Page 8 of Avenger of Sins

Gray stills, senses straining. A dog barks from somewhere within, its claws scrabbling on wood. Otherwise, there are no sounds.

Caleb’s unease filters through them both.“If anyone was alive in there, they’d be trying to quiet the dog down.”

That would seem likely.

He exchanges a glance with Night; they have hunted together enough now that there is no need for discussion. They slip in through the gate, the grass beneath their feet bright green even in the dead of winter. Night fades into the shadows, while Gray scales the brick cladding, claws sinking easily into the mortar.

The cheap lock on an upper floor window gives beneath their strength. Gray slips inside, then pauses for a long moment, sensing.

The window opens onto what seems to be a guest bedroom, a fine layer of dust across bed and furniture. The dog is somewhere beneath them, scratching frantically to be let out. The only other sound is the occasional creak of a beam as the house slowly settles.

“Not good.”

Gray ignores Caleb’s obvious statement. He glides into the upstairs hallway, the carpet softening their footsteps. The scent of blood like cold copper wafts from the stairway leading down.

If Ryan is here, he is hiding himself from their senses. Gray prowls from room to room, alert for any twitch of a curtain, any shadow out of place.

There is nothing.

He meets Night on the second floor. “The dog is locked in a bathroom,” she tells them. “And there is a dead mortal in the first floor bedroom.”

“Damn it,”Caleb mutters.“We’re too late.”

“I have not found any other mortals,” Night adds. “I believe the telepath has already come and gone.”

Gray isn’t certain how to feel about this. He doesn’t like Ryan, but nor does he like this dead mortal who hurt John.

“Yeah, same,”Caleb says.“Let’s take a look at the crime scene and make sure the dog’s okay.”

The dog is grateful to be let out. It is a small thing with curly white and brown fur, and it presses against his leg whimpering in fear. Perhaps it understands what has happened to its guardian. Gray picks it up in one arm and keeps it tucked against their chest as they approach the master bedroom.

The room is cold; one of the windows is open wide despite the winter chill, its screen removed. Perhaps this is where Ryan entered the house, or where he left. The dead mortal lies sprawled beside the bed, dressed in plaid pajamas. In one hand he holds a revolver; a bullet wound splashes blood and brains across a wooden nightstand beside him.

Ryan forced his hand, no doubt. Used his paranormal ability, bolstered by Gray’s blood, to make Foster take his own life.

But not to make it appear a suicide. Because on the wall behind the body, someone has scrawled the word MONSTER in Foster’s own blood.

The dog lets out a sharp bark of alarm. Gray takes a step back from the scene, assuming it is alarmed from the sights or smells?—

The ice-cold shaft of a needle sinks deep into the side of their neck.

John hated waiting.

Most people did, of course. But, no matter how SPECTR had manipulated him, he hadn’t become a field agent because he didn’t like action. Driving aimlessly through the night, waiting for Caleb to call, grated on his nerves.

It also gave his mind too much time to come up with scenarios where everything went wrong. What if Ryan got the jump on the two drakul, forced Night to switch bodies, and took Gray prisoner again? What if their bet had been wrong, and Ryan could control their minds?

He could make them give up their blood. Worse: he could use them to enact his vengeance. He’d be unstoppable with them at his command.

“John? Is that you? I can feel you.”

John let out a hiss and put a hand to his head. That voice…

“Ryan,” he said aloud. “He’s nearby. He’s trying to control me again.”

Zahira stomped on the gas, heading away from Foster’s house at an unsafe speed on the narrow, winding road.

“No!”Ryan’s voice grew fainter.“I won’t hurt you. I won’t try to control you again. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You’re too far away.”

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