Michael
MICHAEL
tensed in the bedroom doorway as they injected Jack, and he collapsed into the waiting arms of three burly agents.
It took three of them to handle his dead weight. shivered. How many of them would be needed to take him down if he shifted? A dozen? Twenty?
He’d seen Shifters in action over the years he’d been working with the Operation. But he’d never seen anything like his son.
‘I am not your son!’
The words sliced through him. He thought he had prepared for the moment when Jack realized that wasn’t his biological father. But nothing could prepare a father for the pain of hearing their son say it.
“You see now, Agent Turner, why we needed to bring Jack in, don’t you?” Baxter said, his voice almost thoughtful as Jack’s unconscious body was maneuvered onto a gurney and wheeled out.
said nothing. The last few weeks had taught him that you didn’t speak to Baxter unless you wanted your words used against you at some point. Behind him, Gretchen’s rattling breaths reminded him of just how much everything he’d promised, everything he’d bargained for all those years ago, had turned to ash.
And he’d walked right into all of it.
Baxter’s cold, calculating gaze roved , who suppressed another shiver.
“I was hoping that you might be ready to come back on board, having had a chance to see what he’s becoming. But … perhaps some time to process would be beneficial …”
’s heart jumped, and before he could think it through too deeply, he stepped forward.
“No. No, that won’t be necessary,” he said quickly, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. “I’m ready to get back to work.”
Work. Whatever that meant. He’d never thought much about what would happen once Jack was sent to the Operation. Probably because sending him to them had never been something he’d examined in detail. Stupidly, he’d always seen it as something for his distant future self to worry about.
And then everything on Greenrock had been about luring out the Coalition, and he’d been able to pretend that it wasn’t also about Jack going to Baxter.
But if Baxter wanted him to work, then he’d have more of an idea of what was happening inside the Operation. He’d have better access to information about what Jack was doing … what was being done to Jack.
And he might be able to help Gretchen feel a little less wretched about the whole thing.
At least, that was what he was going to keep telling himself.
Baxter watched him for what felt like forever, then gave a small nod. His lips twitched in as much of a smile as Baxter ever gave.
“Good. Because I’ve just had word that my men posted at the Rodgers Estate have brought in Blaire’s … donor.”
The male looked exactly as he had in those early meetings, twenty years ago now, when they’d first floated the idea of some ‘homeschooled’ hybrids with a small group of Baxter’s Stranger allies.
Well, he looked the same, except for the blood.
There was so much blood.
His blue jeans were soaked around his left knee. But there were also splatters of it on his shirt, across his neck and face. And … was that a bit of … flesh … tangled in his hair?
swallowed back bile, turning away.
“We did call for Agent Rodgers, did we not?” Baxter asked a uniformed agent who stood by the door. The man nodded, and Baxter crossed his ankle over his knee. He eyed the gore-soaked Drinker, who was pinned to a chair with metal cuffs at his wrists and neck as if they were about to have a polite afternoon tea together.
The door opened, and Harvey stepped inside. glanced up, shocked at how haunted his friend looked. Although perhaps he shouldn’t have been shocked. He probably looked exactly the same way.
Harvey noticed first, and he paused, blinking. But he said nothing, letting his eyes rove until they caught on the Drinker in the corner. His jaw twitched.
“My men found this male skulking around your house, Agent Rodgers,” Baxter said mildly, uncrossing his ankles and standing. “With his progeny.”
stiffened, his eyes flicking to his friend. This was the first news of Blaire he’d heard since they fled that clearing on Greenrock. He wondered if it was a first for Harvey, too. That nerve in Harvey’s jaw twitched again, but he didn’t give any other response.
“Was she brought in, too?” asked, keeping his tone neutral. Decades as a lawyer had honed his ability to keep his emotions in check, even in the most stressful courtrooms.
And he had a feeling that this room had the potential to be a court, and an execution space, all in one, if the Drinker didn’t cooperate with Baxter. If any of them didn’t cooperate.
“Unfortunately, no. And she left quite a mess in her wake, did she not?” Baxter’s gaze turned to the Drinker, who wore a cold expression under all that blood.
“Is this the way you treat your allies, Agent Baxter?” the Drinker asked.
Baxter sniffed once. wanted to gag. He’d been breathing through his mouth since he walked in because of the stench of death that filled the space.
“Do my allies break into the home of one of my agents and go rummaging through filing cabinets in the middle of the night?” Baxter countered. “That’s hardly a friendly act, is it now?”
’s mouth went dry, and he glanced at Harvey from the corner of his eye. His friend looked grim, his knuckles bone white where he gripped the chair he stood behind.
“Why do you want her so badly?” the male demanded. His canines were long and pointy. His fingers drummed on the armrests his wrists were pinned to.
“Because we had an agreement,” Baxter replied, and there was a thread of carefully concealed fury laced through his reasonable tone. “Eighteen years in human society, but when their transition reached a certain point, they needed to be handed over, to be in a controlled environment until they were … stable again. You know as well as anyone what a … volatile time transition can be for these youngsters.”
The Drinker snorted. “It’s been a very, very long time since I went through my transition, Baxter.”
Baxter’s eyes narrowed. felt an insane urge to shout at the Drinker to just tell Baxter whatever he wanted to know … except couldn’t quite work out what exactly Baxter did want to know. Blaire’s location, perhaps?
“What was your plan, once she got here?” the Drinker continued. “Because I was there in that clearing on Greenrock. I heard the things the Shifter was saying to you. What had you promised him? That he could play with my daughter? Could slice her up and feed on her, watch her heal and do it all over again? Is that something you’re doing to her kind, here in this … place?”
The chair back creaked under Harvey’s grip as the Drinker spoke. wanted to put his hand over the other man’s to warn him to keep his cool. But he didn’t move.
“Immortality had addled that one’s brain, obviously,” Baxter said dismissively. But caught a little twitch in the words. was an expert at working out people’s tells. Baxter was lying. Or at least not telling the full truth.
“Will you help me bring her in? Help her to transition in a safe space? She will be welcome to leave once she is fully immortal. Once she’s been briefed on the … situation.”
The Drinker snarled, then spat blood across the room. It landed at Baxter’s feet, splattering over his highly polished boots. tensed, but Baxter merely sniffed again.
“Will you?” he repeated.
“Blaire is safer where she is than she ever would be in this place,” the Drinker growled, baring his bloody gums at Baxter. gripped the armrest of his chair, hoping his horror didn’t show on his face.
But Baxter’s answering chuckle was more horrific than the blood-soaked fangs of the Drinker.
“I thought you might say that. And to be perfectly honest, Blaire isn’t a high priority for me.”
’s eyes flicked to Harvey, who had gone gray. Blaire not being on Baxter’s radar could only be a good thing, as far as was concerned. He thought about the fact that Jack was very firmly on Baxter’s radar and turned as gray as Harvey.
“In actual fact,” Baxter continued, moving closer to the Drinker. ’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “If you’re able to answer me some simple questions, I’ll release you to care for your … daughter, did you say?” Baxter’s calculating gaze fell on Harvey as he continued. “Given we are allies … we are still allies, aren’t we?”
The Drinker’s low growl sent chills down ’s spine.
“We still share a common enemy. I am still very invested in Fortis’s death,” the Drinker conceded.
Baxter nodded. “And of course, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He took another step closer to the filth-covered Drinker. “So … as my friend, tell me why, in many months, I have had only one single success at getting these hybrids to interbreed.”
went still. He was trying to breed them with one another?
To what end?
The Drinker’s expression was as taken aback as felt.
“You … you’ve had one success?” he asked, his voice wavering.
Baxter nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “Indeed. We’d begun to assume that as hybrids, they were infertile, in the same way that mules and ligers are infertile. But then we had one success—between a Drinker and a Shifter, no less. The pregnancy … failed soon after conception, in strange circumstances. The male was injured, and the female presented with signs of the exact same injury. Unfortunately, the injury was abdominal, and while her immortal healing saved her, the vulnerable fetus was not so lucky.”
The Drinker’s face had grown more and more wary as Baxter continued to talk. He knew something; was sure of it. But would he tell Baxter?
Weirdly, hoped he’d stay silent.
“We did some bloods on the pair and found some … anomalous results,” Baxter continued, and shot a glance at Harvey, who looked as mystified and unwell at all this news as felt.
“I wonder,” said Baxter, “do you have any explanation as to why one particular pair would conceive, when every other attempt at breeding … and there have been so, so many, over almost two years now … have all failed?”
The Drinker shook his head. “I … I do not.”
He was lying. And didn’t need his skills to see it. Baxter could see it, too.
“You see, we began to wonder, when the two parents-to-be suddenly found it difficult to be parted, whether there was some urge to remain together, to protect their unborn offspring. But then the pregnancy ended … and the way that it ended, the strange, duplicated injury, made us question. And now, the pair still feel the urge to be together, even without offspring … the urge grips them both to the point where it is painful for them to be separated for too long, or over a distance.”
The Drinker’s fingers clawed into the armrests. His neck strained against the collar holding him in place. “I … have nothing to tell you,” he grated.
And there was that chuckle again. Ice slid through ’s veins.
“Oh, I think you do. I think you know exactly why this is all happening. And I think that you and all the males of your kind who have provided us with … fertile genetic material for our lab experiment, have all gone through exactly what this pair have.
“So tell me … where is your mate now, Jude?”