chapter Three
Usually the small apartment three blocks away from the campus was a place of peace for Angela.
Not that anyone else would share her opinion.
Most people would shudder at the worn furniture that she’d picked up at second-hand stores and garage sales. Not to mention the bedroom that was overflowing with unpacked boxes from her mother’s house. Boxes that were filled with painful memories she wasn’t prepared to open.
And oh yeah, a kitchen that had become a mini-lab with microscopes, petri dishes, test tubes, and three small fridges that contained her current experiments.
Hardly the palace most women dreamed of.
But for Angela it was far better than a palace.
It was her safe haven.
The moment she closed the door she could forget the day, along with the frustrating challenge of trying to fit in a world that always seemed slightly out of focus.
Today, however, there was no peace as she shut and locked the door.
Pacing across the living room, she peeked through the curtains at the empty street below.
It had started this morning.
She’d spent the entire day with the sensation she was being watched by some unseen lurker.
And she laid full blame on the shoulders of Dr. Nikolo Bartrev.
Not because of his abrupt arrival and equally abrupt departure from the club last night, although the aggravating man had taken away any hope of enjoying the night. Oh, she’d gone through the routine for Megan’s sake. She’d danced, she’d sipped her gin fizz, and laughed on cue, but the evening had gone flat.
No, she was used to wishing for things she could never have.
It was his warning of a mysterious stalker that had her jumping at shadows.
Seeing nothing but the usual joggers and occasional car drive past, she gave a shake of her head.
What had she expected?
A stranger wearing a hockey mask and lurking on the sidewalk?
Or maybe a car in the parking lot with a sign that said STALKERS “R” US?
“This is stupid,” she muttered, stepping away from the window and heading into the kitchen.
Spring break had officially started. Classes were out, the majority of the students were even now fleeing town for warmer climes, and she would have a blessed, uninterrupted week to work on her private research.
No doubt Megan would toss her hands up in defeat, but as far as Angela was concerned she’d rather be concentrating on her work than wasting her days on an overcrowded beach.
Okay, maybe if the beach included Professor Hottie she might consider—
Entering the kitchen, Angela came to a halt, a strange sense of alarm tingling down her spine.
Someone had been in here.
She didn’t know exactly how she could be so certain. Perhaps the microscope had been shifted ever so slightly. Or maybe there was a lingering scent she didn’t quite recognize.
Whatever the cause, her vague unease became full on, adrenaline-charging alarm as she whirled around, intent on fleeing the apartment.
A wise decision that came too late.
She barely managed a step before the door was blocked by a slender figure.
Angela’s heart slammed to a halt as she took a swift inventory of the intruder.
The stranger wasn’t much taller than her, and was dressed from head to toe in black. Black leather pants. Black turtleneck sweater. Black ski mask.
Good grief. Did stalkers have a uniform code?
She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh, sternly reminding herself that she was in danger.
Despite the fact the intruder was more or less the same size as herself and clearly female, she wasn’t fooled. Beneath the tight clothes she could make out hard, lean muscles that warned the intruder could tie Angela into a painful pretzel.
Or worse.
“Who are you?” she managed to croak, her mind sluggishly trying to shift through her limited options.
No. Not limited.
Nonexistent.
Her cell phone was in her purse that she’d left in the living room. There was no doubt a knife was tucked in her silverware drawer, but it was across the room. And there was nothing close enough at hand to use as a weapon.
For now her options were talking her way out of danger or hoping for a miracle.
Neither seemed likely.
Casually leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb the intruder revealed she was in far better control of her nerves than Angela.
“Would you believe a friend?”
“No.”
A nonchalant shrug. “Then let’s say I’m a potential customer.”
“Customer?” Angela frowned before she gave a small gasp of understanding. “Oh. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. But I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake.”
The woman adjusted her black glove. Preparing for violence?
“I rarely make mistakes,” she drawled. Her voice was oddly beautiful. Almost hypnotic.
Angela licked her lips, flicking a brief glance toward the expensive equipment that was piled on the kitchen table.
“I know it must look like I manufacture drugs, but I’m just a scientist,” she said, her palms damp. Had the temperature gone up? Or was it sheer terror that was making her feel as if her sweatshirt and jeans were smothering her? “There’s nothing here that will get you high.”
“Just a scientist?” The stranger gave a chiding shake of her head. “Now, now, Angela. There’s no need for such modesty. You’re already considered the brilliant star in the world of genetics.”
Angela took a shocked step back. “You know me?”
“Of course. I’ve been following your career with breathless anticipation.”
Okay. The whole encounter had just shifted from scary to terrifyingly creepy.
“Who are you?” she repeated the question that had never been answered.
The intruder straightened, taking a step into the kitchen. “A devoted fan.”
Fan? Did scientists have groupies?
Well, beyond Stephen Hawking?
“Look, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m just a postgraduate student struggling to finish her dissertation,” she said, her voice quivering. “If you want to speak with an actual researcher—”
“It’s you I want,” the woman interrupted.
“For what?”
“A job.”
The simple words caught Angela off guard.
Was that why this woman had snuck into her home?
She’d been warned that recruiters could be aggressive when trying to capture the top graduates. Especially recruiters from pharmaceutical companies. But this was beyond ridiculous.
“Actually, I haven’t really considered what I plan to do after graduation, but—”
“I’m afraid it’s something of a rush job.”
With a lift of her hand the stranger yanked off her stocking hat and Angela nearly went to her knees in shock.
“Holy crap,” she muttered, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
The . . . woman (yeah, she was still convinced the intruder was female despite the fact she was completely bald) had eyes that were as red as rubies and a nose that was oddly flat. Like a snake. And worse, her visible skin was patterned with large, dark spots that went way beyond freckles.
The intruder smiled. Not a pleasant smile. More a stretching of her thin lips.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Were you—”
“Born this way?” The woman pulled off her gloves, revealing her hands that were spotted like her face and tipped with claws. “Yes.”
Angela tried to clear the mammoth-sized lump from her throat.
“So you’re a—”
“Freak.”
Everyone knew of high-bloods, or freaks, as most people called them. The special people born with some sort of mutation that made them different from others.
Not that the general population truly knew much about them. There were rumors of witches and psychics and necromancers. And the strange Sentinels. Then there were the whispers that there were true monsters being hidden behind the walls of Valhalla.
As a future geneticist, Angela devoured the bits and pieces of information on the high-bloods. Unfortunately the Mave who ruled the residents of Valhalla and the satellite communities refused to allow her people to be studied. Only scientists who were a part of their community were allowed any research. Even local doctors were forced to contact Valhalla if a freak turned up in the ER. And anyone trying to collect genetic material was subject to punishment by the Mave.
Not something anyone would be willing to risk.
Now, however, she realized that her clinical fascination with high-blood DNA hadn’t taken into account the brutal truth of what it meant to be . . . different.
The personal cost was written in the bitter glow of the crimson eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Angela whispered before she could halt the impulsive words.
The female snorted. “Not nearly as sorry as I am.”
Yeah, Angela got that.
“What do you want from me?”
“Simple. I want you to fix me.”
“Fix you?” Angela parroted, her brilliant brain trained to comprehend logical facts, not . . . this. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Do I look like a f*cking doctor could cure me?”
Angela took another step backward, her ass hitting the edge of the sink.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Your gift is to alter DNA.” The woman pulled off her other glove and tossed it on the ground. Then she ran her fingers over her bald head. “I want you to make me normal.”
Through her fog of fear, Angela felt a stab of sympathy. She understood the woman’s desperation. She truly did.
But, sympathizing with the stranger didn’t mean she could help her.
“That’s impossible.”
The crimson eyes narrowed. “Nothing in this world is impossible.”
“Maybe not, but the technology isn’t anywhere near advanced enough. At least not yet.”
“Technology?” Something that might have been amusement rippled over the strange, exotic face. “I’m not talking about test tubes and microscopes.”
“I don’t understand.”
The woman waved a hand toward the kitchen table. “Why do you bother with this junk anyway?”
Was this some sort of trick?
“I need it for my research,” she said slowly. “Although I admit it can’t compare to my lab at the university.”
“Come on, Angela,” the intruder scoffed. “You don’t have to hide the truth from me.”
Angela went rigid with a strange sense of wariness.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The woman gave a sharp laugh. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Figured out what?”
“You, Angela Locke, are a freak.”
“No.” Angela shook her head, squashing the ridiculous urge to slap her hands over her ears. The woman was nuts. A full-blown wackadoodle. “No way.”
“How do you think you’re able to manipulate cells that no one else can?”
Angela sucked in a ragged breath. Why wasn’t she laughing at the woman’s outrageous claims?
“The magnetic particles I’ve developed—”
“No.” The woman stepped close enough for Angela to feel the heat she radiated from her skin even through her clothes. Obviously her mutation made her run at a higher temperature. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
“This is crazy.” Angela was trapped, reaching behind her to grasp the edge of the counter. Her knees were threatening to collapse. “I want you out of my apartment.”
“If you insist.” The creepy smile returned as the woman reached out with terrifying speed to lock her hands around Angela’s upper arms, her claws digging through the sweatshirt to puncture the tender skin beneath. “I was going to let you pack a bag, but whatever.”
“Stop it,” Angela cried, fear and pain hammering through her with equal force. “What are you doing?”
The crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light. “I have a comfy little home all prepared for our arrival. You’re not leaving my side until you fix me.”
Her grip tightened, but even as Angela braced herself to be dragged from the room kicking and screaming, the stranger was tilting back her head to sniff the air. Like an animal.
Angela shuddered. Oh . . . God. What now?
In answer, the woman whirled toward the door, her hands clenched in tight fists.
“Niko,” she hissed, not nearly as dumbfounded as Angela as a tall, stunningly familiar man stepped into the kitchen.
“Dylan,” Dr. Nikolo Bartrev drawled, his handsome face carved from granite. “I knew you’d eventually show up here.”
It was rare for Nikolo to be caught flat-footed.
No, it wasn’t rare.
It was never.
But trailing Angela from the university to her apartment building, he’d taken time to make a sweep of the neighborhood. He was certain Dylan was going to make her move. And make it soon.
He just hadn’t expected her to already be in the apartment.
A mistake that might have cost Angela her life.
The realization detonated a strange explosion of fear and fury in the depths of his soul.
A sensation that was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected.
Niko was trained to hone his feelings into a smooth blade of cold, calculating resolve. Becoming emotional only clouded his mind and dulled his instincts.
But silently entering the apartment, he hadn’t been worried about his prey. Or even his own life.
His sole focus was reaching Angela before she could be hurt.
Stepping into the kitchen he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Dylan standing directly in front of Angela. Shit. She was too close to risk an attack.
One swing of her hand and she could crush Angela’s skull. Or use her claws to rip out her throat.
He swallowed a growl, ignoring the voice that warned his hesitation might cost him the opportunity to put an end to Dylan’s murderous rampage.
He would have his revenge, he grimly assured himself. But not at Angela’s expense.
Wiping all expression from his face, he watched Dylan slowly turn, her crimson eyes filled with a mocking amusement that didn’t entirely disguise her seething frustration.
“Long time no see,” she drawled. “Did you miss me?”
“Like a f*cking hole in the head,” he retorted, allowing only a brief glance toward Angela who was studying him with a shocked gaze. “You gave up any claim to loyalty when you killed Adam and Fiona.”
“I know you won’t believe me, but I wish their deaths hadn’t been necessary.”
Niko shrugged aside the female’s genuine regret. He’d been the one to discover the two Sentinels. Adam had lost his throat when he’d obviously gone into Dylan’s room to check on her, while Fiona had been shot in the back of her head while standing guard at the entrance to the psych ward.
Adam had been a longtime friend, while Fiona had been as close as any daughter to him.
He would mourn their deaths for the rest of his life.
“It was a choice, not a necessity.”
“Easy for you to say,” Dylan countered. “You weren’t chained to the walls like an animal.”
“For your own safety.” Niko made a sound of disgust. “Of course, that was a ruse, wasn’t it? You never intended to kill yourself.”
The female shrugged. “I needed to distract attention. I knew I was being watched.”
Niko narrowed his eyes. It had been one of the clairvoyants who’d picked up on Dylan’s growingly dark thoughts, although the Sentinel had the ability to hide her secret plans. It was enough to put a constant surveillance on the unstable female.
“Because you’re a psychopath.”
“So easy for you to judge when you walk around like a Greek god,” Dylan hissed. “How would you feel if you looked like a monster?”
He deliberately allowed his gaze to roam over the spotted skin and too-flat nose before returning to meet the smoldering crimson glare.
“You’ve never been a monster to your family.”
“Family?” Her sharp laugh sliced through the air. “My family tossed me away at birth.”
“We were your family,” he reminded her. All high-bloods were welcomed at Valhalla and Dylan had been raised by people who loved her. “Your parents gave you to us because they understood the challenges you would face and trusted us to protect you.”
She gave a restless shake of her head, her madness refusing to acknowledge she’d been treated with nothing but kindness.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m a Sentinel.”
“My trail was in Texas.”
“You didn’t escape to kill humans.”
“So you knew I was coming for the scientist,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the white-faced Angela before turning back to Niko with a sudden realization. “Ah, you used her as bait.”
“Yes.”
There was a raw, pained sound from Angela that pierced Niko’s heart. Christ. That was a little tidbit he’d intended to keep to himself.
But even as he ground his teeth at the thought of Angela’s sense of betrayal, his gaze never strayed from Dylan.
The bitch was still too close to Angela for him to strike.
“Always so clever, Niko,” the Sentinel mocked.
Clever. Yeah, not clever enough to avoid his own trap, he acknowledged wryly, belatedly accepting that Dylan wasn’t the only one to have fallen for the bait.
He took a step forward. “It’s time to end this.”
“Oh no, this isn’t the end. The game is just beginning.” With the fluid speed of all Sentinels, Dylan turned to Angela, her hand shooting out to grasp her chin with claws that bit into the tender skin. “I’ll come for you later, sweet Angela. Niko can’t guard you forever.”
“Damn.”
Niko launched himself forward, but as fast as he was, Dylan was already leaping through the window over the sink and dropping the two stories to the parking lot below.
Without hesitation Niko was in pursuit.