Hunting the Shadows Read online

  The bodies. J.C. frowned. What fucking bodies?

  “What are you talking about?” He asked slowly, giving his mind time to catch up. Everything had been planned. No one was supposed to get hurt. He’d made sure that the scientists knew the plan and would evacuate. While the agents were distracted chasing him and trying to put out the fires, the scientists were supposed to be getting the children out.

  “What’d they do? Did they catch you setting the charges? Did they try to stop you?” Dare’s flat voice slashed ruthlessly through J.C.’s thoughts.

  His pulse pounded in his ears and his palms went damp. The room seemed to close in, making it hard to breathe. “No one was supposed to get hurt.” His words came out hard and stilted.

  What were they doing there?

  His hands fisted in the restraints. He needed to do something—it didn’t matter what. Raw, pent-up frustration burned in his gut. Helplessness boiled at the surface, threatening to throw him over the edge. Not only had he done nothing to help the children, good men and women had died because of him.

  “Oh please.” Caleigh stepped from the shadows, her voice cutting and thick with sarcasm. The second Enforcer moved in, every graceful step designed to draw the eye. “Their remains were found among the rubble in your lab.”

  Reaching forward she gripped his jaw, turning his face toward her. Long, crimson nails dug into his skin, making it hard to swallow. He didn’t move a muscle as Caleigh purred, “You’ve been a very bad boy, J.C. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for a while now, but they told me I couldn’t play with you. Remember how much fun we had the last time?”

  Involuntarily, he shuddered. He would do anything to forget. “Nothing was supposed to happen to them.” His voice was dull, the words like plaster on his tongue.

  As Enforcers for the Council, they were charged with the duty of keeping the agents in line and dealing out punishments. While Dare was known as Death, Caleigh excelled at bringing out the nightmares of an individual. The final Enforcer was Ashton, a man who took pride in creating his own version of zombies out of his victims. If the Council turned one of the Enforcers loose on an agent, nothing could be said or done to stop it.

  “Really, J.C.?” Dare asked. “What did you expect would happen? They weren’t likely to walk away from a bullet to the head.”

  Shock numbed him. He tried to turn his head, but Caleigh pressed harder against his trachea. After a moment, she loosened her hold, giving him space to breathe.

  “Are you lying to the Council?” Those eerie silver eyes flashed with something and before he could gauge her intent, she pressed her mouth to his ear. “Don’t you trust me? You can tell me the truth.”

  “I didn’t shoot anyone,” he bit out.

  “Then who did?” Dare asked.

  “I don’t know.” He searched his memory for anything that would indicate who would want them dead. He hadn’t bothered to mess with the cameras. Why bother when they would know it was him? “Check the video feed. I’m not denying I set the charges for the explosives, but I’m telling you I didn’t kill the scientists.”

  They had trusted him, wanting all of this to end as much as he did, enough to join him in the plan.

  He turned his gaze toward the dark, seeking those who sat in the shadows and judged him. “How can you sit there, in your anonymity? How does it feel to know that your creations are starting to think for themselves?” he challenged. “We’ll always fight back, no matter what you do to me.”

  He didn’t expect a response from the Council—the group of seven high ranking political and military advisors. He’d never seen the men and women who controlled his fate. They preferred to deal with their experiments from the safety of a veil. Their orders were funneled down through Broderick, the project Handler. How they trained. What missions they were sent on. Whether they lived or died. The Council determined all.

  The secret development of psychic agents was created during the Cold War, when the fear and paranoia that the enemy had secret weapons came to its height. While some of the top scientists volunteered, there were others, like J.C.’s mother, who were kidnapped in the middle of the night and brought to the Centre. Over the years, a program was created to mutate DNA, rewiring the physical and mental capacities of babies. Training the “specialized” children into one more classified experiment.

  J.C.’d become an assassin before he’d needed to shave. Although these days he mostly stayed in the lab, working to train the abilities in the children, he still went out in the field for reconnaissance missions with his team.

  Caleigh scraped a nail along his jaw. There was nothing sane about the woman and the chilling look as she smiled. She dipped her fingers into the wetness that began to drip down his throat, then drew her hand back to show him the blood. “I’m going to enjoy it when they give you to me,” she murmured, almost reverently, before she touched his jaw again and made swirling designs along his pulse with the blood.

  J.C. didn’t blink, didn’t do anything but look forward. He was careful to keep his features expressionless, not wanting them to glimpse how much it was killing him inside to stand before them and not react. They’d trained him to be a monster, the best. He would do anything to give them a first-hand demonstration of what they’d made him into.

  “Caleigh, control yourself. This is a trial, not one of your sick fantasies.” Broderick growled. He glared at her, his brows drawing down in a frown of disapproval. “You haven’t been given permission to interrogate my agent.”

  She drew back but tapped her fingers along the reddened lines he was sure decorated his neck. “You have no say, old man.”

  “Until I’m told differently, you don’t get to play with him. Let’s show a little protocol,” Broderick said coolly, turning his attention away from her. “J.C., as far as I’m concerned, the lives of those scientists were expendable. Yours isn’t.”

  Like hell. “If it wasn’t for the scientists, you wouldn’t have agents to train.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you weren’t killed—we’re sorely lacking in those who can do both. Tell me who helped you and I can talk to the Council about some leniency.”

  J.C. let the air escape in a slow, controlled breath. “They were supposed to get the children out of here.”

  “Then they got their punishment for treason.” Broderick’s tone said that the discussion was closed. “Who else helped?”

  It was for this reason he’d kept the other agents out of his plans. If he’d been captured, he knew he would get interrogated. He wasn’t going drag them into this and get them charged as accomplices. In order to ensure the safety of his friends, he’d had to cut them from his decisions, but by excluding them, he’d now been labeled a traitor.

  “No one else helped.”

  A file had fallen across his desk a few weeks ago. The Council had begun a search for more test subjects. More projects. The caseloads were starting to pile up and after watching a girl die because her nervous system couldn’t handle her abilities, he couldn’t continue to do nothing.

  “Then you accept your fate, whatever it may be.”

  Chapter Two

  J.C. opened his eyes slowly at the sound of raised voices on the other side of the door. Morning or night, the hours blended together in the windowless cell. Not that it really mattered. There was nothing to look at anyway, nothing but the previous tenants’ silent pleas written on the walls and the bloodstains that discolored the old cement.

  “You ca
n’t stop me.” Stefan Gurvitch’s voice echoed in the hall, the sound of footsteps getting closer. “Damn it, Ajay, leave me alone.”

  The Council had called for a deliberation to figure out what to do with him. It couldn’t be a good sign if it was taking them this long to come up with a punishment. Since he’d been brought back to the Centre, at least a week had passed, but he couldn’t be sure. Time meant nothing in this state of purgatory.

  Licking his lips, J.C. tested the strength of the handcuffs, cursing as he tried to slip out of the cuffs locked tight. Metal dug deep into raw skin, reopening barely healed wounds. Warm blood dripped down his wrists and between his fingers.

  “I’m not going to let you go in there with him right now. We both know you’ll end up killing each other.” J.C. could almost imagine Ajay trying to stand up to Stefan. She wouldn’t have a chance if she had to physically try and stop him.

  Chronokinesis was too unpredictable. She could slow time down or use light to transport herself from one place to another, but she didn’t have the stamina to keep the ability going for long. Messing with time drained energy faster than any other ability documented.

  Stefan’s dry laugh echoed in the halls. “Then the Council will be rid of two problems without having to get anyone to do the work for them.”

  “Bullshit, Stefan. Stay away from him. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  There was a long pause. “Why?”

  “He doesn’t know yet.” Her usual soft voice was tight with irritation. “You’re such an ass. He’s going through enough and you want to torment him with something he can’t control. What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out?”

  “That’s none of my concern.”

  “What the hell happened to you? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

  “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty and definitely not mine. Have you forgotten why he’s on trial?” The tone was flat, the words said with a lack of emotion.

  “No, I haven’t, but unlike you, I know there are two sides of every story. Since when have you known J.C. to do something without a reason? He isn’t impulsive! For him to go to this extreme—”

  “He murdered four people.”

  “I don’t have any explanations, but…” Her voice lowered. “The J.C. we know—”

  “The J.C. we know? Really, Ajay? Open your eyes. The facts are there. There is no other side to the story. Leave me to deal with him. He’s going to find out one way or another and I want to be the one to tell him.” When she began to protest, Stefan said, “Go, Ajay. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “You better know what you’re doing.”

  The door opened and light spilled into the small room. Momentarily blinded, J.C. forced himself into a sitting position, blinking.

  “You don’t deserve this vacation, Nikolaiev. Not after what you’ve done.” Stefan moved inside the room, his tall and lanky form outlined by the light from the hallway. “If it was up to me, it would be over.”

  J.C. bared his teeth. “Fuck you, Gurvitch.”

  If he’d had the energy, he would have found the situation hilarious. At one point, so very long ago, they’d been the best of friends—almost brothers. This was what they’d become, what the Centre had done to them.

  It’d destroyed whatever friendship they’d had.

  “I’m not here to figure out what you were thinking rigging your lab and killing those men. Unlike Ajay, I don’t feel the need to defend or justify your actions.”

  “What do you want?” He didn’t bother to try and pretend he hadn’t heard the conversation in the hall. Rising from the bed, J.C. paced the small room. At least, they’d had the decency to take the shackles off his ankles before throwing him back in this pit. “What doesn’t Ajay want me to know?”

  “It’s about Leila.”

  J.C. didn’t stop, just kept walking the length of the room. He knew what Stefan was going to say.

  She was gone.

  J.C. had made sure of it.

  By this time, she should be on her way out of the country. The fake IDs and passport he’d given her would ensure she had no trouble starting a new life.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s dead.”

  He whirled around to stare at Stefan. “What the hell do you mean she’s dead?” he whispered hoarsely. “What happened?”

  “A monster killed her,” the woman’s voice whispered suddenly in his head.

  His mind spun, too many thoughts hitting him at once. The guilt that ate at him was heavier than anything else, pressing in until he could barely breathe. There was no way to escape. He tried to back away but came up against the hard wall.

  Tipping his head back, he squeezed his eyes tight against the pain.

  “I know you can hear me.”

  But he didn’t want to. She had to be a spy for the Council. There was no other explanation. He knew there was one passing along information. It was the other reason he hadn’t wanted to get the agents on his team involved.

  Had he sold out Leila without knowing it? Had the spy gotten the information about Leila’s escape from his mind? Shoving the voice out of his head, J.C. slammed that door shut. He straightened and stared at Stefan.

  “I asked you a question, agent. What happened?” His voice was flat and without any hint of emotion, despite the boiling rage and sadness that shook his body.

  “She was murdered. Her throat was slit.”

  He swallowed hard at the nausea that abraded a trail of acid up the back of his throat. It was happening again. “Burns?”

  Stefan nodded. “On the side of her face.”

  Years ago a killer had used the Centre as a playground. After the seventh murder, it stopped. On each victim, they always found a burn in the shape of a hand print left on the body.

  “She had your letter, J.C. The one that told her to be in the tunnels. The one where you promised her a new life,” Stefan said quietly. “I bet you didn’t tell her that new life would consist of being worm food.”

  “Fuck off, Stefan.”

  “You kill everyone you’re close to. Leila. Your parents. The scientists.” Stefan turned to leave. “Who else has to die because of you?”

  He might have roared. J.C. wasn’t entirely sure as he shot into action. He wrapped the chain of the handcuffs around Stefan’s throat, feeling them lock in place. He leaned in, ignoring the sting as Stefan clawed at his arm. “I didn’t kill those men and I would never have put Leila in danger.”

  Never.

  His snarl was anything but human and everything that terrified him. This was the monster he didn’t want to become.

  Stefan’s abilities tore through whatever protective shields he had, an attack that made him grit his teeth as the energy shredded him raw. Old wounds opened along his body—the bullet that had ripped his chin open when he’d been eighteen, the glass that’d wedged between the seventh and eight rib and the burns that had seared his back raw from the blast of the recent explosion. The last two had barely healed yet.

  His arms went leaden as he fell to the floor. He fought for breath, fighting to stay conscious. He was supposed to take care of Leila, to make sure that she was safe.

  She was dead because she’d trusted him.

  Shadows shifted over his vision, numbness taking the pain away from his body. The last thing he heard before the darkness consumed him, was the woman’s voice telling him to fight for life. For her.

  * * *

  “Leave me alone,” Amy snapped. The guard backed her into the wall, blocking her exit. “Don’t touch me.”

  His touch burned, shooting fire through the muscles of her arm. She tripped, falling against him and closed her eyes as his emotions and thoughts shredded her mind. The intensity of it stole her breath, making her whimper an
d clutch her head.

  “It’s no wonder she’s locked away. The woman’s fucking crazy.” The guard’s thoughts echoed in her head and she reeled under the impact.

  Crazy. She lived on the edge, always unsure of whether today would be the day her mind shattered. What if she’d already crossed that line and didn’t realize it? Would she never have the chance at a normal life?

  “Please let go.”

  “I have my orders. Stop it.” The guard’s fingers locked tighter the more she struggled.

  “I don’t want the sleeping meds.” They only made things worse. “He’ll never know if you skip ton—” Her words cut off as the “he” in question appeared at the doorway. Rick Gurvitch was the lead scientist in charge of her treatments and the man who determined everything in her life—from what she did to how she did it.

  “You need to sleep.” Rick stepped inside the room, nodding to the guard who flanked her. The hardness in his voice told her he wasn’t up for arguments, but she had to try.

  “I can’t think with the sedatives.”

  She needed to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. As long as she was on the drugs, she would never know for herself

  “Amy, you’re being ridiculous. They’re helping you. You haven’t been sleeping lately and I want you well rested for Testing.”

  Testing. She shuddered at the thought of going back to the lab. Rick had been furious after her latest attempt to botch his results. He knew she was holding back and he would do whatever it took to get her to give in to the darkness she knew lived within her. With her abilities came dangers and the knowledge that the human mind was a fragile thing.

  She was afraid to give in, to fall into the dark mind her dreams always took her to. It had to be real. There was no way she was that messed up, that cruel. The blood and death made her sick. But in those dreams… she wanted it. It excited her, enough to wake her up in a cold sweat, her entire body shaking violently as though she were detoxing and needing another fix.