There was a flash of amusement. “Doesn’t that kind of make you two-faced?”
He finished wiping his glasses and put them back on the bridge of his nose, adjusting them to look down at Adelaide. “It would hardly be the first time I was accused of such things. The problem with being an empath who walks the corridors of power is that you always know what the person you are speaking to wants to hear. If you possess within you the desire to ultimately please people, it is very hard not to bend your words in the direction of what they want.” His face sagged. “Bad news is never a welcome guest, but of late it seems particularly interested in overstepping its bounds.”
Adelaide’s interest was purely casual, at least on a surface level. She was pretending to pay attention to other things, but all the while I got the idea she was listening intently. “Oh?” she asked. “Lots of bad news lately?”
“Having you kill Mr. Nealon was unfortunate,” Janus said, watching her carefully.
She froze. “You did want him dead, though, right?”
“Of course,” Janus said. I saw the release of tension from Adelaide after the moment’s silence. “And you did very well on that. But … we have a bit of a new problem.”
“Oh?” She ran her finger over one of the bookshelves as she took slow steps, one at a time, her gaze falling over the shelves as she walked. “What is it?”
The door opened on the opposite end of the room, causing both of them to turn, and interrupting Janus’s response. “I believe I will let him explain,” Janus said.
The man who entered the room looked a little like Rick: dark hair that was beginning to show just the hints of grey, dark skin, confident. This one, however, looked ever so much older and wiser. His eyes were jaded, unworried, the kind of calm, cool darkness that I expected one might find in a man who’d done ugly things for any number of years. He smiled as he shut the door behind him, and I sensed an oiliness about him that caused Adelaide’s skin to feel greasy.
“If it isn’t our star succubus,” he said as he strode across the room. His steps were slow, measured, and he seemed to take great pleasure in savoring his movement as he drew closer to her.
“Thank you,” Adelaide said, blushing at the compliment. I was a little embarrassed for her at the reaction. “I appreciate the opportunity with Omega.” She looked down, and I knew this wasn’t feigned. “I know my kind doesn’t tend to get many chances like this …”
“You are the exception,” the Primus of Omega said with dark humor. “And you are turning out to be quite the worthy exception.” He kept his distance even as he got closer, walking past where she stood on the wall of bookshelves to stand near a row of volumes that I’d noticed before. “We are always looking for exceptional talent at Omega. It makes our task easier. You have done fantastic work so far. Clearly a superior talent.” The oiliness of his smile nearly made me gag. The flattery was so thick I was surprised Adelaide wasn’t choking on it.
Janus didn’t seem all that impressed. “Perhaps it would be a good time to talk about Adelaide’s next assignment?”
“Indeed,” the Primus said, a look of real or feigned concern written across his face. “I want to talk to you about a very real danger; possibly the most dangerous threat we face in the world we live in today.”
There was a pause, and Adelaide waited along with Janus for the answer. She looked around, and after a moment passed, she offered, “The Reds?”
The Primus laughed. “The Reds have something they believe in, for the most part. They’re certainly dangerous, let there be no doubt. They are, after all, men possessed of extraordinary power in the form of modern weapons. If backed into a corner, they do have the power to unleash untold horrors upon the world we have so carefully constructed to our advantage.” He smiled. “So, they are certainly a danger, but one I think we have well in hand. Because they’re men. Flawed, corruptible, desirous of women, power, and all the worldly goods they seemingly eschew. No, we have a good handle on the Reds. So long as a man wants things, you have power over him. Leverage.”
The Primus looked out the window. “No, I’m talking about someone more dangerous than that. I’m talking about someone who claims he doesn’t want anything. Nothing at all.” He looked back, slyly, at Adelaide. “Now, I think that’s a bit of a fib. After all, a man who wants nothing is either a man totally satiated, who’s achieved his goals … or he’s a man with no ambitions at all.” The smile froze, and the Primus looked back out at the vastly changed landscape of London, so different from the one I looked out at. “This particular man … he’s not lazy or shiftless. I think all his talk of wanting nothing is just a cover brought about by a desire to avoid any possible harm. Either way, a man who desires nothing is dangerous. He has no pressure points. If there’s nothing he cares about, that means there’s nothing you can take away from him when you need something to twist on.” He smiled at Adelaide. “Do you know what I mean?”
Adelaide shot a look at Janus before returning to the Primus. “Haven’t the foggiest, sorry,” she said with an embarrassed little laugh. “I mean, I understand the gist of the philosophy you’re speaking. I get that you’re talking about a man who seems to have no vulnerabilities, but I suppose I’m still waiting for the dots to connect on why you’re telling me this.”
“That’s a good question,” the Primus said with a chuckle. “And the answer is, I’m not really explaining it to you. You’re simply here because I need you to be.”
Adelaide’s expression grew blank. “I’m sorry?”
The Primus turned his eyes toward Janus. “You understand, don’t you?”
“He is not a threat,” Janus said, shrugging expansively. “He has yet to tamper with our operations, he remains at a distance from us and the balance of humanity … I don’t see why you consider him a concern. This man …”
“You know his name,” the Primus said, and any trace of amusement was gone.
“I knew his name when he had one,” Janus agreed, “but that was a long time ago. He prefers to go by the name Sovereign now, as I understand it.”
“A ridiculous appellation,” the Primus said, glancing toward Adelaide for only a moment before turning his attention back to Janus. “A man unto himself, apart from the world?” The Primus snorted. “No man is an island.”
Janus gave a sort of one-shouldered shrug, as though to express his bafflement. “Quotations from Donne aside, he wishes to be left alone. You have read my report. We should leave him be. He has yet to show any sign of interest in things that he doesn’t wish to involve himself in. We currently fit that profile. Best we keep it that way.”
“I don’t like to have threats looming over my head unchecked,” the Primus said darkly.
“It is an exception we make for the greatest of nuisances,” Janus said, “to keep our affairs running smoothly. We have made this exception before, for Akiyama, and I suggest we extend such courtesy to this …” Janus looked sidelong at Adelaide for only a beat before turning his gaze back to the Primus, “… Sovereign. As you say, he professes to have no weaknesses, no interests, as it were.”
“Every man has weaknesses, has limits,” the Primus said, raising a finger in front of his face and waving it casually. “This one is no exception.” The Primus’s close-lipped smile grew broad. “He just doesn’t know them yet.”
Janus stared at him somewhat warily. “And you mean to expose them … how?”
The Primus turned to look at Adelaide for just a moment before turning to the bookshelf. “Nealon.”
“What about him?” Adelaide said quietly. “I killed him like I was ordered—”
The Primus eyed her as his hand fidgeted. “Let me show you something.” He reached over onto the bookshelf and grasped at one of the volumes. “First edition of Hard Times, by Charles Dickens. Broke my heart to do this to it.”
Adelaide leaned forward as the Primus pulled on the Dickens novel, and there was a click as something released, and the bookshelves slid loose, some small machi
nery pulling them back on a track, swiveling them open to reveal a secret room. Adelaide peered in, just around the corner into the darkness hidden behind them. It was inky, all-consuming, ominous shadows that the light of the office couldn’t penetrate.
And something reached out, catching her around the neck.
She squirmed, but the grip was like a metal collar, a bare hand that held her tightly around the throat, pushing on her windpipe and lifting her into the air. It was Wolfe, in all his glory, the horror of his black eyes and feral teeth bared in fury, his hot breath on her neck as he pulled her tightly closer. She stared in shock into his eyes then kicked at him hopelessly, every hit that landed on the beast’s chest as futile as a mosquito kamikaziing into a human being. Wolfe didn’t even react, save for his muted expression, no joy on his face at the kill he was executing. There was a pop in Adelaide’s head, and I knew he had crushed her larynx as his hands slipped free and he staggered, just a bit, while he let her slip from his grasp.
“What in the devil did you do that for?” Janus cried as he fell to his knees next to Adelaide.
“Wolfe does as he’s ordered,” Wolfe said gruffly, without a single ounce of the pleasure I would have expected from him.
“Because I told him to,” the Primus said. Adelaide writhed on the ground, clutching her throat, but no air was getting through and I could see the light beginning to fade from her bulging eyes. She writhed in a panic, grasping at Janus.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Janus said, running a hand along Adelaide’s cheek. He met her panicked eyes as they fell on his, and she began to grow still.
“Because,” the Primus said, “of Sovereign.”
“What in the blazes does he have to do with Adelaide?” Janus’s eyes locked on the Primus. “This is ridiculous. He is no threat to us!” He waited a moment, watching the Primus carefully. “What? What do you know that you are not telling me?”
The Primus said nothing and looked one last time at Adelaide as she glanced up at him, struggling for one last breath.
Janus watched him quietly, mind calculating, and then he spoke into the quiet calm. “Nealon.”
Adelaide didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, lying there in the middle of the Primus’s office.
Adelaide was dead.
Chapter 33
“Sorry.”
I awoke with a start, feeling a presence just above me. I restrained my hands, kept them at my side, fighting them for control of a feral desire to tear the throat out of the person who was standing there. The voice had been quiet; city lights illuminated the office.
“Sorry for what?” I asked the silhouette standing over me. I slid to the edge of the couch and sat upright, leaning my booted feet down to rest on the ground as I ran my hands over my face.
“For not waking you when I got back,” Breandan said. “Karthik suggested it might be best to let you sleep until Reed returned and we had a better idea of where we stood.”
“Is he back?” I asked, gingerly pulling myself up, using Breandan’s shoulder for leverage.
“He’s five minutes away,” Breandan said, holding carefully still so my hand didn’t touch anything but the cloth of his shirt. “Says he’s got some things that might help, guns and such. I got that, uh …” He blushed in the dark. I couldn’t see it, but it was obvious by his posture. “I got the thing you asked for.”
“The pregnancy test?” I needled him.
“Yeah, that.” He slipped a cardboard box into my hand.
“I suppose I should go find out if I’m going to be a mother,” I said, staring at the shadowy box in the dark.
“Karthik says there’s a private bathroom in the corner of the office,” he said, pointing to a door built into the wood paneling at the far end of the room, behind the desk and next to the window. It was almost unnoticeable, just beside what I now knew to be the old Primus’s secret room.
“Thanks,” I said. “I could use a little privacy right now.”
“Sure thing,” Breandan said with a nod. “I’ll leave you be.”
“Why are you still here?” I asked his retreating back.
He paused before turning to me. “I told you, I’m sticking by my guardian angel to the end of this thing.”
“The end of this thing could likely mean your death,” I said, looking into the dark lines around his face. The shadows in the office were concealing him well; I couldn’t really see what he was thinking, his expression. “You can’t tell me a lone wolf like you wants to go down swinging with the whole team.”
“Ah, no,” he agreed, “that’s pretty low on my list of priorities, actually.”
“So why not just … disappear?” I asked. “You seem like the kind of guy that’d be good at that.”
He gave me a nod, like he’d expected this question. “You know, it’s a funny thing. You ever have a best friend?”
“Sure,” I said quietly.
“See, so did I. Great girl, she was a Siren-type, if you know what that is?” He waited for me to react, and when I didn’t, he went on. “Sweetest talker you ever met. When she spoke to a man, she could wrap him around her finger as easy as you could beat the crap out of a person. That was her power. Could sing and lure a man to his destruction—or not,” he said with an easy grin that was visible even in the dark. “We met when we were kids, at the cloister up in Connacht,” he said, and there was a dripping of dread as he said it.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh …”
“She wasn’t there,” Breandan said, shaking his head. “Everyone we knew, everyone we grew up with, they were there, but not her. She was here in London with me. But see, we were on a train together in the tube. I was doing my routine, and she was doing hers. She’d distract the men, and I’d rob ’em. It was a shuffle. Except something went wrong.”
I could almost see the flickering lights of the train as he said it.
“We got separated,” he went on. “Normal enough. The way we’d work, sometimes you had to duck onto a train at the last second, sometimes you’d have to duck off one to avoid suspicion. I got off the Central Line at Tottenham Court Road. Had to, I’d nicked a fat purse and I had a feeling my luck was about to run out because I was giving it everything I had just to get the doors to open a second early. I locked eyes with her as I got off the train. It happened sometimes, just a hazard of the business. We’d always meet up at the end of the day, back at the flat.” His face went dull. “She never came back. Wholly unlike her. I knew something’d happened.”
“When was this?” I asked, the quiet almost oppressive as it hung in the office’s stale, musty air. My office, now.
“About a week before I met you,” he said. “I’d been looking every day, see.” He paused. “I knew … knew there was something wrong. Knew she was … gone … before you ever said anything about an extinction.” He nodded in the dark, his head bobbing up and down slightly, as if he had no control over it. “When those blokes with the guns burst through the door of my flat, I just thought maybe my time had come up, too. Figured it wasn’t coincidence, you know? When you put ’em all out, I knew it wasn’t luck, either.” He lifted his hand and squeezed a tight fist. “Not sure I’d much believe in luck if I couldn’t toss it out as easily as I do.”
I felt like an idiot, totally dumbstruck. “I’m sorry, Breandan.”
“Not your fault,” he said with a light shrug. “So, anyway, that’s why I’m not running. She was bloody grand at escaping, a natural, could talk herself out of any trouble she ever got into. Got herself out of more tight squeezes than anyone I’ve known, myself included. If she couldn’t outrun these bastards …” I couldn’t see his eyes burn in the dark, but I could just about imagine it, “… then I don’t think any running I could manage would get me clear of them. Having met Weissman, I know they’re the sort that are bound to hunt you until they catch you. Until they kill you.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “That’s the sense I get from them, too. Like Weissman will be working
for years just to make sure he doesn’t miss a single one of us.”
“I wish I could say I admire their thoroughness,” Breandan said, “but I really just hate them. I’m hoping that you’ll find us a way to stake that bastard Weissman through the face. It’d be richly deserved, I think, and personally satisfying.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m hoping I can pull that off too.” I paused. “But I have my doubts,” I conceded.
“Who wouldn’t?” Breandan said. “Fella like that, able to stop time itself, reposition himself mid-battle? Kind of hard to beat someone who knows what you’re going to do before you do it.”
My eyes grew unfocused for just a moment as I thought about that. “Yes. Yes it is, isn’t it?”
He peered at me in the dark. “You’ve just thought of something, haven’t you?”
He broke me out of my reverie, and I looked back at him. “Maybe. Give me a few minutes?” I waved the box at him. “Get Reed and Karthik together, along with whoever else we need to meet with. I’ll be out in …” I looked at the box and then back at him. “However long this takes, I guess.”
“Three should do it,” he said, turning to head back toward the door. “But I’ll tell them ten, just in case you decide to take a few after.” He gave me a light grin and opened the door, flooding the room, and him, with light. I could see the redness in his eyes, the places where they looked a little puffy, and I said nothing as he closed the door and left me alone again in the dark.
Chapter 34
Enemies: The Girl in the Box, Book Seven Page 24
