Jaxon dismissed the others from her mind as she started down the stairs. She moved silently, not allowing even her clothing to whisper of her presence. With each step her stomach tightened even more. She was on the right track. The lighting was dim on the stairs and worsened when she arrived at the bottom. It didn’t matter. Her eyesight was now phenomenal.
Lucian? She reached out to him before she really thought about it, before she even knew she was going to do it.
He was here, angel. We found two of the officers dead in their patrol car. They were stabbed several times.
She was silent for a moment, thinking about his revelation. Are you positive it’s Drake? She couldn’t be wrong. How could she be? Was it possible after all this time that she was losing whatever special sense had been granted her to detect when evil was close? Perhaps she was suffering the aftereffects of being in proximity to so many murders.
It feels the same as before, at the apartments. And their eyes are gone. The strange thing is, I cannot get his scent. I am unable to track him that way. I noticed it at the apartment building. There was nothing for me to trace.
What happens when you scan? You always seem to know where everyone is.
Several people are inside, but I cannot tell who they are. No one is conversing. A television is on. I am going inside.
Be careful, Lucian. It’s a trap. Drake wants you dead more than anyone else. Everyone else is nothing to him. It’s all to get you.
No one will see me, honey, if I do not wish it.
Just be careful. She allowed the mind merge to slowly slip away. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was as strong as ever. Something evil was lurking in this building, stalking her friends, and she had to believe it was Drake. Perhaps Drake had been at Barry’s safe house already in an attempt to draw them away from the station.
Jaxon kept moving, her senses flaring out to locate the officers, the prisoners, and, with luck, the intruder. She became aware of movement around the corner from her position. Staying close to the wall, without a whisper of sound to betray her, she inched her way closer toward the slight brushing noise ahead of her. As she stepped forward, a lump on the ground to her right caught her eye. She paused. The terrible darkness was growing within her. Drake was here, and he had already killed.
Lucian? He is here. She made her way to the dark bundle slumped across the floor. She could see that the man was dead, the uniform punctured with a dozen stab wounds. The head was at a peculiar angle. It was Halibut. His eyes were gone. Drake’s trademark.
You are certain? His voice was the same. Calm, tranquil, comforting in its soft steadiness.
Absolutely. I’m standing over a body right now. I can feel his presence.
There is something wrong, love. He is here, also. There is the taint of power here. Can you feel it there?
I’m not certain what you mean.
It would be the same faint feeling of power you experienced when you sensed the ghoul’s presence, and later the vampire. It was at the apartments, too. A trace is here, also. But I no longer think Drake is in either of these places. I think we are dealing with puppets programmed by a vampire, clones of Drake to carry out his deeds. I think any humans who have memories of you are the ones in danger.
Jaxon was on the move again. She didn’t know Kitter very well, just to say hello in passing, and none of the prisoners knew her other than Terry Stevens. Stevens was a habitual criminal, a street dealer well connected with a great lawyer. If the intruder was in the basement, as she thought, and Lucian was right, it would be Stevens in the most danger. He had had many encounters with Jaxon.
You could be right. It does feel different, but it felt different at the apartment building too. Does that mean Drake is dead? What are we dealing with?