The Dot
I’d had enough of my conversation with Lilah by that point, so I grabbed my bottle of water and stomped out of the gym. The gauze on my shoulder was loosening from all the sweat slicking my skin but I didn’t want to head back to Drew’s so I rifled through the metal cabinet in the change room until I found some first aid supplies.
Lilah’s brother, Tim, sat on a bench in the unisex locker room, lacing up his runners for his morning workout.
“Your sister’s a bit of a cunt.” I dropped to sit next to him and tore open a package of gauze.
He sat up and starting wrapping his hands in preparation for boxing, sighed, and sent a glance my way. “What is it this time?”
I shrugged awkwardly as I slapped on the new bandage. “General things, such as being a shill for Bravo.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Just don’t get her fired—she means well.”
“Sure she does.”
“Hey, did you know Delarosa is on the base?”
This gave me pause. Christina Delarosa was Fraser’s supervisor—she oversaw several groups like ours. I assumed they were all called Alpha Division, Charlie Division, etc, but no one talked about other divisions.
She was also one of the higher ups who wouldn’t let Fraser get rid of me. She pulled me out of Bravo’s testing facility that held me in custody for two years after my family died, stuck me in training for another two, and promised me answers in exchange for field work. I’d been doing that for over a year and she’d yet to tell me shit. If she was visiting, there seemed a chance she was there to talk to me.
One way to find out.
Delarosa would be at the far end of the base, so I headed there. I hadn’t seen any sign of her during debriefing, but maybe she just got in. Or maybe she was watching from elsewhere—most rooms had cameras that I could see, and the ones I couldn’t probably had them hidden.
Most of the people I passed in the halls were dressed better than me, like Lilah—suits and attitude. I only ever got beat up and shot, so there was no point in me being so spiffy. My track pants, tank top, and bare feet likely bothered them more than me, though, as everyone gave me wide berth when passing.
ADMINISTRATION blazed in white letters on the wall ahead, with a blocky arrow pointing left. I skipped the receptionist desk—as no one ever manned it anyway—and hoofed it for Fraser’s office at the end of the hall. His door lay open, leaving a strip for me to see through; his big square desk was piled high with crap and a pair of shapely female legs in nude stockings were crossed to the side. It was probably Delarosa, unless Fraser had some secrets I didn’t know about.
If so, those were killer legs he kept hidden.
My feet padded silently on the cement as I crept up to the door; I turned and pressed my back to the wall, head cocked toward the office.
“This is a bad idea,” Fraser said in his usual pissed off voice.
I had the distinct impression he referred to me.
“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” Delarosa said coolly. “I was telling you how this is going to play out. If I wanted another opinion, I’d speak to someone of far more importance.”
She was such a bitch. I loved that woman.
A chair squeaked and something heavy thumped on the desk—probably his hand. “I’m the one who has to work with her. You just breeze in like you have a fucking clue, but the fact is, she’s unstable.”
Yep, knew they were talking about me.
“I seem to be the only one around here who remembers what the fuck we’re dealing with,” he continued. “Her father is the antichrist. The moment she decides we’re not useful anymore, she could destroy this whole goddamn complex as well as everyone in it.”
Well, he had me there. I never said Fraser was a stupid man, just a fucktard.
Nails drummed, clicking on a smooth hard surface—maybe the desk or chair arm. “And how long do you suppose we can keep her with the company without giving her what she wants?” Delarosa said. “That’s how these things work. You give a little, you get a little. If she doesn’t get what she wants soon, we may lose control of her. We don’t want her frustrated.”
“No, what you should have done is killed the bitch when you found her. It would have been safer for everyone, but instead you brought home this rabid dog, left me to deal with it, while you don’t have to lift a finger or risk your own ass. What about my people here? What if she lost control and killed the lot of them? Would you just write them off as losses in your little experiment?”
“You are mistaken, Mr. Lake, if you think none of this has occurred to me or my superiors. If we felt she was a threat right now, she’d be put down immediately.”
I was really getting sick of all these fucking dog metaphors.
“But that time is not yet,” Delarosa continued, words clipped and tone warning. “So you will keep your mouth shut on the subject and do what you’re told to.”
“Hear that, boss?” I strolled in the office and locked gazes with Fraser. “Be a good little boy and don’t question Mom or Dad.”
He sat behind his desk, hands coiled into fists, positively glaring at me. It was great.
“You heard most of that, I presume?” Delarosa said, not sounding the least bit bothered by my eavesdropping.
I shrugged as I glanced her way. “Woof.”
Though those killer legs were casually crossed, her spine was straight, shoulders squared, and I figured more weapons than I could count were stowed on her person—in garters, her purse, under her white blouse, and possibly in her hair. There could even be a knife tucked under the manila file folder sitting on her lap. She looked like a suit who had been in the field, which might’ve been why I had a smidge of respect for her.
“Come into the briefing room.” She nodded over the mountain of files and books on Fraser’s desk to the adjoining door that led to a hall which in turn led to the big conference room. “We have things to speak about.”
I gave Fraser a smirk as I walked past him with Delarosa. The only thing better than getting to be a pain in his ass myself was seeing others do it for me.
Though the corridors elsewhere had been bustling, the private hallway leading to where we took meetings was silent and empty. Delarosa brushed past me, her long black curly hair sleek even under the fluorescent lights where practically nothing looks flattering. She hauled open the heavy door to the conference room and stepped inside.
The place was gray like everything else, but the walls had a thick stripe of darker gray running horizontally. A large round table sat in the center with thirty swivel chairs around it. Never did we have so many people for a meeting—at least not the meetings I went to—but I figured they wouldn’t have had them there for nothing. Delarosa flipped on the overhead lights, brightening the space immediately. She took a seat in one of the chairs and opened the folder she carried, spreading papers across the polished tabletop.
I hopped on the edge of the table two feet from her and waited.
Christina Delarosa...I’d tried for years to place her age and kept drawing a blank. She had the grace and class of a woman in her forties but didn’t look it. Skin was flawless. Hair didn’t show a sign of gray. She must have been drinking the same anti-aging stuff as Drew. There might’ve been a time, years ago, when I would have cared or been a little envious. The murder of one’s family tends to put such things in perspective, however.
“I have something for you, Persephone,” she said, half smile on her lips.
“I gathered.”
I eyed the folder she’d brought in with her. It was thin—a little too thin to be holding much of the information I was looking for. My gaze moved to the few sheets she’d spread out across the table. They looked like...addresses? Maybe she had hits for me?
“Years ago, I promised you answers,” she said.
“And I’m supposed to buy that you’re finally paying up?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“Of course not.”
“Glad this place hasn’t dumbed you down.”
“Not for lack of trying. I’m pretty sure Fraser has been counting on me getting hurt and put out of commission.”
“Mr. Lake simply sees things differently from me.”
“So what is this?” I nodded to the file. It wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy talking about Fraser...no, wait, I didn’t enjoy that.
“This is information about someone we’ve been tracking.”
“Someone you want killed?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head “Not this person. We don’t want her killed or harmed or anything like that. This has nothing to do with us, but everything to do with you.”
Heard that line before. I stared down at the papers again. Beneath the top sheet of addresses I didn’t recognize rested another, the corner showing—it looked like a map. I pressed a fingertip down, blunt edge of my nail scratching the paper, and dragged it toward me. Yep, a world map in black and white—a photocopy. There were lines and dots in some kind of pattern. Many were concentrated in North America. I couldn’t make sense of the thing.
I turned it upside down, just in case, but nope. Still clueless. “What am I looking at here?”
“You’re looking at a world map from five years ago,” Delarosa said. She tapped my old corner of the world with one red, manicured nail. “That was the attack meant for you. The one where Ken and the kids were killed.”
My throat went dry as I stared at the spot. It was just a map. A fucking piece of paper. It was nothing, in and of itself.
But it represented something. A date. A time. A place. The moment when my world changed forever. And there it was, a little stupid dot on a photocopied sheet of paper. Nothing in the grand scheme of things. Nothing even in the small scheme of things. My everything.
A dot on a map.
“And these,” her finger slid along the dots in North America, “are where the similar attacks occurred.”
The room was chilled, dragging gooseflesh over my arms; I suppressed a shudder and told myself it was just the air conditioning. “Your people told me about that when I was first picked up.” I feigned a yawn for effect. “Lots of attacks. Supernatural people killed. A few demons summoned. No one survived.”
She stared impassively. “With such a succinct summary of complex events, perhaps we should have hired you to write reports. I think your real talents are being wasted in the field.”
I watched her for a moment, studying her expression. “Seriously?”
“No.”
“Shit.”
“There are a few things missing from your CliffsNotes on the subject,” she continued. “The first being that one of the people killed was your sister.”
Now I knew she was full of it. I hopped off the table and stalked for the door. “If you’re going to come up with some lies for me, you could at least read my file first. I don’t have a sister. Or a brother, for that matter.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken about that fact.”
“Oh yeah?” I swung around to face her and leaned against the doorjamb, my arms crossed at my chest. “Let’s see...Mom summoned a demon exactly once and produced little ol’ me. Unless you’re suggesting she—”
Delarosa shook her head. “Your mother didn’t have any other children. Your father did.”
“My father couldn’t...” Understanding smacked me across the head. Holy fuck, I could be so dim sometimes. “Oh. You mean the bio dad.”
“Indeed. You had a half-sister who was attacked and murdered the same time you were targeted.”
“So those attacks all over the world were connected to me? Butterflies, hurricanes, and all that shit?”
“Not exactly. You—and your sister—were a threat to powerful people. Bravo Division isn’t the only organization that operates in secret around the world. There are others. Old ones. And the oldest of the old was interested in seeing you dead. No one—not even me—knows who they are or how to find them, because the only outsiders to find out don’t live long.”
“So they’re responsible for all of those attacks?”
“Not exactly. Someone who wanted to join their ranks did that.”
“Did he get the job?”
Delarosa nodded.
“Can I kill him?”
“He’s already dead.”
Well, fuck. Why the hell was she telling me all this? “Okay, why don’t you just say exactly what it is you want to say instead of talking me in circles. What’s the point here? If everyone connected to these attacks is dead and no one knows who makes up this secret society, you’ve just been keeping me in the dark for five years over nothing.”
“The point, my dear, is that someone did survive.”
I raised a dark brow in question. “You just said—”
“Exactly one...‘person’ walked away from all that. One person was there, one person knows what happened, and that one person might be able to help you.”
“Might?”
“It’s the best lead I have for you. I figure you’re due some vacation time, and perhaps you’d like to spend it meeting with this person.”
I took three long, measured steps toward her and stopped inches away, my threatening gaze locked on her eyes. “And I figure you might be right.”
She smiled, though not warmly—she had one temperature setting and it was Icy Bitch. “Then I’ll get a flight booked for you.” Delarosa stood and gathered her folder once more, then gestured to the door. “After you.”
I took the lead out of the briefing room, though turned back to her suddenly in the doorway. “Wait, we get vacation days? Are they paid?”