Page 9 of Greed
But even as he thought it, another voice whispered that science was based in fact. If his biological mother created him and his siblings to recognize their sin’s exact opposite, then it most certainly wasn’t a mistake. There must be a reason, perhaps one that was necessary.
She was a beautiful distraction he couldn’t afford. Loss of control was the first step to chaos. The piles of dead bodies in his memories were a testament to that.
Pushing thoughts of the woman from his mind, Griffin took a deep, restorative breath, adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and peered at the collection of newspapers laid out on his desk. Arriving early that morning, he had been shown to the office by the editor’s secretary and told to make himself comfortable until the meeting where he would be introduced to the rest of the staff. He wouldn’t be welcome, he knew that. Nobody employed with the purpose of cutting jobs would be welcome.
He focused on his other reason for being there: the defamatory articles and the person writing them—Donald Doppenger. He’d never met the man and would have to hunt him down to investigate why he liked to publish lies about Griffin’s family.
A few nights ago, Parker’s assistant had supplied Griffin with a series of newspapers, all with articles by the man in question. All newspapers were now on his desk. Four columns of folded newspapers, three rows deep and displaying the cover-page, stared back at him. Each had a different headline marking the Deadly Seven as disruptive and destructive vigilantes. All written by Doppenger. Pity he wasn’t one for facts—half the nonsense he wrote was sensationalist conjecture.
A headline caught his attention.
City Under Ransom; Where is Greed Now?
The story was dated three months ago and detailed a number of shocking kidnappings in the city. In one, the son of a wealthy aristocrat had been kidnapped and a ransom well within the means of the father was requested and not paid. But instead of writing about the lack of parental concern for the wellbeing of his child, the writer blamed the negligence of Greed for not responding to the mother’s desperate call for help in tracking the kidnappers.
Griffin sneered in distaste. So he had to be everywhere at once, did he? He put down the paper and moved to the next.
Another story claimed the Deadly Seven were to blame for the building collapse that Wyatt’s ex-fiancee, Sara, orchestrated. That story went far deeper than what the newspaper reported. In the course of the past few months, thanks to Evan’s persistence, they’d discovered Sara’s true sinister nature. She worked for the Syndicate—the organization that created the seven—and they wanted them back. Since they couldn’t get them, they tried replicating the experiment by creating clones with supernatural biology, but failed at this as well. Their clones had a shelf-life of a few months. Didn’t matter now, Evan had destroyed their lab two months ago, giving the Deadly Seven an advantage over the Syndicate.
Their only other advantage was how their biological mother locked supernatural abilities behind layers of DNA junk in their bodies, only to be revealed when they each met their mate.
Their mate.
Not a partner, or a wife, or a girlfriend or lover. A mate.
Someone they would be pair-bonded to on an intrinsic, and unescapable biological level. Someone who would trigger a pheromone response in his body to entice them to feel the same way about him. In nature, animals mated for breeding purposes and often connected monogamously for life. Nature was where their creator got all her research and ideas from, but because she was dead with only an encrypted laptop left behind with her nonsensical notes, Griffin had been forced to conduct his own study. He wanted to understand what his future held. More importantly, he wanted to know how to break free from it.
Griffin stared at his hand again, turning it over. His inner wrist tattoo had itched since he’d met Lilo in the break room. It was impossible to tell if she had an effect on his biological balance since he was already in harmony, but it itched. Maybe the simple fact it hadn’t changed an iota since he met her was a sign she wasthe one. An altercation with any other person regarding who owed what would send his tattoo scrambling. But not her. Not Lilo Likeke.
Before Evan had met his mate, Grace, his tattoo had been almost completely black. Within moments of entering Grace’s orbit, his tattoo had equalized—returning to the normal Yin-Yang black-and-white pattern everyone recognized. Griffin had thought this sudden change to be cheating, but he couldn’t hide the fact that the balance meant Evan was free to help anyone, anytime he desired with no consequence to his sin’s dangerous internal pull.
A scar ran along the back of Griffin’s hand, a byproduct from the time he was on a tour in the Middle-East with the Australian SAS. Like the rest of his family, his deadly combat training had spanned six other countries around the world. From deep covert cover, man-hunting expeditions, to Kung-Fu with the masters in Tibet. It had been a lonely, frightening time starting from the age of fifteen, and he’d come out with scars not always seen by the naked eye. If Mary knew the full extent of the training’s brutality, she would never have let them go. Then again, maybe she did know. His adoptive mother was as deadly and determined as they were—except, where they grew up with loving parents, Mary grew up brainwashed into being an assassin for a secret society known as The Hildegard Sisterhood.
Mary and Flint’s loving relationship had been a beacon of hope for each of the seven. They made it seem like a normal relationship was possible for people like them.
Unbidden, Lilo’s face entered Griffin’s mind and the smell of bubblegum came with it. He supposed she was attractive. Quite. She had soft luminous skin. Her brown hair was a little messy, but the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes had brought her to life. She had passion. He respected that.
Thinking of Lilo sent a wave of unseen energy rippling through him, making him dizzy. The wave crashed, and he was left reeling, only to feel the entire surge again. And again. Each time, metal objects on his desk lifted a few inches, hovered, and fell back with a clatter, throwing his desk into chaos. Paper clips, staples, scissors, and his phone; all rose as though he’d entered a zero gravity container. The stronger the wave of energy prickling through him, the higher the metal objects lifted. All items twisted and rotated in the air to point at Griffin, as though he were their true north.
His lungs seized at the reality of his new power manifesting.
First the metal mug crushing inward on its own, now this.
Flying metal?
No.
Not on his first day on the job.
Not now.
Not ever.
A knock came at the door and every metallic item dropped. He scrambled to neaten the disorder, lining up the newspapers in perfect rows and dragging the pencils into a pile.
“Mr. Lazarus.”
Fred the Editor poked his head inside the office door. In order to remember his name, Griffin used the association technique. Not only was he an editor, but Fred was an older man. Judging by his white hair and wrinkled face, he neared retirement. But Fred the Elderly Editor was too much of a mouthful. Like most journalists and editors Griffin had met so far, Fred’s hair was as unkempt as his clothes. He should run a comb through it every so often. Maybe people would respect him more if he took care of his appearance, and Griffin wouldn’t need to be employed to consult on the department’s efficiency.
