Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTY
I’ve thought about your proposal. I have some conditions but yes, I accept. I can’t let what happened to Alex happen to other empaths.
Call me the Dead Man if you want. Obviously I don’t have feelings about it either way.
—NOTE FROM EVAN GRAYSON TO HOLT TRAYNOR
The Empath Initiative had sent Grayson the address of a warehouse on the water, just north of Horseshoe Bay. Reece took his time getting there. After all, he wanted everyone else to have plenty of time to arrive.
He brought the truck down the hill and into the parking lot, then drove to the middle of the lot and cut the engine.
He rested his fingers on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.
If Cora had done it, maybe he could too.
Sure enough, a moment later, he was picking them up: emotions around him. Fear, anger—oh, that was excitement and anticipation, and in more than one person. There were a few twisted fucks in this crowd who enjoyed the thought of throwing down with an enhanced superhuman like Grayson. They would have been briefed on Grayson and be ready to fight him.
Unfortunately for them, tonight that was going to be like bringing the proverbial knives to a gunfight.
The driver’s door was yanked open.
“Don’t move, Agent Gray—Reece Davies?”
Reece opened his eyes. He looked over to his left, and stared straight into the eyes of Holt Traynor, the ex–army general turned Empath Initiative director.
“The thing even an empath specialist forgets about empaths,” Reece said, holding up Grayson’s phone, “is that when I need to crack a password that I’ll—” he cleared his throat “— never guess , I don’t actually have to guess that impossible password. I just have to figure out what password Evan thinks I would never be able to guess.” He shrugged. “And that’s easy: 2273-2327.” He stage-whispered, “It spells C-A-R-E-B-E-A-R .”
Traynor’s lips tightened into a flat line. “Where’s Agent Grayson?”
“Far away,” Reece said, keeping his eyes on Traynor’s. “Where you can’t hurt him.”
Traynor’s nostrils flared. “What are you—”
“Was it your idea to send Keith Waller those gloves from Vancouver?” Reece said dangerously, feeling the rage bubble up again. “So that if Evan ever found out, he’d think the trail led to Stone Solutions? He was already suspicious of them, after all; he’d be quicker to believe they were the ones trying to recruit big, ex-military test subjects.”
Traynor’s fingers tightened on the door frame.
“How much of it was your idea, and how much do you just sign off on?” Reece said. “Maybe you don’t want to know the gory details, but you approve everything that’s done to us? You think any experiment is worth finding out how to stop us, because we’re predators?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lie. Traynor averted his gaze, but it was too late. Reece’s empathy was finally running free, connecting puzzle pieces until he could see the entire picture clearly.
“I’m still trying to figure out why you lied to Evan about that predator theory. I mean, why tell him it was new?” Reece shrugged lightly. “The only theory I’ve come up with is pretty sick. Want to hear it?”
Traynor’s eyes narrowed.
“I was thinking that maybe you didn’t want Evan to realize you’d bought into this empaths are predators theory years ago,” said Reece, “because then maybe Evan might start to wonder if you’d ever been motivated to try to create an anti-empathy weapon. Whether, to that end, you might have sanctioned certain experiments to find out what corrupted empaths could do to their siblings.”
“Mr. Davies,” Traynor said warningly.
“Most of you are pretty scared of Evan, after all,” Reece said. “You wouldn’t want Evan wondering if you’d been responsible for what happened to Alex Grayson. You would have hidden how ecstatic you must have been when the Grayson brothers exceeded your wildest hopes.”
He tilted his head. “But it didn’t turn out how you wanted, did it? Evan was supposed to be your Frankenstein’s monster, your perfect weapon, but he’s got a mind of his own. You should have known nothing you tried would work. You can never take our siblings from us.”
“Parasites,” Traynor spat at him. “Changing, entrapping your own siblings—”
“Maybe,” Reece said. “Maybe we’ve molded them into our perfect bodyguards since childhood. Or maybe it’s the love: you could take away Evan’s emotions but not the years of kindness and compassion from his little brother, an adoration so strong it changed Evan. Either way—you can’t have him.”
“Evan is a failed experiment who betrayed us,” Traynor snapped. “We learn from the results and dispose of failure. Happens all the time. What was your big plan here, Davies?” He gestured around them, weapons cocking in the night. “I didn’t come alone: I have an army with me, all their guns pointed at you. They’ll kill you before you can make a move against any of us. And you don’t have the Dead Man here, protecting his precious empaths. You can’t hide behind Evan now.”
“Oh, I know,” Reece agreed.
“So you just decided to hand yourself over?” Traynor said. “Give us the chance to run some experiments on you?”
“No,” Reece said, drawing it out. “I’ve been stalling. My friends needed time to arrive.”
Somewhere at the back of the parking lot, there was a scream.
“You should have left the Dead Man alone, you know.” Reece smiled at Traynor. “Yes, Evan has been protecting us from you. Because it was the only way to protect you. From us .”
Grayson had brought the boat back to the dock, but Reece and the truck were gone. He’d walked up to the road, but no Reece, and with the phone still locked he couldn’t call him, or St. James, or Stone Solutions, or even for a damn ride.
Finally, with no other ideas, he’d gotten back in the boat, gone back out to the strait and started heading south, toward Vancouver and the location Marist had given him. He’d been on the water long enough that he’d come up on the edge of downtown, and the dock Marist had picked for their rendezvous was in front of him when Reece’s phone started ringing.
He snatched it up, seeing Jamey on the caller ID with a picture of Detective St. James. Luckily, even locked he was still able to answer.
“Grayson.”
“You’ve got Reece’s phone?” St. James groaned. It was very loud in her background, the whine of a motor. “What the fuck happened?”
“I’m not sure I know,” Grayson admitted. “I got a boat. My brother is—”
“Alive, yes, trust me, we know.”
Grayson blinked. Up ahead, he could make out vehicles in the parking lot, and two tiny figures on the end of the dock, waiting for him. Vivian Marist, bright blond hair and white puffy coat. FBI Assistant Director Jacobs next to her in a long black wool coat.
“Oh,” Grayson said. “Well, I figured if Alex broke into Stone Solutions, he was probably looking for—”
“The location of Polaris, yes, and guess what, he found it, and he’s already been there, wrecked that.”
Grayson took a moment to process that. He watched Marist and Jacobs on the dock, and yeah, they were standing pretty close together for work colleagues. Reece might’ve been right about them.
“Okay,” he finally said into the phone. “Guess maybe I don’t need to head up there right this second anymore. But I gave Reece the truck. I thought he was going to the safe house—”
“My brother is with your brother and Cora Falcon.” St. James’s voice had gone very tight. “Have you seen the news?”
“No,” Grayson said slowly. “Reece switched our phones. I haven’t been able to unlock his.”
“There was a series of murders at a warehouse by Horseshoe Bay maybe thirty minutes ago.” St. James sounded like she was fighting back an overwhelming emotion. “Director Traynor of the Empath Initiative was at the scene but now he’s missing. I haven’t heard from Reece, but according to the news, there’s mayhem happening in downtown Vancouver. A high-rise is on fire, on the same street as Stone Solutions Canada.”
Grayson stilled. He looked at Marist and Jacobs, who were waving at him, a frantic edge to their movements.
He grabbed the steering wheel and turned the boat around. “I guess I know where I’m going, then.”
He heard shouts behind him; he ignored them, taking the boat away from the dock and out into the strait, pointed at the lights of downtown Vancouver.
“Evan,” St. James said warningly. “Liam’s flying over the Georgia Strait; he’s going to drop me off downtown and then take Aisha and Diesel to the safe house.”
“Aisha and Diesel?”
“I’ll explain everything,” said St. James. “But wait for me .”
Reece had become corrupted, just like Cora Falcon, just like Alex. And now the director of the Empath Initiative was missing.
Up ahead, the city lights twinkled. He’d be there in minutes. “Sorry, Jamey,” he said quietly. “But I have a job to do. And this time, I have to finish it.”
“Evan—”
Grayson hung up, and pushed the boat to full speed.