Page 2 of Avenger of Sins

Ryan picked up the thermos filled with blood he’d drained from the vampire. He took a quick sip, trying to ignore the taste. Energy instantly crackled through him; his vision seemed sharper, his mind clearer. The thoughts of Jo and Pittman grew more distinct, easier to pluck from the air.

He resealed the thermos, then sat on the edge of the bed beside Pittman. “Now,” he said as he reached for the gag, “you’re going to answer some questions.”

“I brought the clothes the director asked for,” said the agent standing awkwardly in the conference room door. Caleb hadn’t caught her name or rank, had no idea if she was local or someone Kaniyar had brought with her to New Orleans. Either way, her eyes were wary as she held out a shopping bag in Night’s direction.

Unlike Gray, who could hide inside of Caleb’s living body, Night was clearly inhuman. Her body might be that of a soccer mom, short with rumpled blonde hair. But her eyes glowed like those of a predator reflecting the light from a campfire, and fangs flashed whenever she spoke.

Now she fixed her eerie gaze on the agent. “I have clothing already.”

Technically true, but Christmas-themed pajamas decorated with bloody bullet holes weren’t going to cut it. “Do you want mortals losing it around you?” he asked. “Because you’re pretty conspicuous right now.”

Night frowned slightly. Drakul learned pretty quickly that screaming mortals had the annoying tendency to get in the way during a hunt. “No. I will accept this disguise.”

Zahira, no doubt seeing the other agent’s uncertainty, reached out for the bag. “I’ll take over from here.”

The agent nodded, backing toward the door as she did so. “Great. I got a bunch of stuff, sizes fourteen to eighteen since women’s clothing sizes don’t mean shit.”

“Thank you,” Zahira said, but the other woman was already out the door and gone.

Smart lady.

“Come with me—I’ll help you,” Zahira told Night.

He half expected Night to protest, but she only followed Zahira out of the room. Night wouldn’t bother with figuring out the right sizes or what looked acceptable on her own; with Zahira’s help she at least wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Too badly, anyway.

And now, at last, Caleb and Gray were alone with John.

Gray hovered close to the surface, not speaking but observing keenly. John had been quiet since Kaniyar left them in this boring-ass beige conference room at SPECTR-NOLA headquarters.

Which wasn’t really surprising. What the hell did you say, after being mind-controlled by someone you thought you knew? Someone you trusted?

If Caleb ever saw Ryan again, he was going to wring his fucking neck.

Gray stirred at that thought.“He tried to take John away. He stole our blood. I do not like him.”

Yeah, no kidding.

Caleb leaned across the table toward John. John didn’t look good—of course he didn’t—eyes bruised and hair unkempt, the shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

“Hey,” Caleb said softly. He stretched out his hand and let it rest on the table, an invitation rather than a demand. “How are you doing?”

John stared at nothing. “I don’t understand why he did this,” he said at last.

No need to ask who “he” was. Ryan Starkweather, originally called John Starkweather, the telepath. Handed over by his parents to a SPECTR operation pretending to be an anti-paranormal facility that would “cure” their child of his ability. Locked away, tortured by having demons forced in and out of him, injected with god-knew-what cocktail of drugs in an attempt to control the demons inside.

Four other kids had been with him. Two were dead. One missing alongside Ryan. The fourth, John Starkweather, born Jonathan Low. Mind-wiped, memories replaced, then scooped up by SPECTR to become an agent without ever remembering what they’d done to him. Hell, they positioned themselves as his savior, his haven.

“Ryan wanted to get close to Kaniyar, get the names of everyone who tortured you, and then kill them all starting with her.” Caleb shrugged. “It’s no deeper than that.”

And fuck, he kind of sympathized with the guy. Ryan might be a psycho, but the people on that list had been fine with torturing kids. This was all top-secret stuff; they’d never see the inside of a courtroom. There was no hope of justice unless Ryan took it into his own hands.

But Ryan had also decided to take over John and Jo’s minds, order them to shoot up him and Gray, and Night. Night just hopped bodies, but Gray and he ended up locked in a bank vault after having been bled by Ryan, who wanted the ability-boost of a drakul’s blood to fuel his revenge.

So Caleb’s sympathy was running a lot thinner than it would have otherwise.

The look John shot him was like a stake to the heart. Grief, anger, betrayal, all aimed at the only target in the room. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ryanlovedus. You can’t even begin to understand the sort of bond we formed, locked up and tortured together. We were all we had. We’d die for each other.”

Caleb flinched. That last bit had been in present tense, and he didn’t like that at all.

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