He couldn't hear any movement, but the sudden prickling sensation along the back of his neck suggested he was no longer alone.
Rose was back. He had to move.
He ran to the end of the hall and cautiously opened the door. It led into the factory proper — a huge space filled with little more than dust. A roller door dominated the wall to his left. Beside it was a second door. From where he stood, it was impossible to tell whether it was locked or not.
His footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. Though he could hear no other sound, the sensation that Rose drew close burned. Keeping near the walls, hoping to be less obvious in the dust-laden shadows, he made way around to the door.
The handle turned when he gripped it. He opened the door and looked out. The room beyond was a loading bay. A second roller door at the far end stood open. Beyond it, he could see thunderous skies.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Though he couldn't see her, Rose was close. Watching. Waiting. It didn't matter. He had to take the risk. Had to try to escape, while he still could.
He shifted shape and flew toward the open roller door. Movement caught the corner of his eye. Rose stepped out of the shadows, weapon raised.
He pumped his wings, flying as hard and as fast as he could. He felt rather than saw the retort of the laser, felt the heat of the shot burn toward him. He flicked his wings, soaring up and sideways.
The shot sizzled past him, gouging a bullet-sized hole in the metal wall. He arrowed through the door and into the freedom of the storm-clad skies. Footsteps raced behind him, and then a second shot burned through the air.
Again, he dove away, this time to his left. He wasn't fast enough. The shot tore through his wing, exploding through flesh and bone as easily as it had the metal wall. Agony fired through his brain. Then he was tumbling, careening out of control, back to the earth and Rose's waiting arms.
* * * *
Footsteps echoed through Sam's brain, the rhythm of barely restrained anger. It was a beat accompanied by a muted throbbing in her shoulder and leg. Waking was not something she wanted to do — not if the throbbing was any indication of the pain that waited on the return to full consciousness.But she had little choice. Someone was shaking her good shoulder, demanding she wake.
She forced one reluctant eye open. A woman's face swam into view. It was a strong face, a pretty face. A face that would take no shit.
Oddly enough, it reminded her of Gabriel.
Why, she had no idea. The woman's hair was dark brown and curly, her eyes almost catlike and mint green in color. But it was in her eyes that she could see the kinship, if nowhere else. Her gaze was at once sympathetic, demanding, and hostile — a look she'd seen all too often in the warm hazel depths of Gabriel's eyes.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The woman raised a dark eyebrow. "A direct, lucid question when you should be screaming in agony. Interesting."
"Would screaming in agony get me an answer any quicker?" Truth was, she probably would be screaming in agony if she didn't have the damn feeling it wouldn't matter one jot — not to this woman, and not to the man who paced so angrily beyond her line of sight.
"Probably not." A smile that was impossibly white flashed briefly. "My name is Jessie McMahon."
No wonder she could see a similarity to Gabriel — the woman was his damn sister. No doubt the angry pacer was Stephan. "Where am I?"
"At SIU headquarters, in holding cell number nine."
Which was probably the most secure area in the whole of the SIU. Even if she screamed her lungs out, no one would be the wiser. The room had more shields than parliament, and was generally reserved for the most dangerous criminals.
What a laugh, when all she'd done was try to stop an enemy. They were the ones who should be locked up, since they were the ones who'd undoubtedly let the enemy go.
"Why aren't I in the damn medical center?" Her voice came out cracked, harsh. She swallowed, but it didn't ease the burning dryness in her throat, though a dry throat was the least of her problems. She stunk of burned flesh, and her whole body ached — even if in a lackluster way. But once the numbness from the laser burns wore off, she'd be screaming in agony.
Jessie's smile was cold. "Because, my dear, you tried to shoot my brother. You're lucky it was security firing at you and not anyone else."
Like Stephan, she surmised. Anger washed over her, a wave of heat that momentarily echoed in Jessie's cat eyes.
"God, have you two any idea what you've done?"
Jessie grabbed her hand, her grip like steel, her skin like ice against the heat of Sam's flesh. "We stopped you from killing my brother."
She laughed harshly. She couldn't help it. These people supposedly dealt with the supernatural all the time, yet they were willing to believe the obvious without questioning.
"I bet you haven't even bothered looking at the tape, have you? You dragged me down here and just can't wait to beat the so called truth out of me." She tilted her head back a little, but she still couldn't see the man who paced behind her. "Well, the truth is, I've had enough of you people. I f**king quit."