Fishing his mobile phone out of his pocket, Adam dialed Spencer’s number. The call went directly to voice mail, which suited him just fi ne. “Spencer, you son of a bitch. Next time we meet, and I pray it’s soon, I’ll kill you. You got that? I will kill you. You tell your superiors that I want my people, those who were based at Segue, and those who work globally, to be left alone. I want their movements unrestricted, unimpeded, and unsurveilled by SPCI or The Collective. If I or any of my people do not check in at their appointed times in their prescribed manner, information about wraith activities will be posted online and sent via both e-mail and hard copy to various sources internationally. SPCI may have elected to cooperate with The Collective, but the people of the world sure as hell haven’t.”
Adam ended the call. He didn’t know how much his threats would help. Matters may have progressed too far to deter The Collective, regardless of any public outcry at their exposure. If SPCI was now involved, The Collective could move with that much more freedom.
By now, whoever was in command would’ve realized that Talia posed no threat to humans—Shadowman had only attacked the wraiths. If Adam didn’t get her away, there’d be soldiers checking cars at all of the roads leading off the mountain. He and Talia would be forced into slow submission.
The tight curve of the road mellowed, and Adam pressed on the accelerator, bringing the vehicle back up over ninety.
Adam glanced at Talia. “Tell me again what Spencer said about the wraiths—when he followed you to your room.”
She took in and released a breath, her brows drawing together. “He said that becoming a wraith was merely a change of state, like dying—going from body to spirit. He was arguing that their way of life, immortality in particular, might be better than the human way of life.”
Spencer’s argument was an old one. He and Adam had hashed it out years ago. Adam had obviously missed how committed Spencer was to that view.
“He also said that you were studying me at Segue, even had cameras on me in my apartment 24–7,” Talia continued. “He said that SPCI has facilities where my rights would be protected. Where there were others like me.”
The cameras. Adam had actually forgotten about those. Jim had them installed a couple years back to monitor ghost activity in the west wing. The cameras and hookups were there, but hadn’t been in use for a while. Unless…
“Talia, I wasn’t watching you in your rooms, but I’ll bet Spencer was. I forgot that the hookups were there. They were installed solely to capture evidence of ghost activity. And for your information, I’ve been to the SPCI facilities. There are no human rights there. Wraiths are caged and experimented on with indifference. I’ve often been tempted to do similar studies on Jacob, but Patty tried to keep me and Segue humane.”
The mention of Patty stabbed at him. Patty had been his conscience for as long as Jacob had been a wraith. Adam felt another stab, hard and sharp. Okay, okay—apparently Patty didn’t actually have to be present to goad him down the right path.
“I did order additional tests when you first arrived at Segue. I knew you were different, and I wanted to know what I was dealing with. I should have told you. Patty wanted me to, and she was right. I’m sorry.”
Another jab from the memory of Patty, this one much more painful.
“As far as her death goes, I am entirely at fault,” he admitted.
Talia didn’t answer. Probably didn’t believe him.
He elaborated. “Last night I instructed both her and Custo to protect you at all costs. That you were the key to the wraiths’ destruction. When she kissed that wraith, she was doing what I asked. Her death was not your fault.”
Talia shook her head. “I was going to run away again. I was on my way. If I hadn’t—”
“They would have still attacked Segue. Perhaps more lives would have been lost. Patty died, but you lived to warn us, to save us.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Adam chanced another look at Talia. Her profile was bright against the rush of green outside her window. The woman was intelligent; she wasn’t going to accept simple answers for complicated problems.
“No, it’s not that simple,” he conceded. “But Pat never would’ve wanted to hurt anyone. Take the life she gave you, gave us, and be happy.”
“You’re not happy.”
“My brother is California barbecue. I’m delighted. I’ll mourn Patty when this is all over.”
Adam’s heart twisted. He’d mourn Aunt Pat, and Mom, and Dad. And the nurse and guard who died the first year. And the lab tech from year three. And all those who died today. But not Jacob. Never Jacob—he chose this nightmare, so he could burn.
The mountain road terminated at a four-way intersection. Adam hit the gas; the Diablo sped through the stop, adrenaline coursing through his body like a sweet drug. Talia squealed, bracing herself on the dashboard. Cars honked at him, and he didn’t blame them. The Diablo was a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship.
Adam veered around the Circle K, avoiding Middleton, and hit the highway, a straight two-lane ribbon of asphalt begging for a mad rocket engine and a man crazy (or desperate) enough to use it.
He opened the car up, and the engine sang a sustained high and beautiful note. An aria to speed. Bravo.
The Diablo hit one hundred. One thirty. Mountains rose on either side of the freeway, grasses bordering the concrete, wild with specks of yellow, blurring in his peripheral vision.
The open road stretched before him, and aside from weaving around the much slower occasional cars on the near-empty highway, Adam could think. If Talia hadn’t opened her mouth to scream, all this would be over. The military intervention would have shut Segue down and carted him and his staff off to who knows where for safekeeping, or wraith food.
Unbelievable.
“Talia,” he said, gripping the wheel to hold on to his anger. “I need your mind. Help me make sense of all this.”
“Okay,” she said, tired. Wary.
“Lady Amunsdale talked about the Empty Skin, Jacob, and the fireflies within him, which have to be the”—Adam choked, thinking of his parents—“souls of the people he’s fed on.”
Talia gave a tight nod.
“And we know that without your assistance, Shadowman, Death, cannot reach the wraiths. Your scream somehow frees him, calls him into the world so that he can do his thing. Kill those motherfuckers.”
“Yes.” She looked out the window so he couldn’t see her expression. She was definitely not okay where her father was concerned.
Adam continued, “Something happened, an as-yet-unknown event, resulting in the imprisonment of Death. We’ve seen as much depicted in all that art you discovered. And something gave Jacob that chance to live forever.”
Talia supplied the name in a low voice. “The demon. The Death Collector.”
Adam glanced at her, trying to pull her gaze to him. “You know we have to go after him, right?”
No answer.
“You know there will be no end until the demon is dealt with.”
Silence.
He got to the point. “Eventually, you’ll have to call your father again.”
She leaned her head back on the seat, her eyes closed. Shutting all of this out. Shutting him out.
He wanted her immediate assurance, but something held him back from demanding it. If he pushed her, he was certain that she’d answer in the affirmative. Do what needed to be done. But something between them would be broken. A trust, a connection, an opportunity for something good in his life. He had so few, he couldn’t risk losing this one. Not this one. Not even for the war.
On the outskirts of Dickerson, signs for an outlet mall announced a mind-numbing variety of shops: Mikasa, Osh Kosh, Gap, Motherhood, Saks, and more. Fifteen miles! Ten! Five!