Red Night ((Book 1) Timewalker Chronicles) by Michele Callahan Page B

his footsteps as he walked over to the sprawling antique desk across the room. The middle wall was covered in windows and floor to ceiling bookshelves decorated with leather-bound volumes of the classics. Books he was sure Trent had never read. But then, it was obvious that appearances meant everything to Trent. The entire house was a testament to his social ambitions.
    The computer was humming where it sat in the shadows beneath the desk. He took two more steps before he saw the trails of dark liquid that splattered and slid down the front of the flat screen monitor. Artificial light flashed beneath the splatter pattern, casting a strange glow on the wall behind the desk.
    Luke’s legs stopped of their own accord. He knew what he was going to find, knew, and didn’t want to permanently sear the image into his consciousness by looking.
    Like a ghost come back to life, Alexa came into focus beside the desk. The shock in her eyes told him what she would say before she spoke to confirm it. “I think he’s dead.”
    So much for ending this thing tonight. Trent’s death would multiply their problems by a factor of ten.
    Alexa jumped back with a yelp.
    He rushed to her side, blood pounding in his ears.
    “He moved.”
    If there was one thing he did not want to do, it was look down. Resigned, he dropped his gaze just as Trent’s fingers curled around his pant leg like giant blood stained leeches. “Shit.”
    “Luke.” Trent choked and sputtered where he laid flat on his back, then spit blood onto the floor. “He took it. I’m sorry.”
    Dropping to one knee beside Trent, he attempted to see beyond the blood. His boss had been shot multiple times. Chest. Stomach. Head. It was a miracle he was still alive. But he wouldn’t be for long. “Alexa, find me a phone.”
    “No. Too late. Just listen.” Trent grabbed Luke’s forearm in a death grip. “Get the case back. He’s crazy.”
    “Who?” Trent’s fingernails cut into his skin but he barely noticed. The only thing that mattered was finding out who had the virus now.
    “Kline.”
    Matthew Kline. He remembered the name from Alexa’s tale. Matthew was the man with whom he shared the privilege of being among the first to die. “Who is he?”
    “He lied. Tomorrow. The Plaza. He said…” Trent rolled onto his side and blood slowly poured from his open lips like thick red syrup. The warm liquid slurred his words. “…we deserved it.”
    Luke knew enough to realize that Trent’s stomach was filling with blood. Probably his lungs too. The paramedics couldn’t make it in time. “Why?”
    Trent’s eyes closed, his last words were a sigh of surrender. “For playing God.”
    Numb, empty, Luke stared down at the dead man’s face. If anyone had been playing God, he had. He’d created the monster and Trent had been killed for it.
    Still staring at Trent, he was vaguely aware of Alexa as she unplugged Trent’s computer, kicked the side panel off, and smashed everything inside with her black boot heel. After just a minute silence once again surrounded them. His little time traveler was efficient.
    “Luke?” Alexa whispered from somewhere behind him.
    Luke ignored her, gave his analytical mind a minute to catch up to the horror staring at him through Trent’s lifeless eyes. What a mess! The M-6 was missing. Now Trent was murdered. This was rapidly getting out of hand. Who could he call? Would the Colonel believe any of this? Even if he left Alexa out of the story, the entire thing would sound paranoid. He now had a dead body and the missing cultures to back up his claims. Or get him locked away forever. The Colonel would believe him. But how quickly could the Colonel mobilize a team? And would they help or hurt his and Alexa’s chances of stopping this thing? He couldn’t just call the police. The Mutant Project was classified above top-secret. Word leaked out and there’d be mass hysteria. Streetwide panic. Shit would hit the fan so far up the food chain it