“Doesn’t the ‘core’ as you put it, question the loss of time? The acquisition of injuries? The strange locations they must find themselves?”
“They are taught not to question those things. They have no memory of what happened while they were in the altered state and having been raised since they were children in this manner; they think it’s completely normal to have gaps in their memories, cuts and bruises they have no recollection of receiving, different clothing styles in their closets, food in their refrigerator they don’t remember buying. All these things are normal to our candidates. They have been trained to maintain elusive lifestyles. They have little or no interaction with others. They are completely managed by their masters.”
“What happens if they’re caught in the act of performing a duty?”
“They are all programmed to self-destruct if captured.”
“Self-destruct? You mean commit suicide.”
“Yes, of course.”
“What a loss that would be.”
“It has only happened a handful of times, but yes, to lose a well-trained candidate is definitely irksome to our clients. On the other hand, they never have to worry about them disclosing confidential information. Clients usually place an order for another candidate soon afterward. They become accustomed to having someone they can rely on without question who has certain—how shall I say it—skills.”
“What sort of skills can your candidates acquire?”
“They are perfect assassins, but some clients prefer a seedier skill set. The adult film industry, for example, has many a Monarch in its employ.”
“Hmm, yes well, that’s not of interest to me,” Williams restrained his urge to shudder.
“To each his own,” Arkdone shrugged and tossed back another swig of the expensive Scotch like it was tap water.
“So that I’m sure we’re on the same page, here are my thoughts,” the doctor began.
“Okay, shoot,” Arkdone’s speech wasn’t slurring yet, but his eyes were definitely glassier from the Scotch.
“Imagine a Monarch candidate who is also a metahuman.”
Arkdone stopped swirling the last of the Scotch at the bottom of his glass and looked up at his new best friend.
“Absolutely brilliant, Dr. Williams. The possibilities are—infinite!”
“I was thinking the same thing.” The doctor grinned widely as he reached down to pick up the eyeballs off the table and absently swirled them around in his hand. They were becoming beautifully fleshy and warm again. “Infinite.”
Chapter 4 Rescue Me
Just then the lights went out.
Meg instinctively dropped to her knees and squeezed the trigger, never missing the empath image of the soldiers in the room.
Pop, pop!
Her ears heard two bodies hit the floor just as a burst of light and a loud popping burst from the semiautomatic across the room.
Panic gripped her with two hands.
“Alik!” she screamed.
A sound of pounding, strong feet echoed in the corridor behind her and she turned in time to see two red glowing eyes. A vicious, guttural growl echoed across the floor, vibrating her to the core.
Maze? Her mind skipped to the illogical.
But it was. It had to be.
Even as her brain was trying to understand what was happening, she saw those angry red eyes stream across the room. His attack was intense, barking and ferocious in the faint moonlight trying to seep into the small window on the far side of the room.
Red emergency lights flickered on.
Another ratta-tat ricocheted off the cement walls, the burst of fire offering a strobe-like image of the otherwise blood red scene in the room.
Maze had leaped onto the remaining soldier and was shredding his throat with his razor-sharp canines.
Confident Maze was handling the remaining metasoldier, Meg ran to her brother, yanked the pillowcase off his head, and reached into her boot to retrieve Laz’s knife. She went to work slicing the ties holding her brother against the wall.
“Meg, did they hurt you?” Alik’s eyes were desperately searching his sister for damage even in the dim light.
“Me? They hurt you a lot more than me, little brother.” Meg cringed at the partially dried blood clumped in his hair and staining his shadowed face before pulling her brother into a hug, being careful not to squeeze too hard in case there were other injuries.
The scuffling beside them stopped. They looked over at Maze and the soldier he was finishing off. The coyote was still breathing hard, and his muzzle was dark with what was undoubtedly blood, but he stood stock still and stared at Meg and Alik as though awaiting further orders.
His usually soft, clever yellow-eyes looked bright, wild and haunted. Generations of canine predators and fighters pulsed through his veins. In that moment, Meg understood what a sacrifice her coyote had made when he chose to stay with her and her humans instead of running wild and free.
“Come here, boy,” Meg cooed softly.