His fingers made contact with skin, found the transfer point. He could find it easier with his mouth, but he wasn't going any nearer this filthy derelict than he had to. There was a feeling of breakage, as if something was tearing loose. The red-haired man stiffened violently, his muscles jerking. Then Gabriel felt it-the rush of energy, like blue-white light streaking up from the transfer point, fountaining into the air. Into Gabriel's fingers, filling channels and rushing through them, warming his entire body.
Ahhhhh.
It was something like a cold drink on a hot day-a cold drink in a tall glass, with ice cubes clinking against the inside and drops of water condensing on the outside. And it was something like getting your second wind when running-a sudden feeling of strength and peace and vigor. And it was something like standing on the bow of a catamaran with the wind in your face. It wasn't much like any of those things, but they were as close as Gabriel could get to the feelings of refreshment and vitality and excitement.
Drinking pure life, that was what it was. And even from a filthy derelict, it tasted pretty good. This guy had been more alive, in his creepy, slimy way, than most. Gabriel let go of him, then pushed the knife back into its casing.
The red-haired man gave a shudder and collapsed, falling as if he'd been deboned. On the ground, he twitched once and was still. He smelled bad.
Kaitlyn, breathing hard, was getting to her feet.
"Is he dead?" she asked.
"No, he's got a gasp or two left. But he's not at all well."
"You enjoyed that." Her eyebrows were arched in scorn and her smoky blue eyes flashed. Wispy red curls clung to her forehead; the rest of her hair was loose in a glorious flame-colored waterfall. She looked flushed and windblown and very beautiful.
Gabriel looked away angrily. He wouldn't think about her, he wouldn't see how beautiful she was, how fair her skin was or the way her breathing moved her chest. She belonged to someone else, and she meant nothing to him.
He said, looking at the huddled figure on the ground, "You were doing a pretty good job on him yourself."
Kaitlyn shivered, then controlled it. Her voice was softer when she answered. "I could see he was full of nasty things. His mind was . . ." She shivered again.
"You could see into his mind?" Gabriel asked sharply.
"Not exactly. I could sense it somehow-sort of like a feeling or a smell. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking." She looked up at Gabriel, hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't say thank you. But I am glad you showed up. If you hadn't. . ." Her voice trailed off again.
He ignored this last. "Maybe being in the web has made you slightly telepathic for other people-or maybe that guy was slightly telepathic." He touched the overcoat with the toe of his running shoe. Then he looked at Kait. "Where are the others?"
Kaitlyn drew herself up, looked back calmly. "What others?"
"You know what others." Gabriel stretched out his senses, listening for the slightest hint of their presence. Nothing. He narrowed his eyes at Kaitlyn. "They've got to be around somewhere. You wouldn't come out here alone."
"Wouldn't I? I am alone. I came on the bus; it was easy. Aren't you going to ask why?"
Behind her, the sky was green and palest pink, shading to ultramarine in the west. The last stars were going out, the first light was touching her hair with red-gold. She stood slim and proud as some medieval witch princess against the dawn. Gabriel had to work to keep his face expressionless, to keep his presence in the web icy. "All right," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean, she's gone?" Rob demanded.
"She's gone," Anna repeated miserably. "I woke up and looked and there she wasn't. She isn't here."
Lewis rolled over in his sleeping bag, squinting and scratching. "Did you check in the, uh . . ."
"Of course I've checked in the bathroom. I've looked everywhere, and she's just not anywhere. Her bag is gone, too, Rob."
"What?" It came out a yell. Anna clapped a hand over his mouth, and Rob stared at her over it.
If her bag's gone, she's gone, he said telepathically after a moment.
That's what I've been telling you, Anna replied. Her beautiful dark eyes were wide but calm. Anna always could keep her head in a crisis-and Rob was close to losing his. Ever since last night his emotions had been in a turmoil.
With an effort he collected himself. No, I mean that she's gone for a while-and probably of her own free will. Somebody kidnapping her wouldn't have taken the bag.
"But-why would she leave?" Lewis asked, sitting up. "I mean, she wouldn't leave, but if she did leave-well, why?"
Rob looked past the dark, heavy shapes of the living room furniture to the window. It was just dawn.
"I think .. . she's maybe gone to the Institute."
The other two stared at him.
"No," Anna said.
Rob lifted his shoulders, lip caught between his lower teeth. He was still looking out the window. "I think yes."
"But why?" Lewis said. Rob barely heard him. He was looking at the sky, translucently blue, like glass. Kait was out there somewhere. ...
"Rob!" Lewis was shaking him. "Why would she have gone to the Institute?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Rob said, coming back to earth. "But she might have an idea she can influence Gabriel -or maybe she wants to try something on Mr. Zetes."
Anna and Lewis audibly let air out of their lungs. "I thought-I mean I thought you were saying . . ."
Rob blinked at him, bewildered.
"He thought you were saying that Kait defected like Gabriel," Anna said crisply. "I knew she didn't, but I thought maybe you thought she did.''
"Of course she wouldn't do that," Rob said, shocked. It was hard for him to understand other people sometimes-they seemed so quick to think the worst about each other, even their friends. He knew better; Kaitlyn wasn't capable of anything evil.
"But she must have gone in the middle of the night," Lewis was saying. "You think she took the car?"
"The car's out front. I looked before I woke you up," Anna said. "I don't know how she could make it."
"She'd find a way," Rob said briefly. Kaitlyn was silk and fire-over a steel-hard core of determination. "No, she'll get there, if that's where she's going. The question is, what do we do about it?"