Phantom Game (GhostWalkers 18)

He had never talked to Lily Whitney-Miller, Ryland’s wife, about the science of what he could do, because he didn’t want anyone looking too closely at what he’d become. He didn’t want a spotlight turned on him—or any record made of his abilities. He especially didn’t want anyone to know about the extremely predatory and aggressive tendencies that he’d fought so hard to keep under control. Primal animal instincts, the need to hunt, even—if he was being honest—to kill. And in the early days, keeping those impulses in check had been a real struggle.

At first he’d wanted to believe Whitney had managed to plant those urges in him, but the more he read and understood about what Whitney had done to them all, the more he realized the enhancements could only bring out what was inside of him. It was beyond disturbing to realize such ugly, violent traits were part of his own nature. It hadn’t mattered that they were buried deep; they were still a part of him.

Jonas slipped over the boulder facing away from the trail, the one closest to the trees, deliberately blurring his body so that when he moved into the strange mirage, he was already becoming a part of it, so as not to disturb it. So he couldn’t be seen or felt.

An owl hooted, the notes a clear warning. That told him the sentry had eyes on the men inside the ring of boulders. The bird had noticed there was one less man seated at the fire and reported immediately. He waited, staying very still, absorbing the abnormal mist and its properties, breaking it down even as he listened for the instructions to the sentries. He knew whoever was guarding the region would have to tell the lookouts what to do next.

A few short notes replied, that of a Great Gray owl calling out to its mate—at least to an untrained ear, that was what it sounded like. Jonas stayed very still, forcing his energy to remain extremely low so he couldn’t be detected inside the web of mist, all the while fighting to control his surprise. That Great Gray owl cry—the orders being given to the watching animals in the woods—had come from a female. She had the sound of an owl down perfectly, but his ear was tuned so acutely, he could distinguish real from fake, no matter how good the mimicry was. And she was the best he’d ever heard.

Whitney had taken numerous girls from orphanages from countries all over the world. He’d also used in vitro to create designer babies to experiment on. His first idea had been to create pairs, a male and female. He used enhanced pheromones to make the pair attracted physically to one another so they would bond when he was certain he had the correct enhancements that would work together in the field. It was possible whatever was taking place above the homes of Teams One and Two was being run by a bonded pair.

The moment the woman had uttered her bird call, Jonas had pinpointed the direction from which the sound had come, but instead of rushing toward it, he stayed put and remained as still as stone, giving off so little energy it would be impossible to detect him, lowering his external body temperature so he gave off no heat signature. Whoever the woman was, she knew he was out here and she was, at the very least, directing the wolves and birds to keep watch on him. Rushing toward her now, while she and her sentinels were all on alert, was too risky. Best to hunker down for a while and wait for them to relax their guard.

Jonas had learned patience in a hard school when he was young. High-wire acts were dangerous, so was throwing knives. One misstep, and someone he loved could be hurt or killed. He had learned to always stay calm and not make mistakes. Now, with all his predatory instincts enhanced, he had become even more patient. He could wait hours in complete stillness.

For this hunt, he knew he had to be cautious. The mist contained traps that could detect him if he made a mistake. The animals in the forest were actively looking for him. Beneath his calm surface, he could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, the predatory instincts taking hold. That trait in him was so powerful and aggressive, so dominant, that when the alpha of the sentinel wolf pack had resisted his very subtle influence, the urge to attack that wolf and rip out his throat had welled up like a volcano.

He suppressed the urge with ruthless control. Jonas was at his most dangerous when he was in hunting mode, and while some part of him hated the savagery Whitney’s experiments had unleashed in him, another part of him thrilled at the visceral intensity of those urges. He couldn’t deny the joy he felt each time he allowed himself the freedom to use his abilities, in spite of the ugliness of what he knew would ultimately be his fate.