We are close to the safe house where the captain says he has Barry stashed. I am scanning the area around us continually, and all is not right. I feel the intrusion of evil, yet it is not the same as what you were feeling in the apartments.
Jaxon closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out reality, if only for a moment. If Drake already knew where Barry was located, the chances were more than good that it was far too late to save him. She could only hope that Daryl had called ahead to warn the officers guarding Barry that Drake was on a killing spree and was stalking them.
She bent over her notes, trying to focus, trying to read the words, but the ink all seemed to run together. How was she going to generate a decent report if she couldn’t even read her own work? It took several minutes before she realized she had tears in her eyes. Swearing silently to herself, she jumped up and began to make her way down the hall to the bathroom.
Every step she took only increased the terrible precognition of death. Small beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Lucian? She reached for him desperately.
I am here. His voice was tranquil and soft, more soothing than ever, a mesmerizing tool that instantly calmed her.
He’s killing someone right now. I feel him. Please get to Barry.
It is not Barry. Your captain is talking to Radcliff on the phone. We will be there in minutes. There is a presence, but I am not certain it is Drake. It does not feel the same as what is in your mind when you replay your memories. Similar, but different.
Like in the apartment?
No, not even that. We are here now. I will protect Barry from this monster. With that last assurance Lucian broke off their merge.
She thought about that, the abruptness of his departure. He never did that, never separated from her as he had just done. He always did it slowly, almost reluctantly, his presence lingering so that she felt him, not always certain whether he was really gone or still a shadow remaining in her mind. This was different. He was completely gone, and she actually felt a loss. For the first time she knew what he meant when he talked about lifemates and their urgent need of each other.
With a sigh she pushed open the door to bathroom. At once the feeling of darkness and evil overwhelmed her, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach, retching violently.
An arm curved around her waist, and Tom Anderson helped her into the bathroom and away from all the watchful eyes. “You’ll be okay, Jaxx. Let’s get you some water.”
Tom had been a loyal member of her unit for a long time, so she let him help her, although she found it humiliating that he should see her this way. She had trained with these men, fought beside them, led them. She needed their respect if she was going to work with them. Splashing cold water on her face helped ease the gagging in her throat, but her stomach was in knots as tight as ever. The feeling persisted. Drake was busy this night. Barry? She couldn’t bear it if Barry was killed.
“I’m sorry about all this,” Tom said. “But Radcliff is tough. No one is going to get to him easily. Besides, they have guards all over the place.”
“Thanks, Tom,” she murmured softly and bent to take a drink of water. It hit her then. The feeling was far too strong for the distance between the stationhouse and where Barry was located.
She straightened up, pressing a hand to her stomach, turning to look over her shoulder at Tom. “He’s here.”
“What? Who? Who’s here?”
“Drake is here. Somewhere in the building, in this building.” She pushed past Tom and began to move swiftly down the hall toward her desk.
“Are you nuts? Jaxx, this is the police station. He’s the most wanted man in these parts. Do you really think he’s that stupid?” Tom was whispering, trying to protect her from her overactive imagination. He didn’t blame her, but he didn’t want anyone else to witness her breakdown.