They'll know. They'll see the difference.
They know nothing about us, despite all their tests.
Trust me, Samantha.
She briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she stared at the fire burning fiercely in the pit three feet away.
The flames shivered, as if dancing away from an unseen wind.
Sweat tracked down her face, stinging her eyes. She ignored it, concentrating, drawing power up from the depths of her soul. From the ground itself.
The fiery mass rose from the pit and hovered in midair for several seconds. She glanced at the control room and saw Joshua step back, well out of harm's way.
She smiled. It was a cold smile. A hateful smile. Aimed not at him, but at the men with him. The men who wouldn't let them be, wouldn't let them go.
The burning mass leapt across the arena and smashed through the control box's glass. White coats scattered like confetti. Then the lights went out and the screaming began.
Laughter filled the air, mingling with the screams. Her laughter; Joshua's laughter. Both old beyond their years and full of hate. The fire leapt from the men to the computers, and she realized he was feeding it, making it destroy the sensor readouts. Once again they would have no record of what happened here today. Nothing more than the words of those who survived.
Josh, I'm chipped. They'll kill me.
The flames died suddenly, sucked back into the void that had fed them. I know. It is not our time to escape yet. But when it is, they will taste the fires more fully.
The malevolence in his voice made even her shiver… …She woke, a chill encasing her body. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. Were the dreams memories trying to break free? Or simply the imaginings of a fertile mind?
There was no way to be certain. But if this dream were to be believed, then she had not only killed, but she'd enjoyed it.
Nor was it the first or the last time it had happened.
And she'd been no more than seven 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 only had Allars 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 things would not go as Stephan planned.
And going 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 debit 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 brand new partner. At least Sam had been able to appreciate moments of silence—and she was a whole lot easier on the eye.
Not that he'd ever admit either to her.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and wished he could just stop thinking of her. Damn it, he'd gotten what he wanted, what was best for them both.
So why did he feel so damn depressed about it?
Maybe it was just tiredness. He and Illie had spent an hour in the med-center at the Foundation being poked and prodded.
Then they'd wasted another three hours viewing the security tapes and talking to the evasive Kathryn Douglas. Whatever secrets the woman hid, she wasn't giving them away easily.