SIX

TALIA went with the west-wing apartment, haunted with a view. She had managed two months on the run from wraiths. She could handle this.

She shut herself into her new place, anticipation of some kind of woo-woo event crawling over her skin like creepy spiders. Waiting, breath-bated and twitching at every noise (damn vent rattled every time the a/c came on) was agony until she succumbed to exhaustion.

The bedroom light overhead glared when she woke in the morning. Perspiration pricked at her forehead and dampened her neck under hot, heavy hair in need of a ponytail elastic. She disentangled herself from her twisted sheets and blindly padded out of the bedroom.

Mid-bleary-step, a Ha! exploded into her consciousness. Ghosts, indeed. The man clearly spent too much time with his brother. At the meeting scheduled that afternoon to introduce her to the other staff members, she’d let him know. The thought sent a thrill of satisfaction through her.

The living room looked much friendlier dominated by the growing light of day. A deep red square sofa faced a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall over a working fireplace. Two chunks of wood lay in a woven basket on the floor, as if she weren’t hot enough. Tall bookcases flanked each side, mostly empty, though somebody had the dark humor to leave The Shining to keep her company on her first night in a haunted hotel. Yeah, real funny.

A buzz sounded at the front door.

Talia ran a hand through the tangles of her hair and straightened the tee to the sweats she’d slept in, wishing she’d gone to the bathroom first thing. Too late now.

She peered through the front door’s peephole. A woman’s face warped into view.

Talia opened the door, crossing her arms to cover her lack of a bra.

“Good morning,” the woman said. “I’m Gillian Powell. I’m one of the doctors on staff.” She held a bundle of clothes in blues and purples, a flash of look-at-me pink, topped with athletic shoes.

Dread pooled in Talia’s empty stomach. Those better not be for me.

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Talia O’Brien.”

“I know. I’m so glad you’re here,” Gillian said. “It’s such a boys’ club at Segue. We’ve got Vera in the lab and Priya in research and, of course, Mama Pat, but that’s it.”

Gillian appeared to be in her middle forties and fighting each year. She was compact and overly busty, and wore enough foundation to disguise her true complexion, makeup applied with amazing and enviable precision.

Gillian stepped around Talia to dump the clothes on the sofa. “Anyway, Adam asked me to outfit you this morning for Wraith Defense.” She made a sour face. “Goody for you.”

Yeah. Goody. Talia had hoped she’d have the morning to herself before the big introduction that afternoon. No such luck.

“I think I’ve got everything you’ll need.” Gillian glanced at Talia’s comparatively diminutive chest. “Sizing should be okay…mostly.”

Talia stalled. “Um. So what exactly is Wraith Defense?”

“Just the basics of how to defend yourself. Every month we are all required to drill, but we make a pretty lousy show of it. Most of us belong indoors, in a lab coat.”

Talia’s stomach growled. “What about breakfast? I haven’t had a chance to stock my kitchen.”

“Don’t bother. Marcie, Segue’s cook, is awesome. Just tell her what you like and she’ll get it. And that way, you don’t have to do dishes. I’ll show you on the way down.”

“Are you drilling today, too?” Talia reached for the clothes. The hot pink would not be going on her body.

“No. You, lucky girl, get a ménage à trois with Adam and Spencer.”

Great. Her puddle of dread deepened. “I’ll go change.”

Adam and another man, presumably Spencer, were sparring when Gillian led her outside to a stretch of fragrant grass near the buzzing, overgrown garden. The air was clingy, the sun still filtered by the trees.

Talia stopped short. Adam couldn’t possibly expect her to fight like that.

Slim black padding protected the men’s knuckles. Each wore a molded helmet. Adam, his dark crop of hair jutting out the back of his gear, wore black sweatpants and a T-shirt. His arm muscles strained the short sleeves, the material subtly stretched over a hard, fit chest to taper to a trim waist. The pants were cut somewhat loosely, the soft fall of the fabric belying the conditioned body within. Talia’s gaze lingered in momentary surprise and appreciation, before sudden self-awareness shifted her body from chill to rapid, embarrassed heat again.

The other man, Spencer, pivoted and kicked Adam in the stomach. He, too, was dressed in black, though diagonal silver stripes accented the shirt’s ribbing and marked the breadth of his thighs on his pants.

Adam caught the outstretched leg, twisted, and sent Spencer spinning to the ground. Spencer landed on his back, coiled, and sprang to his feet. Only to be sent down again by a side strike from Adam.

Beautiful. They both had to be black belts at whatever they were doing. Gillian hooted approval.

“Enough,” Adam called, breathlessly waving Spencer down. Adam unlatched the clasp under his chin and pulled the headgear off his sweaty head. Face flushed, chest heaving, he was the most potent man Talia had ever seen. The sight of him, coupled with what she knew of his character, was enough to confirm the obvious: Adam was a dangerous man.

She wanted an icy-cold bucket over her head. She couldn’t very well make a show of fanning herself like Gillian was. Talia looked at the trees, the garden, and her borrowed sneakers. Anything but Adam.

Spencer stood and removed his headgear as well, uncovering a shock of dark blond. When he grinned, one side curled a little higher than the other, making him appear a little naughty.

Adam approached, forehead creasing as he gave Talia a once-over. His close proximity was disconcerting on several levels. Even the dark smell of his sweat was distracting, but not unpleasantly so. On the contrary, the sheen at his neck had her wondering what it tasted li—

“Did you sleep well?” Adam asked. “Any disturbances?”

“Not a one,” Talia answered, regrouping. “By the way, I appreciate the reading material you provided.”

Adam frowned; then a grin split his face. Made her heart jump.

“The Stephen King,” he said, laughing. “You can thank Jim Remy. He charged sixty copies to me and put one in each room. All part of the Segue welcome package. How do you feel today?”

Talia shrugged. “Okay. A little hot and cold.”

His gaze turned analytical. Probing. When he looked at her like that, he saw too much. “Pat warned us about that. You’ll take some time to recover completely. Let me know if you are uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine.” She tried for a bright smile, the kind that bounced off further questions, protecting the twisting nerves in her belly.

“Okay, then,” Adam said. “I’d like to introduce you to Spencer Benedict, our liaison with the Strategic Preternatural Coalition Initiative, a division under the U.S. Department of Defense. He is here to coordinate and facilitate communication between Segue and SPCI.” He pronounced it speecee.

Talia had wanted a cold bucket of water, now she got one.

The government? If there were as many wraiths out there as Adam claimed, government cooperation made sense. Mutual aid suggested a shared objective, to discover the origin of wraiths and learn how to cure or destroy them. Intellectually, she accepted that, but anxiety still crawled over her skin. What did SPCI think of her?

Talia approached and held out her hand like any normal person would. It was important to look normal. “Nice to meet you.”

Her gaze flicked to Adam in question. Does he know?

Adam shook his head shallowly.

Spencer took her hand and squeezed. “Likewise.”

Talia caught a quick rush of curiosity mingled with fading resentment and sharp competitiveness. If she had to make a guess, she didn’t think Spencer liked losing to Adam, especially in front of female witnesses.

Adam’s intensity retreated. “Okay, then. First up, Wraith Defense 101. Spencer, I think we’re done here. Thanks for the workout; I needed it.”

“Don’t you need someone to play wraith?” Spencer winked at Talia. It was a good cover, but Talia knew better. Spencer wanted another chance to show off.

“We’re not doing much today. Dr. O’Brien isn’t fully recovered yet.”

“You sure? I could stick around…” Spencer looked more closely at Talia. Made her retreat a step.

“We’ll be fine. Thanks.” Adam’s tone was decisive.

“You could go get that fifty you still owe me from last week’s poker game,” Gillian said to Spencer. Her tone was sarcastic, but she’d made a seductive S out of her body. Wasn’t hard with those curves. Talia felt awkward and gangly in comparison.

“Why would I want to do that?” Spencer asked, hanging a sweaty arm over Gillian’s shoulders. “Then you’d stop bug-ging me about it.”

“Because I’ll have to kick your ass if I don’t get it,” Gillian said.

“Promises, promises,” Spencer returned. The two started back to Segue, taking their time to cross the grass.

“Spencer got in this morning,” Adam said when the others had reached the building. “He doesn’t know anything about you beyond your dissertation and the mention of Shadowman. But he’s smart, so watch yourself around him. If he found out about your abilities, he’d feel obligated to inform his superiors.”

Talia swallowed. Her knees felt suddenly weak. Now that she was recovered, she could run. Hide. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made before. She could go to…

“Talia,” Adam said, “if and when your abilities become known to Spencer, I give you my word that I’ll be there every moment to see no harm comes to you. I make a good ally. You can trust me to stand by you.”

Conviction underscored Adam’s words, and Talia knew he was well-meaning. But she’d felt just how close he was to the edge when he showed her Jacob. He was asking her to trust him to take care of her, but she knew the man was at his limit. He couldn’t do everything, be everywhere. He was only human.

“Walk with me,” he said, and they headed for the trees. As they crossed the shin-deep grasses, Adam began, his tone losing its intimacy and taking on authority. “Every employee of Segue is trained in the basics of wraith defense. Most of it, you already know. You can’t kill a wraith; you can only subdue him for as long as he takes to regenerate. A wraith’s speed and strength will always outmatch yours several times over, so do not attempt a direct attack. Hiding is—with your exception—impossible; wraith senses far exceed ours.”

So run like hell. Long grass stalks whipped at her ankles, stinging and biting. Talia stayed behind Adam to avoid any accidental touches. She couldn’t think straight when bits of his emotions buffeted her own. She was barely hanging on as it was.

“The easiest way to subdue a wraith is with firearms. Because wraiths don’t react to pain and have superior endurance, shots to the head are much more likely to slow them down than shots to the body,” Adam continued. “You will be trained in the use of firearms. A firing range is set up on the other side of the building. There are occasions, however, when you may not have access to a gun.”

Talia glanced at Adam’s face and regarded the yellow bruises on his temple. He’d had no firearm in the alley and barely escaped with his life.

“Counterintuitive though it may seem, head for large groups of people. The wraiths have thus far retreated from public exposure.” Adam held a large tree branch out of the way and gestured for Talia to join the cool company of the trees.

“But then why not expose them? Push the wraiths out in the open? Put them on the defensive.” Make them hide in the shadows for a change.

Adam scowled. The branch slapped back behind him. “And cause widespread public panic? A wraith free-for-all buffet as our focus shifts from learning all we can about them to rescue and containment.”

“Still. Public awareness—”

“—would only complicate an already untenable situation. Not an option at this time. This is far enough.” Adam stopped in a wide circle of tall trees. Fragrant pine boughs, heavy with needles, overshadowed the spot.

Talia halted and folded her arms, nails biting into her skin at her elbows. Pinched, but the discomfort was distracting her from yelling at the insanity of his position. The man wouldn’t even discuss forewarning the public when preemp-tive action could save lives.

“I won’t press you physically today,” Adam said, “but we need to explore the possibilities and range of your fear reflex. We should be out of sight of Segue here. I’d have worked with you in the training rooms inside, but they can be monitored discreetly, and with Spencer in residence, I want to play it very safe.”

Safe would be getting far, far away from here. Away from Spencer, away from Jacob, and away from Adam and his unnerving way of getting under her skin.

“Let’s start with your fear reflex. How your fear—”

Something snapped inside her. “Can you quit calling it that? My fear? What the hell is that? Makes me sound pathetic, which I am, but you don’t have rub it in every chance you get.” Talia glanced over her shoulder. Nobody there, the white block of Segue cut into shining ribbons by the trunks of the trees. Nobody was close enough to hear. “And, furthermore, the word is not accurate: It’s not a reflex and it’s not made of fear. Just because you’ve witnessed my ability when I’ve been afraid, does not mean my fear creates it. You’re implying a causal relationship where none exists. Bad logic, really.”

Adam lips twitched, one moment his demeanor hard, the next he strained for composure and gravity. As if this were funny.

He should save himself the effort.

“If not fear, then what is it? How does it work?”

“I don’t know,” Talia said. The darkness did not come from inside her like emotion. She reached for the thin, silky layers. Or—or moved into them, but without taking a step. In between one place and another, a place wraiths couldn’t reach.

But that made no sense. It would be ridiculous to articulate it.

“Well, how do you alter your environment? What is your range?” Adam stepped forward and grazed her jaw with the back of his fingers. “How is it that when I touch you in the midst of it, my perceptions change as well?”

Adam’s touch was so quick and unexpected, Talia didn’t have time to dodge it or brace for what filled her. His stroke carried an electric current of interest, all his considerable intensity focused on her. It had been there in Jacob’s cell, a strange thread of intimate curiosity in the midst of painful revelations. But now, alone with him under the sky, the sensation had an edge of intent, and most disturbing of all, desire.

Talia retreated. She couldn’t get her feelings straight when he stood so close. When his emotions tangled with her own. Did he have to crowd her space? Did he have to ask so many questions? Couldn’t he just give her a little room to breathe?

“Can you do it at will?” He dropped his hand.

His questions needed answers. She’d had a peek inside him. Now it was her turn. Aunt Maggs would be horrified that she was about to break her childhood promise to never, ever tell anyone about what she could do. Sorry, Maggs—the worst had already happened. She’d been discovered, and now she had to learn how to save herself.

“I—” Damn it. She’d never talked about this before. She remembered what Adam had been through, took a terrifying inward leap, and started again. “For me, shadows have texture and…and substance. I can feel them. Even now, I can feel them.”

They were all around her—in the dark patches under the trees, the filtered light through the leaves, the cast of her and Adam’s body on the ground. If she wanted, she could reach for the darkness, tuck herself under its umbrella to look out at life from a safe refuge.

“How does it feel?” Adam’s tone softened.

Talia sighed. “Safe. And cold.” And lonely.

“Can we try it together? You’ve been in distress each time I’ve experienced it. I’d like to…take a look around.” He held out a hand. His expression was neutral, almost businesslike, so she didn’t trust it.

Talia looked at his outstretched palm, then at his face. She didn’t want to touch him. Feel him inside her again.

“Come on.” He wiggled his fingers. “We’ve done this before. Let’s just take it nice and slow. Go easy.”

But she’d been afraid for so long. It was past time to try something new. Talia braced for the worst and grasped his hand.

Sensations inundated her. His relief. Amazing control. Curiosity with, yes, a distinct sexual undercurrent that sent eddies of arousal to burn and buzz through her blood to her belly. Talia swallowed hard and tamped down on her reaction, fighting to think. She couldn’t be turning him on, that was for sure. Could be the anticipation of her trick with shadow that gave him a charge. Or fighting Spencer. Anything but her.

Only when she shoved that feeling away did she notice something darker, uncomfortable, even toxic within him that she couldn’t name and didn’t want to try.

“When you’re ready,” Adam said.

This was insane. She was certain she’d regret it later. Anxiety constricted her breathing, tightened her skin, but she pulled on shadow, softly.

She heard Adam’s intake of breath as she wrapped the veil around them, the day falling from sunny blue to a dreamy murk. They stood in layered fog, the veils of shadow sensuously lapping at their bodies. The trees, the meadow beyond, the hulk of Segue were all there, yet somehow appeared transient. As if one good gust of wind might carry it all away.

Adam’s hand warmed in hers. He filled her with his wonder, which was better than all the rest. Made her realize how beautiful shadow was, too.

“A little more,” he said.

Talia reached, and the day darkened to dusk, the orb of the sun shifting from blazing yellow to deep violet. The world turned to myriad purples and shades of blue and black. Sounds stretched so that the birds’ twitters and crickets’ chirps became high, eerie notes warped by darkness. Shadow settled on her shoulders and slid deliciously against her skin in welcome.

Adam’s wonder turned to awe and building excitement.

Talia glanced at him to see how much of what he felt could be read on his face.

He looked down at her, about to say something, but instead he stopped and stared. That sensation was back, a trickle in the sense of his discovery, then a flood blotting it out. Desire.

So he did want her.

She’d have torn herself away, but his gaze held her. His eyes lowered to her mouth, then forcibly lifted again.

She trembled, tension coiling in her deepest core, and Adam’s grip tightened. Tugged her toward him. She stumbled, but allowed him to enfold her, turning her in the circle of his arms so that her back was trembling against the wall of his chest, yet still holding her hand. He felt so good she let herself stay, and be, quivering in anticipation of what he’d do next.

“Do you have a name for this place?” His voice was a low caress at her ear, his breath in her hair.

Swamped sensations muddled her head. “Segue?”

“This isn’t Segue, not anymore. This is…”

Oh. “Between. Shadow.”

His mouth grazed her neck, temptation roaring across their connection. She could’ve easily lost herself to it. Wanted to lose herself. To feel everything his touch promised.

He shifted slightly behind her, lifting his head, surveying the valley again. She turned her face to catch the warmth coming off his body—so much better than the chill of her darkness.

But she caught a hint of that bad feeling again, bleeding insidiously into the desire.

“What would happen if…” his words cut off in a surge of longing.

“Yes?” her own longing answered.

“…if someone were to die here? Do you know?”

Talia tensed. Tried to pull out of his hold. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He held on tightly. “Jacob. If I killed him here, would he stay dead?”

The dark emotion grew dominant, pooling inside her. Viscous, lethal, like a poison, transforming his other feelings. She knew what it was now.

“Let me go.” She yanked harder.

Adam wouldn’t release her. “We’ve barely begun…”

The sickness leeched through his being, turning his strength and emotions to suit its own ends.

“…but we’re still done,” Talia said. She twisted her wrist and broke his grasp. She took the darkness with her as she ran back through the trees, leaving Adam to his demon, Rage.

Adam escorted a silent Talia toward the conference room. He stole a glance at her. She’d changed back into Patty’s clothes and looked composed, the epitome of professionalism, but the way she clutched her notebook to her chest told him that she was angry. Even with her expression set, she was lovely, enticing, making him seriously reconsider his “do not fraternize with employees” policy. And Talia in her shadows? A goddess. Too bad she seemed determined to stay away from him. What happened?

He thought the investigation of her gift of shadow was a smashing success. He wanted to learn more at the earliest opportunity. The possibilities for research, for Jacob, had been sparking in his mind since she’d revealed what lay in darkness. What kind of creature was she to be able to do such a thing?

They stopped at the door to the Fulton Hotel’s second ballroom, which he opened and held wide for her. She went through sideways, wouldn’t even risk a casual touch. Okay, very angry.

Segue’s full complement of live-in research staff, all seventeen of them including Custo and Spencer, hushed as he and Talia approached the long mahogany conference table. All but Jim and Armand, who didn’t pause in their heated argument for a second.

“Gentleman…” Adam said to shut them up.

He pulled a chair out next to his own from the table, but Talia moved down its length and selected one near the center.

Maybe he’d been a little too blunt in his references to fear, too direct with his questions. But, damn it, she of all people had to understand how immediate the wraith threat was.

He’d talk to her again. Later.

Adam raised his hands to address the group. “I’d like everyone to extend a warm welcome to our newest staff member, Dr. Talia O’Brien. I am personally excited and honored to have her with us. Most of you have read her dissertation—if you haven’t, then please do so—and should have a good idea about what near-death experiences constitute.”

Armand sat immediately forward, eyes slanting first at Jim and then at Talia. “I’d like to state for the record that I’m not into any of this voodoo-hoodoo, life-after-death crap. I am a scientist. Cold spots, indeed. The wraith question is not a metaphysical one, but a biological one. You want to kill Jac—a wraith, you find a way to alter his cells’ regenerative capacity.”

Jim was shaking his head. “How can Jacob regenerate when he does not feed on matter?”

Armand pressed his lips together. “That’s what I hope my research will answer.”

Gillian raised her pen. “Perhaps if we focus on curing the original disease that caused the transformation…”

“I’ll tell you why he regenerates,” Jim interrupted. “It’s obvious. He feeds on the souls of others.”

Adam let the dialogue escalate. Talia’s gaze twitched back and forth between the men, her forehead tense with concentration.

“There’s no such thing as a soul,” Armand shot back. “You’re making things up to support your pseudoresearch.”

“But if we look at the origin of the disease,” Gillian persisted, “perhaps we can find the virus or compound responsible for…”

Jim’s large ears turned red. “Just how do you explain Lady Amunsdale then? You can’t deny the existence of ghosts if you’ve seen her.”

Gillian dropped her pen on the table in defeat. Whenever Jim brought the lady ghost into the argument, there was no moving him. Parapsychologists in general garnered little respect. What started as professional vindication from proving the existence of ghosts had turned into deep attachment. Jim was besotted. He’d been chasing that flash of white skirt since his first year here.

Armand shuttered his eyes. “Lady Amunsdale does not have a corporeal body for me to study. I allow that she exists, but she is out of my field of reference.”

Jim sneered. “Oh, don’t give me that shit—taking the easy out. What about Dr. O’Brien’s near-death? Six hundred and six reported cases of leaving the corporeal body and returning back to it.”

Talia sat up straighter, eyes widening.

Adam winked at her. She looked away without acknowledging him.

“What about other forms of out-of-body experiences? Ones where the body persisted, alive, while the spirit roamed?” Jim Remy bored his index finger into the table in front of him for emphasis.

Armand dramatically sighed. “I know what you’re getting at. You’re working your way around to the idea that because Jacob has lost his humanity, he doesn’t have a soul.”

Jim Remy stood. “My tests prove that Jacob is dead inside. No soul.”

Jim’s claim still stabbed Adam, even though the results were more than two years old. Jim’s tests revealed a signature electromagnetic reading in the presence of ghosts and humans. But not wraiths. Something was definitely missing from them, and if a ghost had it, the obvious conclusion was spirit, or soul. Jacob’s utter lack of humanity, his disregard for family connections or responsibility only proved it all the more.

Adam cleared his throat, and the room’s attention swung to him. “Dr. O’Brien. You are witnessing an old but fundamental Segue debate. It all boils down to a simple, but surprisingly difficult question: what constitutes death?

“Dr. Remy postulates that something forced Jacob’s soul to pass on, yet the body remains alive. On the other hand, you have Lady Amunsdale, a confirmed Segue ghost. She has no body and little awareness of the physical world, and yet maintains a distinct self. Which of them is alive? Which dead?”

The room fell silent. All looked at her expectantly.

Talia wet her lips. Her eyes roamed the table, but she addressed Armand. “Uh. Well. A person has a life…and a death. If you stick to the physical…”

Armand cocked his head impatiently.

Talia cleared her throat, placing her pen at a perfect right angle to her notebook. “Then wraiths are alive and ghosts are dead. While metaphysically, just the reverse is true.”

“Haven’t we just said all that?” Armand interrupted.

“Well, yes, but…” she stammered.

Adam sat forward in his chair. He knew her mind and loved the way she or ganized problems like thought puzzles, then took an obvious solution and turned it on its head. This was exactly the reason he wanted her on staff. If Armand would just cool it for a second, Adam knew she could think the debate through to a new conclusion.

“Then get on with it,” Armand said with exaggerated impatience.

Talia’s eyes narrowed. “I will if you’ll quit interrupting me.”

Adam controlled a smile. This was going to be good.

She took a deep breath. “If a person can lose their life, perhaps they can lose their death, as well.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as Jim Remy. That’s just a perversion of a romantic metaphor.”

“And what is a metaphor but a new way of seeing something?” she answered back. “Isn’t that what we are doing here, looking at things from different perspectives?”

“Fine. Then why would a person lose their death?”

“People have been trying to lose death forever,” she argued. “Industries thrive on the desire to remain young and vital. Given the choice, most people would throw their death away and never look back.”

Talia’s comments were simplistic, but her idea sent a slick, cold sickness up Adam’s spine. Was the answer that easy?

Adam looked around the room as realization dawned on the faces of his staff. Talia glanced at him, finally shedding her anger and replacing it with pity.

Immortality. Live forever young. Forever strong. Forever beautiful.

Dreadlocks’s awful song lyric came back to him then. Human race to crush Death first.

Adam sat back into his chair. People who gave their lives were heroes or martyrs. What if people could give up their deaths? Was such a thing possible? And what would that make them?

Adam knew the answer was locked in a cell under Segue.

Jacob suffered from no disease or demonic possession. This was so much worse, something Adam hadn’t allowed himself to consider. Jacob was a monster by choice.

Talia watched Adam’s demeanor change. His gaze sharpened, face flooding with color. The curve of his jaw became more pronounced. His grip on the table whitened his knuckles. If she were touching him, she knew she’d be feeling his dark passion all over again. One overwhelming goal. To kill.

“Does it really matter if it’s Jacob’s choice or not?” Armand whined.

Adam knocked once, hard, on the table and strode from the room. Talia knew exactly where he was going. She’d lost her family as well, and if there were answers to be had, a betrayal to identify, she wouldn’t be diverted. Adam was all about answers; he’d be heading to Jacob’s cell. She was glad she didn’t have to be present for the impending interview.

Custo also rose. “I think we’re done for the day. Thank you all for participating. This has been”—he glanced at Talia—“very interesting.” Then he rounded the table to follow Adam.

The room erupted into discussion.

Jim’s strident voice cut through the din. “What may seem like superstition to you, Armand, may indeed have a scientific basis. Take the Indian Fakirs, who can control their heart rate…”

“Been here a week and already stirring things up.”

Talia turned to the voice at her ear. Spencer.

“It was just an idea.” Talia gathered her notebook and pen and sidled around her chair to leave. She wanted to think through the idea herself. Outline how she arrived at the conclusion. Diagram the implications. Find a way to help Adam.

“Touched a nerve,” he said, following her. “Mind if I walk you to your office?”

She stepped back, out of reach. She’d had enough touching for one day. “Uh…I was actually going back to my room. I’m exhausted. My recovery is frustratingly slow going. A little later?”

His brows gathered in concern. “Then I’ll walk you there.”

“Oh, no. Not necessary.” Didn’t the man know an excuse when he heard one?

“Please. We can talk on the way.” Apparently, he did.

Talia gestured him toward the door. At least Spencer effectively parted the crowd.

“Dr. O’Brien!” Jim waved his hand over the group of people.

“She’ll talk to you later,” Spencer called back on her behalf.

Talia kept one step behind Spencer to the elevator, but once inside, had no choice but to hear him out.

“Adam told me that you can think outside the box when he was putting your hiring before the SPCI panel. I see now what he meant.” He flashed a charming grin. He’d have been more charming if he’d left her alone, though.

“I thought Segue was all Adam’s.”

Spencer waggled his head back and forth as if conceding a minor point. “The arrangement is more complicated than that. Adam began the institute, funds it himself, and decides on the research protocols, but he does so at the…sufferance of SPCI. When we discovered that Adam had captured, confined, and was studying a wraith, we almost shut him down. To make a long story short, we finally agreed on oversight, in the form of yours truly, and an active exchange of information.”

Talia kept her mouth closed, waiting as the elevator number blinked from one to two to three to four. The arrangement must chafe Adam. He seemed to prefer to be in charge of things.

“It’s actually in the best interests of everyone. Between you and me, SPCI is rather rigid in its approach to the wraith phenomenon. They never would have considered near-death as a line of inquiry. I have to admit that I’m occasionally swayed by the unconventional ideas that get batted around here. Just now, for example.”

“Like I said, it was just an idea.” Talia stepped out of the elevator and started down the hall.

“So here’s my question: what would a person stand to lose if they made the choice to become a wraith?”

“Literally, their humanity.” Surely he could see that. “One look at Jacob and, in spite of his appearance, there’s no way to classify him as Homo sapiens. Only mythology and magic have labels appropriate for his kind. Hence, wraith.”

Talia stopped outside her door. She punched in her code and made a mental note to change it immediately. She didn’t like the way Spencer looked over her shoulder. The lock disengaged, and Talia opened the door.

Spencer raised a hand to stop it from shutting again. “And what is humanity, really?”

Talia frowned. She had no idea where he was going with this.

“Just playing the dev il’s advocate here. What is humanity? And doesn’t everyone lose it eventually? Is Jim’s Lady Amunsdale human?”

“I really couldn’t say.” Talia slipped inside. “That’s his area of expertise.”

“What I’m suggesting, Dr. O’Brien, is that human nature, in its very essence, is about change. No other species on this planet is aware of change. Aware of passing into and out of life to somewhere or something else. From body to spirit. Your work actually supports my conclusions—the tunnel, the bright light, moving from one state to another.” His hand flipped left to right to demonstrate.

“Yes. So?”

“Perhaps becoming a wraith is no different. A passage from one state to another, with the single difference of remaining on this plane of existence.”

Single difference! “You forget—they feed on their brothers and sisters.”

“That’s just the cycle of life. We are all predators, in our own way. We all do what it takes to sustain ourselves. Lie, cheat, steal, murder. They are no different.” He flashed his lopsided grin again.

He couldn’t be serious.

A weird light gleamed in his eyes. “Maybe they’re better.”

Talia’s jaw dropped.

Spencer abruptly laughed, brought his hands up to sur-render. “Hey. Just playing dev il’s advocate here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Talia closed the door in his face.