Page 5 of Legacy of Chaos

“Send him in.”

Stryke glanced at the clock. He’d hoped to have more time to prepare for this. The WCSG inquiry had gone on longer than it should have. Now, he had just a little over two minutes to catch up on his messages.

There were seven notes from the heads of various departments, two media requests, and one message from his uncle Eidolon, all of which got mentally sorted into a response queue in order of importance.

Last on the list was the visual missive from his uncle Eidolon.

It wasn’t that Stryke didn’t like the guy. On the contrary, he had mad respect for the doctor. Eidolon was intelligent, rational, and had built a medical empire from nothing. He waspretty much the only family member with whom Stryke felt comfortable.

Eidolon’s eyes were never full of blame or disappointment.

But Stryke still didn’t feel like dealing with him right now. Didn’t feel like being lectured.

“You need to dial back on your use of sexual suppressants. They’re not good for you. They interfere with your sleep. Suppressants are meant to be used only occasionally. No more than twice per day unless it’s an emergency situation.”

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Stryke was intimately aware of the side effects of the suppressant. How could he not be? He’d developed it himself when he decided the formula Eidolon created for their kind wasn’t long-term enough. And if using it cost Stryke a few years of his life in missed sleep, so what? His species had a five-hundred-year lifespan. What was a decade or two?

The elevator door slid open, and Kynan stepped out, dressed as usual in dark jeans, combat boots, and a half-tucked blue button-down. Around his battle-scarred neck, dangling from a chain, was a crystal amulet named Heofon that made him immortal and practically immune to violence. He hadn’t aged a day since being gifted with the literal piece of Heaven, and no one looking at him would know he was in his sixties and not his late twenties or early thirties.

“Stryke.” Kynan strode toward him, every step lighting the embedded symbols in the pearlescent floor. White flashes spread from his footprints, identifying him as someone with angelic lineage. “Thanks for seeing me.”

Stryke pushed to his feet and extended his hand as was customary for humans. “When the Director of DART, a human charmed by angels, wants a meeting, I give him a meeting.”

Kynan stopped in front of Stryke’s desk and clasped his hand. “See, I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” Hisvoice, already gravelly from the injury that had turned his neck into a busy network of scar tissue, went even rougher with mild reproach. “Mainly because you rarely agree to meet.”

Stryke gestured to his bank of computers and whiteboards. “I’m very busy.”

“So you tell everyone.”

Stryke snorted. Very few people would call him out like that. It was both irritating and admirable. It was also accurate. Hewasbusy. And his cousins, brothers, parents…they were doing fine without him.

“I sent the list of the features we want in the new weapon design,” Kynan said, skipping awkward personal small talk. Much appreciated. “Have you had time to look at it?”

“I did. You’re asking for a lot.” Stryke brought the list up on his pad and flung it into the air between them, making it the size of a large TV screen and suspended as a 3D hologram. “You’re asking for a weapon that not only kills demons but also captures their souls. Everything you’ve described would take some kind of bullet from a firearm. Our agreement with The Aegis for a demon-killing firearm is exclusive.”

Kynan’s gravelly voice warped even more. “I’m more than familiar with the weapon you created for The Aegis.”

Of course, he was. The Smiter had killed two of Kynan’s people. Regrettable, certainly, but StryTech had merely created the weapon. How it was used was out of his company’s hands. Still, Stryke felt obligated to help Ky out.

“But,” Stryke said, “we might be able to develop a different kind of projectile.”

“Like what? An arrow? Or a crossbow bolt?” Kynan crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Neither of those are practical, tactical, or easy to conceal. Even the smallest ones are way too obvious, especially in public.”

Stryke threw out a 3D sketch of a sleek hybrid weapon he’d drawn last night when his mind had been too busy to let him sleep. “What if I can develop one that’s no bulkier than, say, a Colt 1911?”

“You think you can do that?” Kynan analyzed the sketch like a commander studying a battle map. “And still make it powerful enough to kill Ufelskala Five demons?”

“I’m confident my team can size it to your liking. Powerful enough to kill?” Stryke shrugged. “Eh. Depends on the demon. We’ll see. But it’ll cause injury and collect the demon’s soul after it dies. I can have some designs and rudimentary figures drawn up for you.”

Kynan zeroed in on a word at the bottom of the screen. “Reaper?”

“That’s what I’m calling it. Seemed appropriate, given what it will do. Feel free to rename it.”

Sharp gaze focused on the sketch, Kynan appeared to consider that. He’d probably had his little human heart set on a high-octane pistol or a rapid-fire rifle, but StryTech’s exclusivity agreement with The Aegis was rock solid for another five years.

Besides, if Stryke could make it work, this weapon would be a game changer, allowinganyoneto capture a soul. Right now, trapping demonic spirits required an ability to see them and StryTech’s proprietary containers.

“No, I like it. The name and design both,” Kynan said. “What about my suggestion to work with my people on this?”

---