Eve of Destruction

What are you hiding? her two halves asked, their voices an eerie chorus that sent a shiver down her spine.

She lost her grip on her phone. Her marked reflexes kicked in, enabling her to withdraw her hand from her jeans and fumble for the cell within the blink of an eye. As she struggled to make the catch, she took several stumbling steps down the hall before slipping into the guest bedroom where she’d spent the night. Eve held herself flush against the wall, reeling from an encounter she could only liken to a mental ménage à trois.

Gulping in air, she was arrested by the vortex of emotions that swirled through all three of them. Alec was sick with jealousy, Reed was tormented by guilt, and she . . . she felt an all-pervasive confusion.

What the hell had just happened to them?

Inside Eve, something shifted and solidified. Time passed without her registering it. It wasn’t until she heard Izzie’s quick, light footsteps pass the open doorway followed by Reed’s heavier, more arrogant stride that she realized they had finished and were leaving. In her hand, her cell phone vibrated, urging her to answer. Seven missed calls, the display read, and she hadn’t felt a one. She turned the phone off, shoved it into her pocket, and refastened her jeans.

The comfort of her waistband reminded her—she’d left her gun on the living room floor.

Galvanized, Eve darted out of the bedroom. She was halted by a collision with a steely chest.

“Let go, Reed.”

Part of her took comfort in his need to see her. Another part resisted the lying in wait. Perhaps that was all she was to him and Alec, a prize to be won.

He held fast. “It’s too late for that now.”

Eve opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by a piercing female scream.

“Shit,” she breathed.

“Stay here,” Reed ordered, shifting out of the room.

Running to the living room, Eve dug through the backpacks looking for her gun, missing the feeling of safety the weapon imparted.

A shout. This one male, but not Reed’s.

She’d have to find the damned gun later. Rushing out the door, she’d just hit the rear lawn when Reed shifted in front of her.

“I told you to stay put,” he bit out, his features hard.

“I should be with the others.”

“Damn it.” He sidestepped into her path when she tried to pass him.

She shoved at his chest with both hands. “Get out of the way.”

Reed hesitated, then cursed in a foreign language. He caught her elbow and she increased her pace to a jog to keep up with his long-legged stride. She could feel their physical connection through his senses—the feel of her flesh in his hand, the scent of her perfume, the growing irritation for the yawning emotional chasm between them.

She also sensed Alec. Through her, he felt her interaction with Reed and she felt the way that affected him. The pain and frustration. The fury and bloodlust. She would have expected his emotions to feed into the Novium, but she was cool and calm. Focused on her external problems.

They rounded the corner of the house and the other side of the duplex came into view. Izzie, Ken, and Edwards stood facing the back door, their shoulders set in a way that set Eve’s teeth on edge. Sobbing rent the quiet afternoon and drew her attention to Claire who sat crumpled on the ground. The wind blew gently, bringing the scent of sweet Mark blood with it.

As Eve altered her trajectory to skirt the small crowd, her viewing angle changed. The recessed kitchen doorway came into view . . .

. . . as did the disemboweled body that hung upside down from the rafters there. Richens.

“God!” She barely felt the pain of the recriminating mark. Spinning away, she wanted to gag.

“I tried,” Reed bit out. “You’re too damn stubborn, Eve. You need to—”

Her helpless gaze silenced him midrant. “I-I can’t k-keep doing t-this.”

Reed caught her to him. His scent was stronger now, more virile. Comforting. Alec reached out to her, too, but she pushed him away. He would worry about her, when he needed to be focused on his own safety.

She didn’t understand the connection nor know how long it would last. It didn’t matter. She needed it now and it was there.

“Mon esprit, c’est perdu, perdu . . .” Claire sobbed. “Je ne peut plus rien faire. J’ai perdu toute raison.”

Eve didn’t need to understand French to comprehend that Claire was losing it. The cracking voice and wrenching sobs were heartbreaking. Leaving Reed, Eve crouched beside the fallen Frenchwoman, reaching out a hand out to touch her shoulder.

Claire surged into her arms, rambling incoherent words. “Did you see? Did you see? Who could do such a thing to another person?”

“Not who.” Reed stood over them, his gaze on the doorway. “What.”

Izzie moved closer. Her lipstick had worn off, leaving her looking younger and oddly innocent. “How could this happen? Where was everyone?”

Edwards spoke, his lips white. “Callaghan and I were loading the Suburban in the driveway while Dubois packed up the food in the kitchen. We didn’t hear or see anything.”

“Where is the rest of your class?” Reed asked, surveying their immediate surroundings.

“I’ve no idea. Seiler and Hollis took off—”

“They were with me.”

A length of silence followed Reed’s pronouncement, during which Eve looked at Izzie and caught the narrowing of the blonde’s eyes on her. Then, Edwards cleared his throat and said, “Garza and Hogan are shagging somewhere. It’s all those two know how to do.”

“Where is Gadara?” Ken barked. “We should not be here alone.”

Reed pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on.

“Can’t you do that popping in and out thing you do?” Eve asked.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he retorted grimly.

Claire looked up, her eyes wild. “We are all going to die out here.”

“Shut up,” Edwards snapped. “The last thing we need is melodrama.”

“We’re not going to die,” Eve soothed, patting her back.

Reed walked a short distance away, his focus on his phone, which beeped a missed call or text message warning.

A growling noise brought Eve’s attention back to Ken. He looked ready to blow a gasket. “What good are guards when they cannae stop us from getting killed?”

“We need to forget packing and clearing,” Eve said. “I don’t think getting out of Dodge is going to solve this problem.”

“Aye, we should hunt.”

“Bloody hell,” Edwards muttered. “You’re both daft.”

“You are crazy!” Claire’s spine straightened. “We should get in the cars and leave this place. Don’t look back. Go to Gadara Tower and leave such things to those who know what they are doing!”

Edwards nodded. “I second that. Run like hell. That’s the ticket.”

“What about the kids across the street?” Eve asked.

“What about them?” Claire shot back. “They are mortal. The Army invited them, they can protect them. Nothing is going to save us other than common sense. God helps those who help themselves.”

Ken moved between the corpse and Claire, who was growing more distraught by the minute. “Killing the miserable bajin would do the same.”

“Who was the last person to see Richens alive?” Izzie asked.

“I just saw him,” Eve answered, “about twenty minutes ago.” Now she would never know what he’d had to say. That made her indescribably sad.

She had scarcely done more than glance at what remained of Richens’s body, but she couldn’t forget the sight of him. Strung up by the ankles and wrists like an upside-down starfish. Gutted. His entrails ripped from the now-gaping body cavity and wrapped around his head. Stuffed into his mouth. Blood overflowed from his nostrils and soaked his hair, but it didn’t drip. Below him, there was no puddle. Where had the blood gone?

How could this have happened right under their noses? Why hadn’t Richens screamed? Did he know his attacker? How else could such an elaborate staging take place on their very doorstep without a sound made?

So many questions and all the immediate answers were terrifying.

“What was he doing?” Edwards asked.

“Sitting on the steps.”

“He was lazy,” Izzie muttered. “He was always looking for someone else to do his work for him.”

Eve shook her head. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Looking toward Reed, she caught him scowling at his phone. Obviously, he didn’t like whatever messages he’d had waiting for him.

Ken’s head went back and he growled at the sky. “I didnae hear a thing. Nothing. How is that possible?”

The distant sound of the doorbell caused the group to freeze in place.

“Who’s that?” Edwards hissed, looking as if he wanted to bolt.

Eve pushed to her feet. “I’ll go look.”

Ken came forward. “Allow me.”

“Eve?” Linda’s voice floated around to the side yard where they stood. “Is everything all right?”

“Shit.” She looked at Ken. “I’ll stall her. Get him down from there!”

She was running around the corner before she’d finished speaking, nearly crashing into Linda, who was leaning against the side of the house and peering through the sheet-draped window.

“Whoa!” Linda stumbled.

Eve caught her by the forearms and yanked her back upright.

“Where did you come from?” Linda gasped. “One second you weren’t there, the next minute you were bowling me over.”

“Sorry.”

Freddy sat on his haunches beside Linda, his gaze trained at the walkway Eve had just traversed. He whined softly.

“He was barking like mad a little while ago,” Linda said, “and looked ready to eat through the front door, which is really out of character for him. Then, we heard the screaming.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">