Twilight Prophecy - By Maggie Shayne Page 0,24

She had taken Aunt Rhi’s advice and headed into her bedroom for a nap, but she had awakened the moment she sensed that J.W. was gone. She felt him more acutely than she felt anyone else. Upon rising, she’d made the unfortunate choice to turn on one of the twenty-four-hour news channels to hear what was being said about the events of the night before.

Veteran newsman Matthew Christopher was in the middle of interviewing a suit-wearing politician who spoke as if from memory. “Lester Folsom’s book was pulled for reasons of national security, Matt,” he said, as if speaking to a slow student who didn’t quite get the point. “As demented as poor Mr. Folsom was, we can’t ignore the fact that he did indeed work as a covert agent, and in that capacity, he was privy to massive amounts of sensitive information.”

“Apparently enough to get him shot,” the newsman replied.

“No one has proven that the murder had anything to do with—”

“Don’t give me that,” Matthew interrupted. “A guy’s about to release a tell-all, an exposé, about his work as a covert op, and he gets blown away, execution-style, on the eve of that. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

“Matt, you’re not giving me a chance to explain—”

“There are sources, Mr. Jenner, who say Folsom’s work involved the paranormal. The unknown. Some of the blogs are claiming he was about to reveal the actual existence of a race of vampires. How do you respond to that?”

The guest made a face. “Anyone can post anything on the internet. You know that. No right-minded person would believe—”

“We might know what to believe if the storm troopers hadn’t raided every book distribution center in the country, destroying every copy in existence so none of us could read for ourselves…”

“You’d be reading fiction. With just enough real information thrown in to cause serious problems.”

“Are you concerned at all about rumors that there were a handful of advance copies floating around? That WikiLeaks has published what they claim are actual excerpts from the Folsom manuscript on their website?”

The bureaucrat measured his words. “As far as we know, we’ve managed to find every copy.”

“It’s for sure you got all of Folsom’s. And his notes, and everything else he had in his house in the Caribbean. Relatives claim soldiers gutted the place.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“They say you stripped it to the bare walls. Even rolled up the carpets.”

“Well, I wasn’t a part of that team, and I’m sure the family’s feeling very violated, and perhaps, in their grief, might just be blowing things a tiny bit out of pro—”

“Tell me this, Mr. Jenner. Is there, or has there ever been, a secret division of the CIA devoted to investigating cases involving the paranormal?”

Jenner looked Matthew Christopher right in the eye, leaning slightly forward in his seat. “Absolutely not.”

“Who shot Lester Folsom, Mr. Jenner?”

“We don’t know. But believe me, the murder of a CIA operative, even a retired one like Folsom, is something we take very seriously. We’ve put every resource we have on this, and we will not rest until Lester Folsom’s murderer is—”

Brigit clicked the remote control, accidentally hitting the channel selector rather than the off button. The riot taking place on the TV screen held her riveted. Flames were licking at the early morning sky, devouring what looked like a brownstone. The tagline on the bottom read Riots Break Out in Brooklyn. The reporter was saying that a gang of self-proclaimed vigilantes apparently believed the residents of the two-family building were vampires, and so they’d set the place on fire and burned them alive.

She hit the remote again, turning the TV off, and closed her eyes. Where are you, big brother? The world is going insane, and it’s not safe out there for you.

He spoke to her mentally. I’ve got the professor.

You rescued her alone?

They let her go. Planted a chip, but I tossed it. We’re on our way.

Not here, Brigit replied, her lips moving as if to give more emphasis to her words. It’s not safe. Word’s out. Vigilante vampire hunters just murdered two families in Brooklyn. As soon as the sun sets, I’m taking Aunt Rhi and getting out of here.

Go to the Byram house, her brother told her. They think we abandoned it long ago.

Good idea.

Be careful, Bridge.

I will, bro. You, too. See you in Byram. Wait till after dark.

See you there, he assured her.

Brigit closed the channels of her mind, just in case there might be anyone around trying to

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