Kissing Sin

Chapter Twelve

"So much for certainty," I muttered, blinking to switch to infrared vision.

"There must be a problem with the power," he said, walking across to the window.

Why, I have no idea. It was pretty much obvious by the rainbow beams of light invading the office that this building was the only one who'd lost light. "Yeah, it's been cut. There's no hum coming from the fridge, Misha."

He shrugged, and turned around to face me. "Whoever or whatever it is still has to get through the Fravardin."

I glanced toward the metal door. "What kills them?"

"White ash."

And I was betting the mastermind behind this operation knew that. "Warn them, then contact the guards downstairs, see if they've been taken out."

He stared at me for a moment, his body a mass of pulsing red against the bright backdrop of city lights. Then he nodded, and moved across to the desk. "Tümu, be prepared for an attack. They may have white ash, so tell everyone to be wary." He flicked another button, then added, "Security?"

No answer came. His gaze met mine. "They've been taken."

"Obviously." I slid the pack from my shoulder and took out the gun. "You have anything resembling a weapon in this office?"

"Besides teeth?" he said, baring them.

I shoved the extra rounds of bullets into my pockets, then ditched the pack. "I've got a feeling whatever is coming at us isn't going to be particularly fazed by a sharp pair of canines."

He grinned, and even from this distance I could smell his excitement. But then, he was a wolf, and when the male of our species was threatened, common sense usually flew out the window.

He pressed a button on the small console, then moved the bookcase behind him and pushed. It retracted into the wall, revealing a veritable arsenal. "I would suggest you take a laser—runt rifles are not good for close-in fighting. They take too long to reload."

I caught the one he tossed me. "Have long have you had the armory?"

"It's another of my refurbishment details."

"Don't suppose they also included a quick escape route should things go bad?"

He merely grinned. Meaning he probably did, but he wasn't going to show me unless it was absolutely necessary. "Have you got monitors on all the floors?"

"Yeah, but with the power out, they won't work."

Well, duh. I shook my head at my own stupidity. "So we just sit here and wait for whatever's coming at us to come."

"Basically, yes." He fired up the laser, and the gentle hum rode across the night, itching at my nerves.

I retreated to the pillar opposite the door, pressing my back against the cool concrete. My palms were sweaty, my heart was raising nine to the dozen. I welcomed the reaction, welcomed the fear that sat like a weight at the bottom of my stomach. Because it meant that, despite my fears, I was not yet like my brother.

The mechanical drone of a lift edged into the silence. Tension slithered through me, and my grip tightened on the laser. I glanced at Misha. "Why are the lifts working if all the power is out?"

"One lift is a fire lift—it has a separate power supply for situations like this."

"Great. Easy access for the bad guys."

"Unfortunately, yes. But it was a regulation I couldn't fight." He stood close to his arsenal, his back to the wall and a laser in either hand.

I licked my lips and turned my gaze back to the door. How strong was it? Given Misha's other refurbishments, it was probably reinforced, but would it be strong enough to keep out whatever was coming up in those lifts? Something deep inside said no, and fear rose another notch.

The mechanical drone of the lift stopped, and in the corridor beyond the door, chimes sounded, warning of the lift's arrival.

Sweat broke out across my brow, and the tension in my fingers started becoming cramps. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves as I waited for something to happen.

But for the longest of moments, nothing did.

Then an unearthly roar shattered the silence, and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. With it came the sound of fighting. Heavy thumps, flesh against flesh, the grunt of pain, more roars. The very walls seem to shudder under the force of the hits they were taking. Whether those hits were from weapons or from bodies being crashed against them, I couldn't say.

A red spot appeared in the middle of the door, white in the center flaring to red at the ever-growing edges. I stepped to one side, so that if—when—that laser broke through, it wouldn't skewer me in the middle.

"Lasering a hole in the door," Misha commented, his voice showing little concern. "They won't get far."

I swallowed to ease the dryness in my throat, then asked, "Why not?"

His eyes had an unearthly, almost fey, look about them. "Because those doors are rated against lasers."

"How long?"

"An hour."

Long enough for help to get here. Lord, I hoped Jack read his text messages sooner rather than later. "What's it rated against explosives?"

"If they use explosives, half the floor will come down on top of them. This is an old building, remember."

I remembered, but I was wondering if they would. "Why don't you call the police?"

"Why don't you call the Directorate?"

"I have."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then why aren't they here?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended. "I'm here, not there. I have no idea—"

I stopped abruptly. Through the noise of the fighting in the corridor, and the whine of the laser and bubbling of melting metal came another sound. A soft skittering against metal. It sounded for all the world like little hairy feet brushing across the surface of the door. A chili ran down my spine, and the sensation that we were no longer alone had my breath lodging somewhere in my throat.

Because that sound was coming from above us, from the ceiling itself rather than the door. I looked up. Infrared revealed absolutely nothing. Not on the ceiling, not in the hollows beyond it. Yet those sounds were drawing closer.

My heart raced so fast it felt as if it were going to tear out of my chest. I switched to normal vision, scanning the white expanse, wondering what the hell was going on. There was nothing there, nothing to be seen, yet the certainty that something was there, that it was almost on us, was growing like a cancer deep inside.

"What's wrong?"

The sudden question made me jump. I met Misha's gaze. "Something is in the ceiling."

"The ceiling is not designed to hold a great deal of weight." He looked up regardless, his expression edging toward concern for the first time.

"Whatever's coming at us hasn't got a great deal of weight." I jumped to one side as the laser broke through the door. A deadly red beam shot across the room, smashing into the pillar where I'd been minutes before, boiling the concrete in the few seconds it was on. Then light blinked out, leaving only the glowing edges of melted metal as evidence of its presence. Silence had fallen in the corridor. Whether that meant the Fravardin had won out or been defeated, I couldn't say. But I had a horrible suspicion it was the latter rather than the former.

"Given up," Misha said.

"I doubt it." The skittering drew closer, becoming hundreds of steps rather than just a few. Fear curled through me. My gaze rose to the ceiling again. What the hell could it possibly be? It sounded for all the world like spiders…

Oh, fuck.

Kade had mentioned spiders. Spiders that were invisible to infrared and able to squeeze through the smallest of holes. Holes like the one in the door. Or those in the air-conditioning vents.

Even as fear crystallized, moisture began to drip from the grate of the vent directly above me.

"Misha," I yelled, stepping aside and taking aim with the laser. "Look up. Your master has sent his spiders."

He swore, a sound lost to the sudden hum of the laser as I pressed the trigger. The cold beam bit through the semidarkness, hitting the gathering moisture square in the center. The grate began to melt, and steam boiled, filling the room with the thick scent of burning flesh. Something squealed, a high-pitched, unearthly sound no human would have caught. Then the vent cover came down, and with it a flood of water. Water that hit the carpet but didn't splatter, not even against my legs, though I stood barely two feet away. Horror crawled across my skin as the water began to separate, forming mounds that grew, took on shape, developed legs and heads and beady little eyes and sharp, razorlike teeth.

My fingers clenched reflexively on the trigger, and the laser's bright light shot out again. But the spiders that were as clear as water were also faster than fear.

They scattered. A good half dozen came directly at me, and I pressed the laser's trigger, burning carpet and spiders alike as I swept the beam back and forth.

Something bit my calf, and I yelped. Swinging around, I swiped the spider eating my flesh with the butt of the runt rifle, then speared it with the laser, killing it. More came. I kept my finger on the laser's trigger, almost choking in the steam that was beginning to fill the room. Still they came, a river that seemed endless. The laser grew hot in my hand, and the power light was flashing, warning that the energy cell was near depletion. I swore, and began to clear a path toward the armory. And saw Misha surrounded by a flood of the creatures and barely holding his own.

We couldn't beat them. I knew that then. Our only chance lay in escape—and in hoping that something worse wasn't out on the street, waiting for us.

I ran through the space I'd cleared, then leapt onto the desk, and toward the weapons. Felt sting after sting on my back as creatures leapt aboard and began to munch. Pain bloomed as moisture began to trickle down my spine. I dropped the runt rifle and the spent laser, replacing them with two more lasers. Swinging around, I thrust back against the wall as hard as I could. Something popped, and moisture splattered to my feet. I hit it with both lasers, then fanned the beams across the floor as more of the creatures came at me.

"Misha," I said, without looking up, "we need to get the hell out of here. Where's the escape hatch?"

"Press the green button—top right-hand—" His words ended in a grunt.

I glanced up to see one of the spiders on his face and red moisture beginning to drip from his chin.

Dear God… I jumped across the mass of flowing creatures, squashing several of them under my shoes as I landed. After nicking the lasers around us in a circle and momentarily forcing the mass back, I grabbed the thing from his face, noting even as I tossed it away that it somehow seemed smaller. I barely had time to take in the mess that had been made of Misha's face—the half-chewed lips, mutilated nose, and scoured cheeks, before they were on us again.

I swung round, felt Misha hit my back, smashing the creatures attached to my flesh even as I killed those closest to our feet. And though the mass was half its original size, it was still too many for the two of us. We had to get out of here.

"Get to that release," Misha said, sweeping his lasers to the left and right, catching those creatures I missed. Orange light began to flash across the shadows, a counterpoint of warmth against the cold light of the lasers. Misha's weapons were nearing the end.

"And hurry," he added.

Like I was going to stroll. I glanced at the button, and from the corner of my eyes saw the liquid gleam of a creature coming at my face. Laser light speared the darkness from behind, so it was steam that crashed against my skin rather than spider. A shudder ran through me anyway, and I had to fight to hold back the scream that surged up my throat.

Swallowing heavily, I leapt forward, smacking my hand against the button so hard that the force of the blow reverberated up my arm. Nothing happened. No answering whine, no dark hole of safety. Nothing.

"The lever," Misha said. "Near the rifles. And toss me some lasers."

I grabbed two and threw them his way. He cast his own aside and caught them deftly, but in the brief pause of the changeover, two creatures hit him, one on the chest, the other on his thigh. My curse got lost in his, and I lasered the others that tried to attack him while he pulled the things from his flesh. Then I grabbed the lever and pulled with all my might. Half the armory slid to one side, revealing not only the darkness of a corridor, but a large blue thing with suckered fingers that were clenched into fist and flying my way.

The punch hit before I could truly do anything. Suddenly I was flying backward, over the desk and across the room. I hit the carpet with a grunt that forced the air from my lungs and had spots dancing in front of my eyes, and for what seemed like an eternity, I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only lie there battling pain and the rising tide of darkness.

Yet through it all, I'd clung to the lasers, and it was that instinct that saved me. Because the spots in front of my eyes became a mass of blue, and I fired the lasers without real thought. The creature screamed as twin holes were punched through his chest. It was dead, but its momentum carried it forward. I rolled out from underneath, gagging at the reek of death that filled the air as its body crashed to the carpet.

I pushed to my knees, then my feet. Saw Misha was still upright, still fighting. The blue thing was obviously just a safety measure, because nothing else had come out of the darkness of the stairwell.

Time to get the hell out of here. I fired the lasers, and kept on firing, sweeping them steadily against the mass of watery spiders as I ran toward Misha. The creatures skittered away under the assault, leaving a clear path to the stairwell. Misha leapt toward it, and I followed, spinning and firing even as the shadows and coldness of the dark stairwell closed in around me. Misha slapped a hand against another lever, then thrust his weight against the door. It slid shut, catching several of the spiders mid-leap, squashing them flat between door and wall. I lasered the dribbling remains just to be safe, then let loose a long, shuddering breath of relief. Though God knows why—we weren't out of the woods yet.

Misha leaned against the concrete wall, his eyes closed and breathing harsh. He looked like shit, and his mauled face was beginning to puff up and bruise, but at least he was still alive.

I touched a hand to his shoulder. "We have to move."

He nodded, and pushed away from the wall. "Up, not down."

"To the roof?" Fear skittered through my gut at the thought. "Won't that be trapping ourselves?"

He shook his head, and rubbed a hand across his stomach, wincing a little. "No. He obviously knows about this escape route, and would expect us to go down."

"But what's on the roof, and why won't he know about it?"

"They're gutting the building next door, and, in the last week, have punched huge holes in the side wall to get ready for windows. From the roof we can jump through them to one of the open floors. He wouldn't expect that."

That's because normal people wouldn't try it. And people who were afraid of heights certainly wouldn't. I licked suddenly dry lips. "Is it much of a jump?"

He shook his head, his look of pain intensifying. No surprise, really, given the mess his face was in. It had to hurt like hell to talk. "Not much for a wolf."

Oh God… I blew out a breath, and gathered courage. Facing a pet fear head-on was better than facing any more of those damn spiders. Besides, with Misha looking so bad, it was doubtful he'd be much use in the fighting stakes.

"You want to lead the way?"

He nodded and staggered forward, grasping the metal rail as he hauled himself up the concrete steps. Our footsteps echoed across the silence, and I could only hope that if there was something waiting down below, they'd think we were coming toward them, not away.

It was only ten flights to the roof, but it felt like a hundred. We were both trembling and sweating by the time we reach the metal door, but in my case, I knew its cause was tension and fear.

Misha pressed bloody fingers to a button and pressed it. Locks clicked, but I stopped him from pushing the door open. "Let me go first. I'm in better condition."

He nodded and hung back, his hand still pressed to his stomach and the look of intense pain seemingly entrenched on his mauled features.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly, carefully, opened the door. Nothing stirred the night except the cool breeze. Metal creaked somewhere to my right, and from the left came the steady hum of traffic, soft laughter, and babble of voices as people walked past. From farther away still came the bass thump of rock music.

Switching to infrared, I opened the door wider, and stepped out. No splashes of body heat greeted me, though if the spiders were up here, I wouldn't have seen them anyway.

The night breeze stirred my hair, and suddenly I was aware of the space and the night, and the sensation that we were high, so high, swamped me. Cold sweat broke out across my skin and my stomach rose. I closed my eyes, swallowing heavily.

I could do this.

I really could.

I switched back to normal vision, and glanced at Misha. He was sweating profusely, and shaking with pain. Shock, or something else? I didn't know, but it was obvious I had to get him to the hospital, and fast.

"I think it's safe."

He nodded and pushed past, heading to the left of the door. A building loomed above us, its inner bones revealed by the massive holes dotting its side.

The shifting haze skimmed across Misha's body, and in wolf form, he ran for the ledge and leapt for the nearest gap. I watched as he hit the other side, his body only half in, his back legs scrabbling for purchase on the rough old bricks. My heart lodged somewhere in my throat, and for several seconds I couldn't even breathe, my fear for him was so great. Then he was in, and safe, and it was my turn.

Oh God, oh God.

I licked my lips again, my eyes on the building directly opposite. It was just a little jump. A tiny jump. A sneeze when compared to some of the things I'd jumped in the past.

I called to the wolf within, felt the haze of energy sweep across my body.

But I couldn't force my paws forward. The concrete seemed to be attached to my feet, holding me down, holding me still.

Then I heard it.

The scrabble of tiny feet against concrete.

The spiders had found a way into the stairwell. It was either the jump or the spiders, and I'd had more than enough spiders for one day.

I sucked in a breath, then ran across the roof as fast as four legs would carry me. Not thinking, not looking, just running.

My leap was long and high, and it was terrifying to feel the wind batter my body, to see nothing but a long drop underneath me. My stomach rose and fear clenched my gut, my lungs, and breathing was suddenly impossible.

Then my claws hit concrete, and I was sliding to safety. I changed shape back to human form, but for several seconds couldn't move, couldn't do anything but sweat and shake and gasp for air.

But the thought that the spiders might somehow be able spray themselves across the gap got me moving. I rose and looked around for Misha. He was halfway across the gutted expanse, heading for the stairs.

"Misha, wait."

He stopped. I caught up with him. The smell of sweat and blood and fear tainted the air, and when his gaze met mine, true terror lurked in the silver depths. My stomach plummeted. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"I feel like shit," he croaked.

"That's because you look like shit." I wrapped an arm around his waist, half-supporting him as I hurried forward. "My car is across the road. You'll be fine once I get you to hospital."

He coughed and moisture spurted from his mouth. Moisture that was bloody. God, he had internal injuries. "Hang on, Misha," I muttered, almost dragging him as I half-ran for the stairs. "Just hang on."

"You were right," he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible over the sound of our steps. "He figured a way into my foxhole."

"But he didn't kill us, and that's a plus."

"I'm not so sure about that." He stumbled as he said it, bringing us both down.

I grunted as the shock of the fall reverberated from my knees to brain. Misha rolled onto his back, his face contorted and his hands clutching at his stomach. "God," he said, voice a harsh rasp of suffering. "It feels like I'm being eaten inside out—" He stopped as a cough racked him, and bits of blood and water and what looked like specks of flesh gushed from his mouth.

And I remembered that creature on his face. Remembered thinking it was half the size it had originally looked.

Horror filled me, boiling through my body until it felt like my stomach was going to leap up into my throat.

Misha was being eaten from the inside out. When that spider creature had leapt onto his face, it hadn't only eaten his flesh. It had also poured part of itself into his body and somewhere inside re-formed to continue its bloody task.

His hand caught mine, dragging it to his mutilated lips, pressing a kiss I couldn't really feel against my fingertips. "End it, Riley. If you feel anything at—" He stopped again, and this time the rush of water that accompanied the cough was thicker. I shuddered, the bitter taste of bile heavy in my throat, the urge to run battling with the urge to scream and rage against the wiles of fate.

"End it, Riley," he pleaded. "Please."

I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments, then took a deep breath and said, "Tell me who your boss is, Misha. Please, just give me that."

"I can't."

"Not even a hint?"

"Not even… Not dead." He coughed, bringing up more flesh and blood. "Please. Stop."

I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his battered lips.

"May you find what you're looking for in your next life, Misha."

He raised a hand to my cheek, cupping it gently, his skin like ice against mine and his eyes gentle. I'd been wrong before. A lab-born creature could feel love. It was there, right now, in his eyes.

"But I have already found what I want. We could have been good together. Real good."

The tears blurring my eyes fell down my cheeks. "Yes," I whispered, and raised the laser.

He caught a tear on his fingertip, raising it a little, a touch of wonder briefly lifting the pain from his gaze. Then he closed his eyes and smiled, and I knew in that moment that he was thinking of us together, thinking of a future he could never have had.

I fired the laser, ending his pain, and his dreams.

It was only after I'd run from the building and his body, when I knew I was safe from the spiders and the creatures, that I let myself cry for the man I didn't love.