(SPECTR 1) Hunter of Demons by Jordan L. Hawk Page B

SPECTR Academy.” His lips twisted ruefully. “After all, they’d saved my life.”
     

Chapter 9
     
    Damn. No wonder Starkweather was such a fucking cheerleader for SPECTR. At least Caleb’s parents had done everything they could to protect him. They’d helped hide his telekinesis, such as it was, so he could have the hope of a normal life. And no matter what Ben had gotten involved in, he’d still taken Caleb’s secret to the grave. “Yeah. Okay. I understand how you must have felt.”
    Starkweather waved a dismissive hand. “This isn’t about me, not really. My point is, SPECTR isn’t your enemy. The hate groups who forced through the registration act, sure. Just be glad SPECTR was tasked with enforcing it instead of the FBI or CIA, or even Homeland Security.”
    “Or TSA. Body-cavity search with every check-in.”
    “Exactly.” Starkweather’s serious expression melted away, replaced by the familiar grin. “And you don’t even get to request which agent does it.”
    “Oh, ouch. Good point.” Caleb let his arms fall to his sides. “I do see where you’re coming from. I mean, I’m not going to be shaking pom-poms and chanting ‘rah-rah, SPECTR’ or anything, but…you know.”
    “And you’d look so cute in a cheerleader outfit.” Starkweather gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk, which had obviously been dragged up from the kitchen below. “Ready to start the inquisition?”
    “Your rack-side manner could use some work.” Caleb sat down, knowing he didn’t really have a choice. “Fine. What do you need to know?”
    Starkweather booted up his computer, then turned back to Caleb and folded his hands on the desk. The pose offered Caleb a nice view of those biceps beneath the tight shirt; he tried not to stare.
    “Let’s start with an easy one. You said the people you were with in the abandoned house knew to find Gray there. How?”
    Oh yeah, “easy.” Christ. Of course Starkweather would begin with ratting out on Melanie and her group, whoever the fuck they were.
    He sensed Gray’s attention, the tiger lifting its head from its nap. “Melanie. Your brother’s wife.”
    A confused impression of her face flashed through his mind, like an old black-and-white film. Melanie laughing; Melanie dancing; Melanie under him, body arching—
    No! God, no; it was like having a memory of fucking his sister. Even though the recollections were all but lifeless, without taste or feel or color, bile rose in his throat. It took all his concentration to shove the memory back where it belonged.
    “Caleb?” Starkweather asked, an edge of alarm in his voice.
    “It’s all right.” Caleb held up a hand, hoping he sounded steadier than he felt. If he lost it now, would Starkweather send him to some cell in Spec-HQ? “It’s just…Gray has-has memories. From other…people.”
    “Your brother?”
    Damn him for guessing. “Yeah. It wasn’t…pleasant. For me. Just…I don’t want to think about it, all right?”
    “All right.” Starkweather’s voice was pitched to soothe. Caleb didn’t know if he should resent it or be grateful. “You can talk to Gray?”
    “Sort of.” Caleb took a deep breath. Calm. Control. “He’s always there. Watching.”
    “Can he tell us anything about Ben’s death? Anything to help us find the NHE responsible?”
    “The final moments of a life are seldom recorded.”
    Of course not. That would actually be helpful.
    Caleb dutifully repeated back what Gray had said. “Huh,” Starkweather said, tapping his fingers on the desk and frowning into space. “It makes sense, I suppose. If death comes quickly enough, the last few minutes wouldn’t be recorded in long-term memory.”
    Caleb looked away, bands tightening around his chest. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
    Starkweather winced. “Sorry. This is your brother we’re talking about. I didn’t mean to sound clinical.”
    “I thought you wanted to ask questions about Gray.”
    The agent accepted the change of