by JL Terra
Maybe these people knew what it was.
Ben walked the carpeted hall. Past vases. Paintings. They had money, and the wealth had aged with no one to attend to the details. Everyone focused on the task at hand.
Two men rounded the corner at the end of the hall.
Semi-automatics opened up. Bullets punctured his body then expelled out his back.
“Idiot!” one yelled. “The Teacher wants him alive.”
“I’m not letting him kill me!”
Ben grunted. The fire in his chest flared to life. He locked his knees. Felt every bit of jacketed lead travel through him. His shoulder. His hip. He kept walking toward them, energized by the fire.
One backed up. Eyes wide. His finger stilled on the trigger. “His eyes.”
His friend yelled and took off down the hall.
Ben grabbed the gun from the wide-eyed man and fired at the deserter. He hit the floor. Ben swung the gun around and slammed the first man’s temple. He grunted and fell. Ben fired point-blank into his forehead, dropped the gun, and continued on.
Stepped over the deserter’s body. Found an office. He paused for a second then moved to the window at the end of the hall. Outside three other suited men shoved a smaller, rodent-looking man into a Town Car.
It sped away into the night. The rain. Too cloudy to see stars.
Ben doubled back to the office. Had they left anything that would tell him who they were? Who he was? What he was. What he’d been since the summer Roger had forced him to read those words.
He grabbed the edge of an ornate cherry wood desk and fought back nausea. He squeezed his eyes shut. A blank face. No features.
Then his eyes.
His hair.
His face.
He stumbled to the chair and sank down into it. Scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his eyes, hot and gritty. Charlota had called that creature, and so had he. Watched it morph into his features.
And it had killed Taya’s father.
He knew that truth with the same certainty that he knew that it didn’t look like teenage Ben anymore. It still had his appearance, but it had aged as he had. It looked like him now.
Was that how these people had known who to come after? How long had they been hunting it? Charlota knew it was evil. She’d felt that when she looked into the eyes staring back at her. The creature had been her exact copy. Ben had lived that moment, and now he felt the same bent inside himself. It lived in him. Colored his thoughts. His actions. Had it brought him here, to this point?
For years he’d walked this path, never knowing that thing was part of him. The mark on his chest connected them. Poisoned him from the inside out, even while healing him. The bullet holes had closed up. His shirt was now covered with blood-edged rips.
The disease had spread too far to cut it out. Even if he wanted to. Or could.
He sighed, audible in the empty room. He could sit here forever, and no one would find him. At least, that was how it felt.
The desk was bare except for a black-screened monitor. A wall safe to his right hung open. They’d cleared out in a hurry. Too scared to do more than leave behind a couple of soldiers in an attempt to bring him down while the man in charge fled. His brain swam with images. More soldiers. Screams. Retreat.
Maybe it really was an infection. Maybe the evil was him, his own nature making it that way.
They were scared of it. Scared enough that though they had bested Ben Mason in an underground parking lot, they ran now.
Not scared of Ben. Scared of what he was.
This thing was him, and he was it, until he didn’t know which was which. It fed him and sucked life from him. Healed and destroyed him. The perfect symbiosis. Life and death, so closely intertwined that they looked the same. Separation and intimacy. Together and alone. Family he could never have. Love he would never know. Nothing but solitude. With this constant…presence inside him that would not let him go.
The phone on the desk beckoned him.
He didn’t pick it up.
Ben opened drawers, found rubber bands and pen refills. Sticky notes. Under the stack of stationery supplies was an envelope. He pulled it out. Slid the contents onto the desk.
Divorce papers.
Josephine Hines no longer wished to remain married to William Hines. The names meant nothing to him, but he laid the paper on the desk for whoever came here after him.
A woman stepped into the room. The gun in her hand trembled. “I will shoot you.”
He doubted she could hit him.
Ben leaned back in the chair. His body was so heavy. Her doing. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you.”
It was the woman he’d shaken downstairs. Shapeless legs. Skirt and blouse. Her hair had escaped the clip and now hung wild around her face. She narrowed her eyes in an effort to prove she was unafraid of him. To convince herself, or him? “I know what you are. You killed my mother.”
“I—”
He would have said that wasn’t him. Then Ben had a brief flash of memory. A redheaded woman, long curls that whispered against the skin on his arms. Strands that slid across his hand as she fell. He had seen her.
Or the thing he was had.
“I know you did,” she said. “I was there, but you didn’t see me.”
Ben frowned. “Why would it kill her?”
“I don’t know! She wasn’t a threat.”
“She had to have been, or he wouldn’t have done it.” Ben realized he was talking about Roger, not whatever that thing was. Pain split his head open. Ben rubbed at his eyes. Roger was the one who had control of it. “Why order her killed if she posed no threat?”
And now the nurse was dead. Brian Pilsner. Anton Lauer. He’d seen the moment each of them breathed their last. But the thing hadn’t torn them apart. Ben had done that to those two men following him.
“She’s dead, by your hand.”
He had to be done with this. “Which leaves us…where?”
“I’m going to shoot you.”
“It’s not going to help, woman. You won’t destroy it. You won’t even kill me.” He paused. “I don’t even know what it is.”
“You don’t?”
“Maybe you could…enlighten me. Ms…”
“I’m not going to help you. And my name is Elaine.” Her face flushed red. “You’re connected to it. If I kill you…maybe it will hurt it. Hopefully kill it.”
“The operative word being, ‘if.’ Considering we don’t even know you can do it.” The peace of death would be welcome at this point. Probably cold, but he’d felt this heat in his chest for so long he wanted to be rid of it.
“I can do it! I will!” She was desperate now. Crying.
Ben stood. “I’m sorry he wanted your mother dead. He hurt me as well. Put this thing inside—”
“I don’t care about you!” Her gaze moved at a frantic pace across his shirt, left tattered from the last volley of bullets. “I’m not going to be able to kill you, am I?”
“You had a better chance while I was drugged. Yet you questioned me, because you needed answers. For what?”
“The Teacher’s plan is not for us to know. Only to trust.”
“So you have no idea.” He sighed. Walked closer to her.
“Stop!” She wailed the word, desperate now. “Don’t come any nearer!”
The banked heat inside him flickered to life. Ben felt it curl outward, infusing his limbs with strength. An offer of help? He didn’t need that thing to get out of here. I don’t need you. Even though he doubted he could converse with the creature, he needed to take that stand anyway.
One woman with a gun? Ben nearly laughed.
She lifted her free hand and held the weapon tighter. Pulled the trigger, surprising both of them.
The bullet hit his left eye, tore through gray matter and exited the back of his head.
Ben fell to one knee.
She screamed. Her footsteps scrambled away as he tried to breathe through the lump in h
is throat. Thump. Thump. His heart kept up its steady pace as blood poured from the wound. Magma burst through him. His head swam, roiled. Boiling. Bubbling from one side of his skull to the other. Tissue grew back. The scorching heat flowed between shattered pieces of bone like liquid cement, sealing cracks and bonding it all back together.
He blinked his one eye. Swirls on the rug swam before him. He reached up. Felt the hole. Vomited against the nothing in his stomach until his throat dried. Under his fingertips, the heat moved. It kept coming, relentless until his own skin was too hot to touch.
Ben hung his head until his thoughts flowed again. Until synapses fired once more, and he could blink a repaired lid. Until he could see with two eyes. Lift his head.
She had done it. She’d actually shot him.
He could chase her down. Repay the favor. The answering flare of heat drove him to the floor. Maybe it could understand him. Ben fought the blackness. Charlota had thought to control it. The Germans had tried to find it. Roger had tried to master it.
Now Ben was left to face the consequences. Hated. Feared. He climbed to his feet. Let her go. That woman meant nothing to him. Staying here was pointless. He needed… What?
His brothers? They wouldn’t understand.
Daire? He couldn’t face his friend.
Mei?
Taya?
Ben turned to the phone. He dialed an emergency number for Remy. Maybe she wouldn’t even get the message. It was a long shot.
On the other end, the phone rang.
Ben laid the handset down on the desk and walked out of the room. He searched the bodies, pocketing cash. Stuck a nine-mil Glock in the back of his jeans, an extra clip in his pocket. He still didn’t know who these people were, but the woman had been impacted by Roger’s actions just as much as Ben had. If he wanted to know how to get rid of this thing inside him, he’d have to try and figure out a way to…sever the connection between it and Ben. If that was even possible.
No one could help him. Not when he knew the truth. They wouldn’t even understand. Ben was on his own now, and that was the way it should have been all along. He’d known. That had to be why he kept everyone at arm’s length. He’d known he was evil. They would only get infected by what was inside him.
The unconscious preservation of what he held dear. It was the only good thing in this whole mess. And Ben was going to make sure they stayed that way.
Even if destroying himself—and it was the only way to keep them safe.
Chapter 25
Spencer, WV. Thursday. 07:26 EDT
Daire let her drive. With Mei, it was…okay, not safer. The woman was a tornado on the road. Like, no road markings, no speed limit, foreign country crazy. Not that he would tell her. Ever. He preferred his internal organs to remain where God had placed them. Daire squeezed his hands into fists—hidden by the fact he’d crossed his arms. He would not grab the handle at the top of the door. She would crash just to make a point that he’d be fine.
She pulled up outside the house. “There. Nothing to it.”
He shot her a look, and she grinned. Though she was considerably younger than him, she also looked way younger than she actually was. He looked like he was headed for forty himself, which was so far from the truth it was in another stratosphere.
Daire ran his hands through his hair and adjusted his glasses.
“Your nerd persona is fully in place.”
He wasn’t going to touch that. “Mulder and Scully never drove a Suburban.”
“That was the nineties. Or so I’m told.” Mei grinned. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, where federal agents drive respectable vehicles. Not compacts.”
She had no idea. Daire climbed out of the car and whistled. The house was huge. This was where Ben had been taken?
Mei shut the driver’s door and shoved the FBI badge on the belt of her pants. It was a gamble as to whether she could pull off the “uptight fed” persona Remy had made. Mei could never pass for normal. The woman usually had two guns and three knives on her at any given time. She was lethal, meted out justice with a swift coldness that scared even him, and made the best Kung Pao chicken he’d ever tasted. She was quite the package.
And if she ever found out how he felt, she would probably cut him. Walk away while his guts spilled into his hands. Not the first time he’d gotten that response from a woman. And also not something he wanted to relive.
They needed access to the house if they had any hope of finding Ben. They had to find Ben. It wasn’t his friend that Daire was worried about. It was the people Ben came across—people who would be in danger. Posing as FBI was their best bet at full access with a limited amount of questions.
A woman had called the cops late last night from this residence. Claimed a blonde man had broken in and killed her hired security before he stole important papers and then ran off. A sloppy crime if you asked him. No one had. The police didn’t even know what they were getting themselves into.
“Ready?”
Mei strode forward, and it occurred to him that there was a lot to her he didn’t know. He wasn’t sure she would ever share it with him. Some people didn’t want to go over their past and “get to know” you. They just wanted to be who they were today, now. Live in the moment.
Fine with him.
Daire flashed his own fabricated badge at the officer. “Special Agent Tang and Special Agent Holmes from D.C.”
The officer noted their names on his log and ushered them through. “CSU is here, processing the bodies. The detectives are with the woman.” He blew out a breath, looking a little green around the edges.
“A bad one?”
“I’ve never seen—” The officer swallowed. “First time.”
“Ah.” Daire clapped him on the shoulder. “First one’s always the worst.”
“The detectives said it was execution style.”
Daire nodded. “A professional. Thanks. We’ll take that into consideration.”
“Sure,” the officer said. “No problem.”
They strode down the gravel drive to the wide steps. The steps were flanked by stone lions and led up to a wide front porch. The double doors of the entrance to this mansion were both open. Inside smelled like furniture polish and old money. Basically the same thing. Daire smoothed down his tie and glanced around.
“Why do you seem like you fit in a place like this?”
He looked at Mei. “You think I’d live in a mansion?”
She studied him. Shrugged. “Forget it.”
Daire watched as she strode toward a sitting area. Two suited men sat on arm chairs, a round woman in boring clothes on the couch. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks red. The balled up tissue in her hand needed to have been thrown away and replaced with a clean one some time ago.
Daire pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her with a polite smile. “It’s clean.”
“Oh.” She took it from him. Blinked. “Thank you.”
He crouched in front of her. “I’m Special Agent Holmes with the FBI. I’d like to speak to you about what happened, if that’s okay?”
The detective on the chair to his right sputtered. “Now look here—”
Daire glanced at him, all trace of politeness gone. “We have questions this woman can answer. Ones that have nothing to do with your investigation.”
“Then wait until we’re done here.”
Daire held out his hand to the woman. She took it, and he helped her stand. Turned to the detective. “You’re done here.”
The detective continued to sputter while Daire led the woman from the room. Mei’s gaze caught his, a smile in her eyes.
He patted the woman’s arm. “Is there a kitchen anywhere around here? Perhaps I could make you a cup of tea.” He smiled at the witness. “This certainly doesn’t have to be unpleasant. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
She smiled. “I’m Elaine Alterman. Doctor Elaine Alterman, actually.”
Mei snorted under her breath. Daire returne
d Elaine’s smile and said, “It’s so nice to meet you, Elaine.”
She stroked his arm with her fingertips. “I would love a cup of tea. The kitchen is just through here.” A slight frown marred her attempt at flirting with him.
Daire had always advocated that you caught more flies with a sweet-smelling fly trap. Not to mention keeping a woman happy meant a whole lot less hassle. Mei followed along the hall behind them, her lips pressed into a flat line. Worried about Ben?
The kitchen looked like it belonged in a restaurant except for the fact it was quiet. Daire parked the doctor at a stool and found his way to the mugs and the tea bags, along with a real electric kettle. Few people—few Americans at least—appreciated tea made with water that had actually been boiled recently.
“Mint, or…lemon ginger it looks like.”
Elaine said, “Mint, please.”
He flipped the button on the kettle and turned back to the two women. Night and day. Daire had come to the conclusion a long time ago that everyone was attractive to somebody. It was only necessary to find the right person. He never wrote anyone off for the way they looked. Still, Mei’s features were striking. He’d seen her in fatigues, boots, and a helmet. In a form-hugging dress with her hair in curls. She was beautiful in a way that arrested him, and he had to struggle to form words.
One of Mei’s eyebrows lifted. Daire ignored it and set his forearms on the counter across from the woman who might have seen Ben last. “It was a rough night for you, I’d imagine.”
Elaine sniffed back tears and nodded. Her lip actually trembled. “He was…” She shuddered.
Daire glanced at Mei. This woman had seen Ben.
“I was so scared.” Elaine dabbed at her pert nose with his handkerchief. “He hurt me. I tried to stop him…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sure you did everything you could.” He patted her hand.