Jim Remy stood. “My tests prove that Jacob is dead inside. No soul.”
Jim’s claim still stabbed Adam, even though the results were more than two years old. Jim’s tests revealed a signature electromagnetic reading in the presence of ghosts and humans. But not wraiths. Something was definitely missing from them, and if a ghost had it, the obvious conclusion was spirit, or soul. Jacob’s utter lack of humanity, his disregard for family connections or responsibility only proved it all the more.
Adam cleared his throat, and the room’s attention swung to him. “Dr. O’Brien. You are witnessing an old but fundamental Segue debate. It all boils down to a simple, but surprisingly difficult question: what constitutes death?
“Dr. Remy postulates that something forced Jacob’s soul to pass on, yet the body remains alive. On the other hand, you have Lady Amunsdale, a confirmed Segue ghost. She has no body and little awareness of the physical world, and yet maintains a distinct self. Which of them is alive? Which dead?”
The room fell silent. All looked at her expectantly.
Talia wet her lips. Her eyes roamed the table, but she addressed Armand. “Uh. Well. A person has a life…and a death. If you stick to the physical…”
Armand cocked his head impatiently.
Talia cleared her throat, placing her pen at a perfect right angle to her notebook. “Then wraiths are alive and ghosts are dead. While metaphysically, just the reverse is true.”
“Haven’t we just said all that?” Armand interrupted.
“Well, yes, but…” she stammered.
Adam sat forward in his chair. He knew her mind and loved the way she or ganized problems like thought puzzles, then took an obvious solution and turned it on its head. This was exactly the reason he wanted her on staff. If Armand would just cool it for a second, Adam knew she could think the debate through to a new conclusion.
“Then get on with it,” Armand said with exaggerated impatience.
Talia’s eyes narrowed. “I will if you’ll quit interrupting me.”
Adam controlled a smile. This was going to be good.
She took a deep breath. “If a person can lose their life, perhaps they can lose their death, as well.”
Armand rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as Jim Remy. That’s just a perversion of a romantic metaphor.”
“And what is a metaphor but a new way of seeing something?” she answered back. “Isn’t that what we are doing here, looking at things from different perspectives?”
“Fine. Then why would a person lose their death?”
“People have been trying to lose death forever,” she argued. “Industries thrive on the desire to remain young and vital. Given the choice, most people would throw their death away and never look back.”
Talia’s comments were simplistic, but her idea sent a slick, cold sickness up Adam’s spine. Was the answer that easy?
Adam looked around the room as realization dawned on the faces of his staff. Talia glanced at him, finally shedding her anger and replacing it with pity.
Immortality. Live forever young. Forever strong. Forever beautiful.
Dreadlocks’s awful song lyric came back to him then. Human race to crush Death first.
Adam sat back into his chair. People who gave their lives were heroes or martyrs. What if people could give up their deaths? Was such a thing possible? And what would that make them?
Adam knew the answer was locked in a cell under Segue.
Jacob suffered from no disease or demonic possession. This was so much worse, something Adam hadn’t allowed himself to consider. Jacob was a monster by choice.
Talia watched Adam’s demeanor change. His gaze sharpened, face flooding with color. The curve of his jaw became more pronounced. His grip on the table whitened his knuckles. If she were touching him, she knew she’d be feeling his dark passion all over again. One overwhelming goal. To kill.
“Does it really matter if it’s Jacob’s choice or not?” Armand whined.
Adam knocked once, hard, on the table and strode from the room. Talia knew exactly where he was going. She’d lost her family as well, and if there were answers to be had, a betrayal to identify, she wouldn’t be diverted. Adam was all about answers; he’d be heading to Jacob’s cell. She was glad she didn’t have to be present for the impending interview.
Custo also rose. “I think we’re done for the day. Thank you all for participating. This has been”—he glanced at Talia—“very interesting.” Then he rounded the table to follow Adam.
The room erupted into discussion.
Jim’s strident voice cut through the din. “What may seem like superstition to you, Armand, may indeed have a scientific basis. Take the Indian Fakirs, who can control their heart rate…”
“Been here a week and already stirring things up.”
Talia turned to the voice at her ear. Spencer.