No mention of the power within the storm. No mention of the firefly dance of energy that could shatter locks as easily as she breathed.
Perhaps Orrin thought to keep it a surprise. Perhaps he didn't even know about it. There was no way of knowing if her apparent ability to disappear into shadows was, in any way, linked to his. They might not even be talking about the same type of ability.
But Orrin had come from Hopeworth. The more she delved into her past, the more obvious it was that the military base was her birthplace. The gifts Orrin spoke of were a cousin to her own, of that she was sure.
The giant walked down the stairs. She backed away, her gaze sweeping the large room, searching desperately for some sort of weapon. It was no use running. Orrin was twice her height, and would catch her in no time.
How close were Briggs and the others? Or Stephan? She still had the earphone on — maybe she should just shout for help. But that would warn Orrin and Rose that the others were out there, and if Orrin's behavior was anything to go by, that was something they weren't aware of yet. For Gabriel's sake, she had to play this solo.
Besides, there was no guarantee that even with the help of Briggs and the others, they'd be able to take the giant out. Not when he had the night as his ally. To be able to shoot someone, you had to be able to see them.
Orrin reached the bottom step and stopped. Though she couldn't see his smile, she could feel it.
"Nowhere to run here, little girl. Just one big room with only the two exits."
Her back hit the wall. She edged along to the right. "You can't cover both of them at the same time, Orrin."
"I don't need to. I move too fast, faster even than you."
"You can't know that." Though she had a suspicion that he could. After all, if it was possible for her to taste evil, why couldn't it be possible for him to know instinctively what she could and couldn't do?
But if that were the case, why wasn't he saying anything about the power of the storm?
Her foot hit something. Metal scraped harshly across the concrete. Orrin laughed.
"You think that little metal pick is going to hurt me?"
Shoved deep in some unlikely orifice, yes, it probably would. She quickly picked it up. Orrin's so-called pick was a good three feet long and as heavy as sin. Should make a rather nice dent, even in a head as thick as Orrin's. If she dared get that close.
He stepped toward her. Heat crawled over her skin, whispering secrets. Orrin was a true creature of the night, but one who could walk through the day without fear. He was Dhampire, the offspring of a human and vampire, created in the lab rather than during those few vital hours after rebirth, when the newly risen vampire still held life in his loins.
And he drank blood, not through necessity, but for enjoyment.
She hefted the metal rod, holding it in front of her like a staff. Why hadn't she sensed Orrin's true nature earlier? Was it because the daylight hid his vampire half, or was it more a case of these new abilities coming into focus because of the storm's power?
"Why not simply turn yourself in, Orrin? At the moment, you're guilty of little more than being an accessory. A few years, max, in prison. Piss easy for a man like you."
"And Hopeworth? You think I don't know they'll swoop in and get me?"
"You have a real fixation on the military, haven't you?" She balanced lightly on her toes, ready to run, given the slightest hint of movement from Orrin.
"You're one of us. You should know what it's like, being poked and prodded and examined endlessly. I won't go back to it. Can't."
She frowned. He seemed to have awfully clear memories of something that happened when he was a babe. "That was a long time ago, Orrin."
"Twenty years," he agreed. "I was four when they dumped me. But I remember. And I will have revenge."
Not if she could help it. Not that she wanted to protect Hopeworth — far from it. Everything she'd learned over the past few days had only convinced her they deserved everything Orrin had planned, and a whole lot more.
No. The problem was Orrin himself. His desire to kill was so strong she could almost taste it. He planned to play with her, planned to drink her blood until he drained her dry. Then he planned to do the same to Gabriel.
To stop him, she'd have to kill him. If she could.
He rushed at her, a gale force she felt rather than saw. She danced away and swung the bar with all her might. It connected against flesh with a sickening crack. The force of the blow shuddered up her arm and momentarily numbed her fingers.
He laughed. Laughed. He was as mad as Rose.
She backed away, gripping the bar hard, her gaze locked on his evil stain.