Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

Cautiously, she rose and walked back to the ladder. One more flight and she’d reach the rooftop. Whoever, or whatever, had done that to the old man might still be up there.

She had to call for backup. There was no other choice, not in a situation like this. Pressing the communication switch, she waited for a response and quickly asked for help. The closest unit was seven minutes away.

Her gaze went back to the landing above her and she bit her lip. Was there anyone up there? Was Jack up there? Or was this all some sort of weird setup? No, she thought. He wouldn’t do that to her. And it had been him on the comlink. Her security system had identified his voice. So the fact that the old man had been murdered at the same time she was supposed to have met her partner had to be coincidence.

But where was Jack?

She glanced down at her wristcom. It was twenty-nine minutes past three. It wasn’t unusual for him to be late. In the five years she’d known him, the only thing he’d managed to be on time for was his wedding.

Maybe he was here. Maybe he was a victim of the creature who’d destroyed the old man.

Panic surged at the thought. God, she couldn’t risk the wait for backup, not when Jack’s life might be at stake. She had to go on. She had to try and find him. If the department decided to discipline her for leaving a crime scene, then so be it. As long as she found her partner safe and sound, she didn’t really give a damn.

As she reached the rooftop, the full force of the wind hit her, thrusting her back a step before she regained her balance. Shivering, she dragged her coat zipper all the way up her neck, but it didn’t stop the rain from getting past the collar and trickling down her back.

“This is great, just great,” she muttered, wiping the water from her eyes—a totally useless gesture, given the conditions.

Visibility was practically zero. If there was someone up here with her, all he had to do was remain still and she’d never even see him. With a final, regretful glance at the alley below her, she moved forward across the rooftop. After a dozen steps, a dark, boxlike shape loomed out of the grayness. Stairs to the rooms below, presumably.

She found a door and tested it cautiously. The handle turned. With her back to the wall, gun raised, she pushed the door open and listened for any sign of movement. Still nothing.

Yet instinct told her the murderer had to be inside. There was nowhere else he could be, nowhere else he really could have come from. Unless, of course, he could fly. But if he could fly, why would he have used the fire escape? Why wouldn’t he have just dragged the old man’s body down to the end of the alley rather than up the stairs, then flown away?

No, he was here, down those stairs, somewhere.

She switched the com-unit’s light back on, then crossed her wrists, holding the gun and light to one side of her body as she edged forward.

The light gleamed off the metal stairs and puddled against the deeper darkness of the room. Three steps down, she halted again, listening. The silence was so intense it felt as if she could reach out and touch it. With unease growing, she frowned and edged down the remaining steps.

In the small circle of light she could see several stacks of chairs lined up against the wall. Beyond that were the vague shapes of upturned tables. Obviously, someone was using the empty floor as a storage facility. She moved across to the first stack of chairs and stopped again.

Something hit her—an invisible force that came out of the darkness to slam her back against the wall. Her breath left in a whoosh of air, and for several heartbeats, she saw stars. Then her senses seemed to explode outward. Just for an instant, the darkness became something that was real, something that had flavor and taste and body. And then she realized that it did have bodies, and that she was sensing its inhabitants through every pore and fiber of her being. As if, in that one moment, she inhabited the skins of the beings out there in the shadows, learning their secrets, feeling their thoughts.

One of those who hid in the shadows was a vampire.

The other wasn’t human, wasn’t vampire, and wasn’t anything she actually recognized. But it was filled with an evil so complete it seemed to seep into her very bones and made her soul shake.

The sensation then disappeared with a snap that left her weak and shaking. She collapsed onto her knees and took a deep, shuddering breath. What the hell had happened? Never in her life had she experienced anything so weird … or so frightening. For a brief moment, she’d become one with those others. Had felt the uneven pounding of their hearts, the rush of blood through their veins. Had felt their desire to kill seep through her being and become her own.

She wiped a trembling hand across her brow. The sooner backup got here, the better. A vampire intent on grievous bodily harm she could handle. That other thing, whatever it was, tipped the odds way too far in favor of the bad guys.

She forced herself upright, pressing her back against the wall as she listened to the silence. Still no sound or movement. Warily, she took a step toward the stairs and then stopped. A light prickling sensation ran across her skin.

Someone approached.

Not understanding what was happening, she nevertheless clicked the safety off her gun and held it at the ready. “Police! Come out with your hands up.”

Laughter ran across the stillness, soft and warm. Laughter she’d heard before. Laughter she knew.

“I never could sneak up on you, Ryan.”

Jack stepped into the small circle of light and stopped. She lowered her weapon, but she didn’t relax or reapply the safety. Not until she knew what the hell her partner was up to. Not until she knew whether he was with those other two she’d sensed. Trust was one thing, complete stupidity another. “What the hell is going on? And why haven’t you phoned Suzy or the department?”

He smiled, and there was something decidedly odd about it. “I didn’t come here to talk about Suzy. Or the department.”

There was a chill in his green eyes she’d never noticed before, an edge to his voice that spoke of violence. This was the Jack she knew—and yet, in many ways, it wasn’t. “Why not? What are you up to?”

He smiled and lowered his gaze, silently studying the floor. She had an odd notion that time was running out—that this man, her partner, had come here to kill her. It was a ridiculous thought, it really was, but it was one she just couldn’t shake. Licking dry lips, she raised her gun a little.