CHAPTER SIXTEEN #4
To say Penhalyx is angry would be an understatement. What makes it worse, far worse, is the humiliation threaded through it. Lachlan knows enough about truly dangerous men to understand how volatile they become when forced to endure even the smallest public embarrassment.
Fenwick is a dead man.
Once Jules and Mimi are both secure in the Cove, Blaire follows Lachlan out and the pair go about damage control. Luckily, most of what went down with Fenwick is contained. The gunfire is passed off as lightning.
Come sunrise, the storm has petered out.
The guests are sleeping, most of them. Lachlan checks in on Savannah, who was swept away quickly by her bodyguard when the lights went out. He has a feeling Sorrenko’s boys were genuinely worried about Jules and trying to help him, but better safe than sorry.
He goes when called to Penhalyx’s office two hours after sunrise.
Alistair is glacially, worryingly calm. ‘Have Fenwick brought to me.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Lachlan gives the order through newly restored comms.
The old man comes over to Lachlan and then, for the first time, sits on the corner of his desk like they’re having a friendly chat.
‘Firstly, I commend the lengths you went to in protecting my son. The blackout itself I do not consider your failure, as your foremost responsibility remains Julian’s safety and management.
Head of household should have ensured that the house was better prepared to withstand a lightning storm.
’ His gaze settles fully onto Lachlan. ‘Your recent behaviour in front of my guests, however, has been profoundly disappointing.’
‘My apologies, sir.’
‘Mm. Now, explain to me what Fenwick told you.’
‘Mason Fenwick was in acute psychological distress. He was having a panic attack, if not full-on flashbacks. Nothing he said carries any weight.’
‘He used a particular word to describe my son.’
‘Wrongly, sir.’
‘What was that word, Lachlan?’
‘Paranatural, sir.’
‘He blamed the storm on my son, did he?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And what do you think of that?’
‘I think Fenwick was severely compromised, hence why I shot him.’
‘Yes, you did. I like that you did. It’s why you may yet avoid any serious punishment going forward.’ Penhalyx sighs, slips off his desk. ‘Fenwick was my selection. I shall be more thorough next time.’
Someone knocks.
Penhalyx bids them inside.
Two units are holding Fenwick up, one arm apiece. Fenwick’s shoulders are bandaged, but he’s deathly white, bloodshot eyes fixed on Alistair.
‘Sit him there,’ Penhalyx directs, then dismisses them both with a wave of his hand. Without looking at Fenwick, Penhalyx asks him, ‘Are you still possessed of your delusion, Mason?’
Fenwick’s gaze moves to Lachlan’s gun, currently holstered.
He seems resigned to it.
‘I know what your son is.’
Lachlan doesn’t like the change in him. The panic has burned away, leaving only hard conviction beneath it, and somehow that’s worse.
‘And what is my son?’
‘He’s not human.’
‘How so?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘It matters for your wife, Mason. Your brother. Your family.’
Lachlan tamps down his reaction.
This is the lion’s den.
No wrong moves in here.
‘He’s a Paranatural.’
‘Why do you believe that?’
‘I was assigned to protective detail in Project Spectrum. I saw what they can do, how they operate.’
‘Grace us with an example.’
‘They…’ Fenwick swallows. ‘They control energy. Electricity mostly, but there was one of them who could do a lot more. Hypochlorite was all that stopped her, but only at first. They’re manipulators. Terrorists.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of the framing,’ Alistair chuckles, tipping his head thoughtfully. ‘With a name like Paranatural, what else would the desired outcome be? And you believe my son is one of these… terrorists?’
‘I don’t believe, I know it. I’ve known it for a while, and so will everyone the older he gets,’ Fenwick says to Penhalyx like they’re equals, like under this sky they are just men. ‘You should put a bullet in him right after me.’
‘Lachlan,’ Penhalyx says, tone soft. ‘Eviscerate him, please. Don’t worry about the mess.’
Stone cold killer.
Mechanical, methodical, machine.
Lachlan can do this.
He’s capable of it.
He remembers Clara.
Remembers that it was a test, has a feeling this isn’t.
So Lachlan Tanner pulls out his KA-BAR, disconnects his heart from his brain, goes cold, goes dark and does what he’s told. To eviscerate a man is a complex and brutal procedure. The smell, the feel, the sounds of it.
Lachlan shuts down what isn’t useful.
Slipping into Focus Mode has always let him do that.
He has blood up to his wrist when Penhalyx bids him enough, and Fenwick is gasping, but not crying. Give him his due.
‘I will ask this only one time,’ Penhalyx says to Fenwick. ‘Who have you told about your theory?’
Fenwick whines, so close to death but kept from it.
Lachlan has little empathy for this man, but he’s made a fine mess of his insides and that kind of pain… it’s beyond anything.
‘I—I didn’t tell anyone!’ Fenwick pants, can’t quite get enough air in his lungs, choking on what he does have. ‘But everyone’s gon-gonna see! He’s a freak, he’s one of them! Everyone will—!’
Penhalyx shoots him in the face. Unloads the entire clip.
Fenwick’s misery is over.
Lachlan’s is far from it.