Society was crumbling around them. Every day crime worsened and women feared to walk in their neighborhoods alone for fear of assault. How could they establish a female leader to unite the world when sin was tearing it down?
Then Mary’s visions had alerted the Sisterhood to the science experiment within the walls of Biolum Industries. The Vatican, government defense contractors, and unnamed silent partners bankrolled the joint venture, and the Sisterhood made it their business to volunteer nuns to raise the test-tube children who were created to fight sin with sin.
Two scenarios had played out in Mary’s prophecies. One where the children were molded into being the world’s saviors, and one where they were its destruction. Mary was the Sisterhood’s failsafe. If they couldn’t influence the children, then… no one would.
Today, for the first time in two years, Mary had doubts.
Suddenly, sharp needles stabbed behind her eyes. Panic gripped her heart and squeezed. Not now. Not here. Oh please, Lord. Not now. The warning of pain gave her just enough time to slam the emergency stop button on the elevator.
She spun to Flint, agony making her woozy. “Don’t call anyone. Please. I just need a moment.”
“Mary?” He held his hand out to her.
“Promise. You won’t…” The words died on her lips as she reached for him and darkness swallowed her whole.
Three
The elevator jerked to a halt and Sister Mary Margaret collapsed.
Holy shit. Holy goddamned shit. Flint raced to catch her, but she slipped through his arms and they both tumbled to the floor.
She was out.
He slipped his palm beneath her head and lifted it from the hard floor onto his lap.
He swallowed. “Sister, are you okay?”
Not a murmur. Only soft, shallow breathing.
He touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.
Soft. Hot. Was it hot? He didn’t know.
Shit. Not good.
Crackles came through the speaker on the instrument panel, and then a male voice spoke. “Everything okay in there?”
Flint weighed a response in his mind. She said not to call anyone. That she just needed a moment. His mind whirled, caught between the desire to honor her wishes, and the urge to protect her. But… a nun telling him not to call anyone. It didn’t feel quite right. Maybe she was having a stroke, or an aneurism, and it confused her. Or maybe she was diabetic. He had that pudding in his bag. He was going to give it to her anyway, may as well do it now.
It could also be an epileptic fit; the silent kind.
He’d heard sometimes epileptics didn’t like a fuss. They knew they’d be okay in a few minutes and hated the paramedics coming. Epilepsy. That must be what it was. Surely.
Thinking back, though, she didn’t look confused when she’d begged him with those big round eyes. Please, she’d said, all sass and wickedness gone. His chest constricted.
“Hello?” came the voice on the speaker, this time with more urgency. “Please respond.” Then, when he didn’t reply: “Press the red button on the panel to speak. Hello? I can see you. I know you’re there.”
Flint glanced up and noted the camera in the corner.
Mary murmured at that point, a crease etched between her brows. Maybe she’d be okay. He would keep her head from touching the ground. The tension in his shoulders eased a little more when she sighed, and it was a glorious sight. The color returned to her cheeks. She squirmed in a way that made him think of things he shouldn’t be thinking. And she was on his lap. And he was going to hell.
“If you don’t respond, we will send a technician down and pry the doors open.”
Flint didn’t answer.
Sister Mary’s eyes popped open and air wheezed into her lungs.
“My goodness,” she croaked. “I have to tell them. I have to warn them.”
“Tell who?” Flint asked.
“It’s happening.”
“What’s happening? Sister, are you okay?” Maybe she’d hit her head.
Her black pupils dilated and contracted as she focused on his face and then noticed him. Her hands fluttered to where his hands cradled her head. “Flint.”
She said his name. Jeez he liked that.
“Are you okay? You kind of… fainted.”
“Did anyone see? Have you told anyone?”
“No, I haven’t… unless”—he glanced up at the roof—“the camera saw, but they can’t hear.”
“Shoot.” She followed his glance up to the camera. “Shoot, shoot, shoot.”
She rolled off him and snapped to her feet in a well-balanced move that confounded him. A minute ago, she was fainted on the floor, now she was the picture of perfect health. Better, in fact. She appeared determined, strong, and ready.
“Is there a problem with the cameras?” he asked.
Sister Mary’s focus narrowed on him.
“Look,” Flint continued, “I won’t say anything. You can trust me, Sister. You once told me that you were given up by your parents. That you were an orphan. I know trust must be hard to come by, but I’m telling you the truth. I won’t say anything.”
She frowned. “When did I say that?”
“A few months ago, during one of our coffee breaks, I was telling you how my mother was giving me a hard time about—I can’t even remember—but you said the fact that she wants me in her life is a good start and you mentioned you weren’t wanted by yours. Are you embarrassed about having epilepsy?”
“Yes. That’s it. Epilepsy. It’s a condition Biolum Industries won’t look favorably on, and—”
Flint held up his hand. “Say no more. I got your back.”
“You have my back?”
“Yeah sure, I mean, I won’t tell anyone and… if you want, I could”—he leaned in to whisper—“wipe the camera footage so no one knows.”
“You can do that?” Her tone sounded like no one had ever done something nice for her before.
“Yeah, sure, give me a computer and a screwdriver and I can do almost anything.”
A broad grin split her face, transforming her features into pure perfection. She let out a sigh of relief and then hit the emergency button on the wall with her fist. “Great. I would really appreciate that, thank you.”
Flint nodded, but his mind caught on the way she’d punched that button. Confident, well aimed… she wasn’t even looking. Maybe this was why he allowed himself to feel the way he did when around her; she acted nothing like a nun. But, then again, he knew jack about them and he was probably projecting what he wanted to believe. He had to stop torturing himself.
As the elevator arrived at the top level of the building, the Sister turned to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. She tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, lingering longer than socially acceptable. Electricity zinged from her lips down to curl his toes.
“Thank you, Flint. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She blushed. “Maybe you were right about us. Just a little.”
The door pinged open, and she left.
Well, shit. That was definitely not imagined. That was flirt.
He held the door open. “So… coffee at ten?”
She sent a cryptic smile over her shoulder.
“So, that’s a yes?” he asked.
Sister Mary Margaret kept walking toward reception.
Flint stood there, frozen, until the elevator doors started closing again. Remembering the camera and his promise, he raced toward his work area, whizzing past reception without another thought. He didn’t stop by Barry’s lab bench where body parts and weird animals grew in large glass cylinders, and he raced past the genetics lab full of test tubes and Petri dishes. Finally, he pushed into the workshop area where drills whirred and soldering irons sizzled, leaving an acrid fragrance in the air. His workstation was the furthest from the entrance. Nothing behind him but the window and a devastating drop to the city floor below. Perfect.
It wasn’t until he placed h
is satchel bag on his work desk that he wondered, why the fuck would a nun be afraid of someone discovering her epileptic fit?
Four
Mary calmly walked past reception where Lizzy smiled widely from her desk. Brown haired and impeccably presented, Lizzy had a mind like a vice. Her smile may have seemed innocent enough, but she was the Project’s first gatekeeper. If she didn’t recognize a face, a silent alarm would be tripped, and security personnel would sweep into the room to remove the threat for further questioning.
Mary nodded at Lizzy and continued down the east corridor to the Project room. When she was out of sight, she stopped and leaned against the cold wall. The temperature anchored her and gave her a moment to gather her senses. What had happened in the lift with Flint… Her eyes closed and she inhaled, attempting to wash the feel of him away. It wasn’t the brazen flirting, or the physical crossing of the line—that run of their joined hands down his front—it was the way he’d instantly rallied to her aid.
I got your back.
She was ashamed she’d flirted with him, but she needed that footage erased. Better one person be suspicious of her than many. Especially now. Flint was tangled in this as much as she was, she’d seen it in her recent vision.
Mary exhaled slowly. To remind herself of her mission, she went to retrieve her latest coded letter from the Sisterhood, but found it missing from her pocket. Only the pebble she’d picked up on her morning walk was there. Sweat prickled her scalp.
Was it a sign?
A missing communication from the Sisterhood, but the presence of a gift she intended for Flint.
The letter had given her the green light to extract the children, and failing that, eliminate them. The thought left her hollow inside, but the burden was her purpose and she alone had trained for it. Sacrifice a few lives to save billions. The future she’d envisioned if they turned bad gave her night terrors. But if there was a chance they could be good…
For the first time in years, Mary doubted her orders. Didn’t everyone deserve a chance to come back from evil?
Flint didn’t seem the type of man who would condone the Sisterhood’s mission. He didn’t even know the kids existed. He probably thought he was working for some great humanitarian project like most other employees. During their coffee breaks, he’d always gone on about how good it felt to be doing something right for the world. He’d be devastated if he knew the truth—that they were building human weapons of mass destruction.
With a start, Mary realized she cared what Flint thought of her, and she never cared what anyone thought.
She shook her head. Two years caring for children had made her soft. It didn’t matter if the letter went missing. It wasn’t a sign her plan was doomed. It was a simple mistake. Now wasn’t the time to have second thoughts.
Mary continued down the hall and around the corner to a second corridor. This one ended with a heavily guarded door. Like the men in the lobby downstairs, these wore protective clothing. Unlike the men downstairs, these carried assault rifles and tracked her arrival until she flashed her ID in their faces.
“Morning, boys.”
“Morning, Sister.”
“Another quiet day at the office?”
They smirked.
“Another quiet day in—say, what was it you did in there again?” The dark-skinned man who spoke had “M.Redmond” on his name badge. Redmond was brown-skinned, in his forties, and muscled like a bodybuilder.
“Nice try,” Mary replied. “You know I’ve signed an NDA.”
“We have ways of making you spill your secrets,” teased the tattooed one with his sleeves rolled up. His name badge said “J.Preedy.” Preedy looked to be mid-thirties, had short dark hair, and a scar gouging his cheekbone. That kind of marking only came from stupidity, or ruthlessness. She placed her bets on the latter.
“I’d like to see you try,” she countered.
The men laughed, but Mary didn’t because she knew she could take them despite their military training.
“Good answer,” Redmond said.
Mary’s gaze flicked to his tattoo, same as Preedy’s. “That’s from the Marines, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Means always loyal.”
“This is a far cry from a war zone. So who are you loyal to now?”
“Whoever is writing the check.”
Mary smiled. Good. Perhaps they could be bribed if necessary. If not, she’d been graced with ten years hard training in the Art of Warfare around the world, including a stint with the Marines. There wasn’t a person alive she couldn’t take down.
Being the Sisterhood’s Sinner would do that to you.
The past two years spent at Biolum Industries weren’t her first in the field. Before that, she’d been deployed by the Sisterhood around the world, silently infiltrating male dominated government departments and powerful households. Each time she’d successfully manipulated her way inside, pretending to be someone she was not. Sometimes a nun, sometimes a seductress, but always lethal.
Satisfied with her ID, Redmond stepped aside and indicated to the retinal scanner embedded in the wall. Mary held her eyes to the plate. In seconds, the solid white door clicked open, revealing the distant sound of a crying baby. Her insides clenched. The child must be distressed if Mary could hear her wail through the solid double paned plate-glass that separated the children from the lab.
When Mary stepped into the lab, she took a moment to assess. Two scientists sat making notes on computers and testing samples of bio-hazardous material collected from the children. Beyond the two-way mirror were the living quarters of seven children, soon to be eight. Beds, cots, play mats, tables, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and an electronic doorway to a tiny rooftop garden with high walls to block the view of the city below. In the middle of the quarters, Sister Magdalene bounced a red-faced and tearful one-year-old in her arms.
“Good. You’re here,” Mary said to Gloria as she studied a microscope.
Gloria didn’t lift her head, but the second scientist Mao, faced Mary and put his finger to his lips in a “shush” sign.
It was common knowledge not to interrupt Gloria deep in process. The genius genetic-engineer had her quirks, that was for sure. The company pandered to every one of them because the success of the Project depended on what was in her head. And if someone triggered a meltdown by not respecting her process, what was in her head stayed in her head.
There was no time for waiting.
Mary cleared her throat then hummed a tune familiar to Gloria. It was a trigger they’d both agreed on if ever Mary had to disrupt the status quo and change the plan. Within seconds, Gloria lifted her gaze from her scope and locked eyes onto Mary.
A classically beautiful woman, Gloria had long, dark lustrous hair like Mary’s own, but the similarities ended there. Gloria’s hair was wavy and pulled back in a disregarded top knot. She was a pale, blue-eyed delicate wildflower where Mary was an olive skinned, dark-eyed piece of machinery programed for one lethal purpose—to enforce the Sisterhood’s mission. Gloria was also thirty-eight weeks pregnant and wore a white lab coat that barely covered her bulging belly.
“Julius is coming,” Gloria said to Mary, her voice a thin wisp.
The notable glimmer in her eyes would become a doting sparkle when the director arrived later. Mary was sure this infatuation was the reason the clever woman put away her moral compass to become the breeding mare for the Project. Where this project was concerned, many people ignored morality, including the Vatican. In fact, when Gloria announced years ago that she could isolate the genome sequence for each deadly sin, the Vatican became the biggest investor with a controlling interest.
Because outside this building, the world was falling apart.
Mary glanced at the two-way window, and her eyes landed on the collection of pebbles she’d brought in, just like the ones she sometimes left at Flint’s desk when he wasn’t there. The walk from her apartment in the morning took her through a destitute part of town. The pebble
s were sourced from a decrepit building crumbling into an old neighborhood garden where children used to play. This morning, she’d picked up a stone from between a homeless man and what may have been a dead body. No one cared, but she wanted to remind herself of a better future for the children—one where a garden like that had flourished, not degraded.
The world had changed in the past decade. The selfie generation grew up, and with them the sin of greed exploded on a catastrophic scale. Where one sin went, the rest followed. Envy, lust, sloth, wrath, pride, gluttony… even the forgotten deadly sin, despair. Crime became uncontrollable, unrelenting… vicious. Innocent people died every day. Prisons were at capacity. Only last week Mary had seen on the news a teenage boy massacred his family over an argument involving the last piece of pork crackling at the family dinner. Every night there was another story, another death.
The world had gone insane and authorities were at a loss for what to do. That was, until Gloria announced her plan: genetically engineer soldiers capable of sensing deadly levels of sin. They could prevent crime rather than clean up the mess afterwards. That was her dream. It was Julius’s dream, too, but after his daughter and wife died from negligent poisoning by a corporation—sloth—he lost his patience. As the years went on, more and more investors joined the Project, each of them having a different idea of how the children would be used. They wanted soldiers. More fighters. Their answer was to meet violence with violence. Sin for sin.
“Yes, Julius is coming,” Mary agreed, a bitter taste now in her mouth. “And he’s bringing people you won’t like.”
Mary’s vision had shown that Julius was forming a splinter cell of the company, one that believed the world was dying a slow death and putting sinners out of their misery was the only hope of survival. They called themselves the Syndicate. If Mary didn’t get the children out now, they would be used in the most horrific way.
Sinner: The Deadly Seven, Origins Page 2
