He met Hawke’s piercing gaze. “One of the two women I watched the clone attack didn’t die. The FBI agent. I just watched her as she saw the next murder. I saw snatches of it, but nothing useful.”

“Interesting,” Hawke murmured.

“I saw the bite marks on her neck. I know it’s the same woman.” As if he could forget the face he’d been staring at in his memory for twenty-four hours straight.

Hawke’s eyes got that faraway look they always got when his mental gears started moving at the speed of light. “She probably had backup. If her partner shot the clone as he was sucking her life force, he may have inadvertently exhaled some of his own back into her at that moment of impact, then fled without finishing the feeding.”

Tighe scowled. “Are you telling me she has some of my soul now, too?”

“No. Not your soul. A soul can’t be split without serious magic. But I think she may have acquired a touch of your clone’s life force. Just enough to make her only 99.9 percent human.”

Tighe groaned. “Just enough to screw up everything.”

“Probably.”

“Grab your laptop, Hawke, and start hacking. I need an address for FBI agent Delaney Randall.”

“We going after her?”

“Not we. Me. I’m going alone. The Feds already know what I look like.”

Kougar plucked at his goatee. “Kill her. Get her out from between you and your clone.”

His gut twisted as he met Kougar’s pale gaze, as cold as any assassin’s. Not for the first time, he thanked Nature this warrior was friend and not foe.

“Rest assured, that clone is going to die,” Tighe said. “And no one, no one, is going to stand in my way.”

But he remembered too well his furious thought when he first thought he was destined to kill her.

She can’t die.

Chapter Four

Delaney pressed the elevator button in the FBI field office, her head pounding. Six aspirin over the course of the afternoon hadn’t done a thing to help, as if mere aspirin could relieve the tension of knowing that at any moment, in her head she could be watching another murder take place. Three so far this afternoon. Three.

Each more painful than the last.

What had that bastard done to her?

If she had to acquire superpowers, why couldn’t she have gotten X-ray vision? Or maybe the ability to fly? Visions of death were so not on her wish list.

No, that was a lie. She’d take anything, even this god-awful sight, if it helped her catch the killer. Unfortunately, none of the murders she’d seen so far had given her a single lead to go on. And each time she got one, she saw less. And hurt more. She’d nearly passed out from the last one.

“Leaving already?”

Delaney’s gaze swung to her boss, who was walking past with a Georgetown Hoyas coffee mug in his hand. Phil Taylor was in his fifties, with a body that was no longer fit, a mind that was as sharp as ever, and eyes that saw way too much. Which was annoying as hell sometimes.

“It’s after seven, sir. You know this is working late for me these days.” She smiled at him, trying to paste a look of serene innocence on her face. “I took your lecture to heart. I’m a fifty-hour-a-week worker these days. Not a minute more.”

Phil chuckled. “And I’m the Easter Bunny. Come into my office for a minute before you go, Agent Randall.”

Delaney didn’t bother to muffle her groan as she fell into step beside him. Phil knew she hated his fatherly lectures. He was a good guy, and genuinely interested in the mental and physical well-being of his agents, which made him an excellent boss. But she was sick to death of his warning her to put her job in perspective, get a life, etc., etc. She was the only one he hounded to be a little less dedicated. Then again, she was the only one he’d found still at work when he’d come into the office at 2:00 A.M. three mornings in a row.

She wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. Not tonight. Not when her superpowers could hit again at any moment. Another groan vibrated in her throat. Now wouldn’t that guarantee her an appointment for psych eval?

“You don’t look good, Delaney.” Phil closed his office door and went around his desk.

“Gee, thanks, boss.” As he took his seat, Delaney perched on the edge of the chair across from him as if she only had a minute.

Phil waved his hand. “You know what I mean. You’ve got circles under your eyes. You look pale.”

“It’s early spring in D.C. Everyone looks pale.”

“True, but not everyone was attacked by the D.C. Vampire, though at the rate things are going, that might yet change. You were damned lucky to have lived to tell the tale, Delaney.”

“I know.” Just before she’d passed out, she’d heard the crack of a gunshot and felt her attacker jerk and flee. Someone had shot the bastard and saved her life, though her savior hadn’t come forward. None of the residents claimed to know who had done it, though she suspected one of the tough guys she’d put in charge might have followed her down. The only person she’d been able to thank for her life was the EMT who’d administered CPR and gotten her heart started again.

By the time the cops and Feds had arrived on the scene, there’d been no trail of blood to follow. Not a drop, even though she knew she’d shot the killer as he lunged for her. She knew she had. As had her savior. So why wasn’t there any blood? It made no sense.

It was almost as if the man wasn’t entirely human, which was ridiculous of course. Vampires weren’t any more real than the Great Pumpkin. The only reason the killer had been dubbed the D.C. Vampire was because of his habit of leaving teeth marks, though decidedly human teeth marks, on his victims’ necks.

But the fact remained, nothing about the murders made sense. And she seriously hated mysteries.

Phil steepled his hands in front of his mouth, tapping his forefingers on his upper lip. “I want you to take a couple of days off.”

“It’s Friday. Taking a couple of days off at this point in the week is traditional, sir.”

“Smart aleck. Two days in addition to the weekend.”

“Un-uh. No way.” As if making her stay out of the office fourteen hours a day wasn’t bad enough. “I received a clean bill of health, remember?”

“We don’t know what he did to you, Delaney, but your heart stopped, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ve been keeping an eye on you today, and you’re not looking good. Whether you like it or not, you need a few days to get your equilibrium back. Go visit family.” He winced as if he’d forgotten she didn’t have any. “Or just leave town. Get away from this place.”

“I’m fine. I’m working normal hours, taking weekends off, all the things you told me to.”

“Yeah, sure. And what are you doing with all that free time? Tell me that.”

She smiled sweetly. Innocently. “Scrapbooking.”

Phil gave a bark of laughter. “You’re stubborn, Randall. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You. All the time.”

“I’ve always liked that about you.” His expression turned serious as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “You’re one of the best agents I have, Delaney, but I worry about you. You’re determined to catch them all, and you can’t. Nobody can.”

Delaney rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. “I don’t have to catch them all. Just the ones I’m after.”

Phil shook his head. “Stubborn, stubborn.” His expression softened. “A four-day weekend, Delaney. That’s all I’m asking. If you’re bored, call Mary. Since our youngest left for college, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. I’m sure she’d be delighted to meet you for lunch or some shopping. Sleep. Eat. Maybe even read a book. Do something that has absolutely nothing to do with the D.C. Vampire for four days.” He nodded once, sharply. “That’s an order.”

She gave him a wry look that held a hint of a smile. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

His expression softened the way her father’s used to after he’d scolded her, right before he told her he still loved her. The liar.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I weren’t.” Phil waved his hand toward the door. “Now go home and turn on the television. And make it a comedy. When you walk in here Wednesday morning, I want you looking like the living again instead of the half-dead.”

Delaney made a face at him but didn’t say any more as she rose, lifted her hand in a brief farewell, and left. Taking a long weekend might actually work to her advantage. Maybe if she weren’t so tired, she’d start seeing the visions clearly again, without the accompanying migraine.

Then, if she could just figure out where the next murder was taking place, she might be able to get there in time to stop it. Or at least, in time to catch the murderer.

That son of a bitch was going down.

As she walked to her car, she prayed she’d get another vision soon. But as she slid her key into the ignition of her Toyota SUV, her head exploded with pain. Too soon.

The keys dropped to the floor with a jangle as Delaney grabbed the steering wheel, gasping. Her vision went until all she could see were wildly colored jagged shapes that cut through her head and stole her breath with excruciating agony. Her skin turned to ice even as beads of sweat rolled between her breasts.

A scream tore through her brain. A scream not her own.

Amid the tearing color she caught glimpses of a scene. An unknown woman’s face contorted in terror. A body lying on a pitted and stained linoleum floor.

The visions and colors flew at her, clawing at her mind until the pain ran in bright red rivulets that slowly turned to black.

“Hey, lady!”

Delaney blinked, a god-awful noise blaring in her ears as she awoke with a jolt. She straightened, releasing the steering wheel. The noise abated at once.

The horn. She’d been leaning on the horn.

The fog of confusion dissipated through the ache that still filled her head. She’d had another vision. Or maybe just one hell of a migraine. A migraine with dead people.

The tapping resumed on her window, and she turned to find the garage attendant staring at her through the glass. She reached for the keys, remembered they’d fallen, and leaned down to search for them with shaking fingers. Finally, she managed to snag them, start the car, and lower the window.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “Did you pass out or something?”

“I fell asleep. I’m fine.” With that, she backed out of the parking space and left the garage to join the heavy flow of traffic. Phil had told her she looked half-dead. She was beginning to think he might have been closer to the truth than she wanted to believe. Maybe she was coming down with the flu. The visions were just fever-induced hallucinations.

And maybe the man who’d attacked her had given her something in addition to the visions. Some kind of deadly disease.

She groaned. If she still felt so bad in the morning, she’d go to the doctor. Right now, all she wanted to do was to get home and sleep. Please God, without another vision, or she’d never make it home at all.

She white-knuckled it the entire trip to Fairlington, but made it without incident. As she fumbled with her keys in the lock of her condo, a cat leaped into her line of sight, startling her. Her keys fell from her nerveless fingers, but the pretty tabby barely seemed to notice, sliding instead around her ankle.

“Sorry about that, fella. Where’d you come from?” She stroked the animal’s orange-striped fur as she bent down to retrieve her keys. “You’re a pretty thing, but you don’t want to stay near me tonight. If I’m getting sick, like I think I am, things are bound to get disgusting. Go home.”

But he only purred and rubbed his face against her pant leg. Delaney gave his chin a scratch, then rose and managed to get the key in the lock. As she pushed open the door, the cat raced inside.

Blast it. She was so not up to chasing a cat. Unless he changed his mind fast, he was going to have to spend the night.

The animal turned and sat in the bedroom doorway, watching her as she set her briefcase on the large dining table that constituted the only real furniture in her living room. On the table sat her laptop and computer and a host of case files. Covering the walls of the room were maps, photos of the missing, and the crime-scene photos of the dead. Her office away from the office. Although Phil had made her promise not to come in to work any more than fifty hours a week, she never quit working, as the too-shrewd man knew all too well.

She met the cat’s eerily sharp gaze. “Believe me, if you’re looking for a home, this isn’t it.”

She swayed on her feet and grabbed the back of the nearest straight-backed chair wishing, for once, she’d bothered to buy a sofa. The only place she could relax was the bed. And that was where she needed to be.

The cat’s soft, deep purr caressed her frayed nerves, as if he sensed how lousy she felt. It was kind of nice feeling like someone cared, even if he was really just asking for food. Maybe with her working more hours from home, she could take having a pet off that wish list reserved for the distant future. A future she hadn’t thought she was going to see for a brief few minutes in the laundry room of the Potomac Side Apartments.

The cat moved out of her way as she went into the bedroom, then resumed his watchful pose as she pulled off her suit jacket and tossed it on the bed.

“I had a cat once,” she told him. “I had a lot of things once, until a scumbag caught my mom on a deserted stretch of running trail.” She shrugged. “Now I have a purpose.”

As she divested herself of both weapons and kicked off her shoes, she felt like the cat was studying her. Something in his eyes almost seemed to be assessing her.