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“No love lost between you, Hamish and the others?”
“None. They only hated me more when I was promoted and put in charge. Caelan’s decision to leave, but I still got blamed, for no logical reason other than I wouldn’t be carrying them all like he did. I made them work. And they didn’t like it.”
Men! How did they survive all these millennia? No wonder women lived longer and happier.
I pursed my lips because a lot didn’t add up, and he was still scrubbing that pan, avoiding my eye and staring out the window.
“The only reason Caelan agreed to go was because he knew if you hadn’t been able to get it done, then literally the only other person who could would be him.”
Eric jolted and then turned swiftly to look at me, like he’d just been hit by a thunderbolt.
“He said that?”
I nodded. “If you’d… he knew it had to be bad.”
He turned back to the window, still scrubbing that gleaming pan, the suds in that bowl nearly overflowing with the motion.
“In certain types of warfare, especially one in which you’re untested, things can happen. Paranoia is rife in that country. Spies everywhere, both sides… our intelligence was bad. Something… someone… but notme,Flora.Not me,” he insisted. “Hate them I did, but not enough for all that. They were my team. Now they’re gone. I can’t change that.”
Finally, the pan went on the drainer, then he emptied the bowl even though I had my dishes yet to wash up. I nearly snickered when foam blew past the window, thrown up by the wind from the drain outside. He seemed upset, I thought and wouldn’t appreciate me laughing. Even though he claimed not to care, it was clear, he cared a lot. I kept a straight face.
“Caelan will sort it all out,” I said. “That’s why he went.”
“I hope so,” he said, “because I did nothing wrong, Flora. I swear it.”
He leaned forward against the sink unit and seemed to stare disconsolately at the hills in the distance, like he’d run for them if he had to.
***
The next morning, I knew something was wrong the moment I woke. Not only was I groggy, the fog of sleep with its claws still in me—meaning I’d been woken unnaturally—but there was a scent. Metallic. Not like steel, but like the outdoors. The moment I looked up from my pillow, I saw a figure clad all in black.
Dark eyes peered at me from out of the slits in his ski mask, and he said, “Come and we will not harm the child.”
An accent, like he was Middle Eastern. Indeed, his eyes were deepest midnight.
I nearly shot off the bed, but, he held a hunting knife in his hand and it was pointed at where my son lay in his crib next to the bed.
Slowly, I rolled over and sat up, staring at him. Willing myself to give nothing away.
Abominable things flashed before my eyes. Flesh tearing. Bones breaking. Blood welling from his wounds. Bloodlust hit me so suddenly, so forcefully, it was almost like an orgasm waiting to be released.
It was still there, buried inside me. Deep down. The real me.
The killer.
Hunger for violence had me. Entirely. A hunger I’d always closeted. Guarded. Though in the quiet, I’d nurtured her, taken care of her… melded her within myself.
Fury itself.
“What do you want with me?” I said in a flat tone.
“Information.”
I shook my head. “I have no information you could possibly want.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Is this about Cae—”
