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I wipe my eyes.
"This knowledge of genetics and gene therapy could be used to improve humanity, reduce disease in humans, extend longevity,” I say. “But it's been delayed for a decade so the military could abuse it?"
Reynolds nods. "Pretty much, yeah." He doesn't flinch under my gaze. "Guys like Julien are irreplaceable, except by more of his kind. You could throw anything at them – any situation however novel or threatening and they were unfazed. Unafraid of pain. No fear of dying – there aren't many stakes on the battlefield and unless they get hit by a freak stray shard of wood, they won't die permanently. Kill an enemy without a thought. Fight and most often, win in any hand-to-hand combat. Isn't that right?"
"Absofuckinglutely. A war hog's wet dream." Julien's tone is sarcastic. "So," he says, turning to me without looking at me in the eye. "Ms. Hayden, Colonel Reynolds has decided he wants to continue to live and will cooperate." He turns to Reynolds. "What level of clearance do you still have? Can you get into some of the research for her?"
"You give me a clean PC and I can tap into the database through my clearance. As long as it's related to my work, I can access it."
Julien nods, his arms crossed.
"Thank you. Ms. Hayden," he says without looking at me directly. "You and Colonel Reynolds will spend a bit of time in the next few days doing research. I'll call Ed and tell him you won't be coming in to work. I want action on this as soon as possible." He waves a hand at Vasily. "Find out what they did to us. I can still go out in the light, but others from my group – those who are still alive, that is, started to lose the ability. I don't think I have much time left."
With that, Vasily comes to me and I stand. I stop beside Julien, wanting to say something but there's no opportunity. Vasily takes my arm and pulls me out of the room. I follow him out to the car, regret heavy like an iron weight in my gut.
"So," Reynolds says as we sit in the office the next day and work on the computer. "Why are you helping him?"
I press my nails into my palm. "Stockholm Syndrome?"
"Oh, yeah?" Reynolds smiles. "I could see it. What's your interest in helping the Council?"
"My mother worked for the Council before she died. I hate what's being done. We should be curing vampirism, not use them as some kind of killing machines. It's immoral. It's criminal. It should be exposed."
Reynolds laughs. "Good luck with that. If anyone does expose the program and its escapades, you're implicated along with Julien by helping him, and you're dead. The guys who work for Blackstone? Not very pleasant. You think Julien’s a psychopathic vampire killer? The guys who head Blackstone are worse."
“I don’t think Julien’s a psychopath.”
“Oh he is, rest assured. All vampires fit the definition. They all want to drink you dry, no matter how they feel about you.”
I shake my head. Not Michel. He cared about humans. He wanted to protect us and prevent Dominion. I sit in silence for a few minutes while Reynolds searches through a government intranet virtual library for research.
"You’re implicated as well,” I say. “You were willing to help create this army of psychopathic vampire killers. Now, if you help Julien, you’re at risk and will be condemned with him if he’s caught."
Reynolds shrugs. "It's either die now because I won't help, or die later for helping him. I figure if I help him now, I have a fighting chance of staying alive, evading them once this comes out."
"Maybe you'll take pity on a screwed-up college student and help me evade them as well."
He nods. "I promise you that if I survive and there's a chance of my helping, I will. I have SERE training and know a few clandestine tricks." He turns and glances at me, his eyes moving over my body. "I could use a little research assistant myself."
"What do you mean by that?"
He smiles.
"I'm a trained observer, Eve. I saw the way you look at each other, despite the chilly reception you gave each other. The way he looked at you?" He shakes his head. "Like a wolf looks at a doe. Hungry. Drooling for a piece. But most does are afraid of wolves, not wanting to be closer to them. I'd say there's one hell of a lot more than Stockholm Syndrome going on."
I rub my forehead. "It's pretty screwed up."
"I can see that." He reads a few abstracts. "He's a very nasty vampire, you know. Once he found out I actually worked on the project, his appetite for inflicting pain on me increased exponentially. I'm surprised he was able to stop and actually let me go. I don't get why you're helping him or even with a guy like him."
"I'm notwithhim," I say, "at least, not by choice." I look at my hands, which are folded in my lap.
"I don't know if I believe that," he says. "I'm a trained observer. I saw something between you."
"Let's say I have issues."
"Hate to use a cliché but moth to a flame?" He clicks on a link and opens a new window. "You know the score and yet you still can't end it?"
"I did – the non-professional part. I'm pretty much committed to the professional part."
