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Authors: C.J. Barry

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BOOK: Body Thief
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He watched the Eagle battle the winds to reach her nest high on the cliff face. The oncoming storm buffeted her, knocking her lower to the ground, even as she fought to rise higher. Sharp, craggy rocks threatened, inches away. Feathers tore from her wings, and her head was bowed to the unrelenting gale.
He held his breath, waiting, knowing. His arms and legs tightened with every powerful flap of her wings. He strained, trying to give her the strength to reach safety.
Suddenly, the wind shifted, clutching her in its grip and throwing her against the rock. She bounced hard, folded up, and fell toward him.
Helplessly, he watched her soft body strike ledges and outcrops before tumbling across hard stone and landing at his feet, lifeless. For long moments, he stared at her, hoping against hope that she was still alive. That she would right herself and stretch her wings.
But she didn’t. Sand flowed and curled around her, cradling her. Griffin knelt down and cleared her head. She felt soft and still warm to his touch.
And he cried. Tears fell and were instantly stolen by the desert. If he stood here long enough, there wouldn’t be any sign that either of them had been here. No one would ever know that he loved her. His heart ached in his chest.
“Griffin?”
He inhaled sharply as he sat upright and into Cam’s arms.
She was alive
.
“Whoa. Easy, big boy,” she whispered.
Griffin noted the cement walls, floor, and ceiling etched with watermarks. A heavy door and the bed he lay in completed the quick inventory. It all came back in a rush—the meeting, the ambush, the gunshot, the Shifters, Cam. He wrapped his arm around her and hissed at the pain, but he didn’t care.
“You okay?” he asked, still swiping away the remnants of the nightmare.
She sounded worried as she pushed him back down into the bed and lay down next to him. “Great. I’m a little concerned about you, though.”
He held her to his chest. “No worries. Where is everyone?”
“Aristotle’s men picked up my father and Ernest. They’re a few rooms down from here.”
He breathed relief. It was warm and comfortable in the bed, and exhaustion swamped him quickly. “What about the Shifters?”
“Two were injured, but they’ll heal. The rest are okay. It’s all okay. Go back to sleep.”
He could now, because that covered everyone who mattered to him. He drew Cam closer and slept.
 
“Don’t blame me,” Braxton said, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair in the small window on Harding’s cell phone. “
Your
men couldn’t even kill them. And that’s what they do. So either XCEL sucks, or these two are a little brighter than your average bear.”
Harding gritted his teeth and held on to his patience. “I didn’t call for you to tell me what I already know. I called for your expert opinion. They’ve gone underground, all of them. How do I smoke them out?”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to now.”
“What?”
Braxton smirked. “You got enough for your report?”
“Possibly,” Harding replied. He would have liked more, but he could always twist the facts.
“Including the Shifter attack on XCEL agents?”
Harding blinked. He’d been too furious at XCEL’s failure to realize that he could use the three deaths and multiple injuries to his advantage.
Braxton raised his hands. “XCEL was trying to apprehend the Shifters who were blowing up our buildings and killing our people, and look what happened? Where does that leave us now?”
The plans were already forming in his head. This was perfect. He could prove without a doubt that the Shifters were out to kill humans.
“Well?” Braxton asked. “Does that solve your problem?”
It did. He didn’t need to worry about Mercer or Camille now that they’d joined the underground. They were part of the problem. “It’ll do.”
He was about to cut the call when Braxton said, “You should have figured that out yourself.”
Harding glared at him. “I was busy.”
“No, you lost control of your emotions,” Braxton said and pointed a finger at him like a gun. “Told you so.”
“Fuck you,” Harding said, and hung up.
 
It felt good to have her father close by again, even if he did look deathly ill. Cam squeezed his hand on the table, and he gave her a smile.
Aristotle was seated next to him along with Griffin, Red, Ernest, and a few of Aristotle’s men. They were hunkered down in a dark, dank room over a makeshift table. It was like a secret society, and in reality, they were exactly that.
“They are developing a biological weapon. We believe it will be lethal to Shifters but not affect humans,” Aristotle said.
Cam felt her stomach drop. It shouldn’t surprise her, but the simple gall of it all did. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “We have people inside the facility. They aren’t privy to all the information, but they have provided enough of it for us to be certain.”
Griffin leaned forward. “If you know where it is, why didn’t you just destroy the facility?”
Red piped up. “I know, right?”
Aristotle shook his head. “Harding would just cover it up, or blame it on the Shifters like he did all the other attacks. Then he’d build another facility, this time with all the blessings of a terrified government and society. We’d never be able to come back from that. And if we destroy the evidence, we can’t prove anything.”
“That’s
if
you want to follow the proper channels,” Red grumbled.
Aristotle told him, “We do. We need to do this right. If we don’t, we are no different than Harding.”
“So you tried to impede the development by attacking the distribution line into the facility,” Griffin said.
“Exactly. Although, that ended up backfiring on us,” Aristotle admitted. “Harding used our strategy to wipe out businesses and people who support us.”
Cam tapped her fingers nervously on the table. “How close is the weapon for use?”
Aristotle slid a photo over to her. “Very.”
She studied the two dead men—one a human and the other a Shifter—lying on tables. The Shifter’s skin was waxy, and his body strangely flat. Like all his insides were mush contained inside his skin. His features were molded together, making him nearly indistinguishable, but she knew who he had been.
She slid it over to Griffin. “It’s our captive.”
“What the hell?” Griffin said and took the photo to view closer. “What happened to him? He looks melted.”
Aristotle nodded. “We think he was. The weapon, probably a gas, dissolves the part of our molecules that allows us to shift. That’s why the body looks like it’s filled with gelatin. It is. That picture was taken a few days ago.”
Ernest leaned over and grimaced at the photo. “Jesus. I thought you guys healed fast.”
Aristotle said, “Not fast enough to counter the damage from this toxin.”
“Who’s the other guy?” Ernest asked, squinting at the photo.
“A human,” Aristotle said.
Cam studied the man. He was covered in his own blood. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt humans.”
“Trust me, by the time they get done with testing, it won’t,” Aristotle said.
“Which means we have a little time,” Griffin said. “Any idea how or when they plan to deploy it?”
Heads shook.
“All we know is that they will. Were you aware that Harding is working on a report to a special senate committee?” Aristotle asked. “It is supposed to outline the findings of our investigation on the Shifter attacks.”
“Senate?
Our
senate?” Ernest asked.
Cam ignored Ernest and frowned at Griffin. “I had no idea. Did you know?”
“Yes.” Then Griffin cut her a look. “It was just about the attacks.”
“By Shifters,” she corrected. “So Harding could spring his diabolical scheme on us with full congressional support.”
“I had no idea he was plotting anything more,” Griffin said, his expression unreadable.
Of course you didn’t,
she thought.
And you didn’t ask.
Just one more thing he neglected to tell her. And why would he? It’d just be a reason to piss her off, and he couldn’t risk that if he wanted her cooperation. Would she ever be able to trust him?
“When is the report due?” Aristotle asked Griffin.
“As soon as possible. He may have already sent it in,” Griffin said. “He will blame all attacks on you and your men. He will push to use the weapon—”
The door opened, and another one of Aristotle’s men came in. He walked over to the old man and handed him a sheet of paper. Aristotle read it silently, frowning.
“Now wait a minute,” Ernest said. “Do you really think that our government would go for that?”
“They might now,” Aristotle said and passed Ernest the sheet of paper. “A building exploded in South Queens. Killed twelve people, including two children. XCEL is blaming it on Shifters.”
Cam’s stomach sunk. “Oh God. He’s playing to the media. We’re dead.”
It was quiet around the table for a few long moments while everyone digested the new development. Her father reached for and held her hand. His eyes met hers, full of sorrow. It was happening all over again. Just like it had on the last planet. The memory of her mother’s murdered body flickered in her mind. It had been years ago, but it felt like yesterday. Or tomorrow.
“We need to pin this on Harding,” Griffin said, breaking the silence. “It’s the only way to make this right.”
Ernest shook his head. “It ain’t gonna happen. If there’s one person in the world who knows how to cover his ass, it’s Harding.”
“There must be something,” Griffin said. “Cell phone records, e-mails, something.”
“His cell phone is private and secure. I’d need to do some serious digging to access his records,” Ernest said. Then he waved the photo. “
But
, I haven’t tried to tie him to this facility yet.”
“Give Ernest everything you have,” Griffin said to Aristotle. “If Harding is pulling the strings, then he has to have some kind of contact with them.”
“What about us?” Red asked. “We can’t just sit here and let them kill people and blame it on us.”
“Agreed,” Griffin said. “Ernest—”
“I know, I know. Next target,” he said with a sigh. “I’m going to need more bandwidth for this.”
“Not a problem,” Red said, grinning at Ernest. “What do you think all these cables down here are for?”
“You two figure that out,” Griffin said. Then he cut Cam a look and said, “I think we’ll do a little surveillance.”
She turned to Griffin. “How much time do we have?”
He didn’t answer her, but she could see it in his eyes.
Not enough
.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
 
G
riffin used his binoculars to scan the facility. The sign by the front gate read Goodman Research and Development. The facility consisted of several rectangular buildings attached to each other, two tall smoke stacks, and four delivery docks—all surrounded by barbwire-topped chain-link fencing. A guard sat in the entrance—armed, no doubt.
BOOK: Body Thief
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