Finally, there was hope.
Van Jansen tapped on the tank of a young man floating within the viscous amniotic fluid and squinted at the replicate body. It had taken eighteen months to grow this sixteen-year-old body. His shoulders were broadening, his body developing into pure muscle and strength. At his current growth rate, he’d be fully grown in less than six months.
Julius strode along the vast collection of seventy-five glass tanks. Half contained the pubescent bodies of replicates, waiting to be born; the other half contained varying prepubescent and youthful bodies, still in early stages of growth. They would belong to the second wave of attack on the sinners of the world.
It had been almost eighteen months since Envy had destroyed the initial replicate lab and eliminated all functioning clones. At first, Julius had been furious, outraged, but eventually saw that they had done him a favor. The first round of clones were imperfect, only living a few months before expiring. None were powered with special abilities, not like these. Not since they’d gathered the unlocked DNA samples from half the Lazarus family. But Julius aimed for more. He wanted eternal. He wanted life everlasting with his family.
“It is imperative these new replicates are born without flaw,” he stated.
“I am confident that with the new DNA samples we’ve gathered from the original test subjects, we can reach perfection. We are almost there.”
“How many more unlocked samples do you need?”
“We’ve already isolated the genome sequence that unlocked their powers. Any more samples will just give us new paths to new abilities. What we need is to solve the expiration problem.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“I have been looking over the notes of my predecessors and believe there has been something they’ve been keeping from you.”
“This is?”
“Stem cells.”
Julius glanced over at the door to the warehouse where two soldiers guarded the entrance. He wanted no one else within earshot. If Van Jansen was correct, this would be valuable information to his enemies, and to the rest of the Syndicate. When he was satisfied no one listened, he turned back to Van Jansen.
“Please explain.”
“Your first creator, the woman who made the Deadly Seven.”
“Gloria.”
“Yes, Gloria. She was the surrogate for each child born, was she not?”
“Correct.”
“So she had full control over the biological samples of all projects?”
“Yes.”
“Were there any failed experiments prior to Despair?”
“There were a few. Maybe two.”
“And these were born of her own body as well, ja?”
Julius nodded. “What are you getting at?”
Van Jansen clicked his tongue. “This is the key. The stem cells she collected from the waste of her own failed experiments.”
“But the children she bore weren’t clones.”
“Yes, I know this. But the problem we’re having with the replicates after birth is that their cells continue to produce. This is a similar process to how this Deadly Seven family can heal and regenerate their damaged skin and yet stop once the job is done. You understand where I am leading, ja?”
Julius pulled out the locket contained on a chain around his neck. Inside held biological matter from his departed wife and daughter. Both had perished decades ago in an accident caused by corporate negligence... sloth. This was all for them. The ending of sinners in the world, the razing of the old civilization to start anew, the creation of perfect life. All so he could see their faces, hear their voices, touch their skin, and give them a world where it wouldn’t happen again. Unable to help himself, he opened the locket, just to check. There, inside, were two strands of hair. One thick wiry afro that belonged to his wife, and the softer, smaller black silken length. There was only one strand for each one chance. This had to be perfect.
Boots squelched behind him. He snapped the locket shut.
Turning, he found Despair striding toward him, her white leather uniform splatted in mud and reeking of sewage. The guards by the door barely contained their grimaces, despite her now being only feet beyond their entrance. Her silver-white hair hung around her shoulders, leaves and bits of bio-matter lodged in its dirty, stringy lengths.
Julius waved Van Jansen away. When the scientist had left, Julius turned to the woman.
“Is it done?” he asked.
Thunder clouds flittered over her expression. “No. It is not done.”
His lip twitched. “My darling, do I sense a note of sarcasm?”
She took a breath, folded her arms with the creak of wet leather, and stared at the tanks. This was the most emotion he’d seen in his progeny for some time. The sarcasm, the pink stain to her pale cheeks, the brightness in her eyes. Perhaps her sin wasn’t taking hold of her as he’d come to accept. He rubbed his throat. Although, her recent attacks on him begged to differ. She’d been blacking out too much lately because of her sin. She was of no use to him like this and it was too early in his plan to set her loose on the city’s despondent. Perhaps she’d last until they gathered biological samples from the rest of the originals, but this change in dependability was not placating. She’d become erratic in behavior since exposure to her siblings. This was yet another of her tasks she’d failed to complete.
“I can’t capture the creature alone,” she revealed. “It has evolved beyond anything we’d imagined. Bosch’s body was completely absorbed. He is gone, somehow part of the creature now walking around on two legs and hissing like a living thing.”
“Curious.”
“I hold no burning desire to pull it out and study it. It seems to be content in the sewer. Perhaps we should leave it be.”
Julius took one look at the defeat in his bird of prey’s eyes and knew she was becoming soft, ineffective. He needed her cold, without scruples, holding no mercy, not—his mouth twisted in distaste—full of empathy for a plant. Cold spread throughout him. First, she released the plant. Now she wanted to leave it be?
“We can’t have that, as you well know. It is one thing to have the Lazarus family onto us, but they have limited resources and we have their identities. This Cold War of ours is serving us well. If this creature is left to its own devices, you invite the attention of the local law enforcement, and worse, the FBI, CIA or Homeland.” Not when we’re so close.
“But you have investors all the way to the White House. In the military, and beyond. Why do we have to keep hiding so much?”
“My darling,” he said, voice placating. “Our benefactors are not omniscient. We have come too far and gone on for too long to have our plans derailed by law enforcement, or the public. There is much to be said for mob mentality. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that. Take some Faithful with you next time. Get help.”
Her jaw clenched. “The Faithful are pitiless vile sheep who know nothing about battle.”
“At the very least, they would make a good shield. We have plenty of tanks free for their rebirths. Fresh blood for our cause is always needed.”
Cold violet eyes locked onto his. “And what of me? What will you do if I am the shield and I do not come back?” She flicked her gaze to the locket around his neck, seeming to see it right through to the strands of hair within. “Will you bring me back as fresh blood for your cause?”
Unbidden, his hand went to the locket and squeezed. It was a tiny cold thing in his palm. In it, there was no room for the battered hope he saw in her eyes. Anguish wrapped around his heart because he knew if this didn’t work, if he failed at bringing his family back, then what was the point to creating the world without sin? What was the point in making utopia if he couldn’t share it with them? He’d rather raze it all to the ground than fill it with anything else. Everything he’d ever done was for the two strands of hair he’d kept safe and close to his heart.
There was no room for more.
Despair’s eyes watere
d as she took Julius in. “You keep saying you’re my father, but you’re not, are you? You’re not even family. You are a sperm donor, and that’s it.”
Anger rose swiftly in him to color his vision red. “I saved you from that burning building. I—”
“Came back for me when they didn’t. Yes, I know. The story is getting old.”
Flummoxed, he shook with fury. How dare she? “I gave you everything you needed.”
“To be a monster. To kill indiscriminately for you.” She sneered at him. “You keep me separate from the rest of your family. You don’t want me.” She choked up, waiting for him to prove her wrong, but he couldn’t. It was true.
She was a dark thing he’d created to help him achieve his goals. She was the evil he wanted rid of in the world. She was the last thing he would consider family.
He gave her a dismissive wave. “Do as you’re told. Then you can get back to the business of collecting unlocked blood samples from your brothers and sister.”
The light faded from her eyes, her expression went lax, and then a perfect calm stole over her storm. The hairs on Julius’s neck stood on end, and he’d barely a chance to shout at the guards before she was upon him, choking the life out of him, with only one directive firing in her eyes—kill. End the sin.
He should have known better than to allow himself to despair around her, but with the end so close, with fruition in sight, he was blind to how close she’d been to the edge of oblivion. His rapidly increasing emotion must have set her off.
Two thwacks ripped through the air in rapid succession. Tranquilizer darts pierced the leather between her shoulder blades, and within moments her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she collapsed, releasing his throat.
“Get Van Jansen back in here,” he rasped at one guard. To the other, “Once the scientist has looked at her, put her to bed. She won’t remember the attack.”
Van Jansen came bustling through in the wake of the first guard. He came, pursed his lips and widened his eyes at the fallen angel at their feet.
“How many times has her switch flipped?” he asked Julius.
Julius rubbed his tender throat, only just healed from her previous attack five days prior. “Too many to count. We are losing her to despair. Her usefulness is fast reaching its expiration date. Since her siblings are all coming into their powers, I was hoping she would soon be too. But she is the eldest.”
“Mm,” Van Jansen replied. “Thirty-five, ja?”
“Something like that.”
“If she hasn’t triggered by now, it is unlikely she will.”
“Soon she will be of no use to us. Our only choices will be to let her loose on the population, or extermination.”
“Untrue. She is still of childbearing age. There are always her stem cells.”
“Yes. There is always that.”
Sixteen
Tony was stuffing his face with his third jam-smeared croissant when Bailey woke and joined him in the kitchen of his apartment. It was six a.m. and his rumbling stomach had woken him with a ravenous appetite. The intravenous fluids he’d had the previous night had done nothing to sate his hunger.
Still, once on the lips, forever on the hips. He grimaced at his last bite and put it back down. If his trainer knew he’d indulged with buttered pastries, he’d make him do a million burpees.
Bailey padded up to the bench with dark hair tousled, puffy lips and bedroom eyes. It was a shame she still wore her hole-riddled yoga attire and they’d done nothing but sleep by each other’s side. God, she looked incredible in the morning. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted her. It took all his restraint to keep his hands calmly resting on his porcelain plate, and his heart steady in his chest.
She still had a long way to go before she accepted and trusted him. Perhaps further until she was ready to be with him wholly. There was always a sense of restraint with her. Even when she’d slept next to him, she’d used a pillow to separate them. But he wouldn’t be deterred. Not for long.
He aimed his remote at the flat screen on the wall beyond the kitchen bench and turned it off. Nothing much interesting except the city’s plumbing problems near the Quadrant Central Park.
“Morning, babe.”
“Hungry?” she joked, eyeing off the empty packets of croissants.
“Always,” he replied without taking his eyes from her.
He hadn’t thought his response offended. Maybe there was a slight lewd overtone, but she would have heard worse. Whatever the case, she’d taken it strangely. A nervous flitter ghosted across her expression, and when she spoke, her reaction became clear.
“And this is the sort of thing having a mate can help with? I mean, you’re free to—” she cut off as her shrewd gaze took in the empty plate.
He waved at his crumbs of devastation. “Gluttonize is the word I use. I’m free to gluttonize. Say it with me, Glutt-on-ize.”
“Very funny.”
“Not funny, fun. But yes. I can eat without reprimand, of course, apart from watching my weight. I’m all about these abs.” He patted his naked torso and enjoyed the simmering flash of lust in her gaze. Yep. Not broken, and definitely still on. “Basically, touching you makes the sick feeling I get from being near other people imbibing go away. You reset my internal levels so I can eat my fill. As long as you’re around, I don’t need to freak every time I guzzle a drink or have a feast.”
At the word feast, his gaze ran down her body. He’d only had a small taste last night, and he had been delirious with fever. He’d savored nothing. When he’d woken this morning, she slept so soundly he didn’t have the heart to disturb her. But now, it was all he could think about.
He slid a plate with the last remaining croissant her way.
She shook her head.
“Coffee?” He pointed at the percolator.
Say no. Tell me to take you to bed.
“I have my protein shakes at home. I should be going. I have work today and shouldn’t you be preparing for this press thing you have?”
He couldn’t help the sag of his shoulders. “It’s fine. I’ll just turn up and smile and all will be forgiven.”
He winced. That was a stupid thing to say. Now she was going to think he was entitled.
“I wish we all had that luxury,” she said.
“What do you mean? Something wrong at Nightingale?”
“Forget it.” Her eyebrows flicked up, and she shuffled awkwardly. “So, I guess I’ll see you.”
“Wait.” He hopped up from the stool. “You’re leaving?”
She ruffled her hair in an attempt to style it. “Yes.”
“But... don’t you want to talk about it—us?”
For a long hard minute, she looked at him carefully. He thought she would turn tail and run, but she folded her arms, cocked her hip and gave him pursed lips. Immediately, Tony went hot and flush all over.
Being one of the “beautiful people,” he got used to things. He would smile, people would stutter and stumble over themselves to get to him or acquiesce. He would walk in a room, and people stopped breathing. But this proud, independent woman gave him an unprecedented thrill every time she looked at him with those spirited eyes, those I’ll-talk-about-it-when-I’m-good-and-ready eyes. This was his woman. She would keep him satisfied, thrilled, for days, weeks, months. An eternity. He just had to convince her to stay.
“I need you,” he said, eyes lazily drifting down to her lips. The unmistakable lift of her brows brought a deeper smile to his face. “I need you to be my bodyguard at the junket,” he continued, enjoying the way he made her squirm.
“Gluttony doesn’t need a bodyguard.”
“But Tony Lazarus does.”
“I guess that’s Max’s prerogative. I’ve not heard from him yet, and since I’m hole-ridden, I need to get home, showered and dressed. There may be other jobs for me.”
Right on cue, her cell phone rang, and she fixed him with a curious look before answering, knowing full well who wou
ld be on the other end of the line. “Yes?” she said into her handset, still glaring at Tony. “Yes, boss. I understand. I’ll take him to the press junket. Bye.”
When she cut the call, a grin split Tony’s face. “There’s no way you’re the embodiment of temperance. I don’t know what my biology was thinking, picking you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His voice lowered seductively, and he closed the gap between them. “It means that I love your fire. I love your attitude. It makes me hard when I think of you.” He lifted his fingers to trail down her chin, watching as she responded to his touch. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you tasted last night. I need more.”
“Careful,” she warned breathily. “Too much of a good thing can be bad.”
“I don’t have to worry about that now. Not with you.” He leaned in and rubbed his nose along her cheek. Feminine musk hit his system and his lashes fluttered. A low rumble cleared his throat as desire began to build.
“I still need to go home,” she whispered.
“I can go with you. Or you can shower here.”
“No!” she responded, a little too fast and too loud. She pressed her palms to his chest. She looked down at his half naked body and immediately lifted her gaze back to his. “I mean, I need a moment to myself, Tony. This is all a bit much. You understand, right?”
He blinked. Shut down like that.
A bit much.
“Sure. Whatever.” He collected the empty croissant packet and put it in the trash. If she needed space, then, whatever. Who was he to press? She had her own mind, and he wasn’t the type to wait around and mope.
“Tony, don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” Like the asshole she always thought he was?
He stopped at the trash can, closed his eyes and counted to three. He wasn’t an asshole. He hated them.
“Right, well, just stay here until I come to get you. We’re still not much closer to identifying your stalker. And come to think of it, now that I know your secret, maybe the stalker does too. Why else would the words ‘I know’ be written over your things?”
Gluttony Page 13
