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He gave me a gentle smile. “You’re part of my team. You, Jacques, and Reg. I don’t want to lose you.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Even after everything I did?”
He covered my hand with his. “It isn’t what you did, but what you didn’t do that I’d like to change.”
I blinked. “What didn’t I do?”
His eyes met mine. “You didn’t trust me. I would very much like it if you would.”
Damn. I bit my lip. “I was using the V12 for a few weeks before I realized it was helping the dyslexia.” I sniffled and wiped at my eyes. “By that time I didn’t know what the heck I could say, y’know? ‘I’ve been skimming drugs, but hey, they have a cool side effect.’”
His gentle understanding didn’t waver one bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it sooner.”
If he’d yelled at me and been angry it would have been easier to handle than his quiet patience. It ends now, I thought fiercely. The bullshit ends now. I’d rather pull my own guts out than see his compassion turn to disappointment.
“I tried to quit, but it hurt so bad,” I man
aged to croak out. “I called this morning to get help, but Jacques told me to take another damn dose.”
“Because stopping will kill you. Your parasite is addicted too.”
I stared, dumbfounded. “I have to stop! I’ve started having hallucinations, and my judgment is crap, and I’m eating enough brains to feed five zombies. I’m gonna fuck up everything if I don’t—”
“Angel,” Dr. Nikas said sharply. “I know. I’ll develop a non-addictive formula and wean you off the V12. It’ll take time and experimentation to get it right, but as long as you’re committed, we’ll get there.”
I blew my breath out. “Does everyone know?”
When he shook his head, a thousand pounds of pressure lifted from my shoulders. “No one knows but Pierce, Jacques, and me,” he said. “Not even Reg, Brian, or Philip. And it will stay that way as long as you work with me honestly.”
“I will.” Gulping, I nodded. “I swear.”
“It’s vital, Angel. For your sake. Pierce smelled it on you yesterday and alerted me.” Dr. Nikas paused. “He wanted you to have in-house rehab.”
In-house. Locked down in the lab medical wing until I was clean. It was a few seconds before I could speak around the panic that clutched at me. “You talked him out of it?”
He squeezed my hand, and I realized he was willing to trust me to the ends of the earth. I had no idea how I’d managed to earn that sort of faith—especially after this dumbass stunt—but it tripled my resolve to never let him or myself down again.
“In-house would be easiest and safest for others,” Dr. Nikas said. “But our world—the zombie world—is at a crisis point. Matters are heating up, and exposure is a very real possibility. Easy and safe are luxuries. Pierce needs you in the field as an operative. I need you.” He took a deep breath. “It would also likely cause more problems than it would solve for you to take an extended leave from your job, even if a suitable explanation was offered.” His eyes met mine, serious and unwavering. “But I’ll lock you down myself in a heartbeat if you stray off course.”
Resolve shoved fear aside. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” No more screwups, not when so much was at stake. Hearing of the exposure crisis straight from Dr. Nikas made it a thousand times more real.
“Your addiction has an upside,” he said, smile returning. “The dyslexia puzzle gave me new insight into parasite interaction with pharmaceuticals. I’m a half-step closer to pseudobrains.”
“That’s awesome!” I gave a strained laugh. “But I think it’s better if I don’t make ‘exercising really poor judgment’ a permanent research technique.”
Dr. Nikas chuckled. “Many great discoveries have been made quite by accident,” he said, but then his amusement faded. “The downside is that you have an addictive personality and need counseling. It’s not optional.”
I gave a quick nod. “I’ll do it.”
“I’d like you to speak with Jacques,” he continued. “If you prefer an outside practitioner, I’ll arrange it.”
Jacques? He was the last person I’d have expected Dr. Nikas to suggest. “He told me he killed people he held dear.”
“I created him during the last days of the Franco-Prussian war,” Dr. Nikas said, expression sad and grave. “Less than six months later, he lost control and ate his wife and son.” He exhaled. “The parasite wouldn’t allow suicide, though his pre-zombie addiction to laudanum drew him to the opium dens of Paris to try. He succeeded only in damaging his parasite and, between subsequent behavior and rotting in public, triggered an exodus. He has much insight to offer. As do I.”
If I ate my dad or Derrel or Nick, I’d want to kill myself too. My gaze went to where Jacques leaned against the hood of the Escalade, his thin shoulders drawn in. Though I couldn’t see his face, I knew his eyes would have their characteristic haunted look.
“I’ll talk to him.” I said. “Thanks.”
