Seven

THE night was unexpectedly cold. Lily shivered as she looked up at the thin crescent shape of the moon. Dark clouds swirled across the sky, dulling the sparkling stars scattered above her. The wind tugged at her clothes and whipped strands of hair into her face and eyes. Threads of white fog whirled in small eddies, curling through the heavy wire of the fences, reaching toward her like ragged claws. She could smell the storm coming in off the sea.

"Dr. Whitney! I thought you'd gone home for the night." A tall guard emerged out of the shadows. He was one of the older, much more experienced men. Looking at him closely, she wondered if he were military.

She feigned fright, jumping as if startled. "You scared me, I didn't hear you."

"What are you doing out here?" There was a trace of worry in his voice. She wasn't wearing a jacket.

Lily shivered in the icy wind. "Breathing," she answered simply. "Wondering whether to go home and get some sleep or go back and work so I don't have to face my father not being there." She raked her fingers through her thick hair.

"It's cold out here, Dr. Whitney. I'll walk you to your car." The note of concern caused tears to burn behind her eyes, to clog her throat. Grief welled up, sharp and clear and strong. She had shoved sorrow and the knowledge of her father's death aside all day, held it at bay with work, all the while meticulously planning the aftermath of the escape. Guilt fed her stormy emotions. If anyone should be harmed in the escape it would fall directly on her shoulders. Peter Whitney had told her what he wanted, what his last wishes were, but ultimately, it was her responsibility.

There had already been enough mistakes made by the Whitneys, and she was uncertain whether she was doing more harm than good. What if the men couldn't survive outside the conditions of the laboratory? Their escape would give Higgens the excuse needed to carry out any plan he had to terminate any who opposed him. It would brand any in the military as a deserter.

"Dr. Whitney?" The guard took her arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm all right, thank you." Lily was uncertain whether she would ever be all right again. "My car is in the parking lot over by the first guard tower. You don't have to walk me, I'm fine, really."

"I was heading that way myself," he told her, urging her in the direction she'd indicated, his larger body between her and the wind.

As they walked, something inside of her went very still. Knowledge blossomed, flared into full life. She felt the movements, the presence of the others in the night. Chameleons-GhostWalkers, they called themselves-phantoms moving, blending with any terrain, at home in the dark, in the water, in the jungle and trees. They were shadows within the shadows, able to control their heart and lungs, able to walk among the enemy unseen. Lily felt them, the vibration of power they wielded, as they moved through the high-security compound, keeping the guards looking the other way with the sheer force of their minds.

The plan had been for Lily to be far away from the area, her alibi indisputable, but she had lingered, drawn by guilt and fear. It was difficult to break into the facility, but much easier to break out. Ryland Miller and each of his men had psychic abilities to varying degrees. She knew Ryland had planned to lure Colonel Higgens to his cell so suspicion would fall directly on the colonel as the last man to be with him just before Ryland was able to escape. Ryland would free the others. The men would find safety in numbers at first, allowing their various skills to benefit everyone, but once out of the compound, it was far safer to scatter, going in twos or singly to their ultimate destination-her home.

She allowed her gaze to slide casually along the deeper edges of the buildings, the towers and equipment in the compound. Her chest was unexpectedly tight. She couldn't spot them, but she felt them. They were moving through the high-security compound like the phantoms they called themselves. A dog barked somewhere to her left, set her heart pounding. The animal stopped abruptly as if silenced by a command. Her guard tightened his hold on her arm, suddenly uneasy.

He swung his head in the direction of the dog. Lily stumbled, distracting him. "I'm sorry," she sounded more breathless than she intended as he caught her, preventing her from falling. "It's dark out tonight. The storm is coming in faster than anticipated."

"It's supposed to be a bad one. You should get home before it hits," he advised. "The gusts could reach a hundred miles an hour and your car is small."

She had purposely refused the limousine, knowing every car would eventually come under suspicion and a limousine could easily transport several escapees outside the compound.

The guard's concern was nearly her undoing. She was wound much tighter than she realized, grief for her father swirling close to the surface, threatening to spill over. Distress for the knowledge she had been part of her father's scientific experiments. Guilt for the escape battering her conscience. Fear that someone would be hurt or killed gnawed at her until she was afraid she might scream. Tears shimmered in her eyes, blurred her vision. Were the lives of the men going to be any better on the outside where no one protected them? She had to tell herself at least they were safe from deliberate harm.

"You're shaking, Dr. Whitney," the guard observed. "Maybe you should go back inside and spend the night here." He stopped in the middle of the yard, bringing her to a halt beside him.

Lily forced a bright note into her voice. "I'm fine, just a little shaken up. I've had weeks to get used to my father's disappearance, but the thought of facing an empty house in the middle of a storm is daunting. We always talked together. Now there's just silence."

Without warning, lightning burst across the sky. The flare instantly lit the compound and surrounding area with a white-hot spotlight. To Lily's horror, the flash illuminated the dark shape of a man only feet away from them. His eyes were fixed on them. Focused. Steady. The eyes of a predator. His hand moved and she caught the glint of a knife. Kaden. She recognized him instantly. He was one of the stronger talents.

Lily threw her body between the phantom and the guard, knocking into the guard so that they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs. The flash of light was gone, leaving them trapped and vulnerable in the darkness. They both hit the ground hard, Lily bumping her head hard enough that a soft cry escaped. The guard swore, rolling to his feet, reaching to bring her up with him just as thunder clapped loudly, splitting the sky apart so that rain poured down in long drenching sheets.

"You shouldn't even be contemplating driving a car if you're this afraid of lightning," the guard warned, his hands holding her still for his inspection.

She realized he had been looking in the opposite direction. He hadn't seen the nearly invisible threat so close to them. For all she knew they could be surrounded by the phantoms. The idea sent a surge of adrenaline racing through her bloodstream. The rain ran down her face and soaked her clothes. Would it be better to go back to the building or go to her car? Where would the guard be the safest?

Lightning veined in the clouds, sizzling and crackling, zigzagged from ground to sky, shaking the earth beneath their feet and once again illuminating the compound. Kaden had melted into the night, but in the flash, she saw another face. A pair of merciless silver eyes raked her face, fixed on the guard still holding her arms. Ryland was close, so close she could almost reach out and touch him over the guard's shoulder. The brief flare was gone in the clap of thunder, leaving inevitable darkness behind.