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She took a sip of water and nodded, and the general glanced at the man beside him. “My attaché, Duncan King.”
The younger man held out his hand. For a second, Sam regarded it warily, then she reluctantly clasped it. Power shot through her fingertips—a power that was similar to the kind of energy that she felt in storms, and yet somehow different. It was a little “earthier” than the ethereal energy of the storms.
One other thing she noticed was that part of the power that surged between them had a sucking feel—as if he were a drain and everything was swirling toward him. King was psychic, and he was attempting to read her. She tore her hand away.
The general’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mentioned a murder case on the phone. Are the thirteen men you requested information on suspects?”
“No, but they may be victims.” She scratched her palm under the table. Her hand burned where King had touched her.
“Ten of the thirteen men are dead. Why would you consider them possible victims?”
So the general knew about the recent kite murders. Knew, too, that the other seven men were dead. “We have two separate murder cases involved here. Benson, Lyle and possibly White were killed by a vampire-like creature we call a kite. We believe Cooper and Haynes are the next likely victims.”
“Which is why the SIU currently has both under protection?”
She nodded. “We thought it best for their safety.”
The general’s smile suggested he didn’t believe that excuse. “And the other eight people you requested information on?”
“Their names came up during our investigations into a recent series of murders.” She hesitated, meeting King’s icy gaze. “All the victims were in their mid-twenties, were adopted from Greenwood State Care and had red hair. Just like your friend here.”
“I see.” If he detected her slight lie, he gave no indication of it. “Then you have heard of the Generation 18 project?”
She raised her eyebrows. Gabriel was right—t
he general was just a little too eager to talk about military secrets. He had an agenda of his own, and if the heat washing a warning across her skin was any indication, it boded her no good.
“It’s been mentioned, yes.”
The general leaned back in his chair. “By whom? Allars or Haynes?”
He was direct, if nothing else. She shrugged lightly. “We pieced together details from what they’ve both said. Which wasn’t much, believe me.”
“Nor should it be. One was little more than a lab rat, and the other had behavior modifications.” He hesitated, as if waiting for a reaction.
She crossed her arms and returned his gaze steadily. After a few seconds, he continued.
“The first eight people on your list—Allars included—have nothing to do with Generation 18.”
A point she already knew, as Allars had already told her that those eight—the names on her birth certificate—were test subjects rather than scientists. And that they’d been involved in a project called Penumbra. But for his safety, and maybe even her own, it was best to pretend ignorance. “Then what were they involved in?”
The general considered her for a moment. “Have you ever heard of the Penumbra project?”
She didn’t bat an eyelid. “No.”
He continued to stare at her, his expression neither believing nor disbelieving, just blank. As if, in that moment in time, there was absolutely no one at home in the general’s mind. King had a similar blankness. Were the two conferring mind to mind?
“Those men,” the general said eventually, “worked on both projects.”
“But they weren’t the only scientists involved, surely?”
“No, there were others.” He gave her a cool smile. “They’re long dead, though, so of no concern to either you or your investigation.”
A waitress came in, carrying two coffees. Sam waited until she left before continuing. “From what we can gather, Emma Pierce was a part of the Generation 18 project. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then what, exactly, was Generation 18?”
