Page 30 of The Wickedness of Man

By the morning of the fourth day, after having no food other than a few communion wafers and some water from the sink, when they brought the bottle in and told me to drink it, I’d refused. They tried to force me, but I upended it into the sink and smashed the bottle on the ground. Without a word, the priests had left the room, and this time, left the door open. The lesson, I’d later been told, had been to “not touch another drop.” By continuing to drink it every day after they’dorderedme to, I’d proven I was lying, so they’d done it again until I satisfactorily refused. The lessons hadn’t stopped me from drinking, but ithadensured that I never took part in communion ever again.

One of the first missions I’d ever gone on had been headed by an agent who’d messed up and gotten three new graduates killed. They’d put him straight into the cells and kept him there for three months—probably, we’d mused, one for each agent killed on his watch. After he’d gotten out, he never spoke another word to anyone. They’d had to take him off the teams and permanently assign him to the university’s groundskeeping crew.

Three weeks, four days had been my longest stay. It had taken them four days to make me crack; nine days to totally break me. But they’d kept going, even after I’d confessed to whatever they accused me of, even things they knew I hadn’t done. My crime had been sleeping with a married woman. To be fair, I hadn’t known she was married when we met, but thatdidn’t seem to matter to her husband—one of the university’s board members, as it turned out.

I didn’t even want to possibly consider what they’d consider the “proper punishment” for sleeping with a succubus, and I wasn’t about to, either. I tightened my fists.

If they used drugs to question me… I knew Magda’s name; her address… How much would I be able to withstand before I ended up giving them everything they wanted?

“You’ll go wherever you’re ordered,” said the agent with the gun. “Trust me when I say you’re in no position to make demands. You should know the consequences better than anyone, Knight. I figured they had a little room down there permanently reserved for you at this point?—”

“Fuck you,” I spat. “I knew I was going to get into trouble, and I still came back. What does that tell you?”

“Tells me you’re pretty stupid,” he replied with a snort.

Home glared at him. “Listen man, you fucked up, but it ain’t the end of the world. You’ve messed up before—we all been in the cells at some point or another. They can’t keep you down there forever.”

“Nah, they’re gonna let you rot this time,” said the other agent. “You cocked this mission up good. The archbishop himself will probably have you crucified. If you knew what you lost us?—”

“Sir,” said Home, “due respect and all, but would you kindly shut the fuck up? I’d like to get to bed sometime this week, you hear? Let’s go.”

“Get Jax on the phone—now,” I demanded. “I want to hear it from?—”

The second agent grabbed my jacket collar and yanked, but only succeeded in nearly falling back into me when I didn’t budge.

“Listen here, you fuckwit,” he snapped, then jabbed his finger into my collarbone. “I don’t answer to that old asshole, and I certainly don’t answer toyou. Get in the van or get a bullet in the head. Your choice.”

I grinned down at him; something feral and savage danced within me. It was the energy that Magda had drawn out of me in bed; the monster within that I always tried to stifle. I raised my head, breathing deeply. “Mychoice? Is that right? I think that’s gotta be the first time in my life I’ve ever had such a thing.”

The agents glanced at each other, and the soft chatter of their earpieces crackled to life. The man with the gun smirked, his hand twitching on the weapon. It seemed like they’d gotten authorization for a secondary plan. I’d been onthatside of this situation more times than I cared to count. The rules were simple: when containment was likely to fail, live rounds were an acceptable next option.

My adrenaline surged; a similar sensation to when I’d been dispatched to hunt a target. Only, tonight, I wasn’t just some dog trying to tree the fox so its master could take the prize. Whether I resisted or returned willingly, I would be off to the cells, locked up, key thrown away, tortured endlessly—probably until I broke and told them everything. It had taken nine days last time. How long would it take now?

I’m not about to find out what it would take for me to betray her, I thought. I wasn’t certain why I felt so protective of her, but I would fight to do so until my last.I won’t let them put her in that place. Not now, not ever. They’ll have to shoot me first.

More radio chatter. Home shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. I was taller than them both by several inches. I was stronger than them, filled with burning energy I’d never felt before. If they knew who I was, then they’d know the beasts I’d fought on my own; that there was a reason I was still a hunteragent after nearly a decade, even when everyone else from my graduating class had moved onto other positions or locations.

Or died in action.

It wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough to get promoted, or that Iwantedto stay in the lowest ranks of the organization. I was among those who were issued the crappiest apartments, pay, and assignments, all while being subjected to the worst possible punishments for the slightest grievances—realorperceived.

It was because they needed me to be a killer. Because, until today when Dr. Lowe had caught me off guard, I had never once in my life failed to find and then capture—or neutralize—my target. If these assholes knew who I was, then they’d know what I was capable of.

“Hell, man, just get the bishop on the phone in the van,” Home said to the other agent, tugging my arm. “Can we please just?—"

“No,” I growled, locking my knees.

The agent with the gun cocked his head. “No? Well, now, that does put us at an impasse. You see, if?—”

I reared back, then slammed my forehead straight into the dumb fuck’s face. He stumbled backward, dropped his gun, and screamed as blood gushed from his nose. I yanked my other arm back and sent Home flying over my shoulder and onto the sidewalk behind me. He landed with a startled cry and then groaned as he grabbed his ribs.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the drill,” I snarled.

I took off running around the front of the van. The driver, looking surprised, opened his door and stepped out, aiming a pistol at me, but I rammed my shoulder into the door and it slammed against his leg. The unmistakablecrackof a breaking bone echoed right before he screamed and fell back into the seat.

I kept running, back toward Magda, against my better judgment, and dashed into the intersection.

Wham!

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