Shadow Falling (The Scorpius Syndrome #2) (3 page)

A lantern ignited.

“You’re
late,” Ash said from behind what was left of the bar. Pieces had been removed, probably for firewood, leaving only a thin strip running end to end, attached with bolts to the floor.

“You’re inconvenient,” Raze drawled, keeping his expression bored. The door shut behind him and he surveyed the room.

Ash rolled his eyes. The twenty-something former meth dealer still had the blank eyes and fidgety fingers of a man who’d sampled too much of the goods.

A cracked mirror decorated the dingy wall behind him, which was lined with empty shelves that had once held liquor. Dirt, blood, and moss covered the floors, while a couple of tables without chairs were broken on the far side of the room. A jukebox—a real one—still sat in the corner.

It was probably too heavy for any of the early looters to take.

Ash shoved back his jacket to reveal a Glock stuck into his waistband. His greasy hair cascaded out of a knit cap, which didn’t cover enough of his long, crusty face. Apparently it was difficult to find medicine for impetigo nowadays. “Well?”

Raze kept his arms loose at his sides. “Well what?”

“Where’s the woman?”

“Not here,” Raze said.

Ash shook his head, his entire rail-thin body moving with the effort. “We made a deal.”

“No. We don’t have a deal,” Raze said silkily, allowing every violent urge he was feeling to show in his eyes.

Ash swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I represent Greyson and you know it.”

Raze didn’t move a muscle. He’d learned early on that his ability to hold perfectly still constituted a threat in some circles. Especially the despair-riddled streets of an inner
city—before and after the end of civilization. “I know Grey wouldn’t mourn your death.”

Ash snarled. “I’m important to Grey and the Mercs. He’d rip your skin from your body if you harmed me.”

“I doubt that,” Raze said evenly.

Ash paled even more. “Are you bringing the woman or not?”

Raze took in the rapidly lightening sky outside. It was time to get back to Vanguard. “I have until the end of the week. So get the fuck off my back and stop coming into my territory.”

Ash cackled, revealing stained and crooked teeth as he no doubt realized Raze didn’t plan to kill him this time. “Your territory? You’re claiming Vanguard territory as your own now, are you?” He snorted. “You don’t have territory, dumbass.”

Raze straightened.

Ash breathed out and backed into the counter behind him. “I’m just sayin’. You belong to the Mercenaries and don’t you forget it.”

“I don’t belong to anybody.” Fury threatened to grip him, so Raze focused on the world around him. The room was rank with the smell of sewage and raw fish. He glanced at the window to see morning arriving in full force. “I have to go.” He turned for the door, keeping Ash in his sights.

“One week, Shadow. We’ll give you the plan next time we meet.”

“Give me the plan now.” Heat circulated through Raze’s chest, leaving a piercing pain. Even so, he shot Ash a hard look and waited until the guy turned pale.

“Nope. Grey wants to keep you on your toes,” Ash said.

“Tell Grey I’m looking forward to settling up with him.”

Ash smiled and flashed his disgusting teeth. “Oh, I will. You will turn over Vivienne Wellington, or you know what happens. Grey wants confirmation you’re on track.”

Raze breathed
in and said the words that would finish off any soul he still had. “I’ll deliver her to him, per our agreement. I’ll see you in five nights for your fucking plan. Midnight.” Without another word, he turned and strode into the storm.

Vinnie held
her meager possessions in a canvas bag near the sliding glass door, her eyes closed, her breath even. In for seven counts, out for eleven. She’d learned the trick while earning her doctorate, and she’d relied on it more than once during her time working for the FBI.

Her eyelids slowly opened. The storm had ebbed, leaving tracks of churning gray clouds separated by startling blue sky. The LA summer would soon arrive, and rain would be a distant and fond memory.

Water was scarce.

But now, with the sun trying valiantly to shine down, the scraggly weeds and crumbling asphalt road only appeared all the more despondent. As if even nature didn’t want to try to exist within the enclosed barbed-wire fence.

A lone flower, purple and attached to what must be a weed, bloomed in the middle of the overgrown path to the road.

Vinnie studied the brave petals. The flower reminded her of a poster she’d seen in an FBI office a lifetime ago—the
caption had been something about perseverance, with a flower growing from a rock cliff.

Her very life existed on a damn cliff these days, and she was no flower. Not even close.

Whispers tickled through her mind in different voices and she shoved them away. Her heart rate picked up. The drugs the president had forced on her had affected her brain, and this was just another aftereffect. The voices would be gone soon.

They had to be.

Or maybe the drugs had changed her brain chemistry enough that she’d go insane from the misfiring of neurons. Totally possible.

She’d studied the insane partly out of curiosity and partly because her aunt had killed herself after a horrible bout of depression. Vinnie had been five years old and hadn’t understood the facts until much later in childhood—and then she’d been fascinated with psychology in general.

That fascination was turned into determination by the brutal death of her mother at the hands of a serial killer.

Raze came into view from around a corner, moving in that smooth lope that fascinated her. She had no doubt he’d purposely let her see him just to keep from startling her. If Raze Shadow wanted to sneak up on a person, he’d do so without any warning.

She shivered and yanked open the door with one hand. The glass fought her, scraping along small rocks and dirt until finally giving in with a shudder.

He reached her, still wearing the dark jeans and black shirt from the night before. The clothing accentuated hard muscle and long lines, and the gun at his hip gave him the look of a vigilante soldier.

Which was who he’d become in this new world.

“You ready?” he asked, stopping a few feet away.

She swallowed.
“Yes, but I need more details.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “I’m escorting you to headquarters, where you won’t be so alone and can deal with your issues. You start work there today anyway.”

She shook her head. “No. I meant, where am I sleeping?” Warmth climbed into her face. Yes, she could’ve worded that better, but her skin heated whenever the man was near, and she couldn’t help her thoughts. Hell, she couldn’t stop any of the thoughts zinging through her drug-addled gray matter. “Is there an apartment at Vanguard headquarters available?”

His gaze darkened. “They’re trying to find you a place, but if they can’t figure it out, you can have mine. I’ll bunk with another soldier.”

She blinked. Well, geez. Talk about not even trying to get into her pants. Not that she wanted any pressure right now, but it’d be nice if the guy at least noticed she had working girl parts. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

He gestured her ahead of him after quickly scouting the area. “Let’s move.”

She deserted the tenement building without a backward glance, stepping through the damp weeds to follow him onto the road heading north along the fence line. Stacks of tires, turned over semis, and old vans lined the street outside the fence, forming a makeshift barrier from attackers.

The minute they reached the end of the building, Raze turned her onto another old road toward the middle of the territory. Away from the boundary and danger. They moved past more apartments and barrels set out to catch rainwater before reaching an old gymnasium that now served as a mess hall. The main medical facility was located next to it in a weathered brick building that had once been an elementary school.

At this early dawn hour, only patrolling soldiers were
up and about. Raze gave a guy nod to a couple and they returned the gesture.

Men of few words, definitely.

She stepped over a large puddle as they turned again, maneuvering down a street between row houses and a rambling building now serving as training facilities. It used to be a bunch of old businesses. The silence began to wear on her. “Are you training scavengers today?”

“No.”

She nodded and tried to let the silence stand. Nope. “What are you doing today?”

“Probably scouting outer territory for threats.” He blinked several times, as if finally sensing her discomfort. “Um. So, you’re a profiler? I mean, you
were
a profiler?”

“Yes, except we’re not really called profilers.” That life already seemed so long ago. “I worked for the FBI Behavioral Analysis unit.” She missed her friends there, in fact. They’d all succumbed to Scorpius.

“Ah.” He gently pulled her to the right and away from a gaping pothole filled with rainwater. “You seem young to already be with the BAU.”

She nodded. “I was a special agent for three years, but I mainly worked on cold cases, not in the field. I had some luck with the cases and was fast-tracked to the BAU.” Her insight into the criminal mind had bordered on psychic even before Scorpius.

“Why the BAU?” he asked quietly.

“I wanted to make a difference to society, and with an analytical mind, I figured that was a good way to do it.” She gave her routine answer without a hitch in her breath.

He glanced sideways at her just as they reached another road and turned left to go by a warehouse that housed vehicles and fuel. The headquarters, where the elite soldiers lived, was next to it in a building of heavy red brick. “That’s not all, is it?”

She paused.
Raze Shadow could see beneath the surface, now couldn’t he? “No. That’s not all.”

He took a step away from her, giving her space. “It’s none of my business.”

No, but something in her, something so alone, wanted to confide in him. Wanted to share. “Remember Scott Rysen out of Boston?”

Raze frowned. “The Back Alley Butcher?”

She sighed, her stomach turning over. “That’s what the press called him. My mother was his third victim when I was eight years old.”

“Ah, shit, Vinnie.” Raze ran a hand down her arm, slowing his stride.

Raze’s touch settled something inside her, and she breathed in his masculine scent.

“I’m sorry. Your dad?” he asked.

“Cop who threw himself into his work.” She forced a smile. Man, she’d loved her dad, even though he’d definitely had problems. “Died of cirrhosis of the liver a week after I graduated college.”

Sympathy glowed in Raze’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past.” She hustled her pace and stumbled over a pothole. Raze reached out to steady her. His hand, so large and heated, enclosed her upper arm. Tingles shot through her entire body. As soon as she’d righted herself, he released her and took his warmth with him. She frowned. Realization dawned. “You haven’t been infected, have you?”

He kept walking, scouting the area around them, even though they were inner territory. “No. Why?”

Because he rarely touched her. She shrugged her shoulders. Talk about ego. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Or perhaps he felt no attraction to her. “Just asking.”

“Why?” They reached the back entrance to the two-story building and he paused, turning to face her.

She swallowed and fought the urge to step back. He was
just so . . . big. “The way you try to stay away from me, I, ah, was confused. I mean, it seems like we’re kind of friends, as much as you can have friends in this crazy lonely world these days, but you always back away, and I—”

He held up a hand. “Whoa.”

She winced, pricks of heat dancing through her. Man, why wouldn’t her mouth just stop? Before the drugs, she could’ve played poker with the best of them. She had been calm, cool, and totally in control. Now? She couldn’t even keep a thought to herself. “Sorry.”

He crossed muscled arms. “For what?”

Her mouth gaped open and she quickly shut it. Words tumbled out anyway. “For going on and on. For making you uncomfortable. For—”

“Whoa,” he whispered. Again.

The soft rasp licked down her body. She jerked her head, trying to find some control. “Sorry.” Turning to go, she tripped, and he reached out to steady her again. Somehow, his hold was both protective and restrictive.

He shook his head. “Vivienne, I’m not afraid of getting infected.”

Oh. An odd hurt spiraled through her chest. “I see.” So he just didn’t want to be around her.

“I know it’s going to happen at some point, but still, I’d like to hold off as long as possible.”

She nodded. Once a person survived the contagion, he was always a carrier and could infect other people, just like carriers of staph or MRSA could. Some people who survived the infection became sociopaths, some went as far as to become serial killers, while others did not change in a bad way. Many still changed, however. “Are you up to date on your vitamin B injections?” she asked.