She smiles, but I’m not sure what emotion I see on her face. She has dark circles under her eyes, and since I saw her last, she’s lost weight. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you showed yourself. It wasn’t easy. Using those old freight tunnels running under the city was undoubtedly smart.”
I remain silent. I know I am smart. With Serena and Nine looking for me, I had to be careful, and the subterranean network was the most rational and sensible choice.
“But then you made it easy for me when you left Chicago and focused yourattentiononly on one particular person.”
“Is there a point?” I know Linda used to be a secret agent. She is retired now, but still freelances—that was, until the doctor ended up in the hospital. She is astute, professionally skilled, and has the right means to make my life…hard. But she hasn’t, yet.
“I’ve seen all of my kids fall one after the other for their person. It was an honor to witness it, and a relief—wandering this world alone feeds one’s inner darkness.” She swallows beforecontinuing. “Sully is very dear to us, and I believe he deserves the best.”
“I am the best,” I state with conviction.
She sniffs. “No shit. After observing you, I can say that you were able to make the best out of yourself. You easily dial up or down your emotions in a wide range of situations. Still have no conscience or empathy, but you learned to imitate other people’s feelings and use them to your advantage, hiding your psycho-self in plain sight. I’m…impressed.” She pauses to let out a long sigh. “When I got to the facility where you were last imprisoned, it was reduced to ashes. So many years have passed since I started looking for you, and I was…afraid to find you. I thought you were lost to us already. But Meg, she never lost faith. And every time I shared my concerns, she would say that she believed in the right to believe. She’d be so, so thrilled to see you, Ezra. So elated.” This time her smile looks sad.
“Why?” It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t even know her.
“An empty box with the number eight on it made her wonder if another subject was out there, and she asked me to look into you. That’s how we found out about the second facility and your existence.”
“I don’t need an explanation regarding that. I already know you were searching for me. When I escaped, I hid from you, simply because I didn’t want to change my situation. I had a place to stay and people to kill.” Like my uncle and the bastards who enjoyed torturing me and escaped the fire.
“Uriel told me about the people who welcomed you. I get it, and even if I didn’t, it’s your life I had no right over it. But to Meg, you were always one of her kids. The lost one. Michael, Raphael,Ramiel, Sariel, Gabriel/Bezaliel, Raguel, Uriel, and Ezra. Why did you choose this name if not because you knew you belonged with them?”
When I discovered what happened to my brother and the others, I also found out they got new names. George—the male nurse who saved me—explained to me that maybe they did it to celebrate a new start. It was only reasonable for me to do the same. I did choose a name from the angel realm because it made sense to have what Uriel had. He’s my identical twin. Whatever happens, that will never change.
I shrug. “Would the doctor be happy to see Nine as well?”
Her features morph as a deep, angry furrow appears on her face.
“Fuck that! That hag needs to die. She poisoned Meg, and almost got Lori raped, attempted to kill all of my children, burned down my house—which I fucking hated, but still, it was mine—and hurt who knows how many people. You even had to fake your own death because of her. She needs to pay with her life.”
At least we are on the same page about this.
She laughs bitterly. “Meg would be devastated to learn about her existence. It would have been better if Nine died in that fire at the facility, because from what I gathered, she was already too far gone at that point. But that would have been odd since now I strongly believe she started that same fire. The MO used to burn Meg’s house was the same for the facility.”
I had a similar fleeting thought, but since that first fire helped me escape, I didn’t really care who started it. The one at their house almost killed Uriel, but it gave me the chance to shoot Nine, pity I didn’t kill her. I covered my mouth and nose withmy bandana, and there was smoke around us, luckily she didn’t recognize me.
“Those scientists were delusional when they thought they could control her or any of you.” Linda tsks with contempt and then mutters, “Little did they know that the untended corner of the garden would grow strong and wicked.”
After a long moment, she asks, “Any luck with the poisoner?”
Here is that word again. “Luck? Idiots rely on luck. The idea that there is a force in the universe tilting events in your favor or against it is ridiculous,” I deadpan.
“So you have him.”
I nod and move to the back of the car—the one Jacob was driving the night he attacked Sully, now with a different color and plates. I know other people outside the vigilante family.
I open the trunk and show her the face of the man who made the poison that put her wife in a coma.
“Marlon Finch.” The man is still out. I don’t know what Vulture’sfriendsgave him when they sent him in a truck container from New York. He’s been unconscious since they dropped him at the motel this morning—I chose the location away from Sully. I had to leave my little chick to take care of this. He was going to sit at one of Michael’s lectures with Ren, anyway.
Linda is still staring at the unconscious middle-aged man. Her hands are gripping the metal edge of the open trunk. Her knuckles turning white.
“In the last year since Meg…I’ve become acquainted with every type of poison on earth. And you know what I realized? The most toxic one is guilt.”
The sound of cars coming our way makes us look up. Lori and Gabriel arrive first, then Ramiel and Hunter, and lastly Uriel. Their faces have the same level of fury as Linda’s.
Sariel told me the poison that Dr. Meghan was exposed to wasn’t all cyanide, but a perfect blend of different compounds that made it unique. He tried to find out the exact quantities. He thought he did, but the fact that the doctor is slowly getting worse means he hasn’t. On top of that the doctor has lupus, a chronic, long-term autoimmune disease. Because of her already compromised, immune-suppressed state, the results of the poison were more complex and unpredictable. For starters she inexplicably didn’t die, but she is getting there fast. And now the family wants the person who made the mortal concoction to pay and to give them information—I guess that’s why Uriel is here. He makes donors talk.
“Fucking piece of shit!” Ramiel spits on the ground and marches inside the building.
