Vicious (Vicious #1)

“They’re all EOs?” she whispered.

“Not necessarily,” said Victor, “but if we’re lucky, one or two.”

Victor’s eyes skimmed the collage of private information that ran beside the photos. Three of the potentials were young, but one was older. Sydney reached over and took up one of the profiles. It was a girl named Beth Kirk, and she had bright-blue hair.

“How do we know which one he’ll go after first? Where do we start?”

“Matrix can only do so much,” said Mitch. “We’ll have to guess. Pick one and hope we get there before Eli.”

Victor shrugged. “No need. They’re irrelevant now.” He didn’t care about the blue-haired girl, or any of them for that matter. He was more interested in what the dead proved about Eli than what the living offered him. He’d meant them only as bait anyway, to be dug up and used as lures, but Sydney herself—her gift, and the message they’d made with it—had rendered these EOs extraneous to his plans.

Sydney looked appalled by his answer. “But we have to warn them.”

Victor plucked Beth Kirk’s profile from her grip, and set it facedown on the counter.

“Would you rather I warn them,” he asked gently, “or save them?” He watched the anger slide from her face. “It’s a waste, going after the victims instead of the killer. And when Eli gets our message, we won’t even need to hunt him down.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

Victor’s mouth quirked up. “Because he’ll be hunting us.”





2

AN EXTRAORDINARY DAY





I


THIS MORNING


TERNIS COLLEGE


ELI Ever sat in the back of the history seminar, tracing the wood grain of the desk and waiting for the lecture to end. The class was being taught in an auditorium at Ternis College, an exclusive private school half an hour or so outside Merit city limits. Three rows in front of him, and two spaces to the left, sat a girl with blue hair named Beth. It wasn’t such a strange thing, the hair, but Eli happened to know that Beth only started dying it that color after it had all gone white. The white was the product of trauma, a trauma that had nearly killed her. Technically it had, in fact. For four and a half minutes.

Yet here Beth was, alive and attentively taking notes on the Revolutionary War or the Spanish American War or World War II—Eli wasn’t even sure what the name of the course was, let alone which conflict the professor was currently teaching—while the blue strands fell around her face, and trailed across her paper.

Eli couldn’t stand history. He figured it probably hadn’t changed that much in the ten years since he’d taken it, just another one of Lockland University’s many prerequisites, meant to round every student into a smooth little ball of knowledge. He stared at the ceiling, then at the spaces between the professor’s half-cursive, half-print notes, then back at the blue hair, then at the clock. Class was nearly over. His pulse quickened as he pulled the slim dossier out of his satchel, the one Serena had put together for him. It explained, in painstaking detail, the blue-haired girl’s history, her accident—tragic, really, the sole survivor of a nasty crash—and her subsequent recovery. He brushed his fingertips over the photo of Beth, wondering where it had come from. He rather liked that hair.

The clock ticked on, and Eli slid the dossier back into his bag, and pushed a pair of thick-framed glasses up his nose—they were plain glass, not prescription, but he’d noticed the trend around the Ternis College campus and followed suit. Looking the part age-wise was never a problem, of course, but styles changed, almost too fast for him to keep track. Beth could choose to stand out if she wanted, but Eli did everything in his power to blend in.

The professor finished his lecture a few blessed minutes early, and wished them all a good weekend. Chairs scraped. Bags were hoisted. Eli rose and followed the blue hair out of the auditorium and down the hall, carried on a wave of students. When they reached the outer door, he held it open for her. She thanked him, tucked a cobalt strand behind her ear, and headed across the campus.

Eli followed.