Page 16 of Avenger of Sins

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to find the kitchen, splash some water on my face, have a glass. Hydration always helps, right?”

“Take all the time you need.” She stopped outside the door to the command center. “I’ll be in here.”

He nodded, and she slipped through the door. Alone in the hall, he contemplated for a moment, before heading off in what he thought was the most likely direction.

The plush carpet rendered his footsteps silent. Despite being near the heart of a major metropolitan area, no outside sounds penetrated the thick walls and triple-paned windows. The airwas oddly still, except when the heat kicked on, as though the house was more showplace than home.

A grand staircase led the way back downstairs, a huge chandelier dangling from the ceiling above the massive Christmas tree. The house’s electricity bill must be astronomical, but clearly Lydell had plenty of money to spare.

He found her sitting in one of the many living rooms, tapping on her phone. Plastic surgery had taken its toll, sharpening her cheekbones, plumping her lips, and suctioning any fat from her cheeks so the flesh clung close to the skull. But he recognized her still. This woman, dressed in white pants and a tan sweater of Vicuña wool, had once stood over him while he was strapped in a medical chair. She’d dressed like a typical agent then, in a black pantsuit, and her hair had been honey blonde instead of the frosty shade it was now dyed, but it was her.

The exorcist who had summoned demons and forced them inside himself and the other kids.

A wave of nausea passed over him, and his limbs felt weak. He sank into one of the chairs, barely noticing the cloud-like softness of its cushions.

The motion caught her attention, and she looked up. A flash of irritation crossed her face at the sight of him sitting on her furniture. “How much longer is this going to take?” she demanded. “I can communicate with my personal assistant over the phone, but I need the maid service back in as soon as possible.” Her gaze went to one of the ubiquitous vases of fresh flowers, their leaves drooping sadly. “All of the flowers are old and wilting.”

“You could just water them yourselves,” he said.

Her glare could have flayed skin. “I’m not asking for advice. I’m asking for results.”

The sick feeling was joined by something else. Something darker, like a stain on his soul. As soon as the first demon hadtouched him inside, he’d wanted to kill her. Bite her, rip her, taste her blood and flesh. It was all the maddened thing inside him could understand.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.

She frowned, started to respond, then hesitated. At last, she said, “Nineteen?”

“Yes.” Something seemed to constrict his throat. “I’ve been assigned to stop Ryan and protect you.”

The agent who’d been guarding the front door walked in, holding a plastic cup of something green and thick. “A delivery driver brought your smoothie.”

“Finally!” Lydell snatched it out of her hands. “I’m famished.”

John met the other agent’s gaze as she walked out; she rolled her eyes and mouthed “rich people” at him. He managed a slight grin for her.

Lydell sipped her smoothie, then made a face. “Even more disgusting than usual, but it’s good for the skin. Packed with antioxidants.”

She’d put NHEs in him, exposed his young mind to desperation, madness, and rage. Now she sat here in her fucking mansion, nattering on about smoothies as though everything was normal.

His hands tried to curl into fists. “Don’t you have any remorse at all?”

“Why would I have remorse?” She took another sip, made another face. “I served my country. Just because things didn’t work out doesn’t mean I failed.”

God, it was Walsh all over again. “You tortured children,” he growled. “You torturedme!”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how lucky you are. If it had been in the 60’s, you would have been strapped to a gurney 24/7 with electrodes implanted in yourbrain. Instead, you were allowed far too much freedom.” She winced and put a delicate hand to her forehead. “You’re giving me a literal headache with these questions. You seem fine to me now, so why don’t you go and do your job?”

He was at a loss what to do. Could he say anything to crack her facade? And if he could, what did he want that to achieve?

An apology—that would be a good start. An acknowledgement of their pain. A bit of remorse, even if only because her actions had helped create the situation they were in now.

Lydell set aside her smoothie and her hands went to her throat.

He stood immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“C-can’t breathe.” She lurched to her feet, then promptly bent over and vomited green smoothie all over the floor. Even as he shouted for help, she collapsed to the carpet like a marionette with its strings cut.

SIX

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