The Gathering (DR) Read online

  "So the attack is supposed to come tonight?" I said.

  "Oh, no. The information was simply that the Cortezes have discovered the existence of the project and the location of the house. It would take them at least a day to mobilize. They're based in Miami."

  The driver murmured, "But they have a Seattle office."

  Dr. Inglis looked over sharply. "Do they? Well, it would just be a satellite office, ill-equipped for an operation of this size, and certainly none of the staff would have the authority to lead the incursion."

  "Lucas Cortez lives in Portland." The driver shot a meaningful look Dr. Inglis's way. "He is Benicio's heir."

  She fluttered her hands. "Everyone knows that's just posturing. Benicio would never turn over the Cabal to Lucas. Not when he does all that"--another disdainful flutter--"anti-Cabal crusading nonsense."

  "Maybe it's just Lucas, then," the driver said. "He's found out about this and decided to get involved. Save the kids." His tone was sharp with sarcasm.

  "He doesn't have the means to pull this off. Idealism is all well and fine, but it doesn't buy proper staff and equipment." She cast a glance out the window, and in her reflection I could see anxiety as she scanned the night. "No, I'm sure he couldn't do this."

  Rafe looked at me and lifted his brows. He mouthed "Maybe . . ." I agreed and mentally filed the information.

  I looked out my window. We were almost off the mountain now, in a densely populated neighborhood near the bottom. Lots of houses, mostly dark, the road quiet.

  "Where are we being--?" I began.

  The squawk of a radio cut me off. The driver answered.

  "We're being followed," said the woman on the other end. "Could be nothing. I'm dispatching a backup car to handle it, but you need to follow protocol."

  The driver said he'd do that. He'd barely hung up when the lead car made a sudden, unsignaled left turn, tires screeching slightly. We followed. The van behind us didn't.

  "Splitting up?" Rafe said.

  Neither Dr. Inglis nor the driver answered. He kept both hands on the wheel, gaze straight forward. She watched out the side window. After a minute she said, "There. The next street over. An SUV with its lights off is on a parallel course with us. I've seen them down three side streets now."

  As we passed the next intersection, the driver looked. So did I. There it was--a dark, unlit SUV a short block over.

  He called it in. Again, he was simply told to "follow protocol." This time, that meant he was the one hitting his brakes and making a sharp left turn. The guard car continued on without us. Our driver flicked off our headlights. At the next corner, he turned again. Same with the next.

  Voices came over the radio. Conversations among the drivers. The second van hadn't noticed anything amiss and was continuing on with its escort. Our escort had gone after the SUV, which had taken off the second they appeared. They were chasing it now. We were advised to continue on, with the dispatcher giving directions that seemed to take us along every street in the neighborhood.

  Finally we came out on a back road in a housing development. The homes were unfinished and unoccupied, and looked like they'd been that way for a while and would continue to be that way for a while longer--another victim of the economic crunch. It was eerie seeing them in the darkness, half-completed skeletons, stark against the--

  I saw the truck at the last second. I don't know whether it came from behind a house or out of a garage. One second we were alone on that desolate road. The next I heard a motor roar and looked over to see only inky blackness. Then it seemed to appear from nothing--a huge black pickup, with its lights off, coming straight for us.

  Our driver swerved. The other one did, too, our front hitting their side with a crunch that threw me against my seat belt hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. The front air bags deployed. That's all I noticed in that first post-crash moment--the huge white bags billowing.

  The driver started clawing at his air bag. Hayley vaulted from the backseat and grabbed his seat belt, yanking on it with all her weight to pin him as she wedged one foot into the gap to block him from hitting the release.

  As he struggled, she turned to me. "Do something! God, you guys can be useless sometimes."

  Rafe threw open the door. He looked first, but the truck was gone. He scrambled out. He yanked on the driver's door, but it seemed jammed. I squeezed into the gap between seats. The driver's dart gun had been propped beside him and was now on the floor at his feet.

  I glanced at Dr. Inglis. She was slumped forward as her bag deflated. I crawled to the gun, tugged it back, and managed to get out a dart. As Rafe raced around to try the passenger door, I jammed the dart into the driver's leg. I followed it with a second. Rafe got Dr. Inglis's door open as the driver stopped struggling.

  "She's out cold," Rafe said. He pressed his fingers to Dr. Inglis's neck. "Or . . . worse. I can't--"

  "It can't matter," I said. "We only have a few minutes before they send someone. Time to move."

  THIRTY-ONE

  WE'D BARELY GOTTEN BEHIND the nearest house before I caught the distant roar of a motor.

  "The truck coming back?" Hayley said.

  Rafe shook his head. "If whoever hit the van wanted us, they'd have stayed. Whatever's going on, it's not a kidnapping. If we're lucky, that's a random passerby. If we're not . . ."

  "We haven't been too lucky so far," I muttered.

  He nodded. "We should split up. It's easier for one person to hide and it triples our chance that someone will get away."

  "If you do, go to Stanley Park," I said. I gave them directions to our camping spot.

  "Do you really think Corey and Daniel would still be there?" Hayley said.

  "No, but I hope they'll check back or leave a note."

  We each picked a direction and ran.

  The vehicle I'd heard never materialized. I'd barely set out when I realized the engine was moving farther away. That didn't mean I headed back, though. The goal right now was simply to put distance between myself and the wreck . . . and hope Rafe and Hayley were doing the same.

  I'd chosen backyards as my escape route. Easy enough, given that there weren't fences separating them. But it was too open. And piles of debris and construction holes made it far from a fast--or safe--choice.

  I raced down one street, ready to dart across when I heard the squeal of tires. I hesitated. From what I could see, the next row of houses was the last one, meaning if I could get there, I'd be out of the subdivision and . . . And what? Into an actual neighborhood, where people could spot me running through their yards? Or open ground, where I wouldn't have any shelter? I couldn't see what lay beyond the next road, which meant I couldn't take the chance. I needed to get a better look.

  I backed up to the nearest two-story house. It was less than half finished, with limited hiding places, but the two flanking it weren't any better.

  I picked my way through the debris to the front door--or the opening where the door would be. There weren't any front steps, either, which put the doorway a meter off the ground. I grabbed the frame, swung in, and nearly fell straight into the basement. The framework for the floor hadn't been covered yet. Same for the wall studs. It was like being inside a house built of matchsticks. Absolutely no place to hide. Wonderful.

  Floorboards had been added to the second story, though--or part of it. I made my way up the risers that served as a temporary staircase. The interior walls weren't finished, but if I stayed on the floorboards, no one would see me from below. And I'd be gone before they brought in a full team to conduct a complete search. This was just a way station while I got a good look at the situation.

  Getting that good look meant checking every window until I found one that gave me a partial view of the street where we'd crashed. There was an SUV there now, lights on, doors opening, dark-garbed figures spilling out.

  I strained to listen and caught only the faintest murmur of voices, nearly drowned out by the crack and snap of tarps caught in the wind.
I could see the tarps, too, ripped white flags of surrender dotting the abandoned houses. It was an eerie sight from up here--the rows of houses, the empty windows and doors like pits of darkness in blank faces.

  I moved to the other side of the house and looked out the way I'd been heading. It seemed like scrub land beyond the last street. Pretty open. Too open? It was hard to tell.

  When I heard a creak, I crept toward the stairwell, staying down on all fours and peering out from behind a partial wall. No one was there. I waited. Still nothing. As I turned to go back to my post, I caught what looked like a blur of motion, but when I spun, I saw nothing.

  My hands started to itch. I rubbed them hard and inhaled deep breaths. This really wasn't the time to shift.

  Or was it? I could move lower to the ground as a cat. I could climb and balance better, too. If someone came after me, I could disappear into one of these houses and be on the roof before they navigated across the first level.

  But they didn't need to get close to me to fire a dart. Earlier today, I'd had the foresight to change into the darkest clothing they'd provided, in case Antone's "opportunity" came knocking. In cat form, I'd be easy to spot with my tawny fur.

  So I needed to calm down before I shifted. Which was easy, because in contemplating which form was better, I had calmed down, and the process reversed.

  I chuckled to myself. Good thing I hadn't decided I wanted to shift. I crawled back to the open window frame and was rising to look out when a floorboard creaked behind me. I whirled and saw that same strange blur, now coming straight at me. I dived to the side. Hands grabbed my ankle. I wrenched and got my foot free. I scrambled to the side and started leaping up, but something hit my side. Not "someone." Something, like an invisible force that sent me staggering.

  When I caught a glimpse of my attacker, I stumbled back in surprise.

  "Dr. Inglis?" I said.

  "Your father entrusted me with your safety," she said. "I'm not going back and telling him you got away."

  "No, he . . ." I stopped myself. If he hadn't told her he was behind this, I needed to protect him.

  "He might not want me to come back," I said quickly. "After what happened with Nicole, he . . . didn't seem so convinced it was the right place for me."

  A flash of guilt crossed her face. Then her eyes narrowed and I felt a chill. I wanted to brush it off. This was Dr. Inglis. I'd known her all my life. She may have played a key role in the experiment, but she'd always seemed genuine about wanting to help us.

  "What did he say?" she asked.

  "N-nothing. It's just . . ." I swallowed. "It wasn't safe for me there. You saw that."

  "I saw that you were having trouble, Maya. Serious trouble, however much your father wants to deny it. You're reverting."

  "No, I'm--"

  "Stressed? Anxious?" She shook her head. "You forget how well I know you, Maya. You're strong and you're capable and you're one of the most level-headed young women I've ever met. If you haven't broken after everything that's happened, you're not going to break now. You're reverting. Deep down, you know that. If I let you leave, you could endanger your friends. What would that be like, finding Daniel, feeling relieved that he's alive . . . only to lose control and attack him."

  The first heat of anger washed through me. They all knew my weakness and they'd exploit it every chance they got.

  "How about Rafe?" Dr. Inglis said. "You could hurt him. Or your brother, Ashton. Or Corey or Hayley."

  "I'm not going to hurt anyone," I said, and charged her.

  I didn't plan to attack her. Just knock her out of my way. She didn't move. Just started saying something I didn't understand. When I was within striking distance, I froze, just like I had in the alley.

  "It's called a binding spell," she said. "Yes, I'm a witch. I tried to tell the Nasts that my sensing spell was good enough to find you, but they insisted on sending in their own witch. I am going to take you back to your father, Maya. He hasn't told me otherwise, so I can't be faulted for my efforts, can I? And I'm not about to let you slip away."

  As she spoke, I struggled against the spell. I knew why the Nasts had called in their own witch--because Dr. Inglis wasn't good enough. We'd faced off outside Salmon Creek, and she hadn't used her spell. Or she'd tried and it hadn't worked. Now, as I fought it, I felt one of my fingers move. Then another.

  Dr. Inglis continued, oblivious. "You're my best work. You and Daniel. The others may catch up eventually, but for now you two are the shining examples of everything I promised the St. Clouds when we started Project Phoenix."

  As she spoke, a man appeared behind her. Just . . . appeared. Like he'd been zapped there. I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to hide my shock . . . if I'd had more control over my body. The beefy blond man looked at me and smiled, then lifted a syringe and pointed at Dr. Inglis, his other fingers going to his lips.

  She tensed, as if she'd sensed something. I managed to get my mouth open.

  "Nicole," I said quickly, my voice muffled, jaw barely opening. "You drugged her. That's why you offered to test her. To hide the fact that you drugged her and let her into my room to kill me."

  The man eased forward.

  "No, Maya. I was listening in. I would have interfered if she hurt you, but I knew you'd save yourself." Dr. Inglis gave a faint smile. "You always do. You'd save yourself and we'd prove Nicole was unstable, and make sure they took her far from you."

  "Really? Because it sounded to me like they were planning to ship her out anyway. I think you did it to make sure they added more security to me. You knew I'd escape eventually if they didn't, so--"

  The man jabbed her with the syringe. She spun. The spell broke and I toppled as she started another incantation. I leaped to my feet and raced across the floor. I was almost to the stairs when a two-by-four came sailing from nowhere and cut me off at the knees. I fell on all fours. Before I could spring up again, a hand lifted me off my feet. I twisted to see another big man--this one with brown hair--holding me in midair. Behind him, Dr. Inglis lay on the floor, unconscious. The blond man was bent over her, checking her pulse.

  I took a swing at my captor. He just held me out to arm's length and laughed.

  "Claws in, little cat," he said, still grinning. "Just like a cat, aren't you? Rescue you and get scratched for my trouble."

  His smile was genuine, his tone light, amused. I stopped struggling.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  "I'd say 'friends of your father,' but that's not exactly true. Just a couple of half-demons with special skills for hire." He set me down but kept his hand wrapped in my shirt. "You seem to have walked away from the accident all right. I hit you guys harder than I'd hoped. It's tough to plan stuff like that."

  His partner walked over. "The doc's out cold. We'll just leave her here."

  "So you're the ones"--I struggled to form the words--"my father hired. Now what?"

  "Now nothing," said the one holding me. "This is what your daddy paid for, so now you're on your own, little cat. Except for this." He fished a wad of cash, a metal key, and a tiny voice recorder from his pocket. He slapped them into my hand. "Top-secret instructions. Listen, then eat the evidence."

  "Thanks." I turned to the stairs.

  The brown-haired one called, "Not even going to ask for help getting away? You are an independent little cat, aren't you?"

  "No, I just don't think I could afford your fee. Even with this." I waved the bills.

  Now even the blond guy chuckled. "We'll get you to the city. If we spot one of your buddies, we'll give them a lift, too, but only if we see them on the way."

  The brown-haired man nodded. "Can't get caught while we're cruising looking for strays."

  I tried to argue, but they were right. We left the house. The blond guy explained that he would take me in the SUV he'd used to draw off attention, while his partner got the smashed truck to safety.

  On the way to the SUV, I caught the faint smell of Hayley in the breeze. The half-demons let
me go after her and bring her back. There was no sign of Rafe, though, and I didn't push for them to search. He might not be as street smart as Ash, but he'd been on the road with Annie for a couple of years, so he was capable of taking care of himself out here.

  THIRTY-TWO

  I LET THE HALF-DEMON drive us to North Vancouver. That meant we'd have a five-kilometer hike to Stanley Park, but it was as close to our destination as I dared get. There was, I knew, always the possibility that this was a grand scheme to make me lead them to Daniel, Corey, and Ash. Given the complexity of the plan, I doubted it, but I was still being careful. The bigger risk was that these guys would decide they could make more money by turning us all over to the Nasts--or the Cortezes.

  So the guy let us out in a North Vancouver strip mall, wished us well, and drove off. Hayley and I pretended to head north. Once the taillights vanished we changed course, staying hidden behind and between stores in the commercial strip along the highway.

  As we walked, I explained more of what was going on. Then I took out the voice recorder and pressed Play.

  "Maya," Antone's voice began. "This is . . ." A hesitation, then "Calvin. If you're listening to this, then you've gotten away and you've met the men I hired to facilitate that. I'm sorry if you were hoping for more assistance. I don't think you were, but I'm sorry all the same. I'm treading carefully here. If you do return to negotiate, I can't help if I'm being held in the Nast jails for treason."

  "Return?" Hayley said. "Negotiate? What's he talking about?"

  I whispered that I'd explain later.

  Antone continued. "Later on this tape, I'm going to tell you more about Project Genesis. You already know some of that--you asked me about Elizabeth Delaney the first time we spoke. You may have heard that a small group of those subjects escaped. That's not entirely true. They did, but they were found again a few months ago. The St. Clouds have been monitoring them. I've provided information on their whereabouts. You need to go to them and tell them that the St. Clouds are watching them. Then you need to convince them to turn themselves in."