Penumbra (Spook Squad 3)

And she’d been no more than seven years old at the time.

“Lights on,” she murmured, wanting to banish the shadows and the last remnants of the dream.

Brightness flooded through the hotel room. She sat up, drew her knees close to her chest and hugged them tightly. If Joshua was in fact her brother, as the dreams insisted, why did he call her Samantha? According to Mary Elliot, the woman who’d supposedly looked after the two of them in Hopeworth, Joshua’s sister had been called Josephine.

And why was she dreaming of a scientist with gray eyes when all the scientists who had dealt with the Penumbra project were dead?

Or were they?

They’d had only Allars’s word on that, and Allars was an old man whose memories might well have been altered by the military. No matter how reliable his information had seemed, no matter how much it had jelled with other sources, they had to take everything he said with a grain of salt.

She rubbed her arms and looked at the time. It was nearly eleven. Wetherton would be leaving the theater soon and heading home. According to the file, the vampire would attack just before Wetherton climbed into the car.

The theater was only four blocks down from her hotel. If she hurried, she just might make it there in time to see what happened. She had a horrible suspicion that things would not go as Stephan had planned.

And investigating was certainly better than sitting here in this hotel room, trying to stay awake in an effort to avoid the dreams that made no sense, and yet terrified her.

—

Gabriel swiped his credit card through the cab’s slot and climbed out. Illie had offered to drive him home, or even here, to his sister’s, but he’d had more than enough of his new partner. At least Sam had been able to appreciate moments of silence—not to mention being a whole lot easier on the eyes.

Not that he’d ever admit either to her.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and wished he could just stop thinking about her. Damn it, he’d gotten what he wanted—and what was best for both of them.

So why did he feel so damn depressed about it?

Maybe it was just exhaustion. He and Illie had spent an hour in the med center at Pegasus being poked and prodded. Then they’d wasted another three hours viewing the security tapes and talking to the evasive Kathryn Douglass. Whatever secrets the woman hid, she wasn’t giving them away easily. Even Illie had trouble reading her.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home, have a drink and go to bed. But he couldn’t—not until he’d looked after the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He climbed the front steps and reached out to press the doorbell, but the door opened before he could. His sister stood before him, green eyes concerned despite her welcoming smile.

“A visit from my little brother at this hour of the night? Things must be bad.” Her voice was soft as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Gabriel smiled and kissed her back. “I need help.”

“I gathered that. Head on through to the kitchen. Alain’s making coffee.”

He made his way down the shadowed hall, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floors. Alain, Jessie’s brown-haired, large-limbed husband of six months, stood near the sink, pouring hot coffee into three mugs.

He glanced around as Gabriel entered, giving him a quick look over before his lips split into a wide grin. “Man, you look like shit.”

Gabriel smiled and dragged out a chair. “That’s a pretty accurate description of how I feel.”

Alain placed a mug in front of him and sat opposite. The scent of coffee wafted up, teasing him.

“Things not going well?”

Though there was a sympathetic edge in Alain’s voice, amusement crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. Gabriel had an odd feeling he wasn’t actually referring to work. What had Jessie been telling him?

“Yeah, you could say that. I almost got blown up this afternoon.”

“Tough days at the office are the pits.”

“But you’re not here for sympathy, are you?” Jessie said, as she sat down and leaned her shoulder against Alain’s.

Loneliness swirled through Gabriel. If only briefly, he found himself wanting what most of his siblings had—someone to lean on. Someone to come home to. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. God, he definitely needed some sleep if he was thinking that. Besides, his chance at such a life had slipped away when Andrea died. “No, I want you to help me guard Sam’s back.”