The gray, muggy morning was abruptly so cold her whole body ached, and the familiar smells were gone. All she could smell now was something sharp, acrid, something that was utterly strange and yet . . . not. It was something she thought she should recognize, even though she knew she had never smelled it before.

Something that terrified her.

She opened her mouth to scream but the only sound that escaped her tight throat was a thready, childlike whimper.

Darkness closed over her.

ONE

Washington, D.C.

Hollis Templeton opened her eyes and blinked at a ceiling that looked . . . odd. She reached out a seeking hand with what had become habit, encountered only smooth sheet, and sat up abruptly.

The bed beside her was empty of her FBI Special Crimes Unit partner and lover, Reese DeMarco. That was strange enough, and unsettling enough, that it took Hollis another moment or so to realize that wasn’t the only wrong thing.

The sheets she knew were pale blue looked gray. So did the duvet cover, which was supposed to be a muted but attractive print of several colors. She touched with tentative fingers and found that it felt normal—except for the chill. She felt chilled, which wasn’t all that surprising since she wasn’t wearing a nightgown or pajamas and it was March.

Still, the cold Hollis felt was due to something other than a chilly room and her own nakedness. It was a slightly familiar chill, and just acknowledging that made her feel even colder, especially when she also recognized the very faint, almost elusive odor that was, in an oddly primal way, unpleasant and difficult to identify.

But familiar.

Even so, she fixed her mind on calm mode and made no attempt to reach through the easy telepathic connection to Reese in order to wake him. In fact, she eased the “door” on her side closed. Because he could share her dreams, even from time to time walk with her through them, especially if she had a nightmare or was otherwise upset, and she did not want him sharing this place even if he could. Which she was reasonably sure he couldn’t. At least he hadn’t ever before.

And she’d probably need him to anchor her on the living side, in case she got into trouble. Or even if she didn’t.

She looked up, finally, to examine the room. A pleasant bedroom in their pleasant condo, it was spacious and decorated simply and comfortably because they agreed about such things and how a home should feel even if they were seldom present to enjoy the comfort of home for very long.

But it was gray.

And it wasn’t supposed to be gray.

Hollis hesitated a moment, then pushed back the duvet and sheet and slid from the big bed. She found the nightgown she had briefly worn on the floor, which was where it usually ended up, and put it on. The robe that matched it was silky and not made to warm up the body, but she found it lying over a chair near the bed and put it on as well, tying the flimsy little strings beneath her breasts.