Hunting the Shadows (19 page)

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, someone pounded on the door. They jumped apart and she stumbled back as J.C. stepped toward the door. He opened it a crack to let Darilynn inside.

“There was blood in a crack on the locket. It isn’t Teresa’s. It has to be our unsub’s.” Her cheeks were pink, her breaths coming in quick puffs. She’d apparently run all the way to his quarters. “We’re running the sample through the system against everyone at the Centre. If he’s in there, we’ll have him.”

Time was running out for the Psychic Vampire.

Chapter Seventeen

“What do you mean the unsub’s DNA is
Stefan’s
?” J.C. swung around, snatching the paper from the printer. He stared at the amplified DNA sequences of both the unsub’s and of Stefan’s, focusing on the identical fragments of bands.

It was Stefan’s blood in Teresa’s locket. There was no doubt about it, but the confirmation made little sense to him. Was it really possible that Stefan had attacked Teresa?

When Rick made a sound, J.C. glared and stalked toward the computer to go through the alibi checks Darilynn had run on everyone who had constant contact with the children.

Stefan taught ages six to ten. He would have been one of the first individuals Darilynn would have checked, and yet, the file was missing.

“There has to be a mistake. There’s no way my brother murdered those agents. He has his issues but he doesn’t have the balls to kill someone. We both know that.”

J.C. didn’t listen. He was tired of dealing with all three Gurvitch men and as far as he was concerned, Rick needed to stay as far away as possible. After everything Rick had put Amy through, he was lucky J.C. hadn’t killed him already.

“Would you shut up? I need to think.” And he couldn’t do it with Rick going on about Stefan’s innocence. It was only going to piss him off more.

Blood itself wasn’t enough to charge someone with murder, but it made Stefan a suspect. “He had access to the children,” he murmured, dragging a hand across his face.

“There had to have been contamination. My brother—”

J.C. shot a hard glare over at Rick. “Your
brother
is a possible murderer and up until now, we had nothing. He got sloppy this time.”

“I can’t believe you think that Stefan could murder our friends.” Rick said with disbelief. “You’re letting Amy lead you around by your cock. She’s
delusional
. She can’t distinguish between reality and her nightmares. Hell, I bet she told you Stefan—”

J.C. snarled, shoving Rick so hard that he slammed into the counter. Jars and equipment rattled. “What did I tell you about Amy? I’m not warning you again.”

He would deal with Rick later, but first, he had to find Stefan. The son of a bitch killed Leila and the others.

Dropping his hand to his holster, J.C. bolted from the lab. He ran because instinct dictated it, because every second he waited was another moment Stefan had free. The world jerked all around him, blurring as he pushed his body against a hall door and took to the stairs. His breathing sawed in and out of his lungs, his mind filling with unwanted memories and fragments of conversations from the past. They hadn’t always had bad times. There were good memories buried, like the time he and Stefan had snuck into the Council room to steal the blueprints of the Centre or had spent an entire month in the wilderness of the mountains with nothing but what they had in a backpack.

What had turned Stefan into a killer?

In another twist of fate, it could have been any one of the other agents. The Centre knew how to create monsters.

Stefan’s door was wide open and he got a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He shoved himself back against the wall, holding his breath. J.C. drew out his gun.

“It’s over, St—” He barged into the room, only to find Mackenzie standing by the window. “Damn it, Mackenzie, what are you doing here?”

She turned to face him, her eyes dark and guarded. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s entirely my business, Doctor.” Holstering the gun, J.C. shifted his gaze around the small open space of the sitting area then to Stefan’s bedroom. “Where is he?”

“How should I know?”

He blew out a breath of exasperation. When it came to protecting Stefan, Mackenzie knew how to piss him off. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Stefan and that worried him. She didn’t care if J.C. was trying to look out for her. “You can cooperate or you’ll be held accountable. Don’t push me, Mackenzie. Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, he’s not here.” She glanced over his shoulder, lifting her gaze toward the door. J.C. turned as Rick arrived with a forensic team. They moved inside, efficient as they began picking apart the living quarters. “What’s going on?”

“Stefan’s a suspect. His blood was found on Teresa’s locket. Do you know how it could have got there?”

“You’re wrong.” Mackenzie insisted, but all color had seeped out of her. Her eyes went wild, her throat muscles moving up and down as she swallowed apprehensively. “You can’t go in there.” She stepped into the doorway of the bedroom to block it, sneering as one of the men pushed past her anyway. “This is invasion of privacy. Stefan’s not going to like it when he finds out you were in his room.”

J.C. gripped her arm and pulled her away from the door. Under his hand, her skin felt clammy, every muscle in her body tense. “Let them do their job.” He knew the woman wanted to believe that Stefan was innocent but she was going to get herself into trouble if she didn’t watch her actions. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything, but I know he’s not a killer. You’re wasting your time.” It came out on a sob, her hand jerking up. Her fingers shook visibly as she pressed her palm to mouth.

A man cleared his throat. “Sir, over here.”

“Don’t go anywhere, Mackenzie. We’re not done talking.” Walking away, he eased into the bedroom—a plain enclosure with a simple bed in the middle of the room. Nothing else. As though no one really lived there. “What did you find?”

“Come see.”

J.C. looked up at the ceiling tiles. Someone had pulled out a vent. Accepting a flashlight, he stepped onto the bed and leaned up to look inside. Stretching the length of his body, he shone the light into the darkness. In the shadows, he saw something flash.

A knife.

“I need some gloves.”

He looked down, one hand out until he was given a pair to slide on. Slowly, he eased his hand inside the vent, grunting a little as he reached for the weapon. Careful not to cut himself on the sharp blade, he pulled the knife out. His stomach churned at the sight of the dried blood and the edge of obsidian.

“Put out a call. We need to find Stefan
now
.”

* * *

There was nothing sane about the thoughts that ran through J.C.’s mind.

Amy wasn’t fully immersed and yet she felt the thick, sickening waves of rage that tore through him. It was suffocating and under its weight, Amy curled her fingers around J.C.’s desk to keep upright.

He’d gone alone so that no one could stop him from killing Stefan. The thought slid from his mind into hers.

She had to go after him, but the moment her hand fell on the doorknob and she yanked it open, the blast of voices and emotions outside the room was right there, waiting. There was no way to protect her mind and have it open to J.C. at the same time. If she closed her mind, putting up shields, she wouldn’t find him.

If he killed Stefan, he risked losing himself to the monster he feared he’d become. She couldn’t let him.

She took another step, more tentative than the first and rocked on her heels when thoughts slammed at her and emotions shredded her resolve. Doubling over, Amy placed a palm on the wall and breathed through clenched teeth.

“
J.C.
” He didn’t hear her. Or maybe he refused to.

She straightened and stepped forward into the mental storm that had enough energy to burn her senses if she allowed it access.

She stumbled and lifted a hand to her burning stomach where his rage centered within her. He was outside now, moving along the edge of thick tree growth toward the back.

Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. There was no way to get around the tendrils of emotions that imprinted the halls. The building was polluted with them.

Amy could feel J.C. She focused on pinpointing him, on blocking out everyone else at the Centre. But it didn’t matter—their emotions and thoughts still sought her out.

She wasn’t sure how she found an exit. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, then slammed the door closed behind her as though it would protect her. She tried to regulate her breathing, searching desperately around for the direction he’d taken. The path that caught her attention weaved through boulders.

She fell into J.C.’s mind and into violence.

The rage burned through his control as his fist smashed into Stefan’s face.

Flesh striking flesh. He cracked his palm to Stefan’s jaw, ducking a blow.

He didn’t want to take it easy and use his abilities. He felt the rush, a primal need to use his own hands, to make Stefan suffer as the victims had suffered.

The image blurred and she pulled out of his head, distancing herself. She had to pause at a steep stretch before she could go on again.

Her legs shook beneath her. It was too much. There was no way she could make it.

Except that she owed him. She could help him. Needed to. J.C. wasn’t a cold blooded killer.

Pressing her palms to the ground, she lifted herself to her feet, rocking as pain spiked through her brain. She whimpered and closed her eyes. She wanted to curl into a ball against the agony, to clasp her head in her hands.

They were close.

Amy gasped for breath, feeling the light sheen of sweat on her skin. Her chest tightened with a need for oxygen. She rounded the corner.

J.C. had Stefan up against a wire fence. A hard left hook turned Stefan’s head toward her and she gasped.

Blood. There was so much of it.

Her hands shook as she reached for J.C.

“J.C., stop it!” Amy shouted. She hurled herself at him, jumping onto his back. “You can’t kill him.”

He shrugged her off and cracked a fist against Stefan’s ribs.

Violence exploded with each strike until her head reeled and her vision blurred. She tried to lift her shields but it was too late. Her legs gave out and she crashed to the ground, gritting her teeth in an effort to stay focused. “I know you think death is his only option but it’s not! Please stop.”

He didn’t blink, didn’t pause. As though she wasn’t there. As though she was invisible and insignificant.

“
Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret, J.C.,”
she threatened.
“Damn it, snap out of it!
”

Amy shoved into his mind, forcing herself through the maelstrom of chaos. She scuttled back at a glimpse of darkness in his eyes, collapsing to the ground. His irises were black, eyes glazed, expression feral. She prayed she wasn’t too late. “Stop it!” She shouted it on every level, focusing the order psychically as her vision began to fade.

He didn’t move, but the mask on his face slipped into uncertainty as he blinked and shook his head. Stefan dropped to his hands and knees, vomiting blood before collapsing.

“His death isn’t the answer,” she whispered as the world around her flickered. “Don’t do this. Don’t lose who you are—what goodness you have—to him. You have people who need you.”

“He killed them. He deserves death,” he snarled.

And Stefan would die. But as J.C. moved away, she knew it wouldn’t be at his hands. Not today at least.

* * *

It was dark when Amy was woken by the door opening. Rolling onto her side, she opened her eyes and squinted against the bright light of the hall as J.C. crept inside. After Stefan had been taken into custody, J.C. had brought her back to the room, staying with her until he’d been satisfied that she was alright before slipping back out.

Leaning over, she turned on a lamp and stared at his backside, watching as he pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside, her gaze catching on his scars. Although she couldn’t erase them, she wanted to touch them, to press kisses to the puckered skin.

“What are you doing?” She swallowed as he removed his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, unable to look away.

“Shower.” Stepping toward the bed, he reached down, smoothing his hand over her hair. Exhaustion was in the heavy sweep of his fingertips along the side of her face. “Go back to sleep.”

There was a hollowness to his gaze—shock—as though he still didn’t know what to think about Stefan being the killer. She stared at the dark circles beneath his eyes and covered his hand with her own. “It’s over now.”

He gave a small, jerky nod, but she could tell he was still trying to process what was going on. “Yeah.” He brushed his lips over the top of her head. “It is.”

His words were rough as he turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but stare at his firm backside and the strength in his thighs. Couldn’t help but look at the scars, proof of how much he’d fought to get to this point.

“J.C., I know you two were friends long ago,” she began and shoved the blankets back. If there was anyone who needed to be comforted right now, it was him. She followed close on his heels, catching sight of him as he stepped into the shower. “I’m sorry it was him.”

Sucking in a jagged breath, she watched as he stepped out of his boxers. She pressed back against the wall, hoping for relief from the cool tiles against her heated skin.

“I don’t want to talk about Stefan. He’s locked up and will be dealt with later. Broderick has already set the Enforcers on him. He can’t hurt anyone again and that’s all that matters.”

Her attention fell to his discarded boxers and then back up at the shower. Catching a glimpse in the mirror, she saw that her cheeks flamed red. “I know. But still, I’m sure you never expected him to turn out like this.”

He tore the curtain aside, his expression one of frustrated amazement as shampoo slid from his scalp. “Amy, he changed from the boy I considered a brother. I never expected him to try and kill me then either, but he did.” His hand shot out, catching hold of her wrist to pull her against his wet body. “Look, you can either come in here or you can drop it. Either way, I’m showering and then I’m going to crash because I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day. Can we drop the ‘Stefan is a serial killer’ conversation until then?”

“I…um…” How was she supposed to respond when she was pressed against a very naked, very frustrated, aroused man? Her tongue tangled around her words, her hand on his chest, his wet skin hot beneath her palm.