Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)

He lunged against the chains again, his teeth snapping. His canines were sharp, she noted. Almost as sharp as a vampire’s. “You won’t get nothin’ from me.”

“We’ll see.” She glanced at the wall again. “Buzz me if he changes his mind and decides to talk, or when the break team finishes.”

“Will do,” Briggs repeated.

Sam walked from the room. Out in the corridor, she stopped and took a deep breath. Tension oozed from every muscle. There was something about the big man that made her skin crawl, and it was more than just the sense of evil. It was as if he were something that should not exist—something obscene, like the kites.

She glanced at her watch and decided to get a coffee. The coffee machines in the building produced a black substance that tasted little better than dishwater, but right now she didn’t feel like walking down the street to get something better. She wanted to be on hand when the break team started in on Orrin.

She headed up to the foyer. It being a public area, the machines there tended to offer better quality dishwater.

Only everyone else in the building seemed to have had the same thought, because by the time she got down there, the damn machine was out of coffee. She thumped it in frustration, then punched the button for hot chocolate. Better than tea, she supposed. She was watching it pour when Gabriel walked through security and headed for the elevators.

Orrin had been lying. Odd that she hadn’t detected it. She grabbed her chocolate, almost burning her fingers as the hot liquid splashed up over the sides of the plastic cup, and hurried after her partner.

“Gabriel, wait!”

He continued walking, but he looked over his shoulder. There was no recognition, no emotion, in his eyes when his gaze met hers.

Heat crawled over her skin, whispering secrets to her mind. She stopped abruptly. Hot chocolate splashed over her hand again, dripping across the pristine tiles near her feet.

This wasn’t Gabriel.

This was a shapeshifter, taking his form.

SAM DROPPED THE CHOCOLATE IN the nearby bin and drew her gun. “AD Stern, please stop right now.”

The shifter looked over his shoulder. Surprise flitted through the familiar hazel eyes, then he dove into the nearest elevator.

She cursed and ran for the doors, but they shut a whisper too soon. She punched the call button and watched the floor indicator. The shifter was heading to the lower levels—probably to Gabriel’s office.

A second elevator appeared. She punched the floor number and paced the confines of the cab as it began its descent.

Why would a shifter come in here imitating Gabriel? What would Gabriel have that would be important enough for someone to take such a risk? Truth was, she didn’t know. At no time in the last month had he brought her into his confidence, and the only case she’d really been involved with was the rejects.

She stopped. It wasn’t just any shifter; it was Rose. She was here to get the location list of the remaining rejects. The woman had to be stark raving mad to take such a risk.

And yet, she’d made it past security without a hassle. She might even have gotten past Sam had it not been for her weird ability to pick out certain races.

The elevator stopped and Sam squeezed through the doors before they’d fully opened, running into the foyer. The shifter was halfway down the hall, heading for Gabriel’s office.

“AD Stern, please stop right there.”

The shifter turned and fired. Sam dove to her left. Laser fire sizzled down her right leg, and she yelped. The smell of burning material mingled with the stench of crisped flesh. Her flesh. The bitch had the laser set on full.

Ignoring the deep-set throbbing in her leg, she rolled to her feet and squeezed off several shots. The shifter ducked into the nearby hall, firing as she moved. The shots hit the wall inches above Sam’s head.

Sam scrambled forward as a strident alarm shattered the silence. Footsteps pounded toward them. The shifter appeared, gun aimed, and Sam dove to one side. A blue-white beam sizzled half an inch from her stomach, striking the wall behind her. Metal melted, oozing downward.

She rose on one knee and fired again. Again the shot missed the fleeing shifter. She cursed. Security appeared from the hall to her left, weapons raised.

“That’s not AD Stern,” she said, pointing to the fleeing shifter. “Take her out immediately!”

“Agent Ryan, please put down the weapon.”

“For Christ’s sake, didn’t you hear what I said? That is not AD Stern! Stop him immediately!”

Footsteps echoed in the silence. The shifter, running away. And the morons in security uniforms were letting her go. She swore and rose.