All the blood left Landon’s head when he saw the newcomers. The air stank with their non-Gifted scent like vinegar and ashes—none of the perfume that allowed him to ‘sess out the Gifted from among the broader population, none of the heady rush up his back he got when he considered Vallon.
Gleason stood beside Vallon, then climbed out of the pit. He glanced at Landon and jerked his head in Vallon’s direction. She was on her knees, tears running down her face as she retched.
Perfect.
“Amundson.” Gleason stiffly nodded greeting. “Director Fitzsimmons. I didn’t know you were in Seattle.” Gleason kept his voice calm and controlled as he ran his palm over his smooth pate. It was a movement that, if you knew Gleason, showed just how shaken he was by this evening’s events and the newcomers’ presence.
Landon leapt lightly down onto the map and stepped carefully over the beautifully detailed liquid topography, trying not to damage the delicate membrane that was the map’s surface. A slight queasy sense of movement up his legs as if the world were less steady. That was his version of the Gift, though he had no gift to see. He went down on his knees beside her, and the map swayed and undulated.
“Vallon?” She jerked away when he touched her shoulder, but not before he felt the searing heat of her. Her face was flushed with fever, and yet her lips were white.
“She’s gone. I couldn’t do anything, Landon. Whoever did this was too powerful.”
“Shh.” He looked up to see if anyone else had noticed her comment. “You’re overwrought. It’s difficult to see someone die.”
At least she nodded and met his gaze. “It’s a woman. There’s something….”
He shook his head slightly, hoping she’d get the message. This was not the time to be spilling the AGS’s secrets.
“She’s powerful. Somehow she’s using deep earth power.”
That news almost froze him, but he managed to turn back to the Agents standing at the map edge. “Would you get back to work? Someone needs to monitor the city. Vallon’s in no shape to carry on with the desk.”
They muttered, but nodded as they retired to the computers around the room; but they still cast glances in his and Vallon’s direction. They’d heard something—too much.
Vallon’s breathing was too rapid and shallow. The woman was in shock.
“Come on, Pigeon. Take a deep, slow breath.”
A brief nod.
“So what the hell’s going on, Gleason?”
Landon glanced back at the AGS Chief. He stood, Moore flanking him, facing down the two interlopers. Fitzsimmons was a deadly man who’d fought his way up from CIA field operative to Director of Homeland Security by having a hunger for power and the unerring ability to assess and use any opponent’s weakness. When he took over Homeland Security it was a mishmash of differing agencies duking it out over jurisdiction. He’d dealt with it by swallowing most of them up.
Except for the AGS.
He’d been gunning for it ever since.
Wolf Amundson was the Homeland Security version of a pit bull with aspirations. He’d probably been put in place as Liaison specifically to get to the AGS.
Not a good pair to show up on a night like this.
Gleason glanced in Landon’s direction. Nodded.
Landon looked back at Vallon, her pale hair tangled wild around her face. She still panted like someone about to be sick. He had to get her out of here and away from Fitzsimmons’ scrutiny. Vallon was strong, but few could stand against Fitzsimmons even on their good days.
“Can you stand?”
She gave a single nod.
“Good. Then we need to get you the heck away from here, understand?” He shifted so she could catch sight of the Homeland Security head.
Another nod and he offered her a hand, but she shook him off. Heat came from her in waves.
Standing looked as if it took everything she had. She staggered a step, the map membrane giving under her like a waterbed. Another step and she pulled herself upright, and this was what he loved about Vallon Drake. She had a strength of will few could match. By the time she hiked herself up out of the map pit she almost looked herself, except for her flushed features, the too-dilated eyes, and the tremor in her hands.
“My office.” He led her through the desks towards the door.
“Hold it. Where the hell do you think you’re going with that Agent?”
Landon turreted around to Fitzsimmons, who had broken away from Gleason. Vallon continued to the door.
“She’s in shock. I’m taking her to my office to recover.”
“This is Vallon Drake. Correct?”
Landon cast a question at Gleason, but the man’s face was impassive granite.
“Yes.” He’d only answer what he had to. “She’s in shock—amongst other things—and needs to rest.”
He followed Fitzsimmons’ piercing gaze to Vallon, who stood proud as a wild thing near the door, and for the first time doubted that anyone would ever get a full read on Vallon Drake. Maybe that was a good thing.
“She needs to be questioned. Held. My information is she’s already a suspect in a murder and now she’s responsible when another Agent is lost. Who the hell knows what she’ll do?”
“Well, I’ve got a much better chance of assessing that than you do.” Landon turned to Fitzsimmons and saw he’d erred.
The man’s face had gone dark, his grey flesh ruddy in the folds that led from his nose to his mouth and down to his chin. It looked like he bled.
Or fed on someone else’s blood. In this case he’d prefer Landon’s.
But he wasn’t going to let this creature railroad Vallon into something. Landon looked to Gleason and saw the slight lift of head that was all he dared give as a nod. It was a nod, wasn’t it? The sign to continue with their plan?
He had to be sure, because moving their agenda forward while under Fitzsimmons’ and Amundson’s scrutiny was going to be a tad more difficult.
“I’ll take her to my office and then secure her.”
“Gleason, you trust this midget to manage her?” Amundson.
Landon wished for the Gift. He’d have seen the floor open up to swallow the Seattle Station Chief—but that would have only exacerbated their problem.
“Landon knows his job, gentlemen. Now what do you say we allow Mr. Snow to do it, and retire to my office so that my staff can do their jobs. It seems we have some repairs to do tonight. Moore, see to it.”
He turned on his heel and led Fitzsimmons and Amundson to his office. He ushered them inside and then threw an urgent look in Landon’s direction.