere in. “The next level is blocked.”

I ducked under his arm and peered up. The flickering light of his fireball gleamed off a mix of concrete and metal.

“I can probably blast it, but I doubt it’s worth the effort. Sam, do both sets of stairs have exits onto the second floor?”

“Yes. The building initially belonged to a bio skincare manufacturer, but in more recent years was used by a couple of dope kings. The cops busted their operation about three years ago. According to the information I have, there are smaller labs on the second floor, but the main base of operations was on the third.”

“Meaning Luke simply made use of what was already here.” I glanced at Jackson. “It might also explain the blockage. It’s easier to control one exit than two.”

“But hardly necessary since he controlled the entire area.”

“Luke wasn’t the trusting type.” I swung around and led the way back to the other stairwell. The two spheres bobbed along several feet in front of us, their flickering light lending warmth to the cold white walls. “But then, liars and cheats rarely are.”

“So why would he trust Frederick, even after he’d infected him?”

I shrugged, pushed the stairwell door open, and directed my sphere upward. Once again, there was no indication that anything untoward waited on the next floor.

So why did that odd sense of unease suddenly ramp up several degrees? What did that innate part of me that sent me dreams of death sense that I could neither see nor hear?

I climbed the steps warily, one hand on the railing and the other clenched against the fire pressing against my fingertips. When we reached the next landing, I paused and carefully scanned the door. There didn’t seem to be any alarm or tripwire connected to it, and I couldn’t feel any sort of magic. Yet the feeling that something was very off was growing.

I glanced at Jackson. “Can you sense anything in there?”

“No. But just in case . . .” He drew a gun. “Ready?”

I nodded and flexed my fingers. He flung the door open with so much force, it slammed back against the wall and sent concrete dust flying. The crash echoed, a forlorn sound that spoke of emptiness.

Nothing jumped out at us. Nothing moved, not even rats, if there were indeed any here.

I sent the sphere in and flared it brighter. The darkness lifted, revealing a corridor directly opposite that ran the entire length of the building. Four doors led off it—two on this side, two on the other. I reported this to Sam, then glanced at Jackson. “Shall we split again?”

He shook his head. “Not with the bad vibes I’m getting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You are?”

“And you’re not?” He snorted. “Intuition aside, we’re right in the heart of the enemy’s territory. Said enemy might be dead, but I have no doubt he left a surprise or two behind.”

“Said surprise,” Sam cut in, “might have just activated. The door between the warehouse I’m in and the road beyond just slammed shut.”

“Are you picking up any sign of movement?” I asked. “Has the military been attacked?”

“We’re still catching interference on the cameras and monitoring equipment, so I can’t answer the first question, but the military reports no sign of life as yet.”

Meaning whatever Luke planned, it revolved around this place—especially since the slamming door seemed to coincide with our opening this one.

“Well, no matter what the bastard has planned, there’s little point in hanging about in this stairwell.”

With that, Jackson slipped around the corner, paused briefly, and then strode toward the first door, his now slightly smaller sphere bobbing above him. I followed, keeping to the right side of the building, every sense alert as the thick sense of wrongness increased and my skin crawled.

Jackson stopped at the first door and glanced at me. “Ready?”

I pressed my back against the wall and nodded. The two spheres hovering between us sent firefly-bright sparks spinning through the shadows.

Jackson sent the door crashing backward again. As the wall shuddered under the impact, I sent my sphere into the room and flared it brighter, potentially blinding anyone who might have been waiting in there.

No sound, no response.

We went in as one. The large room was filled with all sorts of laboratory equipment, some of which was familiar, some not.

“Computer,” Jackson said, walking to the left. “Looks brand-new.”

I started opening the various drawers and cabinets that lined the walls. “The power was cut ages ago, so there must be a generator around somewhere.”

“If there is, it currently isn’t on.”

“Maybe it ran out of juice. It has been three days since Luke died.”

The cupboards held little more than chemicals and lab paraphernalia. Other than the lone laptop, there was nothing that could be used to jot down equations—not even a whiteboard. It couldn’t have been a lab Professor Baltimore—one of the lead scientists working on a cure for the virus, and whose murder had gotten me involved in the whole mess—had worked in; he’d been an old-fashioned kind of guy who’d preferred to make his initial notes on paper. I doubted being infected would have changed the habits of a lifetime—not when Luke needed him to be one of the saner cloaks. A muddled, empty mind would not have given him the cure he was seeking—if indeed that was what he’d been after. Luke hadn’t actually been playing with a full deck mentally, so who actually knew?

Which didn’t mean the lab couldn’t have belonged to Professor Wilson, the other lead scientist who’d been infected and brought under Luke’s control. While Wilson had seemed more up-to-date in his note-taking methods, he’d apparently kept a backup of all his research on USBs, just as Baltimore had. While we were still searching for those backups, the two locker keys we’d recently found in Wilson’s garden shed had at least taken us a step closer to finding them. One of those keys had led us to a USB stored in an old-style gym locker. Whatever information it had held was now in PIT’s hands, and although we’d retained a copy, we hadn’t yet had time to check it out. We were still looking for the locker the second key belonged to.

“Nothing else of note here,” Jackson said. “It doesn’t actually look as if the lab has been used much.”

“Check the rest of them,” Sam said. “There has to be something more, if only because Rinaldo wanted you two to retrieve it.”

“He might just want the laptop,” I said.

Jackson glanced at me. “He could have taken that when he took the scientists.”

“That’s presuming he has the scientists,” Sam said. “There’s no proof that either of them are even alive.”

“Well, Baltimore did walk out of the morgue.” My tone was dry. “If that’s not proof of life, I’m not sure what is.”

“Maybe I should have said there’s no proof that either of them are still alive.” Sam paused. “Heads up—something is coming your way.”

That heavy sense of wrongness sharpened abruptly. It might simply have been a reaction to his warning, but I doubted it.

“Care to get a little more descriptive than ‘something’?” Jackson said.

“I would if I could,” Sam said. “Whatever it is, it’s moving in a mass and coming at you from two sides.”

“Two? How?” I said. “There’s only one stairwell.”

“It’s coming from both the street level and from the roof.”

“Leaving us the meat in the sandwich. Lovely.” Jackson glanced at me. “Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?”

“You keep searching the labs. Fire still drains your strength too fast.”

He grunted and headed down to the next doorway. I ran back to the stairwell and carefully opened the door. The thick stench of decay hit like a slap in the face and made me gag. We’d obviously left the ground-floor door open for the smell to be this bad. But other than that, there was no sound and nothing that would indicate anything else had changed.

“Sam, are you sure they’re coming up the stairwell?”

“I didn’t mention the stairwell. I said it was coming at you from top and bottom.”

“Then how—” I stopped as an odd sound echoed up from the emptiness below. It was little more than the soft bounce of a stone down concrete steps, but it nevertheless sent a chill down my spine. Sam might not have mentioned the stairwell, but there was definitely something in here.

I sent the sphere in, making it bright enough to light the entire stairwell, then walked over to the metal railings and peered down.

And saw faces looking up at me.

The decaying dead had come back to life.

I swore and called fire to my fingertips. Even as I did, the cloaks roared—the sound oddly garbled and barely resembling anything human—then surged up the stairs toward me, moving so fast that bits of flesh and god knows what else sprayed across the concrete walls.

“Em, report.” Sam’s voice was sharp. “What’s going on? What’s that sound?”

“The dead are screaming,” I said, “so shut up and let me deal with them.”

Which probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say to the man who was technically my boss—at least for this mission—but hey, what was the worst he could do? Sack me?

I flung several streams of fire at the nearest cloaks. The flames leapt from one rotting carcass to another, until the entire stairwell was lit by a moving mass of burning flesh.

It didn’t stop them.

Maybe they couldn’t stop. Maybe Luke’s very last order had been to protect the labs at all costs.

I drew in a breath and called to the mother. Her power tore through me, almost seeming intent on tearing me apart as she erupted from my flesh and arrowed undirected toward the burning cloaks. In an instant, they were ash. I sighed in relief and released her, but she didn’t retreat. Rainbows of light pulsed across the darkness, and my heart momentarily beat in time.

And that scared the hell out of me.

If I became too in tune, I would become one with her. Everything I was, and everything I could be—all my hopes and dreams and energy—would become a part of her. There was no escape from such a fate, no rebirth.

And while that was the eventual fate of all phoenixes, it was not yet my time to fade into her sweet embrace. I was not yet tired of life, however much I might wish our ill-fated path to love would, just once, end differently.

I backed away from the rainbow flare, and the connection between us snapped, the force strong enough that it sent me staggering backward. I flung a hand against the wall and briefly closed my eyes, battling the lethargy that washed through my limbs, though it stemmed as much from relief as weakness.

One thing was very obvious—I’d have to stop relying so much on the mother to get me out of tough situations. Her grip—and the temptation that came with it—was becoming a little too strong.

I pushed away from the wall and sent my sphere of flame spiraling upward. Thankfully, no more rotting, broken faces were revealed.

“One stairwell clear of cloaks,” I said. “Are the sensors still catching movement, Sam?”

“At the moment, no. I’ve called in the military to guard the perimeter of the shielded area, though, just in case they try to escape.”

I doubted they were trying to escape, but it was nevertheless a good idea. If the cloaks were all contained within the area—for whatever reason—then it was better to keep it that way.

Even if it wasn’t exactly better for us.

“Heading back to finish checking the labs, then.”

I stepped back into the hallway, then hesitated. While the stench of decay should give ample enough warning that there were cloaks on the move, I wasn’t about to risk anything else sneaking up on us. I directed my sphere back to the doorway and fanned the energy out until it covered the entire exit. It didn’t contain much heat and certainly wouldn’t damage either the door frame or the walls around it, but if anything went through it, I’d feel it.

I found Jackson in the third lab. “Anything?”

He shook his head. “Another laptop, but that’s it.”

I frowned. “No notes? Because Baltimore preferred to jot his findings down as he was going, and he hated using computers during that stage of the process.”

“Not a one.” Jackson touched my back and ushered me out the door. “We’ll check the final one, then head up to the next floor. Hopefully we’ll have more luck there.”

“Sensing movement again,” Sam said. “Coming solely from the rooftop this time.”

“I’m guessing the damn cloaks are the reason Rinaldo and his witch didn’t want—”

“No,” I said before Jackson had finished. “Frederick was surprised by the cloaks’ actions in the Carlton Gardens. He wouldn’t have been if he’d already clashed with them.”

“Sensors indicate they’re almost on you,” Sam said.

“Your sensors must be copping interference again,” Jackson said, “because there’s no sign of them.”

“Then something odd is happening, because there’s no interference, and we’re reading them as being right on top of you.”

I wasn’t sure how much odder it could get than the decaying dead finding life, but I sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

“I’ve got the door alarmed, Sam, so they must be waiting in the stairwell.”

“That’s not what I’m reading.” Tension filled Sam’s voice. “Be careful when you enter that last lab.”

I’m thinking I’m not included in that “you.” Jackson pressed his back against the wall and reached for the door handle.

I doubt he wants you dead, Jackson. Too much paperwork involved.

I waited as Jackson pushed the door open. Nothing moved in the darkness beyond, and the air was free from the putrid smell of rotting cloaks. Jackson sent his sphere in, and I flared it brighter. Aside from a couple of metal tables, the place was empty. We nevertheless entered cautiously. The only thing that stirred was dust. The room hadn’t been used in a very long time.

“Well, this is a bust. Onward and upward.” Jackson spun around and headed back out.

I started to follow him, then paused as I spotted something small and white sitting near the second table’s leg.

“Hang on.” I walked across and picked the item up. It was a torn bit of lined paper—the same sort of paper that came from the notebooks Baltimore had used. Heart hammering, I quickly unfolded the tiny scrap. CH3COOH, it read. Though I had no idea what it meant, I’d worked long enough with Baltimore to know it was some kind of chemical formula.

“Found something.” I read it out. “It might be a clue; it might not.”

“We’ll check.” Sam paused. “Are you sure there’s no activity in your vicinity? We’re still seeing movement right above you.”

“No—” I paused as something hit my shoulder. I frowned and flicked it off. Dust. Why would dust be hitting my shoulder? We hadn’t stirred it up that much . . . The thought died.

Above us, Sam had said.

Oh fuck.

As I looked up, the ceiling collapsed.