“Sunday night, my hands were covered in blood. But I don’t know why.” I wave the gun around threateningly again. “Can you tell me why?”
“Yes,” he gulps. “Yes. You see, we’ve been testing you. We injected you with the drug a number of times. The memory loss—that’s a side effect of the drug. But it’s nothing. Totally benign, I swear. We just wanted to see if you could carry out contracts while under the effects of the drug and—”
“A contract?” I repeat. “I had a contract Sunday night?”
“Yes, your first one. It went perfectly. You shot a man. You did very well, but we took you off the team, because you behaved erratically after… you didn’t return to Devil Tower, you went to, uhm…”
I’m so surprised by the first part of his sentence that I tune out the rest. “I… Ikilleda man?”
He looks surprised, and that surprise is quickly followed by worry. “I’m sorry, Quill. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize it would have such an effect on you… We always thought you’d take to contracts very well, and… and I’m so sorry that we had you kill someone…”
“I don’t care about that,” I spit out.
I don’t care that I killed someone. I care that I wasn’t awake for it.
Campbell stares at me, clearly at a loss to understand my reaction, but he doesn’t say a word.
Meanwhile, I’m still reeling from the information. I killed someone. I’m a killer.
That thought makes a giddy sort of feeling surge through my veins, even as I continue to regret not having mentally been there to enjoy it. The giddiness only intensifies, edged with pure relief, as it proves once and for all that I didnotcause Piper’s bruises. I was busy elsewhere, ending someone’s life.
I would gladly kill a thousand people, and be asleep each and every time, if it meant not hurting Piper.
That is, not hurting herthatway.
There are a whole lot of other ways I would happily hurt her.
The thought sends a small smile to my lips that has Campbell looking more confused than ever.
Remembering him, I whip my gun around and face him.
“Quill,” he stammers, “you… you promised. Youpromised.”
“I did,” I agree. “This bullet is not meant for you.”
“Who…” Campbell swallows with difficulty. “Who is it meant for?”
I look thoughtfully at my gun. “You know, Campbell, I don’t care about your stupid little experiments. I don’t care about being on your team, or off it. Right now, what I care about is that I killed someone without knowing it.”
“Right,” he nods. “I get that, Quill. I get it. Really.”
“It bothers me. I want the first person I kill to be for me, not Devil. Do you understand?”
“Yes. No.” Campbell frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, can we say that the killing on Sunday night doesn’t count? Can we say that?”
“Sure, Quill, we can say that. Sure.” Campbell nods once more,apparently ready to say anything if it means appeasing me.
“Good.” I put the gun into my back pocket and turn toward the door. “Good, because I want the first person I kill to be your son. And to answer your previous question,” I add, as he lets out a loud gasp, “this bullet is meant for your wife, if she doesn’t tell me where he is.”
Then I slam the door shut, drowning out his loud pleas.
Chapter 13
Quill
I’m only three minutes late to history class, but judging by the way Piper looks at me in utter relief when I walk in, you’d think I’d been away from her for weeks.
