Luke shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ve finished the entire first season.”
“Fourteen episodes,” Brendan said.
“What? How?” Rose felt her eyes bulging.
“It’s what we do, darling. We draw, and we draw. Didn’t hurt that we cut a deal with Netflix before all this IRS badness started either. We wanted that shit done.”
“Or that we’ve been working on this little bombshell pretty much since the day we met you.” Luke lifted his chin, putting on a haughty expression that would have put Colin Firth’s rendition of Mr. Darcy to shame.
“By the time MegaCon rolled around, we already had eight episodes in the can,” Brendan said.
“When does the first episode release?” Satterfield asked. Rose could see the gears turning in her head.
“We’ll need to do some adverts on comics sites and podcasts—drum up some enthusiasm,” Luke said.
“We don’t have time for that,” Rose said. “And forget one episode. How soon can they get the entire first season up for streaming?”
“Now, wait a second.” Brendan leaned back and folded his arms. “You can’t just dump it like that. You dole it out—whet the fans’ appetites for it.”
“Well…” Luke rubbed his stubbled chin. “There is the binge factor. Look what they did with Stranger Things. Most of our fans will watch the entire season in a day or two and then probably recommend it to friends. We might be able to convince Netflix to release early. Maybe, get it up in a couple of days? That’ll make it downloadable by the weekend, which means more people can watch it uninterrupted.”
“No good.” Matt shook his head like a man warding off a car salesman. “We’ve gathered a lot of slinkers here—Order-trained, but still slinkers. They’ve come because we’ve promised to take out the fear factory. But the longer we wait, the more we’ll lose. We’ve already made ourselves a juicy target with this many succubi in one place. Sooner or later, the Indrawn Breath is bound to find us, and everyone here knows it. They’re not going to stick around long no matter what we promise them. Tomorrow night would be best. One or two days at most. Which means we need every votary you can muster, and we need them now.”
Brendan’s eyes widened. He stared at the others as if one of them had just suggested he swallow a Volkswagen. “A couple of days? Are you insane?”
“No,” Rose said. “Not insane, out of time. And look what you did with Drawn. It’s a blockbuster all on its own. Your fans, our fans, will eat this anime up.”
The twins shared two ends of a look—Luke’s thoughtful, Brendan’s incredulous.
“We could—” Luke began.
“We can’t—” Brendan said at the same time.
Rose, who stood next to the office door, paced over to them and squatted so that she could put a hand on each of their knees. “I haven’t asked much of you two. I’ve gone your way since we first met, and you never let me down. But now I’m telling you, we’ve got to do this thing, and I can’t do it without your help. Please make this happen. I need you.”
“We can release it ourselves,” Luke said at once. “Leak it.”
“That’ll blow the contract with Netflix,” Brendan said, though without much fire.
Luke shrugged. “Rose needs us, Bren.”
Brendan met Rose’s gaze with his striking blue eyes. A slow smile curved his lips, and though it looked a little tremulous, it held. “Oh, to hell with the contract. It’s just money, right?”
27
Fear Baiting
Less than twenty-four hours later, Rose stood on the sidewalk in front of an Avis car rental office about a mile from the Greenville/Spartanburg airport in South Carolina. Despite the heat and humidity, she floated in a void of peace drawn from her swelling legion of votaries.
Well, near-peace. Nothing could fully quench her anxiety.
The back of Rose’s right thigh itched. She had healed the tiny incision where Dr. Stanislaw had inserted a second tracking device, but Rose still felt the thing like a long splinter under her skin. She desperately wanted to scratch it, but discernment stayed her hand.
A subcompact car pulled into the lot, Melody at the wheel. Rose put on a smile she couldn’t feel and raised a hand to wave at her little sister. Even drawing calm, Rose’s pulse quickened.
Melody pulled in next to the curb. Rose shoved her overnight bag into the car’s rear seat and climbed in on the passenger side.
“Thanks for coming.” She leaned over to hug Melody.
Melody accepted the embrace, though she held herself rigid, face forward. She did manage to pat Rose on the back once and roused a semblance of a smile. “Ready to go?”
Rose nodded.
Melody got the little car headed east on Highway 85.
“Are you staying in a hotel near here?” Rose asked.
Melody chuckled.
“What?” Rose asked.
“Drop it, Anna. We both know why you’re in this car with me, and it ain’t to make small talk.”
Rose sat stunned for a moment. She had expected some pretense, even if just for the length of the car ride. Hell, she had been entertaining the notion that Melody might have turned against the Breathers after all—sort of a take this cup from me kind of hope. But the mocking tone in Mel’s voice shattered that thought. Matt had been right all along. Melody had allowed herself to be captured by Clemente back in Mexico to bait Rose into escaping with her.
Rose drew more calm, folding it around herself like a shell, quieting her mind. “Why do you think I’m here?”
Melody’s lips turned up in a genuine grin. “To lead your friends to the fear factory. Why else?”
“Mel, I—”
“Save it, Anna. If you had ever been on my side, it would have been in Mexico. You made your decision then.”
“It’s Rose.”
“What?” Melody glanced over, brows knit.
“My name is Rose now.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
Rose didn’t answer. She stared out the window at the verdant trees whipping past. Her heart felt like a stone. “You killed Leslie, didn’t you, Mel?”
“That sharpshooter girl in the tower? Yeah, I killed her.”
Rose’s calm fluttered like a moth’s wing. She tightened her grip on it, forcing her mind to still. “I don’t know what’s been done to you. I don’t know how you became what you are—”
“But you’re going to save me, right? You think I’m being charmed into doing the things I do, but you’re wrong. I make my own choices. I do what I want.” She looked over at her sister, her lips worked into a sneer. “But you still think you can help me become the innocent little girl I was before, don’t you? That you can reform me.”
Rose shook her head. “No. I can never forgive what you’ve done. You’re a monster. A beast. You’re not my sister.”
“Fuck you.”
Rose turned to stare at Melody. She could see the arteries pulsing in her sister’s neck, hear the rhythmic beat of her heart. “After this car ride, if I ever see you again, I will kill you.”
Perhaps it was Rose’s lack of vehemence or her uninflected tone that caught Melody’s attention. She glanced at Rose. “Shut up.”
They drove in silence for several minutes. Rose stared at her sister the entire way, never saying a word. For her part, Melody refused to look over.
Melody pulled off the highway onto a rural road surrounded by farms, small homes, and rundown businesses. The scent of livestock peppered the air.
“Stop staring at me,” Melody said.
Rose went right on staring. She felt no anger. She was too calm for that. And yet she knew, somewhere buried beneath her borrowed tranquility, lay a vast ocean of hatred for the stranger sitting beside her. The gulf between them spanned far more than their five-year age difference. Never would she have credited the idea of so loathing any member of her own family. With a jolt that she managed to keep inside, Rose realized her feelings toward Melody matched w
hat she felt for Clemente and his ilk. The heat of it surprised and frightened her.
Melody turned onto a one-lane dirt road. Trees grew thick on both sides. The little car sped along the dry track, Melody pushing it to unsafe speeds.
Rose remained quiet. If Mel was trying to frighten her, it wouldn’t work. Rose wondered which of them would fare better in a wreck.
Melody drifted the car through a tight curve, the back wheels scraping across red clay, and then slammed on the brakes. Rose finally turned her gaze from Melody to peer out the front windshield. A black SUV, parked sideways, spanned the road. David Lord leaned against it, grinning.
“Scared yet?” Melody asked.
Rose climbed out of the car.
“Hello, Rose,” Lord said. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”
Melody skipped into the man’s embrace. She kissed his neck, his jaw, and then hugged him, pressing her face against his chest.
All the while, Lord kept his gaze on Rose. “Get the kit.”
Melody threw a smile over her shoulder at Rose. It looked manic. She giggled as she pulled open the SUV’s rear door. She climbed half inside and returned carrying a white medical box with a large red cross on the lid. She opened it on the hood of her car.
Though she heard no telltale sounds, nor saw any unnatural movement, Rose became aware of watchers in the woods. Discernment told her there were at least ten of them, probably more. The pungent odor of gun oil told her they were near.
“You came alone,” Lord said.
Rose nodded.
He eyed her for a long moment while Melody fished inside the med kit. Rose returned Lord’s gaze. If he wanted her fear, he would have to earn it.
“Where are the others?” Lord asked. “Where’s Matt Snow? This meeting has his stink on it.”
“Sleeping,” Rose said. “I drugged him.”
“Sly girl. How about the rest of your people? Where are they?”
Rose said nothing.
“We’ll get it out of you eventually,” Lord said with a shrug. He glided forward, his movements predatory. “We know about the transmitter.”
Rose nodded. She continued to draw calm while forcing her face to remain still. She steadfastly put all thoughts of the new transmitter out of her head, focusing instead on the old one in her shoulder. This was the dicey part of the plan. Any hint at her deception and it would crumble.
Melody stood from the open med kit, a scalpel in hand. “Give me your arm.”
“No,” Lord said.
Melody whirled on him, her brows lifted, her lips wrinkled with a frown. “But you said I could do it.”
“You’re too angry with your sister. I don’t trust your hand not to slip.”
“David, I can do this.”
“Give me the scalpel.” Lord held out a hand.
Reluctantly, like a child caught with a dangerous weapon, Melody dropped the blade into his palm.
“I get time with her later, right?” she asked in a wheedling voice. “You promised.”
Lord nodded, though his gaze never left Rose. “You know I keep my promises.”
Melody grinned.
“Will you let me take the transmitter?” Lord asked Rose. “Things will go easier if you don’t struggle.”
“Struggle,” Melody said. “Please, struggle.”
Rose had known this moment would come. Though she had never imagined someone removing her tracking chip on a deserted dirt road in South Carolina, she had expected the Breathers to take it eventually. She had even worn a tank top to make things easier. She considered protesting. A little playacting might help convince Lord that she was reluctant—maybe keep him from looking for the second transmitter. But that wasn’t her style and acting out of character at this point would only make him or Melody suspicious.
Rose heaved a sigh. “Fine. Take it. It’s not like I can stop you in the long run.”
A slow smile spread across Lord’s lips. “You saw one of my people in the trees?”
Rose shook her head. “Didn’t have to. I smell them.”
Lord withdrew a bottle of iodine from the med kit. “Sorry, we have no analgesic. But then, I hear you’ve got quite the votary count these days. A little cut shouldn’t hurt you.”
He took Rose by the arm, his hands surprisingly gentle as he turned her so that her shoulder more fully faced the sun. He brushed the spot above her old chip with iodine then made a short, precise cut with the scalpel.
Rose hardly felt the incision. The factory-sharp blade combined with Lord’s deft hands made it practically painless. With dexterity unseen in humans, Lord withdrew the square transmitter from Rose’s shoulder using a set of tweezers. He dropped the device into a plastic baggy, then proceeded to clean Rose’s cut with gauze and alcohol.
It was the work of a second for Rose to close the wound as Lord whisked away the blood.
“Now what?” she asked.
Lord grinned. “Now the other one.”
For the first time since leaving the airport, Rose felt a breach in her perfect wall of calm.
Lord tilted his head to one side. “You thought we didn’t know?”
Melody guffawed. She leaned toward her sister, her mouth open like a donkey braying. “The look on your face, Anna! It’s priceless.”
“Where is it?” Lord asked.
Drawing charm, Rose pursed her lips, trying to look confused. “I don’t have another chip.”
“Yes, you do.” Lord turned to the trees. “Jim. A hand please.”
A short, rawboned man with a dark beard and square glasses stepped from behind cover. He moved to stand in front of Rose with the surety of one cloaked in discernment. He stared at her for a moment, watching her eyes with interest.
She held her body still, determined to give nothing away.
“It’s in the back of her right thigh.”
Rose cursed. What had she done to give it away? Had she glanced at Lord’s or Melody’s legs? Had she moved in some way that telegraphed what she was striving to hide? She would never know.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to drop your pants, Rose,” Lord said. “This is completely professional, I assure you.”
“No.”
“We insist.” Melody stepped around Lord to menace Rose.
Discernment told Rose her chances of escaping this mess hovered somewhere near zero. But if she let Lord disable her second transmitter, the Order would have no way to track her—no way to find the fear factory.
Jim was a problem. No matter how Rose planned to make her escape, even attacking Jim first, her imagined scenarios ended with him outguessing her. She could see in his body movement, the way his eyes stutter-stepped over her in rapid saccades, that his draw on discernment outstripped her own by orders of magnitude. Trying to strategize against him was tantamount to playing chess against a supercomputer. Alone, she might escape him. Her discernment told her he was likely a monodraw. All she would have to do is run. But teamed up with Lord and her sister, Jim formed a considerable stumbling block. He could predict her choices, her attacks, before she launched them, and warn the others.
Jim gave Rose a grin. “It really is too late, ma’am,” he said in a thick southern drawl. “I’d just do what Mr. Lord says.”
“Yeah, Anna,” Melody said. “Do what Mr. Lord says.”
“It will go better for you in the long run.” Lord wasn’t looking at Rose. He swabbed the scalpel clean with alcohol then held it up to gleam in the sunlight as if inspecting it for microscopic imperfections. He didn’t charm her. Why bother? He had her trapped.
Rose ground her teeth. She could not escape. That much was obvious. And yet, she knew herself. The Order had at least taught her that much. She might be facing singular outcome odds, but so the hell what? She wasn’t about to lay down and take this shit. If she had even a glimmer of a chance at aborting this now-failed mission, she had to take it.
Rose drew speed. Her fist sounded like a shotgun blast as it split the ai
r, rocketing toward Jim’s chin. In the instant before impact, Rose had time to consider whether Myra Hanks, the Order’s near-precog, could have evaded this blow. Despite Myra’s enormous draw on discernment, Rose doubted it. Some things were unavoidable.
Or, maybe not. Jim was already moving before Rose had even decided to throw the punch. She tried pulling back, redirecting the blow to catch Jim on the downstroke as he spun to his left. But the thin incubus predicted her reversal as clearly as the original blow. He bobbed under her fist, rolled right, and ended up behind Rose.
She found herself unexpectedly facing a scalpel-wielding David Lord.
The blade flashed.
Rose might have dodged it except Jim, anticipating her move, shoved her in precisely the right spot to throw off her balance, thereby keeping her within Lord’s range.
The scalpel sank into Rose’s upper arm. She grunted at the pain as blood spurted from the wound. This wasn’t the finessed stroke of a roadside surgeon, but the deft slash of a professional killer. Rose knew her peril. She tried to spin, both to get Jim from behind her and to put Lord between her and Melody.
Jim placed a hand to her lower back, applying no more pressure than a gentleman might when leading his beloved in a turn on the dancefloor. And yet that slight touch wrecked Rose’s plans. She staggered sideways, and Lord kicked her feet out from under her.
Rose crashed to the dirt with a painful “Oof!” She tried to roll back to her feet, but Lord pinned her down. He put a knee on her throat while Jim secured her free arm.
Melody handed Lord a syringe, its ampule filled with a clear liquid.
“No!” Rose struggled to rise, drawing enough strength that she felt her bones creak under the pressure.
Lord grunted, struggling to match her strength, even with Melody and Jim’s help. For a brief, hopeful moment, Rose thought she might win free. She kicked and shoved and wiggled her body in the dust, giving her assailants a game fight.
But then the others arrived. Suddenly, a squad of Breathers surrounded Rose. Strong hands seized her, shoving her down, stymying her efforts to slip away.
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