"I made it out of the vent, didn't I?"
That she did. Sam squeezed her shoulder gently. "Just be careful. Once you're clear of this area, contact Gabriel, not Stephan."
Alarm flitted through Lyssa's pale features. "Why?"
She hesitated. She had no right to tell Lyssa about the bomb or the shapeshifter — such information was better coming from someone close. "There have been several attempts on your husband's life. Gabriel has him hidden, and only he knows how to contact him."
The tension in Lyssa's body eased a little. "I know they'd planned for such an event. I'll contact Gabriel first."
"What about my husband?" Jan asked softly. "He should know I'm free, before he's forced to do something by that ... that monster."
Karl had already been forced down that path. "Wait and see what Gabriel says."
Jan nodded. Sam rose and nudged the unconscious felon with her foot. "If he moves, if he even blinks, shoot him. Don't hesitate."
Tension leapt into the silence, sizzling through the night, but it was coming mainly from Jan rather than Lyssa. The younger woman might look frail, but Sam had a suspicion she was far more dangerous than she looked.
"Good luck, ladies. Hopefully, I'll see you both a bit later."
"May fortune smile kindly on your ventures tonight," Lyssa said softly.
She smiled. The God of good fortune had looked the other way her entire life, so why should that change now? She stepped past them both and moved back to the corner. At the far end she stopped, studying the six buildings critically.
The minute she stepped out into the open, the monitors would have her. And if she didn't do it soon, Jack would send people to look for her.
The fastest route was a direct route. By the time Jack realized she wasn't actually going for a car, she'd hopefully have figured out some way to get rid of the generator. After taking a deep breath to calm the nerves fluttering in her stomach, she ran out of the shadows and into the open. The monitor failed to respond for a second, and then she heard the hum as it clicked into action and began tracking her movements. With a bit of luck, Jack would think she'd come from the main doorway.
She raced across to the nearest building and stopped in the shadows. Her heart raced as fast as a steam train, and her breaths were little more than short gasps — from fear, more than exertion. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Behind that came the pounding of distant rain. Closer, the soft crunch of gravel as someone walked towards her. To her left, on the far side of the nearest building, the soft exhale of air, and a bittersweet smell began to taint the storm-held freshness. Someone was smoking rat-weed, the newest sensation on the drug scene. He was the one to go for — the drug, for all its much vaunted heightening of senses, often had the opposite effect.
The footsteps drew closer. Time to go. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, she ran across to the next building. With her back pressed hard against the wall, she waited. A man appeared, and then stopped. He studied the shadows where she'd stood only moments before, then raised a hand to his ear.
"She's not here."
So they definitely were tracking her. The man turned, staring straight at her. She froze, barely daring to breathe.
"I'm telling you, she's not here," he repeated.
How could he not see her, when she could see him as plain as day? What game was Jack playing now?
"I don't care what the monitor said, she's gone. Check the other screens."
He moved on. The sound of his steps faded into the distance, yet she couldn't move. What the hell was going on? Foreboding beat a quick tattoo through her heart. Taking another deep breath, she moved on. The smoker was around the far corner.
"Hey, you," she whispered.
He spun, weapon raised. Faster than the first, but still not fast enough. She knocked him out, eased him to the ground, and grabbed his weapon. Another laser. Jack kept his men well armed, if nothing else. She wondered where he'd gotten the money.
She moved on. There was a monitor on the corner of the next building. She raised the laser and shot it. Sparks flew across the darkness, firefly bright. She sighted at the monitor farther along and took that out, too. Then she turned and ran back the way she'd come. Keeping to the side of the buildings and to the shadows, staying out of the range of monitors, she headed for the hut that held the generator.
Shouts rang through the silence, but they were coming from the area where she'd shot out the two monitors. A man appeared from the building to her left. She raised the laser and fired several shots. He went down with a gurgling sound that shuddered through her mind. She'd hit his larynx, probably made him mute. Still a hell of a lot better than death, she thought, shoving the horror of it from her mind. The door to the generator room was locked. Taking aim, she switched the laser to full and shot the lock to smithereens. The door slammed back with the force of the blast.
Inside it was dark and unguarded. Two large generators sat on the concrete floor, and a small control board was to one side of them. There were far too many buttons on the board. She had no idea which was the right one to turn off the electricity to the fence, and it could take forever to find out. With no time for finesse, she put the laser on full and shot the hell out of the board. Metal and plastic flew, then white light exploded, punching her backwards and snatching the breath from her lungs as she was flung back against the wall. She hit the floor with a grunt. For several seconds, she struggled against the blackness threatening to snatch her mind into unconsciousness. Smoke hissed through the gloom, and red fingers of flame licked the remains of the board. Coughing slightly, she studied the generators. Sparks flew into the darkness, diamond bright against the fire. Electricity tingled across her skin, wild and somehow free. From the storm, not the generators, which were still working. She took aim again and shot them both. Then she ran like hell for the door.
She barely made it.
A gigantic rush of heated air picked her up and threw her sideways. She hit the ground hard, tasting dirt as she slid along it. Heat licked across her back, burning deep. Realizing her shirt was on fire, she rolled, dousing it. Another explosion shuddered through the air. She cowered against the ground, throwing her arms over her head, trying to protect it as deadly spears of wood and metal arrowed through the air. Flames leapt upwards, a gigantic ball that lit the night sky.
If Jan and Lyssa didn't see or hear that, something was definitely wrong with them. Jack wouldn't miss it, that was for certain.