Lust

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Liza took a deep breath through her nose, letting the incense in, but try as she might, she couldn’t relax. Her mind whirled. Her body buzzed. It felt like a million ants were in her veins, itching and skittering. Her shirt stuck to her sweaty skin. Was it sweat? She wasn’t sure. That yellow mist.

  Forcing herself to be brave, she looked down at her balled hands. Trembling, she opened them. Oh, God. That’s not normal. Ochre yellow residue coated her palms, sinking darkly into the cracks of skin like nicotine stains. She rubbed her palms on her jeans.

  Dead rats.

  She gulped air. Then gulped again.

  Sanity dangled on a thread. One push and it would fall.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to think logically.

  Go through the scenario one step at a time. Starting with Joe.

  He hated her.

  Stop. Go back.

  He didn’t want her there. He’d been avoiding her because he’d said she’d gotten mean. Jaded. There was more to it, there had to be. He had a girlfriend. Maybe that was why. But they didn’t seem to act like a couple who’d been together for two years. Liza got the impression Tanya was unwelcome at the poker night.

  So was she.

  Visions of the scene she’d glimpsed through his window slammed into her mind. Joe and Tanya kissing. Joe backing off. Them arguing. Then her trying again. Him capitulating. He was so bored... until he’d found Liza’s scarf. He’d inhaled as though Liza’s scent was a lifeline. And when he’d caught Liza watching, he didn’t freak out. He didn’t act in any way like he had when he’d pushed Liza out of his apartment. No, he got off on her watching him.

  Joe was a sexual man, just as much as any of them. She’d been so wrong about him.

  That alone boggled her mind because, if Liza hadn’t sensed lust in Joe since they were children, it could only mean one thing. Their mating bond had triggered during the innocence of their youth.

  Half-triggered.

  She glanced at her stained palms. Her power had manifested. Now, when it was too late. Now, when Joe hated her guts.

  “You got jaded. You got mean.”

  He was right. She was jaded, and she had been mean to him because if she wasn’t, then he’d eventually end up just another man trying to get in her pants, another man who she’d eventually end up vomiting on at the most intimate moment, and then he’d see the real Liza. The coward so desperate to get close to someone, she allowed herself to get sick over it.

  Because of this, love was never in the cards for her. It had been easier to put walls up and protect her heart.

  “Mija.”

  Liza’s eyes snapped open. Mary, her adoptive mother, stood before her with a frown. The petite, Mexican-heritage woman was in her fifties but was as fit and deadly as one of her children. Probably more. The woman did nothing but hone her ex Hildegard Sisterhood assassin skills. Trained as a Sinner, Mary had been tasked with executing the Lazarus children to avoid them being tools of mass destruction. Only, Mary had chosen to defect and rescue the children. All but Daisy had been saved.

  Mary must have been the person Liza had seen praying by the candles, which was weird. Despite Mary working for a religious organization once, she didn’t believe in God. Liza didn’t blame her. If Liza had been plucked from everything she knew, trained as a seductress and an assassin, and then told she was going to hell for it, she’d do everything in her power to not believe in hell. Or heaven.

  The concern on Mary’s face made Liza’s heart stutter. Air plundered her lungs. Her vision blurred and darkened. She couldn’t face the scrutiny. The judgment.

  Liza made to stand, but Mary pushed her back down. She sat next to her daughter and faced the front. Liza continued to make shuddering, sobbing motions without the sound.

  Mary said calmly, “Remember your training.”

  Instantly, the visuals hit Liza’s mind’s eye. Hours and days of fighting and meditation, calming her chi, washing it clean. She closed her eyes, pushed the soles of her feet into the ground, and placed a palm on her belly. With every inhale, her abdomen pushed her hand out. With every exhale, her hand moved in. She imagined her busy thoughts moving from her brain to her abdomen, then to her feet.

  When the last breath left Liza’s body and took with it her panic, she opened her eyes and calmly met her mother’s perceptive stare. Mary gave a small nod of approval.

  Liza wiped the remnant dampness from her eyes. “What are you doing here, Mama?”

  “Do you have a monopoly on churches?”

  “No, I just—” The panic rose in Liza. She forced another steady breath. Exhale. “Sorry. I just wanted to know.”

  “I was lighting a candle for Daisy.”

  She glanced at the tiny gold crucifix around Mary’s neck. “So it’s true. You’ve taken up the religion that took away your life.”

  “The Sisterhood led me to all of you,” she replied, and then her eyes went to the front and stared long and hard. “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she admitted. “They’ve left us alone all these years. Who knows if they’re evil?”

  “They made you kill for them.”

  Mary shifted uncomfortably.

  Moments of silence passed, then Liza asked, “Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?”

  Mary shrugged. “I never used to. But there’s… something. There has to be. Without it, life feels…”

  “Hopeless?”

  Mary winced.

  On the fateful day of their escape from the Syndicate lab, it was Mary’s choice to leave Daisy when she’d run back into the burning building to comfort their biological mother and creator, Gloria. It was Mary’s choice to hit the elevator button that sent them down to the basement. And it was Mary’s choice to get into the escape van and drive away.

  That choice had saved seven of the Lazarus children.

  It had doomed one.

  Liza knew her mother felt the pinch of that guilt daily. She also knew that it was a fool’s errand to feel regret over it. If Mary hadn’t made that choice, there would be eight doomed Lazarus souls, not one. Because of that choice, Liza had lived a fairly normal childhood. She’d met Joe. She knew what hope was.

  “If there is no hope,” Liza continued, “then how will we save Daisy?”

  Mary took Liza’s hand in silence and gripped hard. Together, they stared at Christ on the cross. Catholicism said he’d hung there for three days. Did he have hope? Apparently so. But it also said he rose from the dead three days later and ascended into Heaven. That was bullshit if she’d ever heard it.

  Liza’s throat closed up. “You know, Daisy used to make me hug her every morning.”

  Mary nodded with a half-smile. “I remember she made everyone hug her. Even grumpy Sister Josephine.”

  Liza let go of Mary’s hand and shoved it away. “She started every day with hope, and yet it was hope that led to her downfall. And the worst part is I want to blame someone—Gloria, the Syndicate, God—but I can’t. It is what it is. Hope, despair. Lust, love, fucking chastity, or indifference—whichever it is. Eventually, I’ll succumb, just like Daisy.” She slid bitter eyes toward her mother. “How can you come here and pray for that?”

  A hardness came over Mary. “You’re mixing love and lust. They’re not the same thing.”

  “I know that,” Liza scoffed. “But they’re two roads leading to the same end.”

  “One road is shorter. Lust is a sprint. Love is a marathon.” Mary sighed. “We’re all going to die one day, Liza. Wouldn’t you rather take the long road? The one that made you happy? There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God I chose the right path.”

  All the fight left Liza’s body. Her next words came out a trembled mess. “What kind of god would do this to someone? I’m hideous. I finally find my mate, and I find out that it’s someone I’ve known half my life. Someone who may have loved me once, but years of rejection and snide insults have turned him away from me. He’s disgusted by me at the same time as being at
tracted to me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is.”

  “Liza, you’ve always been hard on the outside, but soft in the middle. Once you show him some of that gooey center, he’ll come round.”

  “He’s FBI, Mama. He will never agree with what we do.”

  “Joey?” Mary’s eyes widened.

  Liza nodded. “You know what they drill into them at Quantico. They don’t condone the actions of those who use dishonest or unethical means, no matter what. It’s in their damn motto. Fidelity, bravery, and integrity. There’s no way he’ll approve of my true self.”

  Mary’s gaze turned thoughtful. “I wish I could take your pain away, mija. All I can say is that Gloria hasn’t gone wrong yet. Five of your siblings have found love. You just need to have a little—”

  “Hope?” Liza laughed bitterly.

  “I was going to say, faith. In yourself. In Joe.”

  Liza’s hand went to the baseball in her pocket.

  Mary checked over her shoulder, and then asked, “What’s your power?”

  Liza shrugged. “All I know is that yellow mist came out of my hands. I swiped at a rat, and the next minute, it was dead.”

  More than one rat.

  Mary scrutinized Liza’s face. Her gaze snagged on the corner of Liza’s mouth. “You have yellow stains on your lips too.”

  The room spun. Liza leaned forward, elbows on knees. If her gut instinct was right, then the yellow mist was poison. If she could kill people with a touch, or a kiss, who knew how destructive she could be if unbalanced. That blackout with the trafficker was nothing compared to her full unlocked potential.

  Mary stood and held out her hand, then saw the yellow, and drew her hand back. “We need to speak with Parker.”

  She was probably right. Even if he knew it, and was an arrogant asshat, Parker was as much a genius as the woman who’d created them—their biological mother. He’d been sitting on Gloria’s original encrypted laptop for years, claiming to almost have it unlocked. All of them had long suspected he’d actually done it, but kept it from them. There must be a good reason. It was time to go and see what that reason was.

  Half the lights switched off and the cathedral turned an eery dark.

  “Closing time,” Liza noted.

  Together, they went down the aisle and headed toward the exit. Just before Liza reached for the big door, it opened. Both Mary and Liza tensed, senses coming alert. Liza’s hand hovered over her hip but realized her gun was back at the station.

  In came an average height, slim woman wearing a shapeless business suit. The masculine jacket draped over her frame, and the pencil skirt came down to the woman’s knees. No makeup, a few freckles, and spun golden-red hair tied at her nape in a bun. The Harry Potter spectacles resting on her nose were smudged.

  She also stopped.

  She didn’t jolt. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed coolly.

  Then Liza recognized her.

  “Oh, shit. Alice, right?” Liza pointed at her.

  Alice’s brown gaze darted between Mary and Liza, and then she transformed. A smile illuminated her face and she nodded.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Liza Lazarus. Parker’s sister.”

  Alice used her pointer finger to adjust her spectacles at the bridge. “Oh! Of course. I’m so stupid. I should have recognized you both. I mean, it’s not like I’ve not seen you before. I only run errands to your place like every other day, am I right?”

  She giggle-snorted.

  Mary cleared her throat.

  “Oh, sorry, Mama,” Liza added. “Have you met Alice? She’s Parker’s assistant.”

  Alice adjusted a package. Her spectacles almost fell, but she recovered nicely and held out a hand to Mary. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lazarus.”

  To anyone who knew Mary, the blank look she gave Alice wasn’t as benign as it appeared. A million thoughts calculated behind Mary’s eyes as she worked out whether Alice was a threat, friend, or a pawn they could use to their advantage. Then Mary suddenly animated, much like Alice had done earlier, and she became a new person.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Mary said and shook Alice’s hand. “I’m afraid the cathedral is closing. They’ve just shut off the lights.”

  “Oh, I know the Mother Superior.” Alice tapped her package—something book-shaped but wrapped in a plastic bag. “I promised her I’d give her this before the end of the day, but you know Parker. He likes things to be perfect before he leaves. And sometimes he never leaves.”

  “If you need me to show my bro who’s boss, just let me know.” Liza tipped her chin down.

  Alice blushed and looked away. “Oh, no. It’s all good. It’s my job.”

  A sound behind them had them all turning. A nun restocked the tabernacle with loud, precise movements. Her habit hid her face, and the shadows gave nothing away. Alice gave them a small smile and nodded as she sidestepped.

  “Well, nice seeing you,” Alice said.

  “Likewise.”

  Liza opened the big double doors and stepped outside. When she turned, she realized Mary still stood on the threshold, eyes boring into Alice’s back as she walked toward the nun, a slight limp in her step.

  “Everything okay?” Liza asked.

  Mary snapped out of her daze and then joined Liza on the landing of the steps. The door closed heavily behind her.

  “It’s nothing,” Mary replied.

  “Didn’t look like nothing.”

  “There was something familiar about her. That’s all.”

  “She’s Parker’s assistant. I’m sure you’ve seen her before.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  6

  Joe spent the morning doing laps in his gym’s swimming pool, trying to get the events of the previous night out of his head, but even on his fiftieth lap, he couldn’t avoid thinking life had a way of coming full circle for him. He’d tried to leave Cardinal City but was right back where he started. He’d joined law enforcement to get away from his abusive father and a mother who saw nothing wrong with it—yet now he worked in Violent Crimes where violence was his bread and butter. At least he wasn’t the one dishing it out—or receiving it.

  And then there was Liza Lazarus... he’d tried to get her out of his head, but she’d managed to edge her way back in, even deeper than before. Even deeper than when she’d made him smile, while waiting with him for x-rays of his broken arm. Even deeper than sharing her hotdog when he’d turned up to the ballgame without a dime to his name. And even deeper than when she’d tossed the signed baseball to him after years of silence between them.

  She was all he could think about, and by the time he’d showered and made his way into the Cardinal City Police Department, her citrus-berry scent was an ever-living fragrance in his mind.

  When Tanya had turned up last night, and his stomach had dropped instead of filling with excitement, he knew instantly that it was over between them. But he’d tried to protect his heart from Liza, ignored the disappointment, and pretended he was okay with what Tanya wanted—a life together. Damn it, he’d tried. But he’d never been good at being something he wasn’t.

  One inhale of Liza’s sweet scent on her scarf and he’d gone harder than steel. And when he saw Liza outside, watching him with a mix of curiosity and, dare he think it, arousal… Christ.

  His insides had combusted. Suddenly, it hadn’t been Tanya’s lips on him, but Liza’s. Like a desperate addict, he hadn’t been able to stop, even though he knew it was wrong. Even though he was an asshole for doing it. But then Liza had panicked. Something happened to her on that fire escape, and the moment she’d fled, Joe’s mood had died.

  Neither he nor Tanya could argue with their failing chemistry, despite his lies to the contrary.

  That’s when he ended his casual relationship with Tanya. He’d been using her to get over Liza and that wasn’t fair to anyone. How could he explain to Tanya that the entire time they’d dated, he’d
been wearing a mask so clever that he’d fooled himself into believing it was real?

  There was only one thing left for him to do. Take the mask off and go all-in with Liza.

  Fate had brought him back to Cardinal City, back to her—his sweet poison, killing him softly. All he knew for certain was that he wouldn’t go to his death without a proper taste. A banquet.

  With his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he located the office Captain Morais had assigned him for the duration of his stay at the CCPD. It was smaller than his bedroom, but bigger than the open office he’d shared with the other detectives years ago. He would get teased for this when they arrived for the day.

  A small smile played on his lips. He truly missed the camaraderie he shared with those guys. Last night was over too soon.

  He dumped his bag on the floor next to the empty desk and unloaded his case files. There were two sets. One was filled with the reason he was here today—a new task force and interdepartmental investigation. The other set belonged to a classified FBI investigation and the reason he’d wanted to drill the CCPD detectives without Liza present. He opened the top classified file to view the dossier on Sloan Lazarus. Her profile was squeaky clean, not even a parking ticket or two. But Joe knew the Lazarus family—had known them since they were all kids. They weren’t saints.

  He turned the page and handled two pictures, both were taken from security footage at a private school a few months prior. Sloan and her fiancé Max were pictured walking in and out of the academy with a student. The next page detailed eyewitness reports of two white-robed and Halloween masked attackers who’d allegedly fought with Sloan on campus. One witness described Sloan kicking her way out of a car and “going ape-shit” on the gasoline doused attacker.

  It wasn’t the first time these white-robed terrorists had been seen in Cardinal City. More pictures of them had been taken near the Kremlin Nightclub just under a year ago, and earlier near a warehouse in the South-Side slums. The last time they’d been seen was in the Quadrant Central Park and Zoo only two months ago, along with trace evidence of some sort of plant biological matter that couldn’t be explained.