Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)

“I can’t see what coming out here is going to achieve,” Jessie said, leaning on the steering wheel to peer through the windshield. “We went over everything already. There’s nothing here to find.”

“Maybe.” But she had to try, at the very least. “You’d better wait here. No sense in both of us getting wet.”

Jessie’s gaze was dubious. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam opened the car door. The wind snatched it from her hands, flinging it fully open. She winced. “Sorry about that.”

Jessie shrugged. “There’s a flashlight in the glove compartment. Grab that.”

Sam did, even though she didn’t really need it. With all the lightning, the night was almost as bright as day. She climbed out and slammed the door shut. The wind tore at her hair, blowing it in all directions. The rain sheeted down, sluicing off her coat and soaking into her boots. Yet in the wildness, there was power. She could feel it running across her skin, crackling across her fingertips. She breathed deeply, drawing that energy inside, feeling it surge through every pore, every fiber, although she wasn’t entirely sure how this would help her to find Gabriel.

She walked toward the warehouse. The wind howled through the shattered windows lining the front of the building—an eerie sound that had goose bumps fleeing across her skin. Mixed with this moaning was the high-pitched scream of metal as the wind tore at the roofing. It sounded like the dead being tortured.

Shoving her hands in her coat pockets, and half-wishing she’d brought some gloves, Sam made her way down the side of the building. It briefly protected her from the full force of the wind, though the night was still bitterly cold. Thunder pealed in the distance. She began counting the seconds, but she had barely gotten to three before jagged lightning split the night sky. The center of the storm was only a mile away. Whether this would make any difference to what might happen, she wasn’t sure.

She reached the back and came out of the protection of the building. The wind slapped against her, forcing her to stagger several steps before she regained her footing. Lightning tore through the sky again. In the residual brightness, she saw the ramp and loading bay. This was it. This was where Gabriel had gotten shot.

She walked forward slowly, not toward the loading bay, but away from it. He’d been flying when he was hit, striving upward to escape the loading bay. He wouldn’t have come down close to it.

Overhead, thunder rumbled again. The power of the storm echoed through her—a force that filled her, completed her, in a way she couldn’t even begin to understand or hope to explain. When she clenched her hands, sparks danced across her knuckles, a visible sign of the energy coursing through her being.

It scared her. Terrified her. But if this power helped her find Gabriel, then she’d use it and worry about the consequences later.

She splashed through puddles, following the rain-slick pavement toward the rear of the property. Hopefully, there she’d find a clue that Stephan and Jessie had missed.

The fence line came into view. The double gates leading out of the property were padlocked. She turned left and walked along the perimeter, following instinct and hoping it wasn’t leading her astray.

Again, the sky rumbled. In the following flash of lightning, she saw something flapping wildly in the wind-torn darkness. A piece of material, caught in the fence.

She splashed quickly through the mud. The material was dark gray and felt like silk. The sort of material Gabriel favored in his jackets. She tore the strip free and rubbed it between her fingers. He must have snagged his jacket on the fence as he fell. She

hoped his jacket was the only casualty.

Thunder reverberated. Its power shuddered through her, and energy, as bright as the lightning itself, sparked again between her fingertips, this time dancing over the small strip of material.

Power hit her with the force of a hammer. She grunted and dropped to her knees, splashing mud into her face. But she ignored that and clenched the material tight, struggling to breathe under the weight of the energy running around her, through her.

Images struck—jagged pieces of information that knifed through her mind. A suburb full of redbrick houses. A street name. A factory perched between two supermarkets. A “For Sale” sign out front, bearing the number 52. Gabriel, pale and unconscious, stretched out on a gray carpet.

The power faded, leaving her trembling and gasping for breath. She shuddered and swiped the muddy water dripping from her nose. What the hell was that? And how had Joe known it would happen? Jesus, she had to find out just who he was and how he knew so much.

But right now that was not her main priority. She struggled upright, the material still clenched in her hand. But with most of the night’s power having left her system, it was little more than a sodden strip. Even so, it was proof that he’d been here, proof that she’d found what they could not. A clue. A possible hope.

As she made her way back to the car, she tapped her wristcom and quickly called the SIU.

“Christine? Patch me through to Director Byrne.”

Stephan came online. In the background she could hear strident alarms. “What do you want now, Agent Ryan?”

For the first time since she’d met him, Stephan actually looked, and sounded, stressed. “I know where he is, sir. I’m heading there now.”

“The address?”

She gave it to him. “I wouldn’t call in too many reinforcements, though. Might inflame the situation.”

“The situation is already inflamed. She gave us two hours.” He hesitated, glancing down. “Forty-five minutes ago. And Whittiker has escaped.”

That was not a good development. “Escaped? How?”