Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu (8 page)

It wasn’t a lie. No stench of dishonesty. Not even fear. His face darkened and Dani released her grip, letting him drop to the cracked pavement. He came down surprisingly gracefully, bending at the knees before regaining his posture.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she hissed, fingers flexing. “Tell me where you heard that word and what you know about Vincent and Eric.”

“Please, let me explain!” Michael held up his hands in a plea for more time. “I… I never suspected that there were more people like me. I’ve kept it secret since I was a kid. When I touch people or things, sometimes I learn things. All I know is what you know.” He looked at her, open-eyed wonder creeping past his fear. “You lifted me like I was nothing. You’re amazingly strong.”

“And I have a charming personality but no patience for bullshit.” She forced the Huntress back down, and the stinging faded from her eyes. She couldn’t afford to be high on aggression right now.

“It’s more than a gym workout. It’s what that word means. You’re strong and fast. When you touched me, the world got sharper, clearer, because that’s how you see it.” A delighted grin stretched his face. “Superpowers. You have actual superpowers.”

“This isn’t Comic-Con. I’m not going to give you an autograph.” She spat out the words, at the edge of her control.

He nodded as though he’d expected her answer. “There are more of you, aren’t there? For a second, I got a sense of a community. I never knew there were more people out there like me. My parents taught me I needed to hide who I was and what I could do, and that no one would understand.” He frowned, and his gaze turned inward.

This is not my night for intimidation.
His pain called to her, but she needed to focus on the big picture. “Vincent and Eric. What do you know?”

“I think there’s a connection between the people who took them and the people who run a facility one of my clients might be sent to. When I touched the brochure, I knew they were going to hurt her. She knew it, too, somehow.”

“People, things—this gift of yours must wreak havoc on your social life.” Dani crossed her arms on her chest, taking refuge in sarcasm.

“It can make it difficult. But this must have been fate, our coming together like this. We can help each other.”

“I don’t do partners.” She walked away, heels clicking on the pavement.

“Please! You don’t understand! All my life I’ve been told to keep myself hidden and stay out of sight. To find someone else like me, you don’t know what it’s like,” he pleaded.

Find the invisible man who sees the hidden truths. Find him, Dani.
Gwen’s words echoed, freezing her in place. He had psychometry; he saw hidden truths. He’d been told to keep hidden, invisible.

“Please,” Michael continued. “Bernie is only ten. You’re the only chance I have to save her.”

Dani closed her eyes as if the lids could shut out his words.

“No one believes her. She’s emotionally disturbed, unreliable. They’re going to hurt her badly.” He moved closer to her. “Please, Dani.”

“I’ll meet you at one tomorrow.” The words spilled out before she could censor them.
Why not?
It wasn’t going to kill her to listen to him after she took care of her own business.

“Thank you. Here’s where I’ll be.” He scribbled out an address on a piece of paper.
Of course he’s fucking prepared.

Ignoring his soft smile of gratitude, she snatched the paper and stalked off into the night. The Huntress was roused and ready for action. All she needed was a target.

Chapter Thirteen

“I hate traveling. The jet felt like a roller coaster. I pay their ridiculous salaries to make sure I don’t have to bounce across the Atlantic. Make sure it doesn’t happen on the way back,” André instructed Karan as he barreled down the hallway at their test facility.

The other man simply bent his head and made notes on his tablet.

“Did they give you a progress report from the lab?” Anticipation fueled André’s steps. So very close to everything he’d hoped for, everything his father had believed.

“There have been some problems with the computer resources required—”

“I don’t care. What are the results?” André stabbed at the elevator button, ignoring the scurrying office workers.

“The DNA has been sequenced. The relevant sections have been isolated. They have a collection of volunteers waiting for your approval.” The two men rode the gleaming elevator down to the subbasement laboratory.

“Is the carrier bacteria ready for the genetic transfer?” He tugged briefly on his jacket cuffs and adjusted his shirt’s cufflinks.

“Already in replication. We’re only waiting for you to select the first volunteer.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.” The doors opened and André strode into the lab. The technicians were all standing beside the state-of-the-art equipment, barely distinguishable from the white walls in their immaculate white lab coats, anonymous, professional, and clean, exactly how he’d specified they should be.

Two men waited in the center of the lab. Both showed signs of having lived on the streets. Despite a thorough washing, traces of dirt clung under their nails. They kept shifting and tugging on uncomfortably new clothing. André spotted irregular tan and weathering lines on their upper arms, wrists, and necks, evidence of long-term outdoor life. Their sallow skin sagged off their bones. He kept his face impassive but couldn’t keep his mouth and nose from twitching in disgust at the dark lines of track marks on their inner elbows. A few days of being fed and cleaned couldn’t erase months of abuse.

But there was potential. He noted the muscular arms and shoulders that poor food and drugs hadn’t completely stolen away. The first, a tall blond man with a wiry build, snapped to attention when he entered the room. An involuntary reflex, evidence the soldier had not been completely replaced by the addict, unlike the other, who was muttering under his breath and slapping at his clothes periodically.

“Blood reports?” He held out his hand and Karan gave him the relevant folder. He’d studied the histories of both of his potential volunteers but he’d found keeping his prodigious memory a secret gave him the advantage. He glanced at the brief biographies and lines of medical jargon in each file. Ronald McBride, the soldier. Henry Rogers, the twitchy one. “All clean now, I see.”

“Sir, may I speak freely?” It was the soldier who’d caught his eye earlier, McBride, a veteran of Afghanistan.

“Go ahead, Corporal.” André handed the files back to Karan. This one could be trouble. From his file, McBride had a disturbingly high inclination toward public service, but four years of living on the street and drug addiction may have overcome that tendency.

“Your people have taken good care of us. It’s the first time I’ve been clean in years.” McBride rubbed at his elbows, thumbs shoving against the track marks as if he could push the thin scars inside and make them disappear. “It’s given me room to think clearly.”

“And what have you been thinking?” Dalhard moved closer to the corporal. Other than the scabs and bruises on his arms, the man couldn’t have been a more perfect image of an all-American hero if he’d been ordered from a catalogue, his corn-fed, Midwestern–farm boy innocence wrapped up in earnestness. He would play nicely in the promotional material.

“Out there, I didn’t much care if I lived or died. Figured I’d already outlived my time, that I should have died with my friends.” He looked away briefly, visibly struggling with the memory. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“And you’d like to withdraw from the trials.” André had no intention of letting him do so, but he wanted to see how deep McBride’s reluctance went.

“The money is good but not worth risking my life for, sir.” McBride offered his frankness with perfect innocence.

“Money never is.” Power, influence, those were worth gambling for—although he was certain they wouldn’t appear on McBride’s list.

“Thank you for all your help. I’ll find a way to pay you back.” The corporal held out his hand, which was exactly the opportunity André had been waiting for.

Taking it, André held it firmly for a moment, concentrating. He needed the soldier’s facilities intact. Too much pressure might snap the man’s mind. He used a subtle touch to keep McBride’s mind open to the possibilities
. Community-minded, that’s the best approach.
“But what if there were more than money?”

“Beg pardon?” McBride’s eyelids drooped: an excellent sign.

“I read the report on the incident. Your friends were killed when a bomb detonated in the compound you were searching. But they weren’t killed by the blast. They went in to rescue men trapped in the debris and were killed by snipers.” André held McBride’s gaze, not even blinking. He had to establish trust and do it quickly.

The veteran swallowed hard. “That’s true, sir.”

“You attacked two of the gunmen with your bare hands because your gun had been knocked out of reach. You received a commendation of valor.” Sensing the corporal’s conviction wavering, André continued. “But what if you’d been stronger, faster? Able to leap across the compound and take them all out in the blink of an eye?”

“That doesn’t happen except in movies.”

“Oh, but it can.” André tightened his grip on McBride’s hand, strengthening the other man’s hope and suppressing his doubts. “I’ve seen it.”

“You’re testing something that makes people stronger? Like the Bionic Man?”

“Only without the special effects. Come on, Corporal. Don’t you owe it to your friends to try?” André recognized the perfect moment to strike for the kill.

The corporal’s eyes glazed and he nodded hesitantly. André released him. His persuasive influence would keep McBride in the program now.
Thank you, Mother
.

“Devil!” The scream echoed off the gleaming white walls.

André barely had time to frown in irritation when Rogers leapt at him, waving a pipette he’d snatched from the trays. André caught his assailant’s hand as the man jabbed at him unsteadily with the plastic tool, still twitching uncontrollably. This was beyond what his gifts could handle. He could persuade and if he caught his victim in a moment of vulnerability, he could layer his influence to ensure complete loyalty, but there was nothing left in the man’s mind to work with.

If he hadn’t had more pressing matters to deal with, André would have enjoyed pitting himself against the man physically. He’d boxed in college but had given it up when he took over the business. Rogers might be scrawny, but his desperation gave him strength. Perhaps he’d sensed what André was doing with McBride.

“Have to kill you! Demon!” the man gasped.

McBride leapt to the rescue, locking his arms around the assailant’s neck and arms to drag him away. A terrified scientist jabbed the struggling man with a needle and he soon collapsed into drugged silence.

“My thanks, Corporal. Clearly, that one is too far gone for the trials.” André caught Karan’s attention and gave him a brief nod as his assailant was dragged away. Karan frowned in puzzlement but nodded in return. André didn’t believe in wasting opportunities.

The technicians led McBride away to prepare him for the testing, leaving André and his aide to take the elevator out of the sterile environment. “Make certain Rogers is kept somewhere safe for the time being.”

“He attacked you,” Karan pointed out.

André smiled patronizingly. “He would be perfect for the Silver protocols.”

“Do you think those will be necessary?” Karan asked.

“Loyalty tests are always useful.” André’s smile faded. He hated having to explain himself. “How did he make it through the tests to begin with?”

“His record was encouraging. Assault, reprimands for excessive force, firing without cause.” Karan shrugged.

“McBride should be perfect, assuming he survives the process. Now what about the brothers?”

As they arrived at his opulent penthouse suite, he caught the tiniest hint of a disapproving frown from his aide. Karan evidently still preferred the riskier and more expensive route of genetic manipulation to dealing with actual ferals.

“They’ve been kept in isolation since their recapture?” He went directly to the bar and poured himself a neat whiskey. André knew his people wouldn’t dare disobey his orders, but prudence demanded that he check.

Karan nodded. “They should be ready for you by tomorrow.”

“I’m quite optimistic about our chances.” Settling into a massive chair, André wondered how much it would take to crack his aide’s façade.

“They’ve shown stubborn loyalty.” There it was: the reason he kept Karan untainted by his persuasive influence—he needed someone willing to point out his blind spots.

Of course, that didn’t mean André was wrong. “Loyalty to each other. But look at the larger picture. They presented themselves under false documents, clearly having no idea of what I was truly looking for. These men are used to operating outside society’s confines. They survive on the outskirts, which requires a certain disregard for the rules. But there’s even more to be excited about—if they have a female relative, there could be ova to harvest. Purpose-bred subjects without the dangers of gene-splicing.” Savoring the subtle smoky flavor of his drink, André envisioned the promised future where he was in control.

“And if we cannot acquire their loyalty?”

Karan had to ask; ignoring the possibility would only lead to disaster. But Karan’s lack of faith annoyed André. He wasn’t in the mood to contemplate failure. “Then I will persuade them. It doesn’t matter. We have multiple options to pursue now. We’ll do what all good businessmen have done since the first market exchanges: explore our options, nurture the possibilities, and then, when we see where success is possible, commit to our winner.”

“And the losers?”

“No sense wasting further resources on dead ends. But we will find our winner, Karan. I’m certain of it. Track down their family, friends, and associates.” Two supernatural brothers must be connected with others. This could be the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Karan discretely withdrew, leaving André to enjoy the initial thrill of the chase in solitude. These were the moments he lived for, when he was on the cusp of discovery. It satisfied his internal primal predator. If his suspicions were correct, then Perdition offered more than he could have dreamed.

Gwen curled up against the stone floor, hands pressed to her ears. Useless, futile, and pointless, but she couldn’t help it. The voices chattered as loudly as ever, battling each other for her attention.

“—storm is coming—”

“—blood will betray you—”

“—so cold and dark, want my Mommy—”

“—have to listen—”

“—only one can save us—”

Tears leaked out as she fought to concentrate on the chill of the floor, the roughness against her skin. That was real. Not like the other world calling to her.

“—please save her—”

“—save us all—”