12. Chapter 12 #3
My stomach lurched, and for a fraction of a second, the horror broke through, clean and real.
But the implant muted my revulsion. Athena raised her head, her jaw clicking back into place with eerie precision, and shook blood and brain matter from her muzzle like a dog shaking off water.
A wet chunk hit my face, and I shuddered.
“Gunnar!” Freda called out. The woman must have had eyes in the back of her head, but her warning came a split second too late.
The operative closest to Marlowe sliced at the troll with a wicked blade, cutting a deep diagonal slash across his chest and shoulder that opened his jacket and the skin beneath.
Gunnar’s knees buckled, but he caught himself against a tree trunk.
To my right, Jamie’s head snapped back, and he staggered to one knee.
But he was back a second later, taking cover and returning shots.
Freda had an operative in a clinch near a stand of young aspens.
He drove an elbow into her ribs, and she grunted, but disarmed him as they continued their brutal fight.
My mind coldly cataloged our injuries against theirs with merciless clarity. Gunnar was down and badly injured. Jamie was wounded but still operational. Freda probably had a cracked rib, but was still in the fight. Three of the operatives were dead or injured.
Where was Marlowe? He hadn’t engaged. I looked around and found him staring at me, visible between two tree trunks. Fighting churned around us, but he simply watched me with a clinical, possessive stare. I raised my weapon.
But as I aligned the shot, he raised his gun and pointed it at Freda. I froze and carefully studied him. Something about his movements and demeanor was different. Not just his sociopathic tendencies or his casual cruelty, but a physical difference.
Marlowe’s energy usually felt sharp and controlled, the disciplined signature of a high-level military intelligence genius. Now it carried something layered beneath it. It was cold and horrifyingly familiar.
He had an implant similar to mine. Holy Jesus, Marlowe had voluntarily put one of those things inside himself. The man was certifiable.
Cognizant power also swirled around him, twining around his aura. It carried a strong persuasive signature, and I knew right away what it was. Marlowe could now influence and direct people. His Compulsor energy signature practically glowed beneath his skin. How had he done this? And why?
An injured operative appeared to my left and raised his gun. I was going to die. Marlowe shot him in the head without blinking.
“Riley.” His deep voice carried to me. “Come here.”
My foot stepped forward. A small, involuntary movement before my mind rebelled, and the implant at the base of my skull throbbed. Terror spread through me as I severed his compulsive threads.
This psychotic bastard had somehow manufactured a way to cultivate Cognizant capabilities. Denial slid down my spine.
“You can resist the Compulsion. Fascinating. I hoped you would.” He seemed genuinely pleased.
“What did you do to yourself?” I whispered.
His gaze moved over me with that same hunger I remembered from the facility. Not just possessiveness, but ownership. “You sound concerned for me. It’s unbelievable, this cutting-edge technology. You look well, considering. The integration appears to be progressing.”
“Shut up, you bastard.” I shot at him, but he moved further behind the tree trunk.
“You want answers. About your father, the site, and now our newest technology. I know what’s out there, sweetheart.” His Compulsor energy built again beneath his voice, layered and deliberate, pressing at the edges of my thoughts like fingers probing a bruise. “I’m not going to kidnap or hurt you.”
Bile rose in my throat. “What do you want from me?”
He tilted his head. “I want you to come to me of your own free will. I can wait.”
“Tell your operatives to stand down. If you kill one of my people, I’ll gut you myself.” I fired at him again, but the shot whizzed past his head.
“You need to learn not to threaten me.” He raised his gun toward Jamie this time, but Mangus came out of nowhere and hit him from the side.
His jaws closed on Marlowe’s left forearm with a crunching sound. Marlowe let out a bellow and wrenched backward. But the hellhound pulled harder as smoke rose from his saliva.
Marlowe grabbed for something in his jacket as I took aim again, but I didn’t have a clear shot. He pulled out a taser device and pressed it against Mangus’s neck. An invisible wave rolled over us like a slap.
The cadejo went limp, his legs buckling underneath him. His body hit the forest floor with a heavy thud.
“Mangus!” I screamed,
Marlowe clucked his tongue as he pressed his bloody arm against his chest. “You have a compulsive need to keep everyone you care about safe. It’s likely a result of losing your father so young. Be careful, pet, or it will get you killed.”
The Commander was psychoanalyzing me in the middle of this shitshow, and he wasn’t wrong, damn him.
“There are things worse than death. You taught me that.”
Athena snarled behind me, and Marlowe stepped back toward the forest. “You have my number, One-Twelve,” he taunted, and melted into the trees.
My energy reached out, frantically searching for his signature, but he was gone.