by Chloe Neill
“They’re coming for you,” Malachi said.
“What do you mean?” Liam asked.
“Containment,” Gunnar said. “They’ve increased the bounties on all of you.”
“Because of what happened earlier?”
“Which was what?” Gunnar asked. “We were told to meet here, but didn’t get details.”
“What are you doing here?” Liam asked Erida, ignoring Gunnar’s question. His tone was as sharp as his gaze. “You’re supposed to be with Eleanor.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” she said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. She wore leggings, knee-high boots, and a short-sleeved top, and looked ready for either military action or a polo competition. “And I wouldn’t have come if Eleanor was not safe. She’s with Roy, and she’s safe. I’d stake my life on it.”
“You have,” Liam growled.
“Why do we need help?” Gunnar asked. “What’s going on?”
“You found Caval?” Liam asked.
Gunnar’s eyes went hard. “I did. Received a message from what was possibly the worst alias I’ve ever come across that Broussard’s killer was an agent named Caval and telling me where to find him. Forensics found him, is testing the DNA.” He looked at Liam. “I assume you found him like that?”
“We did. How we got there is involved, and we’ll get to that. How long will the testing take?”
“Should have the results later today, tomorrow at the latest. If it’s Broussard’s blood, that will help put you in the clear. Would help more if we could explain the murder weapon.”
“Let me lay it out for you,” Liam said. “We believe the Paras who’ve been dying have been infected with a virus—the same virus found in the Icarus file Broussard located on Containment-Net. We think Containment, or an outfit connected to Containment and run by a scientist named Laura Blackwell, synthesized the virus. We think Containment administered it to Paras with passes via an ‘immunity booster.’ It’s the reason the Paras at Vacherie got ill and the reason they’re dead now. It’s the reason Broussard is dead.”
Gunnar just stared at him, and I saw the instant rejection in his eyes. The dismissal of the possibility that his organization was responsible for something like that. “You’ve got it wrong. There is no way in hell Containment would administer a virus to Paras or anyone else.”
“We’ve got it right,” Malachi said. “Blood samples verify.” He offered Gunnar the papers Darby had printed.
“Three dead?” Gunnar frowned, ran a hand through his wavy hair as he looked down at the papers.
“So far,” Liam said, “of the forty who received injections. They’re all potential victims.”
“There’s no illness inside Devil’s Isle,” Gunnar said. “I’d know.”
“The only Paras who received the injections, as far as we’re aware, have passes,” Liam said. “None have returned yet.”
“I don’t know anyone named Laura Blackwell,” Gunnar said. “If she’s part of this, whoever she is, she’s not on our payroll.”
“If she’s not being paid by Containment, she’s being paid by the PCC,” Liam said. “Containment’s in this, neck-deep.” He glanced at me, hesitant to take that next step.
I might as well pony up. “And she’s my mother.”
Gunnar blinked, then stared. “She’s your— But your mother is dead.”
“No, she’s very much alive and working at a place on Elysian called ADZ Logistics. She’s my mother, was married to my father, left shortly after I was born because she wasn’t interested in being a parent.”
“Oh, Claire,” Gunnar said. “I’m sorry. And what a dick move.”
“No argument,” I managed.
“The Icarus file that Broussard found was created at ADZ,” Liam explained. “We went to surveil, and she was the first one to drive into the lot. Claire confronted her, and she called Containment on us.”
“Darby discovered the file was a plan for the synthesis of a biologic,” Malachi said. “Paras with passes have been getting ill, and she matched the virus that sickened them to that synthesis and the so-called immunity boosters.”
“You have hard evidence the injections contain the virus?”
Malachi’s gaze was hot. “We have her test results. Would you like to sample the injection and see?”
“I’m not doubting you. I wish I could doubt you. I want you to be wrong.”
“But?” Liam asked.
“But I couldn’t find anything about Icarus, so I asked an ally in the department. He laughed it off, said I had too much going on to worry about a pet project from someone in DC.”
“Interesting,” Liam said.
“Isn’t it?” Gunnar looked at me, sympathy in his eyes. “I’d tell you that you shouldn’t have confronted your mother. Except I’d have done exactly the same thing in your situation. Not that that does a lot of good.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Not my wisest move. But it had to be done.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“So am I.”
Gunnar looked at Liam. “And Broussard? Caval?”
Liam nodded. “Broussard was killed by Javier Caval. He and his brother, Lorenzo, were involved in a Containment project—some sort of black ops program that paid very, very well. And because fate is a twisted bitch, a mutual friend gave Lorenzo my knife—the one used to kill Broussard.”
I took up the story. “We think it’s possible he might have killed Javier; apparently they had a falling-out over the project. Lorenzo lives in the barracks on Canal, and that’s all we’ve got on him.”
“I knew the Caval brothers,” Gunnar said. “Not well, but I knew of them. Some minor demerits for causing trouble, starting fights.”
“Impulsive?” I asked, and Gunnar nodded.
“I’m not aware they’re involved in anything unusual. But then again, I probably wouldn’t be. That’s for their division commanders. I need to get someone to the barracks,” he said, almost to himself. “Pick Lorenzo up, see what he knows.”
He considered that for a moment, then looked at Malachi. “I presume you’re in communication with the Paras at Vacherie?”
He nodded. “The nomedic, as he’s referred to, is still there, treating as he can.”
“Good,” Gunnar said, then ran a hand through his hair. “As soon as I leave here, I’ll make arrangements for medics at the other facilities.” He looked at Malachi. “And I’ll make sure this isn’t held against them for leave purposes. They worked too fucking hard for what little freedom they were granted.”
“I agree, and I appreciate it.”
Gunnar paced to one end of the church and back, his brows furrowed as he looked at the floor, worked through his mental steps. “I have to talk to the Commandant,” he said when he reached us again. “About stopping the injections, about stopping the project, which is against so many laws and international treaties it would take me an hour to explain it.”
“Not to mention fundamentally wrong.” Malachi’s voice was a low rumble of anger.
Malachi wasn’t the only one pissed. “I’m not saying it’s not wrong,” Gunnar said. “I’m saying it’s illegal. Inside my organization, that matters.”
“When it suits you.”
Gunnar took a step toward him. “We stood between the armies that came from your world to destroy ours. Are we perfect? No. Have we been doing the best we can to keep peace in this world? To salvage what we could? Yes.”
“I will not stand over more dead bodies.”
“Hey,” I said, and stepped between them. “Both of you, back off. This situation royally sucks, and it can suck for multiple reasons at the same time. It’s not a damn competition.”
They stared at each other for another long minute before moving apart again.
“If strings are being pulled in DC, it’s going to
be tricky.”
“He can’t just sit on this,” I said. “He can’t not do anything.”
“I didn’t say he wouldn’t act,” Gunnar said. “But there’s a chain of command. It’s the military, and it’s part of the game. If we want him to bypass that system, we’re going to have to make a pretty damn convincing case. Well, I will. Because that’s my job.”
“Mentioning Eleanor’s name might help get things moving in DC,” Liam said, glancing at Gunnar. “She’s connected enough, and she’d be on board. Use that however you need to.”
“Appreciate it,” Gunnar said, with an expression that backed up the words. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We waited at the church, biding our time, to learn what, if anything, the Commandant would or could do to stop the nightmare.
We sat on the floor where pews had once been. Malachi, Erida, Liam, me. Liam had pulled bottles of water from the priest hole under the floor, passed them around. We waited quietly, talking through what we knew of the project and what we didn’t yet know.
I heard the rumbling first, the sound of a thundering engine a few blocks away. Then garbled words filled the air.
“What is that?” Erida asked. We rose and moved into the foyer, peered through the stained glass to look outside.
It was a Containment vehicle, a heavy-duty truck with its bed covered by canvas. A troop carrier, probably. A man stood in the back of the truck, megaphone in hand.
“Attention! Containment has issued bounties for Liam Quinn, Claire Connolly, Gavin Quinn. If you have information regarding these individuals, please communicate with a Containment agent or your block captain. Attention, Containment has issued . . .”
The truck rumbled on, its passengers oblivious to the fact that it had just driven past two of the three fugitives they wanted most of all.
“Someone is running scared,” Malachi said, glancing back at us. “They aren’t insulated enough—or the project isn’t far enough along—that they believe they’re immune from setbacks. They’re afraid you’ll stop them.”
“Good,” I said. “Because we will.”
We just had to stay free long enough to do it.
What he didn’t say, of course, was that that concern might also cause Laura Blackwell and Lorenzo Caval to go crazy. To hurt more people.
• • •
It took three hours for the door to shake and be pushed open again. Gunnar came in, and once again, he wasn’t alone.
A woman stepped in behind him. A beautiful woman. Pale skin and long, dark hair pulled into a high knot. Her eyes were a glassy blue that edged toward green, her nose thin and straight, her lips lush. She was tall and lean, wore jeans and a Tulane T-shirt with the kind of self-assurance that told me she could wear a uniform or a cocktail dress with the same confidence.
“This is Rachel Lewis. She’s a colleague, and she’s trustworthy,” Gunnar said, the word spoken like a kind of promise. Which was good, because everyone looked at her with obvious suspicion.
Probably sensing that, she met each of our eyes in turn, checking, appraising, and promising she wasn’t an enemy. And then her gaze—liquid and intense—fell on Malachi, and she went absolutely still.
I glanced at him, found the same intensity on his face, except that it was marked with temper. Usually cool, calm, and collected, Malachi now looked ruffled, on alert, by the slender woman who stood in front of him.
“Captain,” he said, biting off the word like it had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“General,” she said. If her emotions were roiling like Malachi’s seemed to be, she was doing a much better job of hiding it. And wasn’t that interesting? Had we finally met someone who challenged his remarkable control?
“You’re acquainted?” Gunnar asked.
“During the war,” she said, without taking her eyes off Malachi. I could understand that, too. He was a very intense eyeful. “There was a unit of human and Para soldiers who assisted with the closing of the Veil.”
“Black ops,” Gunnar put in, and she nodded.
“But we haven’t seen each other since.” Even with her pretty Southern accent, her words were clipped.
“No,” Malachi said, and there was nothing pleasant in his tone now. “We haven’t.”
“Well,” Gunnar muttered, “let’s sidestep whatever this is and get down to business. The Commandant is very concerned about what we’ve found. Rachel is the Commandant’s operations director, and she’s on loan to us for the time being.”
“I take it the Commandant believes us?” Liam asked.
“There’s no documentation that confirms Icarus is a project of Containment in New Orleans.”
“No official documentation,” Liam said, and Gunnar nodded.
“Exactly. But Containment resources are clearly being used,” Gunnar said. “You’ve found ample evidence of that.”
“How do you reconcile that financially?” I asked.
“The orders came down from on high,” Gunnar said. “Long story short, Icarus began as a joint project of the Senate’s Armed Services Committee and the FBI. It was initiated after the Veil was identified, before the war. A countermeasure in case something came through.”
“Preventive genocide?” Malachi asked.
“I’d definitely call it a biological weapon,” Gunnar said. “Beyond that, we’re assuming facts they didn’t know. There was only the unknown, a lot of fear, and a desire to protect the public, for better or worse.
“The plans didn’t get very far,” he continued. “There were vague ideas about synthesizing something with biological stopping power, but since they didn’t know anything about what was living in the Beyond—or specifically about Paranormal anatomy—they didn’t move past the idea stage. When the war started, the project was put on hold, and the materiel, money, and personnel shifted to conventional weapons.”
“Like cold iron,” I said.
“Like cold iron,” Gunnar agreed. “Laura Blackwell was on the synthesis team, but she lost her job when funding was cut off. And that was the end of Icarus. Or it was supposed to be.”
“And then what?” Liam asked.
“The war kept going. Tens of thousands dead, property destroyed. The more reasonable politicians realized that developing a virus to infect an entire world was pretty fucking unethical. But not everyone was reasonable.”
“Fear makes people . . . well, people,” Liam said.
“It does,” Gunnar agreed, his face hard.
The plan was obviously unethical, but it was understandable in wartime, when humans had been concerned for their very existence. I’d seen the army that still waited on the other side of the Veil. Those soldiers weren’t overly concerned about our genocide; it was their primary motivation.
On the other hand, biological agents weren’t choosy. They would kill soldiers and civilians both, the guilty and the innocent. However horrible war was, it wasn’t supposed to be that bad.
“The unreasonable politicians?” I prompted.
“They restarted Icarus. Created ADZ Logistics as a shell company and funneled money through the PCC directly to that entity.”
“And Laura Blackwell was back in the lab,” I said.
Gunnar nodded ruefully. “That’s what it looks like.”
“What’s next?” Malachi asked.
“A lot of work on a lot of levels,” Gunnar said. “Big picture—the Commandant is communicating with several members of the Senate’s Oversight Committee, requesting a review of Icarus.
“As for Broussard,” he continued, looking at Liam, “the blood on Caval’s hands was verified as Broussard’s, and the writing on the wall at Broussard’s house included one of Caval’s fingerprints.”
“Lorenzo?” I asked.
Gunnar shook his head. “AWOL. Clea
ned out his bunk. No obvious link to Icarus left behind. His sheets, pillow were still there, and they will be tested. But it doesn’t matter for now. There’s ample evidence Liam is innocent, and the Commandant has demanded the charges be dropped immediately. He can’t rescind the bounty because of the magic Liam used at Broussard’s house, because there were witnesses, and the Magic Act is still in place. But the murder charges are off the table.”
I reached out, squeezed Liam’s hand. “Good,” I said. “That’s something, anyway.”
Gunnar nodded. “One step at a time.” He glanced at Rachel, gave her the go-ahead to continue.
“We’re working on warrants right now,” she said. “As soon as the lawyers do their jobs, we’ll go to ADZ Logistics, where a group of Containment agents and a team from the CDC will inspect the premises and seize any remaining biologicals.”
“You need warrants to inspect a Containment site?” Liam asked.
“No,” Rachel said. “But it’s not technically a Containment site. It’s privately owned, as far as all official records show.”
“It’s off the books,” Liam said.
“It is,” Rachel acknowledged with a nod.
“As we discussed earlier,” Gunnar said, “we’ve sent additional physicians to work sites. Leave has been temporarily halted until we’re sure it’s safe.”
“So you’ll punish Paranormals?” Malachi accused.
“We’ll keep them inside Devil’s Isle,” Rachel said. “For better or worse, it is the most secure and safest facility we can provide for them at this time. There are also no instances of illness inside Devil’s Isle, which Lizzie has confirmed. You’re welcome to confirm that with her directly, if you can.”
There was a challenge in her voice. Captain Lewis was good.
“If this is being directed at the higher levels,” Liam said, “the Commandant will take heat.”
“He is aware of that,” she said. “But as long as Devil’s Isle remains under his command, he’ll act accordingly.”
“We’ll help however we can,” I said.
Rachel gave Malachi a quick glance before looking at her watch. “I’d like to get back so we can go over the op.”
