I also didn’t care. I kept walking, trying not to let the horrors on either side of me cripple my progress. The overhead fluorescents threw my shadow across the faces of the cowering.

They screamed for mercy.

They begged for mercy.

But I hadn’t brought any mercy with me.

I stood in the doorway, chest heaving, sweat running down my body inside my clothes. The room was far too bright, and every sound was terribly loud.

I looked down at the ax in my hands.

I could hear Bunny yelling from outside the room. Top, too. Ghost stood at the door and barked at them. My team were all outside.

Kuga’s people were inside with me.

Here with me and my ax.

In my heart and head, the Darkness roiled and twisted and finally broke free.

CHAPTER 11

FREETECH RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT OFFICE

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Junie Flynn was in the act of lifting a glass of wine to her lips when she suddenly shuddered with such unexpected violence that the wine sloshed and the glass slipped from her twitching fingers. It struck the side of the worktable and exploded, showering her and her companion with tiny glittering fragments.

Then Junie staggered back, a hand going to her throat.

“What’s wrong?” cried Toys, a young man whose normally stern face twisted into a look of mingled shock and concern.

“I—” she began, and then her eyes rolled high and she puddled down to the floor.

Toys caught her under the neck and back, inches from the floor. He squatted, grunted, and picked her up. She was a tall woman, and he was a man below middle height, but he was wiry and much stronger than he looked. Toys carried her quickly to the adjoining staff lounge, kicking the door open and laying her down on a leather couch. Junie was totally out, and he quickly took her pulse. Finding the steady heartbeat was not entirely comforting because it fluttered like hummingbird wings on a window of a house in which it had gotten trapped. He felt her head, but there was no sign of a fever.

Toys pulled a cell phone from his jeans pocket and punched 9-1-1. When the call was answered, he said, “I need an ambulance at—”

“No,” said Junie sharply. “No, please, Toys, don’t … I’m okay.”

He glanced down at her. “You sodding well aren’t. You dropped into a dead faint.”

“Please,” she said, gesturing weakly to the phone. “No ambulance.”

Toys explored the inside of his mouth with his tongue—a habit he had when he was trying to decide something on the fly. Then said, “Sorry, my mistake.” And disconnected the call. He dropped to his knees beside the couch and took her hand. “To quote your beefcake boyfriend, what in the wide blue fuck was that?”