ShiftingHeat (23 page)

She took the subway uptown to the STORM offices, having left
her car in the parking garage near her apartment. Representatives of the police
and STORM were keeping an eye on the place and Ann had made good on her promise
to have the broken window repaired. Perhaps they’d deal with Mr. Smith’s
heating problems too.

They’d put it out that her place had been the target of a
break-in. Some lowlife looking for some fast cash. She still didn’t know the
identity of the man with Cathy. Perhaps that was why Ann wanted her. She’d find
out more soon.

Watching the stations pass by, she reflected how much her
life had changed recently and how little she regretted it. While she didn’t
think she’d make a good STORM agent, it had become clear recently that teaching
was no longer giving her the job satisfaction she wanted. Time to go back to
finance, maybe, try to help clear up the mess of the recent financial slump.
Someone had to start tackling it, and she’d had a few ideas recently that might
help.

She tried to contact Andros telepathically a couple of
times, but either he wasn’t listening or her psi didn’t work properly here,
underground. The subway wasn’t the most romantic place in the world, especially
traveling solo, but reflecting back on the turbulent recent past, she knew for
sure that she’d fallen in love with Andros. Realized it for good and certain
when they’d linked minds making love for the second time. She still didn’t know
if he loved her, but it couldn’t affect her feelings for him, because they came
from the heart. Not the reasoning brain. Idiotic, but he’d taught her so much. He’d
showed her how to live, just live, and damn the consequences. Whatever the
outcome of this, she’d never, ever regret meeting him and giving him her heart.
When this mission ended, she’d suggest going away for a while. Just the two of
them, somewhere hot and private where they could fly and love and be
themselves.

Lost in the seductive dream, she nearly missed her stop, but
she saw it just in time and bolted off the train.

A small group of people stood outside, paparazzi and
tourists looking for some action, perhaps a dragon flying off the roof or a
vampire ripping into a vein. Hardly likely at this time of day, but they could
hope. They let her pass with hardly a glance.

Strange to stride through the entrance at STORM and show her
security card. The receptionist checked her name and told her where to go, just
like at a regular office. Less regular was the psychic scan she felt as she
entered the elevator. Nobody stopped her, nobody remarked on her presence. She
marveled at her naiveté at the beginning of her adventure in thinking that
retrieving the professor was just a matter of stealing an ankle bracelet.

The elevator doors opened and she found the conference room.
A small one, occupied only by Ann Reynolds, Nick and Daria. To her
disappointment, Andros hadn’t arrived yet. But Faye wasn’t worried, not until
she took her place and felt the tension.

Ann didn’t prevaricate. “I’ve received some results that put
a new light on what’s been happening at the university.” She had a slim folder
in front of her but she didn’t refer to it. Didn’t even open it. “I called you
in as soon as I knew but I haven’t heard from Andros yet.”

Apprehension snapped inside her, tightened her stomach
muscles. She opened her mind to him, called to him telepathically. Nothing.
Maybe he was in a blind spot, maybe too engrossed in what he was doing to
listen, maybe… She fought down her panic. She forced herself to concentrate on
what Ann was saying.

“I investigated the professor and learned of some
connections I hadn’t known of before. I put people on to it and had it
confirmed. I knew we had a strong unit of kidnappers here over the last few
months, but they’ve been clever. Nordheim was our first real lead. Now we have
another.” Her mouth firmed and her eyes flashed fire.

Faye hadn’t known Ann Reynolds could be furious before. She’d
seen cold anger, but not the kind of red fury that made a dragon like herself
spit fire. She’d considered Ann controlled and in charge all the time, but now
nobody could have mistaken the ire in her face, the tremble in her voice.
“Here. All the time. Here. We’ve been betrayed, people. Big-time. By somebody
very clever and very controlled. A typical psychopath, in fact. I should have
seen it earlier, but Sorcerers sometimes show those characteristics. The cold
calculation, the unconcern with human values.” She swore and broke off.

Comprehension flashed through Faye’s mind. “Serena?” It
didn’t make sense. Nordheim had killed Serena. Why would he do that if she were
working with him? Who else?

It was almost a relief when someone else confirmed her
growing suspicions. Ann nodded and sighed heavily. “Serena Duval.”

Daria took over. “It shames me to think that one of my kind
sold her fellow Talents for money. Not pride, not conviction, but money.” Her
dark eyes gleamed and Faye glimpsed the banked power hidden there. Daria was a
virgin too, but unlike Serena, she had passion and fire. “Sorcerers are taught
to control their psi gifts and their emotions. Some of our kind are taught to
subsume tender emotions and lock them away. With it goes our humanity. I
believe that is what happened to Serena Duval.”

Ann regained control, but just for that moment Faye had
glimpsed the woman beneath the businesslike exterior. It made the head of STORM
more accessible, more human.

“Serena let other emotions control her. Jealousy, for
instance. Greed. She had enough money, but the Talents who live many centuries
often amass incredible wealth. When I spotted the pattern of this case it
started to make sense that a Sorcerer was involved. This group was taking some
of the oldest and the wealthiest Talents they could find. I thought at first
their power attracted their kidnappers, but now I think it was their wealth. If
they planned it right, they would gain far more than they would just by selling
Talents.”

Faye leaned back, not hiding her disgust that a Talent would
do this thing. “And Serena did that. Well at least she got her due.”

“That’s the worst of it.” Ann glowered and Faye sensed her
frustration. “The body in Serena’s office? It wasn’t Serena Duval.”

Silence fell like a pall except for Faye’s shocked gasp.
Anything she thought to say sounded cliché. Were they sure? Well duh, STORM,
yes. How did they know? Probably DNA testing.

Ann kept Faye in her gimlet stare. “We don’t know the
identity of the body we thought was Serena’s. Not yet. Serena must have dropped
her watch to authenticate the body, stop us searching for her for the vital
time it took her to get away cleanly. She could be anywhere.”

“She’s in New York,” Daria bit out. “I can sense her. But I
can’t track her down because psi has no sense of direction. I can tell if she
is close, that is all. She doesn’t know I’m here, or how strong my psi is. That
is an advantage for us.”

Nick glanced at Daria. “I’m teaching a class at four, and I
can stay on-site. Do you want to come into the field, sense the office?”

Daria shook her head. “Not right now. The police have been
there, leaving their traces behind. So have other people. I doubt I could
discover anything new now.”

Ann tapped the folder before her, drawing Faye’s attention
to it. “I want complete honesty in this room. No secrets, you understand, Faye?
Will you tell us the truth about your childhood, or shall I tell you?”

The game was up. Faye had to confess. In a quiet voice she
explained what she’d only told Andros before, about her family, the murders and
how she’d gone back to confront Cardross and eventually kill him. “Will they
see it as murder?”

Ann’s eyes were clear again. “If it ever comes to light
outside this room, I’d advise you to plead self-defense. But after all this
time, there are no witnesses we know of, and the climate right now is not
sympathetic toward Talents. It could be a rough ride.”

She hadn’t needed Ann to tell her that.

“When I uncovered the details of the old case of the death
of Police Chief Cardross, things started to fall into place,” Ann said. She
glanced at Daria. “Sorcerers aren’t the only people who can see patterns. I
couldn’t understand why they’d use an old weapon at all, why Nordheim even had
that Schofield. But with your act all those years ago, killing Cardross, I
understood. The Cardrosses had a score to settle, didn’t they? And you had gone
back to your original name when you took the post at the university. The weapon
was from Cardross’ collection, I had it confirmed by a ballistics expert. Your
entrance into Nordheim’s office was planned for and expected. They wanted you,
not for their collection, but to even the score. They wanted revenge, and
killing you with a gun from the Cardross collection was the message they’d
leave behind.”

“But wouldn’t that make it easier for the police?” Nick
questioned.

“Sure it would. But they’d get away with it, so what did
they care?”

Faye covered her face with her hand, then snatched it away. “What’s
the connection?”

Ann shrugged. “That I don’t know. Yet. They were so money-hungry,
perhaps someone paid them to do it. They’d have made it look like self-defense,
arranged it so you shot Serena and she shot you. Like the first situation,
perhaps?” Faye nodded and groaned. It did sound familiar. She’d confronted
Cardross at his desk and he’d had a hidden gun trained on her. But her reflexes
had made her move fast and he only winged her, whereas her shot was true. Change
that scenario a tad and the scene in the office that day could have been altered
to look as if it had played out the same. Without Andros, that was. He’d been a
game-changer that day.

Ann’s phone rang. She picked it up with an annoyed, “I told
you I was in conference.” Then she listened. A quiet “Send him up” concluded
the conversation.

A few moments later, a tap on the door heralded the entrance
of someone Faye knew wasn’t Andros. If it had been, she’d have sensed him. They
were too close now not to know when the other was nearby.

But she hadn’t expected to see the university’s resident
vampire enter. “Sergiu?”

Ann raised a brow. “Let’s be honest here. Harry Gossett, a.k.a
Harry Johnson, a.k.a Sergiu Tanase. Isn’t that right?”

Sergiu-Harry shrugged, the shoulders of his impressively
packed black jacket rising. “If you like.” He wore typical vampire gear—black
shirt and slacks, a black leather jacket. Black biker boots with studs
completed his outfit. He wore his hair long, and it was the regulation black,
although in the light it was possible to discern chestnut glints. “Harry will
do. I came out of the goodness of my heart to tell you who I saw half an hour
ago.”

“Go on.”

“Serena Duval. I thought she was supposed to be dead? Then I
recalled that you guys are hanging around the place. What, you think I didn’t
know?” His full lips curled in a sneer. “What do you think I’m doing there?”

“Working for the Bureau,” Ann said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “When my bosses talk to other
peoples’ bosses it would be a good thing sometimes if they let us in on the
setup. I’ve been working my guts out for the last six months in that place, and
you walk in and nearly wreck it all. I don’t do this for my own amusement.”

“Do they know you’re a vampire?” Ann demanded. “Not just
pretending?”

“Some do. Most don’t. I guess we’re looking for the same
people for different reasons.”

“Probably. Tell me what you saw.”

“Serena Duval and Andros Zelinski leaving campus together.”

Nausea churned in Faye’s stomach. She swallowed and tried to
control her whirling thoughts, slow her mind down and think. “Something wasn’t
quite right about Zelinski, but I didn’t use my psi because the woman’s a
Sorcerer. The way she used her psi on me at the meeting she came to…” He
shrugged again. “You can tell.” He leaned against the door and shoved his hands
in his pockets. Faye took a couple of deep breaths and studied the vampire,
concentrated on him while she processed what had just happened.

Harry Gossett without his Sergiu persona seemed a far more
dangerous character. His movements were less florid, less studied, but meant a
whole lot more. And he was ripped. Without the pose, the deliberate “I am a vampire”
trappings, he seemed stripped down to the bare essentials, the danger of the
vampire readily apparent now, even though he wouldn’t come into his powers for
an hour or two. He leaned against the wall by the door, not attempting to sit
or become part of the group. This man was a loner. “The Bureau told me the
Sorcerer was dead. So I thought I’d better find out from the horse’s mouth, so
to speak.” He cocked a dark brow. “Was I right?”

“We thought she was dead but we were wrong,” Ann told him.
“She faked her own death then had her accomplice, Professor Nordheim, taken
care of. One of my agents killed him when he drew a weapon.”

“Let me read you,” Daria said. “I can perhaps find traces.
Did you know her well?”

“She came to the club and teased me, did it more than once
but I sensed the coldness under her approach and I wondered what she was at.
She let me drink from her once, and I managed to get a hold on her then, but I
think she wanted to get a hold on me.” He grinned. “She underestimated me. Vampires
can give orgasms as thanks. I nearly pushed one on her but she said no, and at
the time I thought she was one of the good guys when she said she worked for
STORM.”

“We thought she was too.”

Faye couldn’t stand it anymore. Scraping back her chair, she
sprang to her feet. “Well what are we waiting for? We have to find him!”

* * * * *

Andros groaned before the realization of what had happened
came back to him. Then he wished he hadn’t.

“You’re back,” said a calm, female voice.

He cracked one eye, then the other, cautiously peering at
her. “I thought you were dead.”