Scorched Fury: A SkinWalker Novel #5 (DarkWorld: SkinWalker) Read Online Free Page B
Author: T.G. Ayer
important given the importance of evidence on site. Hence the need for keycards and fingerprint scanners.
The black square panel gleamed, backlit by a neon green light that intermittently scanned the panel from top to bottom. On the off-chance that both key cards and thumbprints were of the stolen variety, the cameras guarding the door were manned by twenty-four-seven security who were authorized to capture and contain any intruder.
Overkill, maybe. But you just never knew.
The reception desk, usually manned by stern-faced Gerda Charles, a level 1 Mind Mage, was empty, but the steaming mug confirmed she wasn't far off.
The inner hall was silent, and smelled overpoweringly of lilies and furniture polish. Furniture wax I could handle, but a mere whiff of the pungent fragrance of lilies was always enough to give me a headache. I held my breath as I scurried across the entryway and up the stairs, making a quick left at the landing. Two doors down I opened the glass door to Dr Archana Gupta's office without knocking.
With her rich copper skin, black hair that hung to her waist and exotically shaped, almost feline eyes, she looked more like she belonged on the big screen than behind a microscope.
Ash looked at me as I entered, excitement flashing in her black eyes despite both being distorted by a pair of thick goggles. She slid the protective eyewear up, and rested them in the dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face.
"Perfect timing." She crooked a finger at me, then rose and walk to a microscope on a long table against the back wall. She pointed at the eyepiece and said, "Take a look."
I obeyed, unsure of what I was supposed to see.
When I straightened and frowned at her she clicked her tongue in annoyance. I'd known the technician only a few weeks, and been unapologetically impressed with her supernatural forensics skills. She used more than just her expensive equipment to study the samples I sent her.
Often she'd insist on checking out the scene herself, and I'd accompany her just to see if her extra sensory skills were as good as I thought. We'd passed the early friendship stage almost instantly, moving on to relaxed sibling bickering within seconds.
"That is a sample of your black gunk, and if you look closely-"
"Nice to see you gracing us with your presence, Odel." An icy voice drifted toward me from the open doorway and I stiffened.
"I do work here, Sean." I murmured without turning. One of the reasons I'd always preferred to work alone was I never had the need to deal with people like Sean Martin. I had no time to entertain overly ambitious backstabbers either inside or outside of my job.
Sean snorted. "If what you do can be called work."
Sean was a Level 6 Air Mage – I'd learned quickly the rankings of supernaturals, with 1 being lowest and 10 being unclassifiable - who, as far as I knew, had been recruited two months prior to me, when the Elders had decided it was time to up the ante.
They'd selected Sean for his air magic, and I was fine with that. He, on the other hand wasn't fine with me. My very presence had irked him from the moment we'd met. His strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into a tight, low ponytail, giving him a deceptively casual air. Not a hair was out of place, not a thread marred the surface of his dark suit.
For some odd reason Sean seemed to think that belonging to the Elite meant he was required to dress like an FBI agent, all tailored black pants and jacket left open to reveal a crisp white shirt. Right on cue, his gaze drifted over me, taking in my low-heeled leather boots, black skinny jeans and white tank. He even spent a moment studying the leather jacket I held on my arm.
I very much regretted having left my helmet in the front hall. That at least would have gotten a much higher lift to his currently curved left eyebrow.
He gave a long sigh. "You know, I'm kind of glad you don't care much for image. Means I have less competition in that department."
I shrugged.
The black square panel gleamed, backlit by a neon green light that intermittently scanned the panel from top to bottom. On the off-chance that both key cards and thumbprints were of the stolen variety, the cameras guarding the door were manned by twenty-four-seven security who were authorized to capture and contain any intruder.
Overkill, maybe. But you just never knew.
The reception desk, usually manned by stern-faced Gerda Charles, a level 1 Mind Mage, was empty, but the steaming mug confirmed she wasn't far off.
The inner hall was silent, and smelled overpoweringly of lilies and furniture polish. Furniture wax I could handle, but a mere whiff of the pungent fragrance of lilies was always enough to give me a headache. I held my breath as I scurried across the entryway and up the stairs, making a quick left at the landing. Two doors down I opened the glass door to Dr Archana Gupta's office without knocking.
With her rich copper skin, black hair that hung to her waist and exotically shaped, almost feline eyes, she looked more like she belonged on the big screen than behind a microscope.
Ash looked at me as I entered, excitement flashing in her black eyes despite both being distorted by a pair of thick goggles. She slid the protective eyewear up, and rested them in the dark hair that framed her heart-shaped face.
"Perfect timing." She crooked a finger at me, then rose and walk to a microscope on a long table against the back wall. She pointed at the eyepiece and said, "Take a look."
I obeyed, unsure of what I was supposed to see.
When I straightened and frowned at her she clicked her tongue in annoyance. I'd known the technician only a few weeks, and been unapologetically impressed with her supernatural forensics skills. She used more than just her expensive equipment to study the samples I sent her.
Often she'd insist on checking out the scene herself, and I'd accompany her just to see if her extra sensory skills were as good as I thought. We'd passed the early friendship stage almost instantly, moving on to relaxed sibling bickering within seconds.
"That is a sample of your black gunk, and if you look closely-"
"Nice to see you gracing us with your presence, Odel." An icy voice drifted toward me from the open doorway and I stiffened.
"I do work here, Sean." I murmured without turning. One of the reasons I'd always preferred to work alone was I never had the need to deal with people like Sean Martin. I had no time to entertain overly ambitious backstabbers either inside or outside of my job.
Sean snorted. "If what you do can be called work."
Sean was a Level 6 Air Mage – I'd learned quickly the rankings of supernaturals, with 1 being lowest and 10 being unclassifiable - who, as far as I knew, had been recruited two months prior to me, when the Elders had decided it was time to up the ante.
They'd selected Sean for his air magic, and I was fine with that. He, on the other hand wasn't fine with me. My very presence had irked him from the moment we'd met. His strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into a tight, low ponytail, giving him a deceptively casual air. Not a hair was out of place, not a thread marred the surface of his dark suit.
For some odd reason Sean seemed to think that belonging to the Elite meant he was required to dress like an FBI agent, all tailored black pants and jacket left open to reveal a crisp white shirt. Right on cue, his gaze drifted over me, taking in my low-heeled leather boots, black skinny jeans and white tank. He even spent a moment studying the leather jacket I held on my arm.
I very much regretted having left my helmet in the front hall. That at least would have gotten a much higher lift to his currently curved left eyebrow.
He gave a long sigh. "You know, I'm kind of glad you don't care much for image. Means I have less competition in that department."
I shrugged.
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