La Parca Negra
Summary:
In which Lila's cluster is up to no good, and neither is Whispers.
"At some point, we all encounter our own parca negra. He is that thing we are afraid of, that thing that stops us from becoming what we know we can become."
— From S1E6, "Demons"
A/N:
Thank you all so much for the continued support on various platforms. I am addicted to comments, especially the sound of people screaming at my newest plot developments.
July 11, 2017
When Will woke in the middle of the night, he heard voices echo as Whispers' vision drew into focus in their shared mind.
He felt Riley wake beside him, moving over to hold his hand, her other hand presumably reaching for the Blockers they kept on the nightstand. He stirred, opened his eyes and gestured for the syringe next to the bottle of Blockers, their emergency heroin supply. He wished he could have had a larger dose, but Kala had advised against it in case he relapsed.
Still, he wasn't going to let this impromptu dream-connection slip away.
His vision was slipping back and forth between the room he shared with Riley and the scene unfolding in the BPO office, and Whispers' presence was far from welcoming. But he latched on to the coldness in the corner of the Psycellium that he knew belonged to the Headhunter. At this stage in the war, more information was hardly a bad thing.
It was getting a lot easier for Will to learn what the Headhunter was thinking or doing anytime his Blockers were wearing off. He wondered when he had gone from hiding from Whispers' prying to actively creeping around in the man's head. When a Sensate is on the run, he supposed, all the ethics of mind-reading goes out the window. Though he wasn't sure he liked beating the Headhunter at his own game, as satisfying as it was to get answers.
He shooed the thought away when Whispers' vision came into focus again.
There was a laptop in front of him, and Will squinted, trying to make out the image on the screen. It looked like a Google map of Great Britain. There were red dots scattered all across the country, congregating around certain points, one of which he guessed was London. But Whispers was scrolling up to zoom in on Scotland.
The heroin kicked in, and the words became clearer, as did the voices.
"Are you certain it was Felix Berner that he saw?" Whispers asked, addressing a young man who Will saw standing on the other side of his desk. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his shirt was plastered to his body with sweat.
The man had a Russian accent when he spoke. "He said he was in disguise, but he remembered him. They used to work together."
"Your informant was in Aberdeen?"
"Yes, sir. He saw them get on another platform."
Will felt Whispers sigh. "Was anyone else with him?"
"A woman. And a man in a wheelchair. Their faces were hidden."
Whispers chuckles. "Must be Mrs. Rasal and Mr. Bogdanow."
Will knew Whispers already found out Kala worked as a chemist for Rasal Pharmaceuticals. A glimpse into the Headhunter's recent memory showed that that morning, he'd learned the Blocker traders were making their ways across the Archipelago with an added frenzy because of the new drug-induced mass-huntings. At a time like this, it wouldn't be hard to deduce what a chemist like Kala would be up to.
"What day was this?" Whispers asked.
"The 20th, sir."
"Then go back to your office and start searching."
Shit. Whispers was getting too close for comfort. Although -
Hoy, Will thought, trying to trigger any possible memories the Headhunter might have. Mr. Hoy. Old Man of Hoy?
There was no echo, no images shifting around to reveal the face Riley had seen at the rave. Will breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Whispers never knew him. Or perhaps he knew him by a different alias?
The scene faded into darkness, before coming into focus in a different place. Both Will and Whispers were looking at Riley's face in bed. Will shut his eyes immediately, tapping his finger on Riley's hand. She put a Blocker in his mouth and handed him a bottle of water, which he chugged.
The last thing he knew Whispers heard before the connection was cut off, was the sound of Riley's voice, asking what had happened.
"Whispers might find the lab," he told Riley as he sprang up in their bed. "We need to warn them."
Rajan's apartment felt empty without Kala.
It was especially hard for Rajan to wake up and see the empty space next to him. Rajan had gotten used to seeing Kala on the patio, smiling at the view of Mumbai below. Sometimes she'd sing in the shower and wake him up. In fact, he had become so dependent on her voice that he'd forgotten to reset his phone alarm.
Damn it. He was going to miss his meeting with Agent Singh.
He made his way across the living room and saw the new gift-wrapped box sitting on the coffee table and suppressed a shudder. The man at the reception desk had given it to him last night, saying Mr. Kapoor had dropped it off, but he was too tired to deal with it then.
It wasn't hard to guess what was inside. He'd received another jade Ganesha statues in his mail a few days after Kala had left for Paris. The box had been wrapped in pure white paper, and the word Transparent had been written in English at the top.
But right now, Rajan had a meeting to go to. As soon as the elevator opened on the ground floor, he ran into the car waiting in front of the apartment building, his ever-vigilant bodyguard Vikram following close. His driver stepped on the pedal as soon as Vikram shut the door. They zig-zagged through the busy streets full of trucks and bikes and auto rickshaws. In his sleep-deprived state, the motion made Rajan's head spin.
When Rajan finally made it into his office, hoping his sweat didn't seep through the gray suit he'd haphazardly thrown on, Agent Singh stood from where he sat on the couch. Vikram stood by the door, keeping an eye out for potential intrusions.
They shook hands, and Rajan apologized for being late.
"It's alright, Rajan. Sit down." Agent Singh gestured to the seat next to him. He reached for a binder he'd put on the coffee table and opened it.
"Sir, about Ajay"—Rajan started.
Agent Singh waved him off. "We have our eyes on Mr. Kapoor, watching for evidence of suspicious activities. You don't have to worry about him."
"Have you found anything?" Rajan asked, eyeing the folder.
"Mr. Kapoor had been exporting a lot of funds to a Russian account for the past"—Agent Singh took out a piece of printed records from inside the folder and skimmed it—"fifteen months. My men believe he could have been negotiating a contract with Vor."
Rajan's eyes widened. "O-over a year?"
"It's not the first transaction he's made with that account. We've pulled up records of multiple transactions between them, several years past. We believe whoever the Russian was, they could be a long-term business partner."
"Have you found a name?"
"The account was deactivated three months ago. All records on identity erased."
Damn it. Rajan frowned. "Sir, does this means my collaboration with Ajay…" He looked up, not wanting to vocalize that thought.
Agent Singh seemed to have understood. "We will take your cooperation into consideration when we start our investigation into Rasal Pharmaceuticals. But I am afraid your previous involvement with Ajay Kapoor will be reflected in your records."
Rajan's eyelid twitched. "I understand."
"But we will remember that you came forward with your knowledge to help with the investigation, Rajan."
Rajan pressed his palms together, bowing his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Sir."
Agent Singh nodded. "I came to inform you of the latest development, courtesy of your assistance with our investigation. But I wouldn't worry too much about your penalty—it's not enough to warrant jail time. And the fine should be more than affordable."
"What about this company?"
"I don't think your company is the only one making unlawful profits from expired drugs," Agent Singh said. "A reputable company such as this should survive the scandal, especially if people hear you willingly cooperated."
Thank you, Rajan thought, to no deity in particular.
"What about Ajay?"
"If I were him, I would leave this country immediately."
Rajan breathed a sigh of relief.
"But"—Agent Singh continued, and Rajan held back a groan—"if we are really dealing with Vor, it may be months before any of us can gather enough evidence on this Russian business partner to prosecute Ajay if we can find anything at all."
If he had been alone, Rajan would have sworn.
Rajan was in no mood to stay in his office after the meeting, so after Agent Singh left, he asked his driver to take him back to the apartment. The minute he got home, he charged straight into the living room, ripping open the gift box wrapped in sunshine yellow—the color of the dress Kala wore on their first date.
There was no card, but there was a jade Ganesha statue as he'd expected. It broke into pieces as soon as he laid his hand on it, one sharp corner pricking his palm. Fuck. He dumped the rest of the content on the coffee table, not caring whether he'd made a dent on the glass surface.
But the statue wasn't the only thing in the box. Wilted red rose petals fell out from the bottom of the box, drifting in mid-air before gently landing on top of the broken statue like a scene from a morbid fairy tale.
His phone rang, and he plucked it out of his suit pocket so fast, he nearly lost his grip and dropped it on top of the shattered statue.
"What are you playing at?" Rajan growled.
"Did you enjoy my present?" Ajay asked, chuckling.
"I told you it's over."
"Rajan, would you really throw your company into the scandal for a woman? For some ridiculous moral righteousness standard? I didn't think you were the type."
"You don't know anything about me."
"Don't I?" Ajay laughed. "I know how far you're willing to go to keep Kala safe. Speaking of, I haven't seen her these days. How is she?"
Rajan clutched his fist. "Whatever problem you have with me is between us. Stop harassing my wife," he demanded, voice raised.
"Why worry, Rajan? We both know Kala's out of my reach."
Rajan scowled. "I'm keeping her safe with me, yes. For a good reason."
"I know she's not living in your apartment."
What? Rajan mouthed and turned to Vikram, who stood nearby, stoic as ever. The bodyguard raised an eyebrow before he looked around the room, scanning for suspicious devices.
Ajay chuckled. "I heard Paris is beautiful this time of year. The perfect time to visit, wouldn't you say?"
Lila wanted to live without a leash around her neck.
She had always been this way. Her parents and older brother had never approved. You are part of this family, they used to say. Always was, and always will be.
But they weren't the family that she needed.
She had always prided herself on her perception, her ability to read both Sensates and Sapiens in the blink of an eye. Everyone in Naples knew that as a Facchini, Lila was trained in the art of manipulation from day one, but she'd suspected there was something about her that set her apart from her parents and brother. There were times she could sense someone's intention the moment their eyes locked. And it was more than a hunch.
Lila used to think it was a hallucination. After her rebirth, her Mother had been quick to discount that theory.
"Dogan is dead?" Maitake asked from where he stood beside her, on the patio of Sebastian Fuch's penthouse in Berlin.
Lila didn't flinch when Maitake visited with his black cotton shirt halfway unbuttoned, the serpentine body of the Japanese dragon tattoo on his chest peeking out from his open collars. She was used to seeing her Cluster-mates in various states of undress, and she knew he was changing into more formal attire for dinner with some of the Headhunters, per another one of Veronika's orders.
She nodded, taking a drag of her cigarette before offering one to him. He accepted it. She handed him a lighter. "Marcela helped. Sebastian was useless." As always.
They gazed out, looking at the city clothed in the glory of dusk, orange and pink rays pouring into the open streets. Down below, vulnerable pedestrians walked on, unaware they were being watched. The two of them exhaled and watched as the light gray smoke tinted the sky for a few moments before it disappeared.
Marcela visited, appearing behind them. They turned when they sensed her presence. She wore a vibrant purple dress that hugged her curves, and her black hair was newly curled. Lila could smell perfume.
"Good?" Marcela asked.
The corners of Lila's mouth lifted for a second as the setting around them changed into the inside of Marcela's hotel room in London, complete with ebony furniture and backlit mirrors. Lila had to admit BPO was generous when it came to accommodations. Maybe they knew from the beginning that the hotel rooms would turn into prisons.
"Purple looks good on you," Lila said. "Veronika is going to be jealous."
Marcela nodded, her expression unchanged. "This shows Veronika we're unfazed by her little games. If we want to find Sylvie, we have to wait for her to slip up. Jealousy could work in our favor."
Lila knew better the to question the logic of a well-trained Mexican assassin.
Memories of Sylvie, their Congolese Cluster-mate, flashed through their shared consciousness. Lila could still hear Sylvie's voice singing Fally Ipupa's songs, the sweet soprano weaving through the Psycellium like one of Sylvie's unique hand-etched carpets. Fighting was far from Sylvie's strong suit, but she had insisted on joining the action in the last trade-off. Mai soli means we fight together, she'd said to Lila as their silver van drove into the middle of the gunfight with the August 8 Cluster.
The three of them were silent for a moment as they reminded themselves why they hadn't put a bullet through Veronika's temple. Lila's lips curled into a sneer. If Veronika thought confiscating one of the Cluster could make the rest of them obey, she apparently didn't know Lila as much as she'd claimed.
Maitake turned to Lila. "What is your plan?"
She turned and nodded at the interior of the penthouse. The drop-down windows of the top floor gave her a good view of the elevator that led straight to the living room. Sebastian was on his way back from Zurich. He would be here in a few hours.
Marcela stepped forward. "You wish to do it alone?"
"I'll take care of it," Lila said.
Maitake frowned. "Lila, be smart."
"I am." Lila crossed her arms. "Veronika wishes to make a deal with Sebastian. She plans to use his dealers for the next Hunt."
"This is reckless," Maitake protested. "You should wait for us to come back before you act."
Lila shook her head. "I will call you if there's a problem. There shouldn't be."
Maitake and Marcela frowned but didn't protest further.
"See you soon," Lila said as they disappeared.
BPO had known about Lila's Cluster since the day they were reborn, but their willing collaboration with the Headhunters was Lila's decision. BPO had promised them research into their anatomy and immunity from their Sensate-Hunts, and Lila was blindsided, too eager to find out what made her special, to realize the repercussions of a deal with Sapiens. Lila had convinced all of her Cluster to stay on BPO's side—to hunt, rather than be hunted.
Jonas had warned Lila not to test their luck like this. She wished she had listened.
Veronika was a lying snake, like most people in Lila's life. She'd known the Russian woman was bad news the moment she laid eyes on her. But instead of recoiling, Lila had pushed her Cluster right under Veronika's fangs, believing that one day, they could kill her with her own venom. Now all of Lila's Cluster was paying for her delusions.
But if there was one thing Lila believed herself capable of doing, it was fixing her mistakes.
In Chicago, the trains creaked when they turned, and all one could see when they looked out the window was more city: busy streets, brown buildings, areas behind billboard signs no one ever cleaned, or houses set too close together, bracing themselves against the oncoming noise pollution.
To Will, trains were inevitable, an irritating part of his life that made him groan during rush hours. Train rides weren't meant to be scenic, save for the one he shared with Riley in Amsterdam after their daring escape. Usually, he expected to see more people's heads than trees. But, he supposed as he looked out the window of the Eurostar, watching the afternoon sun cast a pleasant warmth over the farms he passed by, having a private compartment meant he was given the luxury of peace without being disturbed by strangers.
Riley was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder. He wondered what she was thinking. It was so easy to take their connection for granted until they started to stay on Blockers during the day, too. She shifted her head, prompting him to face her.
"Have you been to Paris?" Riley asked.
"I've never even been outside the States before I went to Iceland." Will cringed, remembering ambulances and helicopters and the dense fog high up in the mountains.
Nomi and Amanita had fallen asleep on the opposite bench, huddled together, headphones over their ears. Kala, Wolfgang, and Felix should be due in Paris soon. Sun and Jonas were in St. Pancras, waiting for the next train. The rest of the group planned to travel the day after.
Quietly, Riley said, "I'm sorry you had to see Iceland like that."
"Mm." Will pretended to think hard as he ran a thumb under her cheekbone. "I mean, last time wasn't all bad."
He smirked impishly before lowering his head to bop the tip of his nose against her forehead. Pretending to be annoyed, Riley elbowed him gently on the side, and he contorted his face in mock pain, so adorably dramatic that Lito would have been proud.
They looked out the window in silence for a few minutes before he asked, "You've been to Paris before, haven't you?"
"Papa's orchestra had a few concerts there. I did a few shows, too."
"I've never been to any of your shows," Will said. Neither of them thought the one in Amsterdam really counted. "Maybe you can do one in Paris when BPO's out of the picture?"
"Add it to the list."
He sighed. "I wish we didn't have to stay inside. I would have liked to see Paris."
"If we weren't on Blockers, I could show you my memories."
Will sat up, and Riley lifted her head from his shoulder, pulling herself up to sit cross-legged on their shared bench. He turned to her, propping an elbow on top of the back cushion. "We don't have to wait 'till tonight. Just tell me," he said.
"About what?"
"What else did you do in Paris?"
Riley smiled wistfully. "When I was younger, mama always came with us on these trips. We'd go to the Louvre."
Will realized they'd never talked about her mother. He didn't wish to make her uncomfortable. "Did she like art?"
"She was a painter."
His eyes widened as he remembered the paintings hanging in Riley's house when he visited. He'd assumed they'd bought them. "What did she like to paint?"
"Landscapes, mostly. She was into abstractions, impressionism, that kind of style."
"Like Monet?"
Riley raised an eyebrow. "You learned about Monet?"
"High school art project. We had to either write a paper or paint something."
"Really? And you chose to write a paper?"
Will scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Yeah, I can't paint."
Riley giggled. "Anyone can paint. You just haven't found your style."
"Ha. Tell that to my art teacher."
"I'll add it to the list."
He paused, furrowing his brows for a few seconds before he turned to her again. "What was your style?"
"I was more into music. But sometimes I tried to paint like Van Gogh."
All Will knew about Van Gogh was The Starry Night and the fact that he'd cut off his right ear. But it made sense for Riley to like his style. When they were hiding out in a village in the Netherlands whose name he couldn't remember, she'd stay up and watch the stars.
"Was he your favorite?" Will asked.
"One of them. Mama showed me some impressionist paintings in the Louvre. Oh!"—Riley's face brightened. She moved away from Will to fish a burner phone out of their duffle bag, then typed something into Google—"this was my favorite. Look!"
She pulled up an image, a painting of golden specks decking a muted dark green sky. The title was Nocturne in Black and Gold —The Falling Rocket, by James Whistler.
"It's pretty," he admitted.
Riley was smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling, when she snuggled up next to him again. And a grin crept up his face in response. Her excitement was infectious. He wished he could make her smile like that more often.
The Eurostar passed by a farm with a wooden house painted red, the kind of idyllic setting Will had only read about in storybooks.
"Never thought I'd see something like this so close to Paris," Will said.
"I didn't either, the first time I came." She yawned. He put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her closer. "Paris feels so different."
"All I know is the Eiffel Tower. Was that your first stop?"
Riley nodded. "The three of us had a picnic on the lawn there on my first trip. It was pretty nice. A lot of people had the same idea. And someone's puppy tried to steal my ham."
Will's laugh came out more like a snort. Blushing again, he checked to see Nomi and Amanita were still asleep, sighing in relief when Nomi stirred but didn't wake.
"We should have a picnic sometimes. Add it to the list?" she asked.
He cringed. "Not sure that's the best idea."
"Why?"
"I'm allergic to grass."
It was a wonder that, after "living like an old married couple on the run" (as Diego had so cleverly put it), they could still find little things that surprised them about each other. How could a person know so much about someone and so little at the same time?
"Like, deathly allergic?" Riley asked.
Will shuddered. "Just rashes, but it makes me wanna peel my skin off."
"Sounds awful. Do you avoid it, then?"
"Not always. I used to play baseball. I had to wear those ridiculous socks that pulled up to my knees." Diego had never let Will hear the end of that. And, judging by her widening smirk, neither would Riley.
"So no picnic," Riley conceded, holding back a giggle. "What else should I know about you?"
Will's smirk of mischief grew to match hers. "My favorite color."
"What's your favorite color?"
He ran a hand through her hair. "Blue."
Lila sat at the bar in Sebastian's penthouse, gripping a cup of bourbon with a scowl, trying to take her mind off what she was about to do. She was sitting cross-legged on a tall stool, donning the black dress with the plunging neckline she knew Sebastian was partial to. He was going to come back at any moment now. Perhaps she should have waited until Maitake and Marcela had finished dining with Veronika, but it was too late to change her mind.
This is all Wolfgang's fault, she tried to tell herself.
She was not a woman people usually said "no" to, not since the day she realized she could use the looks she'd inherited from her mother and make men cater to her every whim. All she had to do was stroke their massive egos. Sebastian Fuchs was no different.
But Wolfgang was. She seethed as she remembered the day he'd dismissed her proposal as a fantasy, blatantly declaring she was like everyone else. She'd known Wolfgang was hard to crack, but she always loved a challenge, believing there was no refusal a little persuasion couldn't upturn. She hadn't anticipated losing.
I didn't lose, she reminded herself. I let Wolfgang suffer for what he did. Like I promised I would.
Though Lila had lost Wolfgang in the end when his Cluster snatched him back, the same day BPO confiscated one of her Cluster. She had to give Veronika some credit for finding one of the only ways to make her cave. Of course, she had hoped to make it only a temporary victory on the Russian's part.
If only she could find Veronika's weakness, too.
Lila recalled how Veronika had fumed when her Cluster had let Wolfgang get away. She knew the rage that came with a vendetta too well to dismiss Veronika's outburst as a case of extreme irritation at her Cluster's "incompetence". As far as Lila's sources could tell, Veronika hadn't maintained prolonged contact with anyone except Bernard Kolovi, though Lila was confident that whatever family Veronika had would be deemed a hindrance, an obstacle in the road she had no doubt already cleared.
Veronika seemed more angry about losing Wolfgang than she did with her other experiments. Lila frowned, wondering what possible feud a woman like her could have against a person half her age. But Veronika would never disclose what made her blood boil. As far as Lila could tell, the woman was devoid of emotions. Truth be told, Lila sometimes wished she was just as cold. It would have made life much easier.
Veronika had once told Lila she reminded her of herself, and some part of Lila wanted to believe that was true. Though Lila had always known, with a mix of pity and relief, that she would never be like Veronika Because Lila was never alone. Veronika was.
And, Lila thought, pouring a drop of the clear poison she'd acquired into Sebastian's glass, that would make killing her much simpler.
When the elevator opened, Lila was ready to strike, putting the smile that didn't reach her eyes back on her face. She ran a hand up her thigh before nodding her chin at the two glasses of bourbon.
Sebastian smiled but waved her off. "I should unpack," he said, gesturing to his suitcases.
Pouting, Lila pretended to be disappointed. "You can do it later, can't you, Sebastian?"
He sighed and walked closer to her, as expected. "What's the occasion?"
"Nothing." She smiled, raising one eyebrow, hoping to come across as a little naughty. "Just felt like celebrating."
He relented and sat down on the stool next to her, gazing at the city from the window.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, pushing the glass toward him.
"It's why I like this city." He gestured to the buildings below. "All of this could be ours."
Ours? Or yours? Lila held back a scoff and forced herself to nod.
Sebastian picked up the glass, and she tried not to stare at it. She tried not to anticipate the exact moment he'd hit the ground. Instead, she directed her gaze to the other bottles on the shelf, and at her own glass. He watched her, amused. "Something on your mind?"
He wouldn't be her first kill. Marcela had taught Lila how to shoot years ago, and she'd left Naples when she was certain she could fend for herself to seek out opportunities in Berlin. In fact, Sebastian was one of her first contacts in this city.
Once upon a time, Sebastian had been a good friend. He had listened to Lila confide in him. He had lauded her courage while his friends had snuck non-so-furtive glances down Lila's neckline. But she couldn't find a trace of that friend anymore.
Still, she would have stayed with him for as long as she needed, for as long as her Cluster needed to find a way to break through BPO, then break away. She had stayed for so long, she'd almost forgotten what it was she and her Cluster had set out to do.
But then Wolfgang had walked into Lila's life, a gangly Felix in tow, and he had reminded her that she was still trapped. BPO hadn't been in touch with her for nearly a year by that point, save for the contact who provided her with Blockers. But the more she thought about their long-lasting alliance, the faster she wanted her Cluster to be freed.
Her Cluster. Lila reminded herself what she had to lose if she let Veronika get the upper hand. Shaking her head, she forced herself to smile. "Just tired," she lied.
Sebastian readied himself to leave. "Should we do this another day?"
"No"—Lila leaned forward and put her hand over his, her fingers grazing the glass of amber poison he held. The bourbon under the dim lights, but Lila's reflection was warped against the surface of the liquid. All she could make out was black swirls.
"I miss drinking with you," she said. That, at least, was true. "Do you remember when we used to drink together?"
He smiled. "I remember going to Luzia every night, hoping you'd show up."
Lila tried not to roll her eyes. She had wanted to believe Sebastian wasn't like other Sapien men, but a few months after their first meeting, he'd come inside her the moment they were both intoxicated and proved her wrong. The man who had cared for her? She no longer remembered what he looked like.
Before Lila could come up with another reason to stall the inevitable, she raised her glass, a little too quickly. The bourbon nearly sloshed out from one side.
"May I propose a toast?" she asked.
Sebastian raised his glass. "To what?"
Once upon a time, Sebastian had been a good friend. But that was before Lila's rebirth. Before she realized she and all her Cluster could have everything and more.
"To freedom."
When she tossed back her drink and watched Sebastian do the same, she felt her hands go cold and wondered if she would ever get used to the chill.
Ever since Jonas explained his involvement with Veracity, he had been asked to join the group in guard shift duties. He'd insisted he had come clean on everything, but with Jonas, how could they ever tell? Especially now that he was on Blockers 24/7 in case Whispers was planning to snoop around in his head.
Will found Jonas already waiting on the couch in the living room after he'd kissed Riley goodnight and come downstairs to join him in guard duty. The older man turned when Will sat down next to him and gave him a slight nod.
"Something on your mind, Will?"
Will sighed, giving up his attempt at a poker face. He asked the question that had been on his mind for days. "Why didn't you tell us about Veracity?"
"You could say I was… otherwise preoccupied?"
Will glared. "You were a wanted terrorist!"
"The original plan was to find all of you and inform you of your new status as Sensates," Jonas continued, chuckling at Will's frustration. "But alas, that was not meant to be."
"But you connected with me after. Why not then?"
"I wasn't sure whether BPO would have been listening in. I couldn't risk exposure."
Will thought about their conversation on Independence Day. "Have you always been working with Veracity?"
Knowing Jonas, it was possible that the man had changed his allegiance several times like he did with his nationality.
Jonas' answer confirmed Will's suspicions. "Not always, no. I used to be on the other side of the war, once. Angelica used to believe BPO's research was crucial to the Sensates' development in modern society."
"So what changed?"
"She learned the truth about Whispers."
About time. Will wasn't much of an eye-roller, but he could see the appeal.
"Ever since Dr. El-Saadawi's death," Jonas continued, "BPO had been divided between people who wished to continue with her plans for the organization and people who believed it was best to reveal the existence of Homo sensorium to the world."
That, Will had already known. "But Whispers didn't seem like he wanted exposure."
"Well, he had always worked best alone. I don't think anyone knew of his intentions at first. Not even Dr. Kolovi."
"But why did Whispers think Sensate should be hunted down?"
"He wants the same thing anyone in a vulnerable position of power wants. Leverage. His ability to command an army of lobotomized soldiers is what keeps him alive."
"He's been doing that for years, though."
"He has," Jonas conceded.
"So when did Angelica stop working with him? When did she start working with him?"
"Angel's first Cluster was born shortly after 9-11. She joined a year after when Todd had disappeared after he volunteered for the brain operation."
She was searching for his children, Will remembered Jonas say a few months back.
"We went to the cabin," Will confessed. "We saw her use Raoul to destroy her research. Was he the reason she stopped working with Whispers?"
"Amongst other things, but yes."
"What else?"
"Five years ago, Whispers' used a lobotomized Sensate to assassinate a Cluster that had worked closely with El-Saadawi. He believed human sacrifices were not only worthy but necessary for the future of Homo sensorium he hoped to build."
Of course he did. "Was that all?"
"And other Sensates, born or unborn, hunted for the sake of experimentation. Angelica believed the procedures should be entirely voluntary. But the truth was, many were forced into the circumstance without their control."
"Like her other children." Like Sara Patrell.
Jonas paused, and Will observed him. His hands were clasped together when he spoke again, and his voice was strained, though he'd tried best to hide it. "Yes."
Will frowned, wondering what Jonas hadn't divulged. "Are they all dead?"
"What constitutes death? A physical form of decay? Or something that revolves around the drastic changes to our minds, our perceptions?"
And there was the cryptic philosophical rambling Will had expected. He knew Jonas was trying to divert his attention. Sometimes prisoners would do the same during an interrogation. Will gazed into Jonas' eyes. "So, are they?"
"They are," Jonas said without blinking.
Lito may have been the best liar in the Cluster, but Will had spent his career hunting down truths. And he knew people blinked less when they were lying. But Will also knew Jonas would only retreat further into his shell of riddles and games if he confronted him, so like Jonas, he tried for a diversion. "Have you ever regretted your decision?"
"In joining Veracity?" Jonas thought about it. "I don't know what would have become of me had I not chosen this path. Perhaps you'd all already be dead. Or I would."
"That's fair, I guess." Will pretended to be satisfied with the response.
"But as of now," Jonas added. "I have found no reason to believe my life would have been better if I had simply gone into hiding."
Will nodded. After his escapades in Iceland, he knew this feeling of "we'd given it our best shot" too well.
"Tell me, Will. If I had told you about Veracity at the beginning, would you have chosen differently? Would you have run? Or would you have fought?"
"I think you know the answer."
A/N:
And what was Will's favorite shade of blue? Riley Blue. I'm sorry, I had to. *Runs away.*
*And comes back and says*: Some good news for those of you who are curious about Veronika: next chapter will throw more answers at you, and then maybe raise even more questions. So brace yourselves!
*Runs away for real this time.*
