“I have seen it. Often.”
He sucked in a deep breath as he considered her words. First Jillian’sheschrmalclaiming, then Gracie’sHo'ceeclaiming, and now this. The elder gods were up to something.
“I will send the Citation for you. But I will not be here when you arrive.” He didn’t go into detail since news of this upcomingaggresswould worry her.
“We will wait for you.” With that, she hung up.
He was not surprised. She hated talking on the phone. She had a smartphone only because he’d given it to her, showed her how to use it, and insisted she carry it with her in case of an emergency.
After arranging for the Citation to take to the sky, and a two-bedroom guest apartment to be prepared for his expected guests, he boarded the Chinook, took his seat, and gave the go order.
The flight went smoothly, giving him plenty of time and tedium to consider Jillian’s insistence on returning to Shadow Mountain. That alone was...unusual. This was a woman who had barely spoken in years. And now, out of the blue, she issued demands?
In what other ways had herheschrmalchanged her?
They’d just climbed back into the air after the first refueling, when a text hit his phone. He pulled it from his pocket at the chime, expecting a message from his mother. Instead, the sender was from O’Neill, and he’d tagged Aiden as well. The chopper was too noisy for conversation, so he’d chosen to text instead.
What do you make of this?
There were two pictures attached—aerial footage of Malcolm Oura’s ship, the Harbinger.
The photos showed half a dozen men, draped in moonlight, standing next to the railing on the upper deck of the cruise ship. They were looking across the bay, toward the gilded lights of Sausalito. The shots must have been taken by drone.
At first Wolf thought the two images were duplicates. The same six men were standing in the same position, at the same location, in both pictures. But then he noticed the time stamp. There were thirty minutes between the pictures.
Wolf enlarged the image with his thumb and index finger but couldn’t tell what the men were looking.
Aiden responded first. Curious—he texted.What are they watching?
Unknown.O’Neill’s message popped up.They look in this direction.
Another ping. Another picture. The newest image showed a dark expanse of water drenched in moonlight. And beyond that, the glittering lights of Sausalito. But no ships, no people, not even a marine mammal was visible in the direction Oura’s men were looking. Certainly, nothing intriguing enough to hold so many eyes for this length of time.
I see nothing to bring such interest.Wolf typed and hit send.
Ditto.Aiden concurred.
O’Neill’s shrug came before his text.I’ll update if necessary.
Frowning, Wolf settled back in his seat. The curious huddle likely meant nothing, but it was wise to keep an eye on such things. An hour later, another ping and another text hit his phone. O’Neill again.
We may have a problem.
The accompanying picture showed the same huddle of men, standing in the exact same position, staring out at the bay.Except the huddle had doubled in size. Twelve men, all standing there, all staring…at nothing.
This was not normal behavior.
A chill swept him. The way they stood and stared in unison reminded him of the resurrected SEALs in the isolation unit. Were these mercenaries infected too? But if that was the case, where was the initial aggression? The rage? The violence?
While the dead-yet-mobile SEALs weren’t exhibiting signs of aggression or murderous rage now, they’d exhibited those symptoms during the onset of their infection. For Shadow’s sake, they’d slaughtered each other.
But the men on the ship, they did not appear to be violent, merely catatonic.
They can’t be infected,Aiden texted.They aren’t killing each other.
They show no signs of violence,O’Neill’s text agreed.Unlike the squids or the people of Karaveht.
Yettheir behavior is not normal.Wolf responded.
