Lust

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Her gaze darted to the tanks, then back to Julius. A silver chain holding a locket had fallen loose from his collar when he’d leaned forward. It now dangled heavily against his chest.

  Liza shifted her gaze to Daisy. Her eyes were glued to that locket. Something she’d said came back to Liza.

  He’ll throw away my hair follicle from his locket, and then that will be it.

  He’d been lying to everyone. The Faithful had been promised to be reborn perfect in a world free from sin, but he wasn’t bringing them back. He was turning them into mindless replicates, disposable soldiers for his war. And if he lied about that, then surely he lied to the woman he’d just dubbed as being useless to him.

  The only person he was going to turn into a perfect, powered, and immortal replicate was himself... and whoever was in that locket. He wanted to rule the world as a god. Daisy was a fool if she believed he’d bring her with him.

  A plan started to form in Liza’s head. If she could get to that locket, open it and prove no silver hair was inside, then she could turn Daisy once and for all.

  A renewed sense of purpose energized Liza. She pumped her muscles full of tension and wrenched her hands apart. Multiple cable ties snapped loose. She focused on Julius’s neck.

  The snarl of a wildcat curdled in her throat as she launched, hit, and sent them both tumbling to the cold concrete floor. With lightning-quick reflexes, Liza pilfered the locket, hiding her action with her attack. Someone jerked her away so hard she got whiplash.

  A hit to her face sent black spots into her vision. Daisy backhanded her, again. And again. It wasn’t like a hit from a normal person, Daisy was one of them. She was strong. Contact floored Liza.

  She tried to tell her sister what she’d done, but the gag was still in her mouth. Daisy was furious. If not in her facial expression, in the way she attacked Liza. This man, this cretin of a being, had brainwashed her so thoroughly that she couldn’t see the truth.

  He cared nothing for Daisy.

  “Get her out of here,” Julius barked, wiping a small drop of blood from where he’d been caught on the mouth.

  Daisy gripped Liza’s collar and dragged her single-handedly through the cooler door and back into the main packing room where she dumped her on a long, still conveyer.

  Liza ripped her gag out and shoved the locket at Daisy.

  “Just check it,” she whispered hoarsely. “Check inside.”

  Daisy startled. She frowned down at the locket in her hand.

  Liza urged, “If he’s telling the truth, you’ll find your hair in there, right?”

  Daisy checked over her shoulder to the cooler door.

  “Do it, Daisy. We’re the ones on your team. Not them. We’re your family.”

  To prove it, Liza held her palms up. She wasn’t going to fight.

  It took all of two seconds for Liza’s world to end. Daisy unclipped the locket. Stared. Snapped it shut, and then her eyes turned a shade of violet so dark, they became black. Daisy had lost all hope.

  She shut down.

  Blacked out.

  Because what happened next could only be described as something no sane person would do. Daisy shoved Liza to the ground, lifted her boot, and stomped on Liza’s hands, crushing them.

  Liza screamed in eye-watering agony.

  “Why?” she cried.

  “To stop you from coming after me.” Daisy stuffed the gag back into Liza’s mouth. “You’ll thank me one day.”

  When Daisy straightened, the light had completely left her eyes. Liza had her answer. There had been no silver hair in the locket. Daisy’s hope was extinguished.

  Maybe it had been stupid of Liza to hope that Daisy would see how much she meant to them, that Liza could reach her. But some people can’t be reached.

  All Liza could do was squeeze her eyes shut, embrace the pain, and pray that she wasn’t despairing, because if she was, then Daisy would attack her, not the enemy. And she couldn’t protect herself. When silence answered her prayer, Liza opened her eyes and found the room empty, the cooler door closing with a thunderous click.

  27

  Joe was the first to arrive at the abandoned meat packing plant. He parked his car down the street, filled his pockets with ammunition, and put his Kevlar vest on. He didn’t expect the Deadly Seven to wait for him, so he wasn’t going to wait for them.

  With his gun in hand, he jogged through the darkness to get to the old shrubbery-covered stockyards. Dried weeds crunched underfoot. The entire compound was enormous. Multiple buildings, warehouses, and animal-holding facilities. As he drew near the buildings, he noted a light in the windows and smoke spewing from chimneys. Not abandoned as it should be.

  This is it.

  He found a spot near the fence on the outskirts of the property and hid behind a bush. Fifty feet of weeds separated him from the main buildings. The silhouette of a dormant helicopter looked out of place against the backdrop of the black buildings.

  It was dark. Joe looked up. No stars. No moon. He smelled wet earth as it started to rain. It would get heavier soon, maybe storm. That could be a good thing for him. It could be bad.

  Soldiers swarmed everywhere, black helmeted wraiths patrolling the perimeter with rifles and night-vision goggles. Damn it. If Liza was inside, he’d need an army to get to her.

  He considered calling it in but knew he’d need the okay from the captain or the director for SWAT backup. And even then, he’d need a warrant. The building may be abandoned, but it was still registered to Gareth Smith’s family.

  The cops at the station had wanted to help. He considered the risks. They might find out about Liza’s identity if they came, but they also knew she was one of them. They might turn a blind eye.

  He rolled back to face away from the plant and contemplated the darkness of the field surrounding him. His priority was saving Liza. But he couldn’t do it alone, which meant that if he didn’t call for backup, he’d have to wait for the Lazarus family.

  Minutes ticked by.

  Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed. Giant drops of rain splatted the ground around him as he contemplated, torn. It was bad enough he was breaking the law, but to involve the others?

  He’d give the Deadly crew five more minutes, and then he was calling it in. Briggs and Houlahan would come, regardless of a warrant being issued. He was sure of it.

  Movement in the field caught his eye. He strained to see through the dark. Was it them?

  Two dark figures moved so softly and swiftly that he wasn’t sure if they were there at all. They drew closer, one of them spotted him and broke away from the other.

  Joe tensed, his hand gripping his gun. He lifted it and aimed through the white cloud of his breath. The figure paused, looked up.

  Two eyes glinted in the low light.

  That wasn’t one of the Deadly Seven.

  Black clothing and a cowl covered the head. A dark red face mask covered the nose and mouth. Painted in the middle of the chest was a large crucifix. The figure tiptoed closer. He steadied his aim to prove he was serious.

  The figure, now ten feet away, held up their palms, and then slowly reached for the mask. He narrowed his eyes but allowed it.

  Slowly the mask came down.

  It was a young woman. Freckles across her small nose made her look innocent and like your childhood next-door neighbor playing dress-up. But there was caution in her eyes, and when he looked deeper, a monster that crept in the darkness.

  Alarm skated down his spine.

  “I’m not your enemy,” she said, voice deep and low.

  “Who are you?”

  No longer satisfied with intermittent drops, the rain became a steady light stream, pitter-pattering faster than the beat of Joe’s heart.

  Her lips flattened into a hard line.

  “Friends of the Lazarus family,” she said.

  The tip of his gun lowered on instinct. She became a blur of action. He blinked, the rain poured, and then he was on the ground disarmed with a fo
rearm held against his throat, cutting his air. A forked sai dangled from her hand, perilously close to his face. He hadn’t even seen her draw the weapon. If she wanted him dead, the point would be in his throat, and his next of kin would be getting a visit from a uniformed officer.

  He held his palms up in surrender. She eased the pressure.

  “You’re no friend,” he accused.

  A slight curve tilted her lips. “They just don’t know it yet.”

  And then she was gone.

  Fuck.

  He scrambled around for his gun. Found it. Got to his knees and scoured his surroundings, blinking through the downpour. Gone. The ninja with the crucifix and red face mask was gone.

  Jesus Christ. What the hell was going on?

  He pulled out his cell, intending to call the number he’d taken from Lilo, but before he’d had a chance to dial, the phone was knocked from his hand. Twisting around, he lifted his gun, then lowered it.

  One of the Seven loomed over him, virtually twice the size of the ninja, in a Deadly suit, but not the same one they’d worn before. This looked like beaten up leather. Strapped to his chest was a weapon’s brace. A sword hilt and the handles of some other stick weapon peeked over his broad, muscular shoulders. Not Sloan, then. Purple face mask. From the scowl of disapproval in his eyes, Joe guessed it was Parker.

  “Are you insane?” Voice modification failed to hide the note of derision in his tone. “The light from your cell marked your position. You’re lucky it was me.”

  Fuck off danced on Joe’s tongue, but there was no time for tempers.

  “A woman in a ninja outfit,” he said, pointing to the plant. “There was a crucifix on the front of her clothes.”

  Parker cursed loudly. “Sinner. They’re here.” He whipped his gaze back to Joe. “You see any more of us, warn them the Hildegard Sisterhood is here.”

  “She said she was—”

  Parker ran off.

  “—your friend,” he finished to the air.

  Goddammit.

  These assholes had no idea how to work as a cohesive unit. Communication was key, yet they all worked on their own prerogative. They would fail if they couldn’t trust each other.

  If two had already gone, the chances he’d get through unseen were getting better by the second. Joe trusted the guards had been taken out. He wasn’t waiting anymore.

  He jogged closer to the plant. Halfway to the outbuildings, he heard a sound he’d never forget. Liza’s blood-curdling scream.

  Joe ran.

  Gunshots started firing. Pop. Pop. Pop.

  He kept running. Only a few more feet to the safety of the buildings.

  The roar of a motorcycle grew louder behind him. His heart leaped into his throat. He was surrounded. The silhouette of a soldier above the warehouse spotted him. Raised his rifle. And fired.

  Crack!

  Joe shut his eyes. Nothing. He should be dead. In pain. He patted down his front, wet from the rain, and frowned. Even with kevlar, he’d feel the hit. The motorcycle roared past. Joe glimpsed two dark-clad riders, the one at the rear stared intensely at Joe, his hand out and making a fist. Blue face mask. Joe looked back to his front with a gasp, hardly able to believe his own eyes. Suspended before his face, catching drops of rain, was a spinning bullet halted by an unseen force—Greed.

  The bullet dropped impotently to the dirt. Holy shit.

  The bike sped toward the plant. Another engine roared in the distance, perhaps on the other side. Above the warehouse, beneath the light of a cloud-covered moon, two figures encroached upon the soldier who’d fired at Joe. They dispatched the guard together and then faced each other, both in an attack-ready stance. One big Deadly Seven warrior, and one smaller Sinner. They launched at each other. The chink of clashing metal echoed across the night.

  They weren’t his problem. Joe ducked and dashed for the warehouse where he’d heard Liza’s scream.

  28

  The agony in Liza’s hands radiated through her body. Why, Daisy? She rolled into a fetal position, cradling her hands. Her tormented head spun, but she’d handled pain before. They’d trained by smashing shins and knuckles into hardwood trees. They’d hung suspended from nooses to toughen their necks. They’d smashed their hands against stone walls to condition for pain.

  She blinked with understanding.

  Her hands were tougher than her mind led her to believe. Taking a breath through her nose, she steeled herself and forced her fingers to uncurl, wincing at the scraping of agony radiating up her arms. Her fingers had moved. Good. They weren’t broken. The kevlar-type fabric of the gloves perhaps had saved her. Pushing the tip of her tongue against the gag, she used her damaged fingers to tug it out, gasping with relief when the mask tumbled to the ground.

  Another few calming breaths and she used her teeth to tug the fingertips of her gloves, inching them off until her hands were bare. She held her trembling fingers before her face. They were red, sore, but in one piece. Already tingling as they healed.

  A single gunshot fired outside. Something had a guard spooked. Probably her family. If they were here, then shit was about to get messy. Multiple gunshots went off behind the cooler door, and then it went silent. What was Daisy thinking? Whose side was she on?

  If there were gunshots in there, Daisy had attacked.

  Sounds of battle increased. She was running out of time. Her only weapons were the shuriken still attached to her belt, but she had no hand power to remove them by force. She’d have to use other parts of her body then, feet, head, elbows. Poison.

  Liza jogged to the refrigerator door but heard wails coming from deeper in the plant. People were injured.

  “Liza.”

  She turned, eyes wide. Joe darted in and out of machinery to get to her. Dressed in tactical attire, he had his firearm at the ready, and eyes stuck on her. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Goddammit. It’s dangerous.”

  “Don’t fucking ask me to leave,” he replied.

  She ground her teeth, part furious that he’d risked himself, part ecstatic that he loved her enough to find her. She kissed him quickly, but then pulled back with a wince.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Daisy crushed my hands.” She held them up. “But I’m good.”

  Crashes, bangs, and gunfire reverberated through the building.

  “Your family is here,” Joe explained.

  Liza looked at the cooler door. Whether Daisy was on their side, or she’d escaped, Liza had to take care of the replicate tanks. And Julius. That fucker won’t see her coming.

  She moved. Joe followed, but she stopped him.

  “I’m coming with you,” he insisted.

  She pointed toward the other room where she’d heard the pained groans. “Remember those sketches of pregnant women and people in pain? I need you to check in there.”

  His brows lifted. “You want me to go through the room with meat hooks dangling body bags?”

  “Yes. I’m going to the cooler. There are replicate tanks in there. And Julius with armed guards. Please, Joe. Save the people.”

  “You’re hurt.”

  She forced herself to flex her fingers and kept the wince from her eyes. “I’m good.”

  He gave one last lingering look and then dashed away. Her love for him rushed to the surface as she watched him go. He was a good man. Whatever happened next, she was happy that she’d had the chance to love him.

  Hardening her resolve, she shouldered the cooler door open. What she found made her stomach revolt. The replicate tanks had burst. Water, slime, and bodies were on the floor. Some replicates twitched and convulsed. Some were still. Some climbed onto all fours, testing the mobility of their limbs, about to get up.

  Liza scanned the room and found two dead soldiers by the door, each bleeding from a throat wound, their rifles two feet away from them.

  Standing in the middle of it all was Daisy with a knife to J
ulius’s throat. She hadn’t blacked out as Liza had thought. No, she was in her right mind as she threatened the man who’d ruined her life.

  His touch-screen device blinked in his hand, as though he’d activated something—the release of the replicates. The scientist was gone, and the back door was open.

  Julius stood stoically, calmly, and hadn’t flinched when Liza had entered. As far as those two were concerned, no one else existed.

  “If you kill me, it won’t change a thing,” Julius snarled at Daisy.

  “I won’t kill you, just your precious family.” Daisy held up the locket.

  Julius’s hand went to his throat, realized it had been removed, and then glared at Daisy. With one hand still holding the knife to his throat, she thumbed open the locket with the other. Julius jerked, attempting to escape, but he nicked his neck and stilled. He eyed the locket as though there was still hope. Two strands of hair poked out from the metal rim. Daisy’s nostrils flared, and then she tipped her head back and swallowed the strands, never once shifting her raging eyes from their father.

  “You fucking bitch,” Julius growled, but she held the knife firm.

  “I’m not a bitch. I’m the killer you made me.”

  His face contorted with rage. “I’ll kill you for this. I’ll make you suffer.”

  Desperation was a wonderful thing. It could turn men into gods, if only for a minute. Julius somehow twisted in Daisy’s grip, used his device to block her slice at his neck, and attacked his eldest daughter. Her knife glanced off the hard, robust screen.

  A slurping sound stole Liza’s attention. Two replicates were now standing, testing and flexing their muscles. Ignoring the battle, Liza crept toward the discarded rifles on the floor.

  “You kill me,” Julius snarled, “and others will come. You know the data exists around the world in labs just like these. I’m the only thing holding the Syndicate at bay. If it were up to them, the war would have started years ago. You know I kept you safe from them.”