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The weapon exploded before it hit the road, sending shards of metal and energy skimming through the night.
Deadly, but not as deadly as the beam that had hit Blaine.
His mouth was open, as if he were screaming, but no sound came out. His body was shimmering, moving, bubbling, as if water boiled under his skin. He didn’t move, just stood there, statue-like, as his skin gradually began to darken and then peel and drift away on the gentle wind, like paper held too close to a fire. And then the boiling water began to bubble out, running down his body and splashing across the roadside. Only it wasn’t just water, but blood and flesh and God knows what else.
Her stomach rose and she spun away, heading for the nearest curb. By the time she’d finished heaving the little bit of food she’d eaten that day, the splashing had stopped. The only sound to be heard on the whispering wind was the distant beat of traffic.
King was gone again. She couldn’t say why she was so sure of that, especially when she had a hard time getting any real sense of his presence.
But Joe was here. Watching. Waiting.
She wiped a hand across her mouth, took a deep, shuddering breath and turned around. He still wore Blaine’s form.
“You killed him to take his place?”
“I’ve been taking his place for years. It was useful, while it lasted.”
She remembered a teenager saying, in that same sort of dead voice, I have plans for him, never fear.
The same teenager who said he had every intention of going back to that place once he’d taken care of her, because there was still too much to be done at Hopeworth.
A chill that was soul deep ran through her. Yet she kept her thoughts to herself, saying only, “Why did you kill Kathryn Douglass?”
His smile was gentle, amused. “Douglass had contacted the military about reviving the Penumbra project. I have no idea where she found the notes, but I couldn’t let that happen. I did give her fair warning. We are unique, Sammy, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Why go back as Blaine afterward? To gloat?”
“Partially. I also wanted to see how Lloyd took the warning.” His sudden grin was fierce. “Neither he nor the military took it well.”
“But that Lloyd is not the real Lloyd.” She hesitated. “I killed him the night Penumbra was destroyed.”
“If you remember that, then you should remember that that Lloyd was yet another replica. The real general donated his body for scientific purposes on his death years before, and his replication became the military’s first real success.”
But not their last. “And what were we, Josh? Their fourth? Tenth? Fiftieth?”
“We were never considered a successful creation,” Josh said. “More of a frustrating one. They never could control us—not totally.”
He smiled, and this time it was a smile she remembered. A smile that echoed all the way through her, bringing tears to her eyes.
He began to change, to shift, his body seeming to fade into the night for several heartbeats before it regained form. Became an older version of the boy who’d haunted her dreams for so long.
Part of her was fiercely glad to see him again.
Part of her feared him, because she suddenly remembered the conversation she’d had with Gabriel in the car. Her comment that Sethanon was waiting for Hopeworth to breed him an army. His comment that Sethanon was someone she knew in Hopeworth, some
one who had been involved in the project.
No, no, no, she thought. Not Josh. Not my brother. She closed her eyes for a moment, then said softly, “Are you Sethanon?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him, uncertain whether she was more angry or scared. “So why tell me Sethanon was not a name you’d ever called yourself?”
“Because it isn’t. But I never denied others might have called me that.”
“Who? Not the SIU, from what I can gather.”
“No.” He half shrugged. “It started with the scientists. The day they took that book off me—”
