Deena at 16 the first time around Deena could hear the words coming out of her mouth, feel her tongue forming the words. The more she looked at this man, the surer she was that she wanted to be a part of his world. She felt like a hand puppet with someone else calling the shots. The idea that Deena was actually angling for a job with this killer was unbelievable, and yet there was some desperate logic in it. They had nowhere to go, and instead of trying to find some menial job and slide by in the ugly world of fast food prep, to Deena working for a killer was the next step. And considering she'd just killed at least one of the criminal's men, Deena wasn't sure that was far from wrong. She had turned an accidental meeting into an all-or-nothing prospect. Guided the whole time by pushes and pulls from inside her head. Even if they had managed to get away, Deena feared the man would find them and kill them as witnesses.

"What are you doing?" Harper whispered to Deena. "These guys aren't f.u.c.king around."

Deena made a show of looking at the blood on her own shirt and the pistol at her side. "Duh."

Harper still looked vacant and spoke in a low monotone as she turned to the men. "We can do all kinds of things." She took a moment, and Deena hoped her sister could think of something worthwhile. "I'm a good driver."

There was still that odd smile on the old man's face; it looked a little pained as he responded. "My dear, I already have a driver," he nodded at the other man. "And he's rather good."

The other man nodded, a confident smirk on his lips.

"Surely you have other..." Harper jumped as a gunshot cut through the quiet forest.

The big man next to the boss took a step, as his head jerked back. The gun in his hand dropped slowly, and two reports issued from it, the muzzle flashes almost blinding to Harper. Bits of the earth and leaves between the two groups flew up as the shots landed harmlessly on the ground.

Deena's gun was smoking, pointed level again. "Looks like you're going to need a lift home," she said as the driver's knees gave out beneath him. He fell hard and didn't get up. Deena turned to her sister and winked. "Good thinking. Great idea." Deena could feel a difference in herself, like her body was filling with a new sense of purpose and accomplishment. Harper's face sank.

The old man and his last man standing didn't change their expressions one bit in light of the new circ.u.mstances. None of the carnage seemed to faze them in the least.

"You think this prepares you to come work for me? You think this qualifies you?" The old man gestured around the forest. "You think killing a few poorly-compensated thugs is some sort of initiation? My name is Mr. Marsh. I control a very sizable portion of criminal activities in Los Angeles."

As the man spoke, Deena had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. She felt compelled to be with him and see to anything he wanted done. She looked at the ground, searching for a weapon one of the nearby men might have dropped in the scuffle, just in case someone else got antsy. She tried to keep her eyes on Mr. Marsh as she did. "I think you've got other problems than reading over my resume." Deena gestured with her own gun.

"What's to say I don't let you take me home and then have my doorman take you out into the alley behind my building and shoot you in the back of the head? And your sister, of course."

Harper looked like she was going to throw up. "All right. Let's just calm down here and decide how we're going to end this."

"I'm calm," Marsh said. And Deena felt it was true. He wasn't emotional, didn't raise his voice.

"Same here," Deena agreed. Her face was tense and her voice was tight, but her hand didn't shake and she seemed perfectly in control. There was just one of the man's goons left; the one he'd called Morgan. He stood with his arms crossed, looking just as pa.s.sive as his boss.

"I run a number of businesses. Somewhat legitimate businesses. You can work for me in one of those," Marsh said.

Deena stared at him and thought about the gun in her hand. "I think we can do something more for you."

Marsh sighed. "What you've done here is quite impressive, but puts me in a tight spot as to what to do with the mess. I think girls of your age should take the time to grow up a bit before you so rashly start wishing for things you can't undo."

Deena looked around her and knew he was right. "There are already a number of things I can't undo."

Marsh nodded and pointed to the car. "I'm offering you a chance. We can each go our separate ways right now, or you can get in this car and come with me. You're obviously scared and confused and looking for something that will bring you some sort of stability. How long have you been living out here in these G.o.d-forsaken woods? The bugs, the animals. Ugh. You want a job? Get in the car and I'll find something for you to do. It may not be what you want, but it'll be a roof over your head and a little money until you figure out your life. I'll admit you have me intrigued."

"We're not signing up to be wh.o.r.es or anything. You understand that, right?" Deena said.

"I think we understand each other. That's an enterprise I've never found profitable to get involved with," Marsh said.

Deena started nodding and was ready to agree when Harper spoke up. "Wait a minute. You're making a deal for both of us? I get some say in this." Marsh turned to look at her and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "You say one of your legitimate businesses, what are you talking about?"

"We'll find something for you to do."

"For example, where?"

Deena watched them and couldn't help but be suddenly amused by the situation. It was an eighteen-year-old girl bargaining with a mobster over where he was going to let them work in his organization since they wouldn't be allowed to kill for him. They could leave. They could walk away right now, just as he said and find some life doing something else. Hiding somewhere else. But she didn't like living on the run. She couldn't imagine scrounging for food the way they had been. She'd told him they wouldn't be wh.o.r.es, but how long could they survive on the streets without turning to that?

And there was something about Marsh that made something within Deena complete. She'd stopped looking for another gun and found she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His voice had a quality that made her want to listen. Made her want to ingest all of his words, bit by bit.

"I have a restaurant in mid-town. They always need waitresses," Marsh said. "You can start there and we'll see where that takes you."

"Legitimate business?"

"Are you bargaining, now?" Morgan asked. "Take the d.a.m.n jobs or hit the road."

Deena glared at him. Something made her want to fight-made her want to fight everyone. She felt like she could attack a whole army and win. Her heart felt like a stone rattling around in her chest and her arm was heavy. She looked at the little dot that had caused her so much concern as she was growing up. It had settled and almost resembled a smiley face.

"I don't know what you're doing," Harper said. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Then go home. Tell Dad I'm sorry for whatever s.h.i.t I may have caused." For a moment, Harper looked like she might actually turn and go. But then, something sank in her and her shoulders dropped, arms unfolded and her hands fell to her side. "I can't let you go alone."

30.

The doctors, scientists, men with clipboards, and women with needles cleared out of the large room, leaving only Pel, Garrett and Rivers with Leonard. Garrett looked around the room, taking in the equipment and stifling a sneeze from the smell of bleach. He settled himself onto a rolling chair that the doctors used to wheel themselves from station to station. Pel stood against the nearest wall, clearly still uncomfortable with the whole situation. Both she and Garrett were fine with interrogations, they'd questioned suspects before, but this would be something different. They were quickly entering a gray area, one clouded by the mix of drugs that had been fed to Leonard to keep his power from emerging. But how much was that c.o.c.ktail affecting his judgment, were they essentially asking the man things he had no choice but to answer?

"Let's talk about how you became this thing," Rivers said.

"Thing? I think I'm pretty handsome. What'd'ya mean thing?" Leonard sounded tired, but defiant. "You don't find me hot?" His chest rose and fell with a little more labor than it should.

Rivers was unfazed. "We're talking about that power inside you. The power that landed you here in our company today. Where did it come from?"

Leonard's eyes drooped a little. "Who's the blonde? She's a little too hot to be a federal agent."

Pel rolled her eyes, but blushed in spite of herself. "They've changed the requirements at the academy."

"I have a thing for women with ponytails," Leonard said.

Garrett watched the exchange and understood it for what it was; suspect and interrogators feeling each other out to see their boundaries and how far they could go before they had to get down to business. The only difference was that Leonard had been through this already. He'd answered questions for the last year or so from dozens of different people. He'd spilled as much as he wanted and knew his story forward and back. Rivers was new to this particular party. He was asking the same questions everyone else had.

"We don't care about your criminal history. Don't want to know everyone you've robbed, smacked around, bludgeoned or looked at cross-eyed. We just want to understand what's going on inside your body," Garrett said.

Leonard laughed. "What's going on inside my body? Is this a high school s.e.x-Ed cla.s.s? Are you going to tell me why I'm growing hair in my special place?"

"We were really hoping you could tell us all about those things," Rice entered the room with a tablet and crossed to hand it to Rivers. "How did this happen to you? How did you get this power?"

"f.u.c.k you. I want special consideration." Leonard pulled at the straps holding his hands in place.

"Do you even know what you're saying? You have a decent list of pretty nasty crimes on your sheet and you want us to treat you with kid gloves? I don't think so," Rice said. "You'll get the same as everyone else."

"We hear how you normally treat our people."

"Our people?" Rivers asked.

"Inks. You don't think we know what you call us? Word gets around. People with shadows running through their veins don't do well in your hands." He tugged at the restraints harder. "They tend to disappear."

"Doesn't let you off for your crimes." Rivers looked indifferent.

"When you call us Inks, are you talking about the thing inside us? Or are you talking about us?" Leonard squirmed a little, getting comfortable.

Rivers' expression didn't change. He looked bored. "You just got here. Maybe we should talk in a few days, when you're less b.i.t.c.hy."

"I'm always this b.i.t.c.hy. A few more days of drugs and shock treatments aren't going to change that. You need me. You need me intact and cooperative if you want this whole thing to go well for you. How long did it take you to catch me? How long has this girl you're after been on the run?" Leonard was taking deep breaths. It was obvious that something, probably the drugs, was making him work harder just to talk. He wasn't pulling against his restraints like he had been. "I can help you. We find each other easily. Keep me happy and we can round the rest of them up."

"You're going to help us. Don't worry," Rivers said. "We're not making any deals though." He got up and walked towards the door.

Garrett had been taking it all in. He'd a.s.sumed that the FEI was a super-secret organization since he hadn't heard of it, but it was beginning to look like he was wrong. If the agency was already known by the very people it was tracking, they must not have a lid on it. He leaned close to Rice. "He's right, though, isn't he? I don't want to coddle a vicious criminal, but he has some sort of insight that we don't. He could be an a.s.set."

"These people have never been straight with us. They say whatever they think will get them lenient treatment and never produce results. We've tried to be reasonable," Rice said. "We won't negotiate again."

It was quiet except for the hum of the machines pumping Leonard full of various liquids.

"I volunteered."

Garrett turned to the prisoner. "What?"

"I volunteered to have this put into me. In the army. Back in 1975."

Garrett watched Pel finally step into the conversation. "That was forty years ago. You look about thirty years old to me. How's that possible?"

"How the h.e.l.l would I know? I was thirty and I volunteered for an experiment. Every time I used this d.a.m.n power, it took years off my life-not shortening it, no. It was like a rewind b.u.t.ton. Making me temporarily younger when I used my powers. I steadily used them and managed to pretty much feel, think and look the same age for quite a long time. Others had different consequences, but I got to keep my boyish good looks."

Garrett looked the man up and down again. Leonard seemed like a fugitive from a bodybuilding contest where steroid use was encouraged. The veins in the man's arm were as thick as Garrett's thumbs. "What experiment?" Garrett asked. "Who did it?"

"It was some military thing. They wanted better soldiers."

"Military thing? What division? What branch? Name some doctors. We've heard this s.h.i.t from a number of Inks now, but no one can give us specifics," Rivers said. "Give us something we don't already know."

Garrett was taken aback. There was nothing in the files or any of their conversations that mentioned a military experiment. "You already knew this stuff? Why didn't you say something? We are working on the same side, right?"

"We've heard this stuff before, but no one can prove it. There's no record of it in any of the research we've done. No other agencies have any info on it. It's hearsay," Rice said.

"Hearsay that you've heard from a number of your subjects now?" Pel was thinking along the same lines as Garrett. "Come on."

"If we're going to work together, we need to be able to trust you, and believe that you're being completely open with what's going on. I don't like surprises." Garrett understood the old "need to know" information dodge. He'd had superiors that withheld important details of an investigation on him before. But this was crazy.

"The federal government would never hide information on something like this," Rice said.

It was silent for a couple of beats before Leonard started laughing. "Whatever."

Garrett leaned close to Leonard. "So give us something new. Tell us something that makes you valuable to this investigation and not the smug c.r.a.p everyone else has put out there. You're worried about not making it out of here? Hand us something."

"How the h.e.l.l do I know what they've told you?"

"Start talking and we'll tell you when you hit new territory," Rivers said.

Leonard's lip curled as he stared at Rivers. "We know who you are. We all know who you are." He mumbled it, but Garrett was close enough to hear it.

"What's that?" Rivers said. "I didn't hear you."

"I was watching the Discovery Channel or some s.h.i.t, and there was this show about parasites. Turns out there are all kinds of... bugs, I guess. They grab on to other insects and animals and kind of hijack them. And make them do things they normally wouldn't." Leonard took a second to think. "What the h.e.l.l were those things called? f.u.c.k, I don't know. But those parasites took over and made their hosts do whatever the parasites wanted."

"I saw an article on Reddit about those. They make their hosts do all kinds of crazy things that aren't in the host's best interest. It was pretty gross. Sometimes they lay eggs in the host to keep their offspring safe until they hatch. Nasty," Pel said.

"Something like that. Only here it messes with your mind and your better judgment. The first time that black s.h.i.t bursts through your skin, you're done. You're not yourself anymore. The first person you see when it bursts out for the first time is suddenly your favorite person in the world. You'll do whatever that person says. Like those bugs? Those f.u.c.king bugs? You're totally in their power. You're basically at their whim. You'll do whatever they tell you to."

"They put an actual parasite inside you? It's a bug or something?" Garrett asked.

"I don't know, how would I know? I'm not a doctor. When the darkness burst out of my hands the first time? I was in the process of punching my commanding officer in the face. After this thing burst through my skin and it came out? I wanted to do everything the man said," Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Every little thing-no matter how much I didn't want to. It was like he had a remote control to my brain. Shoot someone? Yes, sir. Tear that guy's arm off and beat the ever-loving s.h.i.t out of him with it? Yes, sir."

"And where is your C.O. now?" Rivers asked.

"Dead."

"You kill him?" Rivers followed up casually.

"Nope."

"You wanted to follow his orders so bad, what happened when he died?"

Leonard thought about it for a second and it looked like he might try to rip out his restraints again, but he didn't. "When that happened, I pretty much wanted to destroy everyone and everything. If someone wanted to pay me to get freaky, that was great, but no one ever had the same control over me again. No one." He took a couple of labored breaths. "And no one ever will."

"And what happened to this program you volunteered for?" Rivers asked.

"When they saw the terrible things that we were doing, they shut it down. Burned the program to the ground," Leonard swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "The higher-ups weren't too keen on the whole mind control, out-of-control aggression thing."

"But we have people running around right now with these things inside them. How did that happen?" Garrett was sure that Deena Riordan did not receive a super warrior injection from the army in the seventies.

Leonard didn't open his eyes. "No idea. Someone must've taken over the project."

Garrett motioned for Pel to join him outside the large interrogation room. "Well? What's your take on this?"

"We might be working for the wrong people," Pel said. She began leading the way down the hall, keeping her voice down.

"How so?"