Shadow Bound (6 page)

Heartbeat. That was something, at least.

She tried her legs, twitching her feet and pulling a knee up. Her joints ached, and a prickling told her she had to pee.

She shifted her hips.

Something was already between her legs. Burned, that.

Her stomach tightening, she slid a hand under the covers to investigate.

No panties. Narrow tube.
Oh, God.

“Hello?” she called. “Somebody?”

She held her breath, listening. Then tried again. “Hello?”

Abruptly, the door opened. A woman in a lab coat entered, smiling brightly. She was fiftyish, short, a little heavy,
with sensible short brown hair. “Well, hello to you, too, Talia. I’m Dr. Riggs. Patty.”

Dr. Riggs lifted the covers at the bottom of the bed and raised a plastic bag half filled with pale yellow fluid. “Good girl.”

Her eyes rested on the heart-monitoring machine, then met Talia’s gaze. “Excellent. You’re doing much better. How do you feel?”

“Um…confused?”

Dr. Riggs’s smile broadened. “No kidding. You’ve had rather acute hyperthermia. Heatstroke. It can be very dangerous. Renal failure. Heart attack. You were in pretty bad shape when I got you, but you’re making excellent progress now. You’ll probably experience some lingering effects like confusion and temperature sensitivity. We’ll work on the confusion. Are you too hot or cold?”

“No…” Talia had much more pressing worries. “Where am I?”

“The Segue Institute. It’s a research facility.”

“What am I doing here?”

“You’re here for research. Adam will explain it better. Let me call him, and then I’ll take care of that catheter for you.” Dr. Riggs flashed her bright smile again and exited the room.

Talia froze. She was here for research. So someone could prick her and prod her until they discovered how she worked.

Put me in a maze like a rat. Might as well have left in me in that alley. At least those rats were free.

The door thumped, banged, then reopened. Dr. Riggs pushed in a metal cart and parked it at the side of the bed. “Adam will be right over. Let’s remove the catheter and get you comfortable. I’m sure you will have a lot to talk about.”

Dr. Riggs flipped up the sheet from the bottom and crouched embarrassingly low. “Can you bring your legs up? A little more?”

Did she have an alternative?

“This might be uncomfortable, but it will pass quickly.” Dr. Riggs wore gloves so Talia couldn’t gauge her intentions or personality by her touch. Frustrating.

Talia held her breath. A burning sting shot inside her.

“There, now,” Dr. Riggs said, standing. “You’ll have the IV until the rest of that bag empties, but let’s get you out of bed and moving.”

Talia nodded. The floor was icy on her feet, all the little bones painfully brittle, but she pulled herself up—Dr. Riggs at her elbow—and shuffled toward the door. The hospital gown gaped at the back, but she lacked a third arm to hold it shut. A cold shiver spiraled up beneath.

Dr. Riggs reached down to a lower shelf on the cart and grabbed a robe that Talia had not noticed. She helped her with the right sleeve. “We’ll just wrap this around your left side until you get the IV out.”

Talia hobbled out the door into…a large, comfortable lab. Of sorts. To one side, it seemed a typical research environment: Stainless-steel counters lined the wall and were placed at parallel and right angles in the middle of the room. Machines of several varieties vied for space. Smaller apparatus, microscope, and computers all had their corners.

The other side of the room was dominated by a flowery sofa set, tufted and pillowed with a matching chair. A colorful rug in an indistinct pattern of blues and reds covered the floor, over which a large coffee table hulked with elaborate rolled legs. A picture of a little white dog sat framed on its surface, next to an empty coffee cup, plate with crumbs, and some strange printout filled with rows of almost-microscopic numbers.

“The chair,” Dr. Riggs directed.

Talia was soon tucked in softness. Dr. Riggs reached down and assisted Talia to put her feet up on the table.

“You okay?” Dr. Riggs asked.

“I’m
more
confused.” Talia’s gaze wandered the room for emphasis.

Dr. Riggs chuckled. “This is my personal lab. We all have our own work space, what we need for work, and enough creature comforts to tailor Segue to our personalities and needs.”

Dr. Riggs gestured to the photo of the dog as she took a seat on the sofa. “Handsome is in my apartment upstairs. He used to play with me in the lab, but after a little mishap two months ago, he’s been banished.”

Apartment upstairs?

Across the lab, two doors slid open and Adam entered, striding in as if he knew his way around. He wore dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt, open at the collar. He was taller than Talia remembered, and he’d shaved, though a scabby rash still smeared across his forehead to his temple. But the eyes were the same. Stormy ocean eyes.

Talia tried to sit up. Without him, she’d have lost herself.

He waved her back. “Dr. O’Brien, relax. Please.”

She let herself ease into the cushions, but inwardly she remained upright.

“I’ll be just outside,” Dr. Riggs said, meeting Adam’s gaze in a silent signal. Their communication set Talia’s heart beating faster.

Adam took a seat on the sofa and leaned back, arm propped on a pillow. The pose seemed relaxed, but carefully restrained energy hummed just below the surface. His gaze was cool, level, and appraising, belying the ease of his posture. Something about the man told Talia that he was rarely one to be still.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

That’s not important.
“Where am I?”

“You’re at The Segue Institute. I founded it a little over six years ago to research the wraith phenomenon.”

Wraith.
“Is that what was in the alley? A wraith?” The word felt strange in her mouth, but solid. Grounding. It was good to finally attach a name to the soul-suckers that had been following her for—she didn’t know how long. Another thing to thank Adam for.

“Yes. That was a wraith. He was once a normal person, but something—and we don’t know what—happened to augment his physical strength, senses, and regenerative capacity to the point of immortality.”

“And what they do…?” An image of Grady’s sick kiss, Melanie flailing, came unbidden to Talia’s mind.

Adam’s eyes darkened. “They feed on human life energy.”

Talia shook her head, remembering the echo of Melanie’s self as it was ripped from its moorings. “They feed on more than that.” She was certain they fed on something more distinct and individual than “human energy.”

Adam frowned, seeming to draw inside himself. “Perhaps. As far as we can tell, feeding does not sustain them physically. We think the act grounds them. Gives them a grip on humanity.”

Talia swallowed, hard. “And me?”

He smiled, although the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “And you wrote a very interesting dissertation. It was posted online by your anthropology department on April twenty-sixth, two days after you defended your doctorate.”

That wasn’t what she meant by her question—she’d meant,
What do you plan to do with me?
—but she let him continue. “So?”

“You had some provocative…suppositions about the boundary between life and death. I was ready to offer you a position here based on your work, but you’d disappeared.”

“I don’t understand. What does my diss have to do with wraiths?”

“The Segue Institute exists for the express purpose of
discovering how to kill a wraith. We are trying to learn some other things along the way as well, but only as they support our first goal. We have on-staff physicians, academics, para-psychologists…and now I am hoping to get an expert on near-death experiences.”

Me.
“But why all the fuss? There are others more knowledgeable on the subject. You didn’t have to track me down to an alley…” Or put your body in front of mine during an attack.

Adam held up a hand to stop her. “I’ve done my research and out of the handful of people dedicated to near-death, only you retain an objective point of view. Most of the others are dedicated to confirming life after death. Segue does not have any spiritual or religious agenda. Instead, I want to learn about the laws or forces that dictate what happens at the brink of death, and any ideas you might have on the exceptions to the rules.”

Still…
There had to be a more specific reason he had selected her. Others were capable of unbiased research.

“Why me?”

Adam shifted into a more intent posture, leaning toward her, his shirt stretching with the breadth of his shoulders, elbows on knees. His fingers laced together, swollen and bruised across one set of knuckles.

His gaze locked on hers, watching. Evaluating. “One of your sources mentioned Shadowman, an individual I would very much like to learn more about.”

Panic flared, and she fought to keep her composure.

Shadowman. Her father. The dark and beautiful man she’d met once, right after the car accident when she was fifteen. The near-death experience that inspired her work. Her father, the enigma of her life, had come to greet her on her passing. She’d seen the tilt of his eyes and known with shattering clarity that she was like him, whatever he was. And
she didn’t care what that was, as long as she wasn’t alone with her strangeness anymore. Then he’d been ripped away when she was zapped back to life by paramedics.

Now, of course, she’d have questions for her father. He’d know why the wraiths wanted her. He’d be able to tell her why she could do strange things no one else could. And he could protect her from the devil that came out of her scream.

She’d voice none of that to Adam. She owed him thanks, not herself. All Adam’s talk about her dissertation and near-death research was just that, talk. If Adam wanted to study Shadowman, who was not in this world, his only alternative was to study her. She might be “researching” near-death here, but she’d still be a little white rat.

“I have all your materials ready, your books and data. Not knowing if we would ever find you, we went through it.”

You would have gone through it anyway.
Pressure grew in her chest, her heartbeat quickening though she sat stone still.

“And although you have detailed records, releases, and transcripts from all of your other sources, there is nothing that references Shadowman.” His gaze fixed on her face. “Who is the source?”

Talia kept silent, staring right back at him and concentrating on moving air in and out of her lungs. If he knew so much already, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him more.

He dropped his head for a moment, then raised it again with strain tugging at his eyes. “Okay, let’s set that question aside for the moment. Give you a chance to get set up in your own lab and look over your research. There’s something else, too. I’d wait until you were fully on your feet to discuss this with you, but I am a big fan of putting all the cards on the table. Your lab tests came back with some interesting results, off the wall, but strangely consistent with similar tests taken—and disregarded—after the near-fatal car accident you were in ten years ago.”

Lab tests. Of course. Lab tests wouldn’t lie. Lab tests would reveal abnormalities. Hadn’t Aunt Maggie warned her about doctors years ago?

“And you’ve got a reflex, I think linked to fear, that affects the immediate environment, as a chameleon blends into the bark of a tree, but opposite.” He smiled, tilting his head. As if any of this warranted levity. “The flight from Arizona was especially exciting. I’m guessing your gift played a significant part in eluding the wraiths for so long.” He paused again, then speared her with his gaze. “What are you?”

If he wanted an answer, he wasn’t going to get one. He was peeling away her skin to expose her quivering core to the frigid room.

He sighed heavily; his intensity dropped. “Dr. O’Brien, I’ve been at this a while now. I’ve seen some unusual things. I mean you no harm. You saved me in that alley just as much as I saved you. I think we could make good partners, if you’d allow it.”

Good partners. Who was he kidding? He wanted to get inside her head. Study
her.

“The offer of a position here at Segue is open. You’d get your own offices, whatever you require. There are three apart-ments upstairs you can choose from. West wing is haunted, so if you value your sleep, perhaps stick to the ones in the east wing, although they overlook the parking lot.”

Haunted?

“I’d like to say the staff here is friendly—Dr. Riggs is certainly a sweetheart—but the subject matter we research tends to draw an interesting crowd. Don’t take anything personally until you get to know them, and even then…” He raised his hands in a shrug, then pushed himself to standing.

“Dr. Riggs will discharge you from her care, eh, probably later this afternoon.”

And then what?

“I’ll drop back by to answer your questions, give you a tour, and help you select that apartment. Until then, get some rest.”

Adam stared down at her for a moment, waiting. “See you later then,” he said, turning back to the door.

He’d crossed the room before a good question finally burned through Talia’s consciousness.

“Wait,” she called.

He turned back, expectant.

“What if I don’t want to stay? What if I’d rather take my chances with the wraiths?” If that snooping bastard was going to “put all his cards on the table,” he had damn well better flip that last one over.

He held her gaze. “I don’t think that would be in either of our best interests.”

T
HAT
went well.

Take a traumatized and ill woman, tell her you know she’s a freak, invite her to come on staff, and then insinuate that she has no choice. Excellent work.

Bracing himself on the corridor wall outside Patty’s lab, Adam brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Idiotic, more like.

He pictured Talia, IV stringing from her arm, wrapped in a clumsy robe, her pale, shocked face draining of color with every word he uttered. There was so little color to her in the first place, what with her white-blonde hair and black eyes. Only her lips retained a hint of pink.

To stay and work at Segue made much better sense on all fronts. For such an intelligent woman, that conclusion shouldn’t be difficult to reach. Unless, of course, you’re sick and scared to begin with.

“Have you slept?”

Patty. Adam dropped his arms and turned in the direction of her voice.

Patty stood just outside the door to her lab, hands on her hips, penny loafer tapping, mouth pinched in motherly concern. Her gray roots contrasted sharply with her fading brown hair, which he knew she hated, but couldn’t be helped. Her every-eight-weeks trip to Middleton’s only beauty salon had
to wait until Talia was stable and settled. Not that Patty had asked.

“Yes, thanks.” At some point in his life he had slept. He didn’t need her on his back about it right now. The day was already halfway to hell.

“She looked beat,” he said, angling his head toward Patty’s lab and changing the subject.

“She should be dead. She isn’t going to bounce back as quickly as we—or she—would like. The extent of the effects of heatstroke can take some time to manifest, and with her unusual physiology, I simply don’t know what to expect.”

“She’s concerned that she’s not free to leave,” he said, warning Patty to be prepared for a difficult patient.

“Frankly, I’m concerned about that as well. I don’t like deceiving her, Adam. I don’t like it at all.” Patty shook her head, eyebrows lifting as if to ask,
What are you going to do about her?

“I can’t very well let her go off to be killed when the answers we need—that the world needs—could be right there inside her. Look, I originally set out to bring her on staff, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I still believe her work with near-death could challenge us all. She doesn’t need to know that we’re studying her, specifi cally.”

Patty was already shaking her head again, getting her steam up.

Adam raised a hand for her to let him finish. “I know it’s only a half-truth, but that’s all she’s going to get. That woman eluded the wraiths for two months. A wraith war is coming, and if we don’t take advantage of every scrap of knowledge, we’ll have nothing to fight with. We’re already running out of time.”

“It’s not right.” Patty’s gaze met his, as if an accusation of wrongdoing would deter him from his path.

“What part of this whole situation is, Patty? Just run your
tests. You needed to take them because of her hyperthermia anyway.”

“Not all of them,” she corrected, “and the others I took in order for her get well, not to study her. It’s her
consent,
Adam, that bothers me. It should bother you.”

Adam’s head ached. “Give me an alternative. I can see what’s coming. I know you can, too. How do we fight an army of wraiths?”

“It’s still not right.” She shrugged helplessly.

“Are you going to run your tests or not?” Adam had no time or patience for stalling.

“If I say no?”

Adam put a hand on her shoulder and gentled his voice. “I’ll find someone else to do it. I can find someone else, regardless. I can’t have you breaking down on me, not now.”

She shifted her weight forward. “No, I’ll do it. Anyone else won’t stand up to you. Won’t stand up for her. I won’t see her made a prisoner, though. I can tell you that much.”

“Look, Talia’s a little overwhelmed right now. Perhaps her wanting to leave won’t become an issue. I’ll be back this afternoon to show her around. I’ll convince her to stay with as much truth as I think she can handle.” He hadn’t remotely considered Talia’s leaving a possibility, not after the hell she’d been through, or he’d have been prepared for her question. Smoothed it over a bit.

Adam gripped the back of his neck with one hand to loosen the corded muscles that seemed to grip his skull.

But as long as he was making women mad at him…“I want to start testing the extent of Jacob’s rapid healing again.”

Patty’s eyes glittered. “Don’t push me, son. No matter what that poor man has become, I won’t be part of any purposeful harm.
No harm.
I draw the line there.” Patty drew an emphatic imaginary line between them.

“He’s a cold-blooded killer and you know very well what the aim of this institution is.”

Patty’s face flushed. “I was at Jacob’s christening. I saw him graduate from Harvard. Your mother borrowed my hand-kerchief. I will not purposely cause pain until the moment we can euthanize him. Even then,
my
aim is to see that he goes as peacefully as possible.”

The argument went back six years to the family “intervention” in Jacob’s disturbing new lifestyle. Dr. Patricia Riggs, Mom’s childhood friend and the Thorne family doctor, was on hand for discreet support. No one doubted she’d keep her evaluation of Jacob’s condition within the Thorne family. Mental illness? Drug addiction? They should be so lucky.

Patty was in the room when Jacob “kissed” Mom, witnessing the extent of Jacob’s transformation. She saw what came after, as well. Adam wasn’t proud of that. Now she still honored the friendship regardless of the risk to herself.

Ah, hell.
She deserved a little honor back, not him snapping at her.

Adam exhaled his frustration and dampened his tone. “You’re a softy, Aunt Pat. Always have been.”

The
Aunt Pat
had Patty’s nose reddening, eyes rapidly blinking against tears. Pat with no family of her own, no family but the fucked-up Thorne brothers.

“I need to get back. Get Dr. O’Brien back in bed,” she said, voice high and broken.

“Okay. I’ll be around, say two o’clock?”

“That’ll be fine. Try to keep the tour short. She’s bound to get tired quickly.”

Adam nodded and rounded the corner from Patty’s lab to his own office. He coded himself inside. A glance at the monitor told him that over the past hour Jacob had migrated to the far corner of his cell to recline, head lolling with boredom. Which was just fine.

Then he got a good look at his desk. The files dedicated to leads on Talia O’Brien’s whereabouts could safely be shredded. Security reports had to be seen to. Budget. Correspon-dence to a half dozen field researchers. And the updated global wraith watch needed reviewing so that he was current on areas of wraith growth, movement, the establishment of supply chains and wealth.

The wraiths were organizing. They even had a friendly and innocuous-sounding name. The Collective.

Budget could wait. The Collective could not. Adam tapped the console on his desk. A three-dimensional image of the world sprang up on a cutting-edge monitor hung from the ceiling beyond his desk. Like blood trails, wraith movements spotted across the United States in red drips of varying concentrations, coagulating in big cities where feeding could be masked by the concentration of crime.

Adam ran a program to track the rate of growth. The computer produced alarming streaks of rapid development that had Adam’s chest constricting. Within—what?—a
year
The Collective would have a sizable force in every major U.S. city. Nothing short of war would eradicate them.

Adam sat back in his chair. Willing or not, there was no way he could allow Dr. O’Brien to leave.

“Haunted with a view or peaceful without?” Adam asked as he pushed Talia’s wheelchair out of Patty’s office.

Talia had been sullen and silent upon his arrival, dressed in khakis, pink blouse with a wavy-looking collar, and slippers. Considering the clothes’ conservative and matronly cut, Adam deduced that they were both Patty’s selections and taste, ordered and overnighted while Talia recovered. The shoes must not have fit, but Adam wasn’t about to ask and stir up trouble between the women. Only Patty could have
talked Talia into the wheelchair, ready to go at two o’clock on the spot with mutiny written all over her.

“You can’t be serious,” Talia returned.

“In your line of study, surely you’ve considered the existence of ghosts.” He stopped at an elevator at the end of the hallway. The silver doors parted to reveal the vestiges of an antique iron cage, a throwback to the building’s origins. If Talia thought the ironwork odd, she didn’t voice it.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. “You can’t imagine that I would actually select my own prison cell and give you any kind of false support for your keeping me here against my will. This whole ‘tour’ is a farce.”

“You’re not a prisoner; you’re a staff member.”

“I resign,” she said.

“I’ll consider your resignation when you can walk on your own two feet without turning green.” The lie sounded smooth and reasonable, even friendly, but then Adam was well practiced.

They stopped one floor up, exiting into a marble-tiled atrium over which an enormous crystal chandelier sparkled like a suspended falling star against a background of rich mahogany.

He halted there while he coded them out a set of French doors and onto a sweep of white terrace that stretched around the east side of the building.

Unkempt, overgrown lawns rambled away from the building into the tree line. The natural, rolling green collided with a dense forest of spruce and, farther east, white pine spiking along Knob Ridge. The air outside, thick with moisture and sticky heat, clung to Adam’s skin and clothes.

Talia twisted her head to look over her shoulder. Adam followed her line of sight. Segue walls climbed brick and stone, multistoried, with extended wings and terraces jutting
symmetrically off at each side. Pretentious front steps led to the white-columned main entrance below them, and to the left.

“Okay, so, one more time: where are we?” Talia asked at last.

Adam grinned. “Segue operates out of what used to be the Fulton Holiday Hotel, a kind of turn-of-the-century West Virginian mountain resort for the upper crust.”

Her gaze dropped from the building to him. “The kind of place they profile on the Travel Channel? Ladies in white dresses, croquet on the lawn?”

“Something like that. Or at least until the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918. The hotel was on the brink financially. Apparently, the nearby system of caves was not as much a lure as Theodore Fulton thought they’d be. When the flu hit the hotel, Fulton fell ill himself and died soon after. His sons ran out on the place. It changed hands a couple of times until it came to my family.”

Talia pushed herself out of her chair and walked slowly to the edge of the terrace. Adam followed, watchful.

He continued, “I tried to restore what little bits of the hotel I could without impinging on Segue’s needs. Found the chandelier from the foyer in a storage cellar, overlooked by the looters and vandals who stripped the place in the years after it was abandoned. Took a little doing, but this is pretty close to how it would have been.”

“It’s very—” she began.

He stepped to the edge and glanced at Talia’s profile. Her white skin glowed against the backdrop of green, the afternoon sun warming her complexion from ash to soft pink and gold marble. Stray twists of blonde tugged away from her shoulder to stream across her cheek, to lift and quiver on the light breeze.

“—remote,” Talia finished.

Lovely in profile.

She turned her black-cat eyes on him, meeting his gaze.

Disconcerting head-on.

Time to get down to it.
Adam took a deep breath. “I’ve done my near-death research based on the substantial bibli-ography at the end of your paper.”

She turned away again and leaned up on the banister, all curiosity and interest suddenly shuttered behind a hard expression.

“From what I’ve read, near-death experiences often include a meeting with already-departed family, sometimes friends, but always someone in close connection with the person undergoing the experience.”

Talia didn’t answer. Kept her gaze off in the distance.

He tensed, watching her every movement for reaction. “What I can’t figure is how Shadowman fits into the near-death scenario, unless that’s a code name for someone who knows how the wraith threat began.” He kept his voice light, tone neutral, as he suggested his theory. “A ghost, maybe, like those that populate Segue?”

Her expression remained impassive.

Adam pushed harder. “It wouldn’t be so hard to believe. Jim Remy, our resident parapsychologist, is half in love with Segue’s Lady Amunsdale. Been tracking her obsessively since he caught sight of the beauty. Is Shadowman a ghost? Someone who has already passed but might have our answers?”

If that were the case, protocols would have to shift dramatically to the occult. What he needed was a confirmation, a clue, something to point him in the right direction.

The muscles in Talia’s face tensed, but she remained composed. “I’m not going to answer your questions. Thank you for saving me in the alley and for the medical attention you’ve provided. When possible, I’d like a ride into the nearest town, and I’ll go from there.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Adam said. He only had to close his eyes to see the computer-generated wraith projections again. The reality was, Talia didn’t have the luxury of debating the issue. Time was short. He needed information on Shadowman now.

Her head whipped toward him. “Let’s just get this straight—I
am
a prisoner here.”

No, prisoners he kept in the basement. Maybe it was time she learned the difference. Her new lodgings could wait, he had an altogether-different destination in mind now.

She’s not ready,
an internal voice warned.

None of us are,
a harder self returned.

“I want you to meet someone. I think he’ll be very influential.” Adam gestured to the wheelchair.

She took her seat coldly, folding her arms for emphasis, and he pushed her back inside to the elevator. He coded it open, backed her within, and selected Sublevel J. For Jacob.