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I nod slowly, gaining more of my bearings. “And you thought Professor Locke could help you.”
A knowing smile stretches across her lips. “He did,” she says. “He brought me you.”
Leaving it at that, Deyvn spins toward the building sitting on the elevated bluff that overlooks the reservoir. A blend of gothic and industrial architecture, the original masonry stacks faded bricks two levels high, with a dark cast-iron water tank housed on top.
I lift my face to a gust of wind, just to feel it brush my skin before I follow behind her.
“After each failed ascension into the alchemical overman, Emmons disposed of them with hemlock,” she says as she pulls the glass door open. “Once the bodies have all been recovered, they’ll find traces of it, just like with Bethany.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you want answers.” She swings the door wider and steps inside. “When the FBI arrived, Emmons knew it was only a matter of time before we were exposed, and he became desperate.”
As I wait for her to say more, I glance around. The track lights overhead are dimmed, as if the emergency lights kicked on afterhours. The renovated interior is a stark contrast to the worn exterior, complete with updated concrete flooring and monitors displayed on whitewashed walls. Reinforced steel beams cross the ceiling alongside galvanized air ducts.
“The hemlock was never intended for mass destruction,” Devyn says as she rounds a corner. “You got that wrong, too. It was given as an option for self-destruction, for those who personally chose that means. But Emmons saw it as a way to take it right back to your profile.”
“I don’t understand.” But even as I say this, a revolting awareness washes over me.
I theorized that if the divine wisdom was rejected by society, the Overman would incorporate the hemlock into their delusion. Only Emmons did the opposite of Socrates—he contaminated the whole town’s water supply.
“I gave him the idea,” I say, a sickness roiling my stomach.
“He said it would be a convenient way for us to have a new start,” Devyn says, confirming my thoughts. “Force the skeptics to drink the poison. Wipe it all clean.” She looks back at me. “Starting with the inner circle.”
Devyn halts, touching the wall to catch her breath. She stares at the floor. “I didn’t know he laced the wine. I didn’t know he was going to do that back there. You have to believe me, Halen.”
I’m not sure what I believe, but I study scenes, the evidence. The logical story that is revealed beneath the mystery. That’s what I know. And if I was investigating the scene we left behind tonight, I would uncover intent with a cold malice.
“You made Bethany a shrine because you loved her.”
She pulls herself upright. “Instead of letting her become just another one of his failures to be sacrificed, I gave her to you.” She meets my eyes. “I offered you a scene only you could decode. I wanted you to stop him.”
“Because if I was the one, then you wouldn’t have to betray him.”
“Even after what he’s done, I didn’t want to hurt him. Not after all that he’s sacrificed for me.” Her vibrant brown eyes sheen with banked moisture. “But there just wasn’t enough time.”
The mention of our limited time raises the hairs along the back of my neck. “We have that time now.”
Her smile is crestfallen. “Only because I abandoned him.”
Without another word, she navigates the hallways, our steps echoing against the emptiness. The silence is unsettling. My bare feet slap the cool floor as I glance around in search for security or a shift employee—coming to a sudden halt at the wet feel beneath my toes.
Instinctively, I look down. Dark red pools on the concrete. I follow the blood to a discarded body, the neck slashed.
Emmons has reached the height of desperation, removing anyone who stands in his way, even the people he swore an oath to protect in his town.
Farther ahead, Devyn pushes through a door, and I speed my steps, tracking a trail of blood behind, feeling just as desperate. I match her quick pace once we enter into the main water filtration and treatment area—the system that feeds the town’s water supply.
“Christ, Devyn.” The warren of pipes that line the space feels impossible. It’s not just everyone in Hollow’s Row that will be affected, but possibly the neighboring towns as well.
The species of hemlock that was cultivated in the marshland grove, once ingested, results in extreme nausea, convulsions, and then death. All within minutes.
I shove my hands through my hair. “Shit. Where do we start?” I ask, trying and failing to follow the maze of pipes to a source. I straddle one of the blue pipes and grab hold of the valve lever. It’s impossible to turn. “Why are you just standing there?”
With a calm countenance, Devyn walks to a wall panel with a red alarm light mounted on top and flips the cover open, the panel having already been unlocked. My heart thumps painfully in my chest, the sounds of the facility muffled by the roar in my ears as I watch her run her finger down the row…then push a button.
She turns to face me. “Done.”
