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Brian’s mask of inscrutability slipped, and he looked away.
Dr. Nikas cleared his throat as Kyle sank to his chair. “I know I have thus far failed to find the answers we need, but this . . . this is not the solution. If you force Dr. Charish into our service, I will not work with her.”
Pierce snorted. “Come on, Ari. Do you expect us to build a second lab for her to use?”
“No. There would be no need for a second lab.” Dr. Nikas stood. “What you propose is an abomination. If you move forward with your heinous proposal, I will leave this lab . . . and the Tribe.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Leave the Tribe? Dr. Nikas had been with Pierce for hundreds of years and had a crippling phobia of crowds.
Shock washed over Pierce’s face. “You can’t possibly mean that. You’re overreacting. You of all people know how much we need her on our side.”
“It is slavery,” Dr. Nikas said, biting the words out. “We trod too close to that line when she last worked with me. Your current proposition eradicates the line altogether.” He planted his fists on the table, eyes locked on Pierce. “You would deny her freedom and bind her to the Tribe through need of brains. Much like human traffickers hook their victims on narcotics in order to better force their compliance. Would Dr. Charish also be required to spread her legs for any man who desires her?”
A horrible and tense silence fell. The outrage flowed from Dr. Nikas, thic
k and palpable.
“You’re absolutely right,” Pierce said, jaw set. “But what if she agreed to be turned?”
“Without any coercion?” He held Pierce’s gaze, and it felt as if communication beyond my perception crackled between them. Ancient zombie mojo. “You cannot be serious.”
After a long moment, Pierce looked away. “I was, but I was wrong. I withdraw the proposal.”
The tension vanished from the room, probably blown away by the many relieved sighs.
Dr. Nikas sat, hands trembling ever so slightly. “Thank you.”
Pierce spread his hands. “I’m fortunate to have such wise counsel.”
I rolled my eyes. Hadn’t I said flat out it was a stupid idea? But at least Pierce had no real choice but to listen to Dr. Nikas. I couldn’t imagine the Tribe—or Pierce—without the doctor. Hell, if he left, I’d be right there with him.
“What if we found someone else?” I asked. “Someone willing, I mean. Kristi is an amazing neurobiologist and researcher, but surely she’s not the only person who knows that crap. And yeah, there’s still the whole ‘zombies are secret’ thing, but what if we found someone who wanted to be turned? Y’know, maybe there’s a scientist out there who has cancer or ALS or something equally awful who’d be willing to come work for the Tribe in return for getting their life saved by being turned into a zombie.”
Dr. Nikas gave me a look of such appreciation and regard that I damn near started crying right then and there. “I believe such an avenue would be worth exploring, at the very least.”
Heads around the table nodded, paired with murmurs of assent. Even Pierce looked relieved that I’d shifted the subject away from his fucked up human trafficking proposal.
Shideh tapped the screen of her tablet. “I can put out discreet inquiries.”
“Very well,” Pierce said. “Does anyone have anything else they wish to discuss? No? Then I believe we are adjourned.” He pushed his chair back, inclined his head to everyone, then swept out of the room.
The others followed him out, but I caught Marcus’s arm as he started toward the door.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I waited for the last person to leave and close the door. “We might not be dating anymore, but I know you pretty damn well. You’re miserable.”
Marcus offered me an unconvincing smile. “I’m not miserable. I’m just . . .” The smile dropped away, and he sighed. “Disappointed, I guess. I spent so many years wanting so fucking badly to be a part of the Tribe, while wondering what the hell I’d done wrong to make Uncle Pietro exclude me.” Hurt shimmered across his face. “And now, not only am I in the Tribe, I fucking lead it. Except I don’t. You saw that meeting. I sure as hell didn’t run it. I have minimal say in anything that matters, and it has nothing to do my skills or what I can offer.” Bitterness sliced through his words. “I’m a goddamn puppet. It’s worse than being kept out of the Tribe. At least back then I had a life of my own.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. I can’t even quit. It would affect everyone—Aw, shit, Angel, no no no. Don’t cry.”
My lower lip quivered as the tears poured down my cheeks. “It’s all my fault you’re the head of the Tribe,” I wailed. “Which means it’s all my fault you’re miserable!”
“What on earth are you talking about?” He pulled me into a hug. “None of this is your fault.”
“It is. It is.” I sniffled against his chest. “When we were in New York, after we rescued you and Kyle, I told Pierce how much you hated being excluded. He said he’d made a promise to the original Pietro Ivanov to keep his family away from all the zombie dealings and drama and danger and stuff, but then I pointed out that he’d turned you to save your life, and it was really stupid to cling to that promise now especially since it hurt you to be shut out, and he said I was right and then all of a sudden he said you should become Tribe head in his place.”
He tightened his arms around me. “It’s still not your fault, you goose. Pietro-Pierce laid everything out for me before I agreed to it. I knew I was going to be a figurehead.” A sigh escaped him. “I just didn’t expect to be so . . . powerless. Useless. I suppose I had this idea of him grooming me to take over for him someday—teaching me how to lead the Tribe, or something along those lines.”
