‘My apologies, sir.’
‘Mm.Now, explain to me what Fenwick told you.’
‘Mason Fenwick was in acute psychological distress.He was having a panic attack, if not full-on flashbacks.Nothing he said carries any weight.’
‘He used a particular word to describe my son.’
‘Wrongly,sir.’
‘What was that word, Lachlan?’
‘Paranatural, sir.’
‘He blamed the storm on my son, did he?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And what do you think of that?’
‘I think Fenwick was severely compromised, hence why I shot him.’
‘Yes, you did.Ilikethat you did.It’s why you may yet avoid any serious punishment going forward.’Penhalyx sighs, slips off his desk.‘Fenwick was my selection.I shall be more thorough next time.’
Someone knocks.
Penhalyx bids them inside.
Two units are holding Fenwick up, one arm apiece.Fenwick’s shoulders are bandaged, but he’s deathly white, bloodshot eyes fixed on Alistair.
‘Sit him there,’ Penhalyx directs, then dismisses them both with a wave of his hand.Without looking at Fenwick, Penhalyx asks him, ‘Are you still possessed of your delusion, Mason?’
Fenwick’s gaze moves to Lachlan’s gun, currently holstered.
He seems resigned to it.
‘I know what your son is.’
Lachlan doesn’t like the change in him.The panic has burned away, leaving only hard conviction beneath it, and somehow that’s worse.
‘And what is my son?’
‘He’s not human.’
‘How so?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘It matters for your wife, Mason.Your brother.Your family.’
Lachlan tamps down his reaction.
This is the lion’s den.
No wrong moves in here.
‘He’s a Paranatural.’
‘Why do you believe that?’
