Page 65 of A Touch of Crimson
“It can’t be Shadoe then,” Syre said with a sigh of regret.
“I can’t say that for certain. She has a lycan guard. If she leaves the hotel for any reason—which is rare—he’s with her. It’s possible that Adrian just doesn’t want to put her at risk while he’s hunting.”
“Leaving her with one guard? Away from the Point?”
“She’s working for Raguel and living on his property. She doesn’t need a lot of protection when she’s under the wing of an archangel.”
Syre exhaled harshly.
Torque frowned at the sound, hearing a wealth of disquiet and frustration in it. Not what he would have expected from his father while discussing Shadoe’s possible reincarnation. “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”
“You remember what Adrian said about Nikki? About her appearance and behavior?”
“Like I’d forget fucking lies like that.”
“Torque…” Another weighted pause. “I’ve received two reports of similar sightings. These came from within our own ranks.”
“Sightings of what?”
“Disease. Infection. You haven’t heard anything?”
“No. But the cabal here is successful because of its discretion. They keep to themselves and stay focused on watching Angels’ Point.” Torque’s spymaster cabals, known as the kage, were comprised of his most trusted minions, those who took orders without question and deeply respected that he was the son of Syre. “What kind of infection are we talking about?”
“Unreasoned aggression, mindless thirst. Adrian’s description of foaming at the mouth and bloodshot eyes has been corroborated.”
Torque sank onto the edge of the bed, his heartbeat quickening. “Nikki was only gone two days…”
His father’s worn, comfortable desk chair creaked over the phone receiver. “If it’s not possible for you to definitively establish the woman’s identity by the end of the week, I want you to come home. Depending on how widespread this sickness is, we could be looking at an imminent war with the Sentinels. We need to be prepared.”
A young family of tourists walked by Torque’s window, laughing and chattering with little regard for the lateness of the hour. He turned his head away from the simple happiness he would never know and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “I think it’s even more important that I find out who this woman is. Think about it, Dad. What if Adrian’s behind everything that’s happening? What if he’s deliberately staging these attacks to give him the excuse to come after you? It would make sense if the blonde is Shadoe.”
“A blonde?”
The pain in his father’s voice iced Torque’s blood. If the woman were his sister, they were as far from looking like twins as could be. “Yeah. And I’m dying my hair now to get the blond out. How ironic is that? I’ve got a job interview with her tomorrow, and we’ll see what happens. That’s why I asked you to overnight the Fallen blood to me. I have to head out in daylight.”
“Did it arrive?”
“Yes. I’ve got it.”
“Vashti should be there shortly, if you need more. I’ll be waiting to hear reports from both of you.”
Torque was tired of waiting. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. In the meantime, think about the possibility of Adrian orchestrating these attacks and the illness.”
“He wouldn’t go to the extent of killing Phineas. They were as close as brothers.”
“Anyone will sacrifice a lot, Dad, if they’re desperate enough. It can’t be a coincidence that Vash is tracking Nikki’s abductor right back to the Point. While you’re investigating the reports of sick minions, see if you don’t also hear reports of vamp abductions.” Torque scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling weary and irritated by the chemical stench of hair dye. “I think what you’re hearing are carefully planted rumors, but if there’s any truth to them and Adrian is involved, he has to be abducting vamps to infect. And if so, someone out there is missing those who’ve been abducted. Like I’m missing Nikki.”
Missing her so badly that it was eating him alive. Inside, it felt like he was screaming at the world through soundproof glass.
“I’ll look into it, son. As always, I’m grateful for your counsel.”
“Yeah, well, I wish we had better things to talk about.”
Lindsay glanced at the clock. She had fifteen minutes until her next interview. Although she knew she shouldn’t, she wanted to call Adrian. The phone call she’d just ended—the one to the bladesmith who fashioned her custom throwing knives—made her want to hear Adrian’s voice. She spent a moment spinning her phone around and around on her desk; then it rang. When she saw Adrian’s name on the caller ID, she snatched it lightning quick.
“Hey,” she answered, too fast. “I must have thought you up.”
“Lindsay.” He exhaled harshly. “I needed to hear your voice.”
