Destiny's Shift (12 page)

“Son of a bitch,” he had mumbled. Somehow, they had gotten into the

government system and changed the ownership names on the properties. Just as he

thought that he was at a dead end, he remembered that he had accidently taken a

screenshot of the property listings last time he had looked up the ownership information

on the silo. He clicked on the trash icon and started going through the files, finally

finding the screenshot he wanted. Amazingly, he found the listings of the property in

Phoenix and a property in Fernley, Nevada, just outside of Reno. He knew there had been

more, but the screenshot hadn’t captured it.

Immediately, he had put in for his overdue vacation, and was now speeding down

I-80, hoping and praying that whoever owned the silo in Phoenix had gone to Fernley. He

was certain they weren’t in Phoenix because there hadn’t been any camera movement

when he moved along the fence on his second visit there.

He had no idea if they would be in Fernley, but he needed to check it out. If they

were there, he wasn’t going to lose them again.

This time he wasn’t going to pussyfoot around with them. He needed answers on

who—and what—he was. He never understood why he could see the ash his father left

around the house after beating him and his mother. But his mother never could see it. His

first memory of the ash was on his seventh birthday. Blake had been allowed to have two

friends from school over, and his mom had made cupcakes. The boys had played outside,

and his father had grumbled and complained about the noise.

When Blake’s friends left, his father complained about the mess they had left.

Looking back on it, Blake could now see that it wasn’t any big deal; it was a mess that

three seven-year-old boys would have made. He watched as his father’s temper escalated,

and his mother told Blake to go to his room. Blake huddled in his closet with his hands

over his ears as he tried to block out the scream and thumps of his father beating his

mother.

When silence finally settled over the house, Blake came out of his closet. He

snuck down the stairs and saw his mother sitting at the kitchen table dabbing her mouth

with a cloth. He noticed a slight trace of black stuff covering the floor, and he asked his

mom about it.

She glanced down at the floor and looked at him with confusion. “I don’t see

anything, baby,” she had said. “Please don’t be telling stories, okay?”

Over the years, he continued to see the ash, but he kept it to himself. It was his

first indicator that he didn’t fit into the world’s version of “normal.”

The urge to kill when he was angry vibrated within him just below the surface,

and that scared him. He worried that one day he would get angry, act on his impulse, and

hurt or kill someone, just as his father had.

These things that made him fundamentally different from everyone had caused

him to keep people at arm’s length. Sure, he could have a few beers with guys, and he

loved a good-looking woman, but he never allowed anyone to get too close. To all those

who knew him, he was just Blake, the happy guy who liked whiskey, football, and loved

his job.

To get the answers he needed, he figured he would offer up the alien’s location,

and in return, he hoped whoever resided in the silo would educate him on what he had

flowing through his veins.

Or they could just kill him.

He chuckled out loud at that one.

He hadn’t told anyone—not his few friends or his colleagues where he was going,

so he could very well be on the last hours of his life and end up an appetizer for the

coyotes and creatures of the desert night.

Shivering, he cranked the heat. It was cold in the desert in the middle of the night

in November.

Thanksgiving was two weeks away.

He wondered if he would be alive to be thankful for anything.

Chapter 23

Jovan jolted awake, the blaring of the silo alarm almost deafening. He looked at

Liberty next to him, her eyes glowing their soft pink, her face contorted in uncertainty

and fear.

“What is that?” she shouted.

“Alarm,” Jovan yelled as he got out of bed. He grabbed a t-shirt from the dresser

drawer and turned to look at Liberty as he put it on.

“Do not leave this room, Liberty. Do you understand me? Do. Not. Leave. This.

Room.”

She nodded, then curled under the covers.

He slipped on a pair of sweats over his boxers and ran for the stairs, not bothering

with the elevator.

The rest of the Warriors were in the War Room when he arrived, looking at the

big, white screen. A male with a little bit of stubble for hair was standing in front of the

camera along the inner fence scribbling on pad of paper.

“That’s the FBI fucker from Phoenix,” Talin mumbled, hitting a few keys and

plunging the silo into silence.

After a moment, the FBI guy held up the pad of paper.

I’m not here to hurt you.

“Then go away, cocksucker,” Cohen muttered.

The male looked pleadingly into the camera.

Please. I just want to talk to you. I received a note about you a year ago.

“I bet that would be the ‘you have no idea what’s coming for you,’ my brother laid

on me,” Hudson said, cracking his knuckles.

“Screw this asshole,” Rayner said, pointing at the screen, “he doesn’t even know

we’re in here. We have no obligation to answer him.”

They watched as the male scribbled more on the pad, then looked up in the

camera again before showing what he wrote.

I know where they are. The ones like you. I can help you get them.

A litany of ripe curses permeated the air.

“We have to talk to him,” Cohen said quietly.

“No, we don’t,” Rayner said. “We don’t know if he’s lying or what the deal is.”

I know your eyes glow at night, just like theirs do.

“You can’t make that shit up, Rayner,” Talin said. “He’s got to be telling the

truth.”

The room went quiet for a moment.

“Well, I guess that’s where Jovan comes in,” Hudson said, his bright yellow gaze

meeting Jovan’s green one.

Jovan sighed. Sure, he was getting better at controlling his gift, but did he trust

himself to make such a judgment? He supposed so. Kind of. “And what if he’s lying?”

“I’ll take him out myself and put him eight feet under,” Hudson growled.

“And I’ll help you,” Noah said. “That fucker upset Abby by setting off that damn

alarm. And no one but me upsets Abby.”

Chapter 24

Blake held up his notebook to the camera for the third time. He expected

something to happen, but nothing did. Maybe they weren’t even inside.

Feeling defeated, he walked toward the inner fence and stood there for a moment.

He would have to scale the inner fence, then a second fence. Both looked like mountains,

and he didn’t have the energy for any mountain climbing.

One minute he was looking at the fences, the next he was eating dirt. Before he

could get used to that scenario, he was back on his feet again and being hauled by the

back of his jacket. As he sputtered to breathe, as well as maintain his balance, he glanced

out of the corner of his eye and saw nothing on either side.

As far as he could tell, a ghost was dragging him through the desert floor.

Suddenly, he felt himself flying backward then crashed against metal. His brain

sang, his skull throbbed, and he closed his eyes to try to regain his equilibrium.

“Jesus,” he hissed, leaning over and bringing his hand to his head. Heard a click,

and then the cold, hard barrel of a gun pushed his chin up.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the piercing yellow stare of a man who

looked like he was searching for any reason to shoot him, and that included socks that

didn’t match.

Neither said a word. Blake was mesmerized by the yellow glow.

“You want to tell me what you’re doing out here, princess?” the yellow-eyed man

said.

Blake thought about going hand-to-hand with the guy, but then three other men

appeared, one with orange eyes, one with green, and one with red. Blake wasn’t any

slouch standing at six foot two and a good two hundred pounds, but these guys had a few

inches and at least forty pounds on him.

Not to mention, their eyes were glowing like they had their own Energizer Bunny

attached to their retinas.

After a quick evaluation, Blake was certain he was on the losing end of any

physical altercation. However, oddly enough, he felt absolutely no fear, and he couldn’t

hold back the sarcasm that broiled to the surface from being tossed around. “I was

looking for the belle of the ball, asshole. It’s too bad I don’t look good in yellow.”

Blake heard one of the other men snicker.

The barrel of the gun moved up right between his eyes.

“Let’s get a few things clear, sugar,” Yellow Eyes drawled, as if he were about to

do a reading from a dictionary. “First, none of us like being woken up at night by an

alarm, which is what you tripped when you decided that minding your own business

wasn’t enough for you. Second, you scared the females of the house, which makes me

even crankier. Third, you better watch your smart mouth or this gun is going to be your

midnight snack. Understand?”

Blake nodded, deciding to keep the sarcasm to a minimum for now.

“Now that we have that cleared up, you have exactly one minute to tell us why

you’re here and give us a good reason not to put a third eye right here.”

The gun was pushed harder in the skin between his eyes.

“Time starts now, asshole.”

Blake took a deep breath. “I know there was a crash out in the middle of the

Sonoran Desert by Phoenix. There were people . . . beings . . . whatever . . . like you who

were captured by the FBI. Their eyes glow at night like yours do. I know where they’re

being kept, and I can take you to them.”

None of the men said anything for a moment.

“And? What do you want in return, because I know you’re not here out of the

goodness of your heart,” the guy with the shiny green eyes said.

Blake nodded. “I–I need to understand what I am, and I think you have the

answers.”

“And what exactly do you think you are?” Green Eyes asked.

“I don’t know,” Blake said, taking a deep breath. He had never told another soul

the story of his father, and here he was about to spill the beans to four strangers, and one

had a gun to his head. He seriously questioned his own sanity. “When I was fifteen I

killed my father and he disintegrated to ash.”

All four men cursed, and the gun was cocked. Apparently, that hadn’t been a good

thing to say.

“Noah, what do you want me to do to this cocksucker?” Yellow Eyes asked.

“Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t know what the hell my father turning into

ash means. It’s why I’m here. I need to know.”

“Jovan,” the guy with the orange eyes said.

Green Eyes stepped forward and put his hand on Blake’s shoulder, that emerald

stare never leaving Blake’s face.

“You honestly don’t know what it meant when your dad turned to ash?” Green

Eyes said.

“No.”

“And you know where the others like us are being kept?”

“I do. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”

There was a beat of silence. “He’s telling the truth,” Green Eyes said.

Orange Eyes cursed again. “Why can’t anything just be simple?” he mumbled.

A minute passed, and Blake felt the first inkling of fear.

Orange Eyes sighed and ran his fingers through his brown hair. “Knock him out,

Hudson, just make sure you don’t kill him.”

Blake began to argue, but then felt the sharp pain as the butt of the gun slammed

into the side of his head. He briefly saw stars, then felt his knees go weak.

Before his world went to black, he heard someone say, “This guy is big for a

human.”

Chapter 25

Liberty stayed in the quarters as Jovan instructed. She sat on the edge of the bed,

waiting for something to happen. She shook with fear.

The alarm had been disconcerting, but the length of time Jovan was gone had

worried her the most. What was going on?

She heard the elevator stop, and then the large wooden door opened. Jovan came

in, and she felt such relief that she ran over and threw herself at him before she realized

what she had done.

Grabbing onto his neck, she held on tight.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “it’s okay, Liberty. Were you afraid? It’s okay.” His large

hands ran up and down her back as he held her, and she felt moisture on her cheeks.

Letting go of him, she took a step back. “My eyes seem to be leaking,” she said.

“You’re crying,” Jovan said, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “It’s a

response your body has to emotions.”

“Truly, I was frightened, but then very relieved to see you. I would think that I

would not cry if I were happy about something.”

Jovan laughed as he held her face in his hands and continued to wipe away the

tears that tracked down her cheeks. “I’ve found in my time here that females tend to cry

for almost every emotion.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve seen them cry when they’re happy, sad, angry . . . it’s really quite

confusing for a male when he sees a female in tears and realizes it could be for many