Darkness Returns Read Online Free PDF Page A

see her now.
    It sounded like he had.
    “He’s talking about me.”
    “Nonsense.”
    She held her hands out at her sides. “I think I qualify as pretty beastly. And I have a reputation for ruining things. Why not every thing?”
    “Self-pity will get you nowhere with me, my dear.” His voice turned to chocolate syrup warm enough to start the ice cream melting. He’d done voiceovers for commercials using that voice. “To me you are a savior in waiting.” He leaned in as if he meant to tell her a secret. “You know The Return isn’t only about ridding the earth of paranormal threats. For many of us, it’s our chance to return home, to be where we belong, where we fit in .”
    She’d never considered that. But, boy, could she understand it.
    “Okay, so let’s assume Ryan wasn’t talking about me. Then who?”
    “That’s what we’d like to find out. What we’d like you to find out.”

Chapter Three
    The sound of Kress’s office door hitting the wall sounded like a shot from a small caliber pistol, much like the 9mm Lockman had in his shoulder holster and was itching to draw on the man so smugly parked behind that government desk.
    He didn’t draw his weapon, but he did march across the office, circled the desk, and yank Kress up to his feet by his shirt collar.
    “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
    Kress used a standard martial arts maneuver to knock Lockman’s hands away, probably something he learned for one of his dumb movies. Lockman easily countered the move by grabbing both of Kress’s wrists, then shoved his fisted hands in so that Kress punched himself in the face. Not hard. Just enough to startle him, like a pair of brother’s horse playing in the backseat on a long trip. It caused Kress to stagger, trip against the casters on his office chair, and thump back down into his seat.
    That’s when Mica came charging in. She did have her weapon drawn, a Sig Sauer P250 with a healthy barrel that stared Lockman right in the eye. “Ease off, duke, or I’ll retire ya right here.”
    “Both of you stand down,” Kress shouted, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “This is a damned federal agency for the love of God.”
    Lockman almost choked. “I worked for a real federal shop, Kress. And while it wasn’t perfect by far, it wasn’t anything like this joke you’re running.”
    “Joke or not, I’ve got the president and the Pentagon backing me up, and you just struck your commanding officer.”
    Kress used all the right words, but Lockman would be damned if he could ever consider him a true CO. Especially after learning what he had tasked Jess with. This was him running his supernatural country club with government funding, all in the name of his obsession over a prophecy.
    “I’ll let it pass,” Kress said, brushing absently at his crooked collar, “since I gather this is coming from a protective father. But I’d suggest you never lay hands on me again.”
    “Got that right,” Mica popped in.
    Lockman ignored her. He pulled the folded paper the lab guys had given him after looking at the hairs he’d found at the scene in New Orleans. He unfolded the paper and slapped it down on the desk.
    Kress gave it a disgusted once over, as if Lockman had dropped a dead animal in front of him. “What’s this?”
    “Lab report. You didn’t want to listen before, but this might get your attention. I found a lock of hair at that slaughter in New Orleans. They belong to Teresa Stevenson.”
    Kress’s brow wrinkled. “Your old partner? So what?”
    “I’ll give you the short version. Her sister was turned into a vamp. I had to kill her. It’s caused some friction. Now she’s out there, using amateurs to go on a slay-spree, and she’s gotten a fair amount of mortals killed in the process.”
    The tiny, thoughtful nods Kress made gave him the look of a bobble head. Lockman would have loved to have smacked that bobble head clean off its spring.
    “So she’s a liability,” Kress said. “But she