Chelsea nodded. “Alex is already dead, but there are still two others, no doubt at his bunker. Brian and Michael, and both are very powerful. Like me.”
He refrained from rolling his eyes and instead smiled, keeping his voice free of irritation. “But you never went to the bunker. Why? Why’d you run when you did, why’d you betray him?”
“I was sick of taking orders, sick of not being able to use my power when and how I wanted.”
“Sounds like you,” Charlie muttered under his breath.
She looked at him. “And he was working with the lab again.”
His blood froze, and his stomach dropped. Turning, he stared her down. “What did you say?”
“The lab. He’s—”
“What lab?”
“Lab 15. Somewhere in Nevada. A little while back he was talking to Alex about it. Saying the head researcher or whatever contacted him. Asked him for monetary help, like he did with Lab 14.”
The rushing in Charlie’s ears nearly drowned out her voice. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, until his fingers ached. You knew they might start again. You knew this was a possibility. He swallowed hard.
“At first he was furious that they’d even ask,” Chelsea prattled on, picking at the torn knee of her jeans. “But then they offered something he couldn’t refuse in return. So he did. He went on some kind of behind-the-scenes tour, said he wanted to know what he was funding before he agreed to it this time, that he—”
“What was it?” Charlie’s voice was low.
She blinked at him. “What?”
“What did they offer him? What did they give him that was so important he agreed to fund another hell-hole laboratory?”
“Oh. Some kind of medicine.”
“Medicine?”
“Yeah. He has heart disease, and it was getting bad.” Chelsea was watching him now, eyes wide. “They said it could reverse it or at least stop it from getting worse. Vance didn’t believe them at first, considering the last lab couldn’t save his son, but they let him have it for free. I guess it not only made him better, but it...I dunno, caused him to, like, be stronger. Inside.”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“He was poisoned. Alex said the dose should have killed him, but Vance woke up shortly after, completely fine.”
Charlie ground his molars together.
“What is it?” Chelsea touched his arm lightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. This is good. We get to Vance, we wipe out the Synths. All of them.”
“It kind of feels like you only want to use me to get to Vance.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Get her to believe you. Whatever it takes.
Charlie smiled. “I always say that everything happens for a reason. I am meant to kill Evos and the Synths.” Shifting in his seat, he reached out and trailed his fingers down the side of her neck. “And you’re meant to be at my side when I do.”
—-
Emma stared out of the van’s window, watching the world whip by. Trees and houses flung past, in and out of sight before she could even register what she saw.
You should forgive him.
She drew a long breath in and let it out slowly, fogging the glass.
He didn’t do it to hurt you.
Swallowing, she snuck a glance at Isaac.
He loves you.
Looking away, she forced herself to bring up memories of her mother. Of how terrified she had been the night Vance had killed her. Of how much she’d hated the Russian while she grew up, raised by a family under his protection that started to train her in the subtle ways of seducing men to get what she wanted. How she was never able to get away, having threat after threat pummeled into her mind by her adoptive mother and father, fearing most what would happen to her should she run.
And Isaac is his blood.
But...But he got away. He wanted to leave for so long, and I was too afraid to do it back then, back when I was trying my hardest to please the very man I hated and feared. Isaac wanted to disappear. You didn’t once mention you wanted to. It was him. Just because he didn’t tell you he’s related to Vance doesn’t mean he was ever lying about everything else.
Without a word, Emma slid her hand from her lap and reached out, touching the back of Isaac’s wrist. The moment his gaze met hers, a heaviness lifted from her heart. He loves you. She interlaced her fingers with his, lips turning up in a small smile.
He leaned over, eyes wide and apologetic, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I know what he did to you. I couldn’t—”
“I know. I understand.”
Aaron cleared his throat. “How much farther, Duncan?”
There was a chuckle from the driver’s seat. “We only left a few hours ago. Hungry again or something?”
The mind reader glanced at Emma. “Or something,” he said. She glanced away. “Just antsy.”
“I get it.” Duncan flipped on his blinker and merged into the left lane as a sign for Battle Mountain flew by. “Thankfully we’re about halfway through Nevada already. If we keep up the pace, we should be there in no time.”
“He means hours and hours.”
Duncan’s eyes flashed in the rearview mirror. “Aaron, I swear...”
“Hey, man, just turn my power off like you said you would.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I already apologized.”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Mari reached forward and slapped the button on the van’s radio. Static hissed. She twisted the knob until loud music flared, making Emma wince.
“No.” Shawn sat forward next to Isaac. “Please, no. Anything but country.”
Laughing, Mari searched for a new channel. Soon, a voice cut through the white noise. “—for tuning into KWOW.” A heavy pop song started, and everyone groaned.
Mari sat back. “Shawn’s choice.” She winked at him, grinning as she bobbed her head.
“Can I redact my last statement? Please?”
Ignoring the playful banter, Emma turned back to Isaac and kissed his cheek. “I love you. I’m still upset and trying to figure out my emotions, but that hasn’t changed.”
He smiled and rubbed the back of her hand with a thumb. “I can’t lose you. You are the only thing that keeps me sane, keeps me going. And when this is over, when we’re in our own little cabin in the woods, you and I will figure everything out, adopt an octopus and a half-dozen pit bulls, and live happily ever after.”
“Good.” Emma kissed him again. “That can’t come soon enough.”
—-
Jaxon paced the spacious living room dotted with modern furniture and pointless pieces of expensive art. He trailed his left hand along the pristine wall, painted white, its small hard bumps tickling the tips of his fingers. As he neared the edge of Orson’s large, plush, grey couch with yellow throw pillows, a copper scent invaded his nostrils. He paused. It’s going to start to smell.
Glancing down next to a wooden end table, Jaxon scowled at the corpse that lay on the floor. Orson’s good eye was rolled up, with the brown hue of his iris barely visible. Mouth contorted in a yell, with his jaw still slack, Jaxon’s victim seemed to still scream.
Another one bites the dust. Jaxon grinned. Why Chicago, anyway? Why did so many of you flee here after Vance went into hiding? Did you have a safe house here, or were there plans to take over this city as well? He turned from the body and stalked into the kitchen. Who cares? One less Vance employee.
Jaxon reached out and opened the first drawer he neared. It slid open quietly, revealing pens and markers. Moving on, he pulled each one open, finding utensils, bar tools, a junk drawer, a medley of cutting boards. None held what he was looking for.
Come on. There’s got to be -JAXON- a knife around here—
He blinked, hand frozen near a spice rack. Frowning, he stilled his mind and listened.
All he heard was his own breathing and the steady thu
mp of his heartbeat.
With a quick exhale through his nose, he continued his search. Rounding the stainless steel refrigerator revealed another section of counter, brown and gold marble glinting in the bright white of the overhead lights. A large knife block rested close by. Jaxon smiled. After only a few quick steps, he reached out and slowly slid the closest handle away from its holster. A serrated knife. He set it aside with a clatter and selected a large, freshly sharpened butcher knife.
He looked between the two as they rested on the counter, unsure of what to do next. Finally, he picked up both and settled next to the corpse in the living room.
Jaxon sat cross legged, butcher knife on his right, serrated knife on his left, and stared at the man’s face. His tongue? Or his other eye? A shudder shot down his spine, and he trembled on the soft carpet. Can I even do this? He swallowed once, then a second time, harder, and picked up the serrated knife.
A finger? Yes...that would be easier, I think. Or...would I have a harder time -JAXON- getting through the bone?
He frowned. Shook his head. Rubbed his forehead with his free hand.
The serrated knife would help with the bone, true. But I could practice -DON’T- on the eye if I need to.
-JAXON.-
He leapt to his feet, ignorant of the blade that fell to the floor, narrowly missing his toes. “What the fuck?” He breathed heavily, lip set in a sneer. “Who’s there?” He already knew the answer. No one was there. Still, he stalked from room to room, using his mind and eyes together to check corners, peering underneath furniture and whipping open doors until he was satisfied he was alone.
What the fuck’s wrong with me?
Jaxon stepped next to the dead Vance employee and considered the man’s twisted neck. He knelt down in a sudden jolt and grabbed the handle of the serrated knife. Without a second thought, he plunged it into the corpse’s right eye with a squelch.
His stomach churned, and he looked away. You ruined it. Keep your cool. Do this right. Then you can dispose of the body, hang it up for the cops to find, like the last ones. He lowered himself back into a sitting position and, ignoring the seeping eye, pinched the dead man’s tongue between two fingers and yanked. The muscle was stiff with rigor, making his decision to slice it off more difficult.
-Jaxon, DON’T. Don’t do this.-
This time, the knife slipped from his fingers and impaled the carpet, sticking straight up, its handle wobbling side to side. On his feet once more, Jaxon now backpedaled away from the body, his wide eyes fixed on its face.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?”
His back and skull collided with the wall behind him in a painful thud. He instinctively grabbed his head where it had struck, shocked gaze still frozen on Orson’s face. Blinking rapidly, his heart racing, Jaxon called to his wraiths.
One by one, they appeared in quick succession. But he had no orders to give, nothing to send them after. They hovered in the dead man’s home, staring at him. After a moment, he began to feel foolish and stepped away from the wall. Fingers trembling by his side, he shuffled back to the body.
-For fuck’s sake, Jax, listen to me.-
Jaxon let out a short raspy scream and kicked the corpse’s head. It snapped to the side, loose on its broken neck, and came to rest facing away from him.
-It’s not the damn body.-
Adrenaline surged through his body, causing his wraiths to shudder in anticipation.
-It’s your dad. It’s Bruce. I’m fucking stuck in your goddamn body.-
Jaxon froze. Anxiety and fear shot through him, and a bubble of laughter came out of his throat in a harsh bark. He kicked the body again, harder, this time in its side.
-Come on. It’s me. It took me so long to figure out how to talk to you...-
“No!” Jaxon screamed. “Fuck, no! Get out of my head!” He dropped to his knees.
-...and now you’re going to listen, dammit.-
“Stop it! Stop it! Get the fuck away from me!” He picked up the butcher knife and drove it into the corpse’s stomach. A rancid stench accosted Jaxon’s nostrils. “Get away!”
-Okay, I know you’re freaking out. I know this is messed up.-
“Get away!” Jaxon stabbed the body again and again. Tears fell down his cheeks, and his hands ached from gripping the weapon.
-Oh, will you grow UP?-
He paused. Sniffling, he wiped his leaking nose on his sleeve. Snot streaked with light red smeared along the fabric. His wraiths still watched him, trembling in silence. He dismissed them and was at once alone. He let go of the knife and rocked back with a shuddering sigh.
-Oh, good.-
Jaxon’s eyes remained on the corpse before him.
-Are you listening?-
“Y-yes.” His voice sounded muffled, as if his ears were plugged. He clenched his teeth and swallowed, tasting bile.
-You killed me.-
Jaxon groaned and scooted further away from the body.
-You killed me. Your own father. And now I’m stuck with you. Watching you grow into a villain. A monster.-
A sob escaped his throat.
-I raised you better than this.-
He dug his fingers into his hair and yanked. The pain did nothing other than bring fresh tears to his eyes.
-I raised you. And you killed me.-
“I’m sorry,” Jaxon muttered, his head down, molars grinding.
-How could you? I loved you. I loved you so much, Jax.-
“No! I’m sorry! I didn’t...I couldn’t...I said I was sorry!” He slammed his fists on the ground, over and over, pain shooting up his arms.
-I still love you.-
“No! No!” He clawed at the carpet, pulling himself forward.
-Please, son. Please, listen to me.-
“Stop! Get out of my head!”
-God, I wish I could. I’m stuck here with you, Jax. Didn’t Duncan at least tell you about my Evo gift?-
“You’re not real. You’re not real!” He reached the serrated knife.
-I’m real. You killed my body, but not me.-
“No. I’m making this up.” Jaxon picked up the weapon.
-After everything that you’ve been told, that you’ve seen, do you honestly believe that? I’m here, Jax. I’m in your mind. A part of you. I want to help you. Please, let me help you.-
He paused.
-Let me help you.-
“I killed you.” Jaxon’s voice rasped, throat sore from yelling. “You’re gone.” He stared at the body again. “I killed you.” He gripped the knife and yanked the corpse’s tongue from its mouth. “I killed you.” He sliced the tongue, cutting it free after sawing through muscle and veins. The motion and force sent sickening vibrations through his arm.
“I killed you.” Next the blade cut through one finger after another, Jaxon muttering to himself all the while.
“I killed you.” He gouged out Orson’s eye, ignoring the juices that joined the blood on his hands.
Jaxon let out a loud sob and plunged the blade into the dead man’s chest, feeling the weapon grate against bone until it came to rest at its hilt.
“I...”
-Yeah, yeah. I got it. You killed me.-
He yelped and buried his face in his blood-soaked hands, gore sliding along his skin and into his hair.
Chapter Five
The van came to rest, its engine growling. Duncan threw it into park and twisted the key in the ignition, shrouding the group in a heavy silence that made Shawn uncomfortable.
“You’re sure this is the right place?” Mari shifted in the front seat, twisting around to look at Isaac.
“I’m sure,” he replied.
Staring out of the tinted back window, Shawn squinted at the ominous woods that lined the side of the road, breaking only where a one-lane dirt road stretched into its dark depths. “Why isn’t anyone guarding this spot then?”
“Because.” Isaac opened the side door. “That would make it too obvious. Just trust me.”
Mari snorted but exited the vehicle. The rest of the group followed.
“But he’s no doubt got cameras or snipers or something, right?” Shawn squinted into the trees, eyes darting every which way, trying to catch out-of-place shapes or movement.
“There are guards, yes. He never told me if he had cameras, but we don’t have to worry about that, do we?” Isaac smiled at Mari, who shrugged.
“Right, but we need to make sure she has as much strength as possible,” Duncan said. He, too, gazed into the woods.
“Well, I can’t tell you where the guards are. Like I said before, I wasn’t told every single thing. Plus, they could have changed locations by now anyway. We can’t even assume Vance is still here.”
“But we have to try.” Duncan clapped Isaac on the shoulder and looked around at the rest of them. “Now, Mari will freeze time here, but we have to book it. Get to the bunker entrance as fast as we can. Passing the guards this time through will be easy, yes, but depending on how long it takes with Vance inside, she could be nearing the end of her hold. The last thing I need is any or all of us to get shot while trying to get out of here.”
“If we get out of here.” Emma muttered.
“Thanks for the confidence.” Shawn tossed her a wink to lighten the dark mood that had fallen over them the moment she spoke.
“You don’t know Vance. I still think this is a terrifying plan. Even if he agrees to help us, he’s a planner. He loves taking his time to betray people. He could turn on us at any moment.”
“Which is why you’re here.” Mari narrowed her eyes. “To sway him. Keep a hold on him.”
Ignoring her tone, Emma sighed. “I know. Let’s go.” She stepped next to the other woman without a glance, placing a hand on her shoulder. The rest made contact in silence.
Shawn fought the urge to go to Emma, to comfort her. He understood the tension and anger she was going through. He’d experienced similar emotions for years after Bruce had settled them in Redborough. Granted, his frustration had stemmed from the fact that he wanted to use his power, loved it even, but was under strict orders not to. Which in turn caused him to wish he just never had the damn super strength anyway. So in a way he could relate to her resentment, if even only a little. Plus, Mari doesn’t have to continue to be so damn rude to her. We’re all on the same side. He found his thoughts drifting to the night he’d spent with her, wondering if it had been a mistake to give into his confusing emotions, but was interrupted by Mari.
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