Talia’s comments were simplistic, but her idea sent a slick, cold sickness up Adam’s spine. Was the answer that easy?
Adam looked around the room as realization dawned on the faces of his staff. Talia glanced at him, finally shedding her anger and replacing it with pity.
Immortality. Live forever young. Forever strong. Forever beautiful.
Dreadlocks’s awful song lyric came back to him then. Human race to crush Death first.
Adam sat back into his chair. People who gave their lives were heroes or martyrs. What if people could give up their deaths? Was such a thing possible? And what would that make them?
Adam knew the answer was locked in a cell under Segue.
Jacob suffered from no disease or demonic possession. This was so much worse, something Adam hadn’t allowed himself to consider. Jacob was a monster by choice.
Talia watched Adam’s demeanor change. His gaze sharpened, face flooding with color. The curve of his jaw became more pronounced. His grip on the table whitened his knuckles. If she were touching him, she knew she’d be feeling his dark passion all over again. One overwhelming goal. To kill.
“Does it really matter if it’s Jacob’s choice or not?” Armand whined.
Adam knocked once, hard, on the table and strode from the room. Talia knew exactly where he was going. She’d lost her family as well, and if there were answers to be had, a betrayal to identify, she wouldn’t be diverted. Adam was all about answers; he’d be heading to Jacob’s cell. She was glad she didn’t have to be present for the impending interview.
Custo also rose. “I think we’re done for the day. Thank you all for participating. This has been”—he glanced at Talia—“very interesting.” Then he rounded the table to follow Adam.
The room erupted into discussion.
Jim’s strident voice cut through the din. “What may seem like superstition to you, Armand, may indeed have a scientific basis. Take the Indian Fakirs, who can control their heart rate…”
“Been here a week and already stirring things up.”
Talia turned to the voice at her ear. Spencer.
“It was just an idea.” Talia gathered her notebook and pen and sidled around her chair to leave. She wanted to think through the idea herself. Outline how she arrived at the conclusion. Diagram the implications. Find a way to help Adam.
“Touched a nerve,” he said, following her. “Mind if I walk you to your office?”
She stepped back, out of reach. She’d had enough touching for one day. “Uh…I was actually going back to my room. I’m exhausted. My recovery is frustratingly slow going. A little later?”
His brows gathered in concern. “Then I’ll walk you there.”
“Oh, no. Not necessary.” Didn’t the man know an excuse when he heard one?
“Please. We can talk on the way.” Apparently, he did.
Talia gestured him toward the door. At least Spencer effectively parted the crowd.
“Dr. O’Brien!” Jim waved his hand over the group of people.
“She’ll talk to you later,” Spencer called back on her behalf.
Talia kept one step behind Spencer to the elevator, but once inside, had no choice but to hear him out.
“Adam told me that you can think outside the box when he was putting your hiring before the SPCI panel. I see now what he meant.” He flashed a charming grin. He’d have been more charming if he’d left her alone, though.
“I thought Segue was all Adam’s.”
Spencer waggled his head back and forth as if conceding a minor point. “The arrangement is more complicated than that. Adam began the institute, funds it himself, and decides on the research protocols, but he does so at the…sufferance of SPCI. When we discovered that Adam had captured, confined, and was studying a wraith, we almost shut him down. To make a long story short, we finally agreed on oversight, in the form of yours truly, and an active exchange of information.”
Talia kept her mouth closed, waiting as the elevator number blinked from one to two to three to four. The arrangement must chafe Adam. He seemed to prefer to be in charge of things.
“It’s actually in the best interests of everyone. Between you and me, SPCI is rather rigid in its approach to the wraith phenomenon. They never would have considered near-death as a line of inquiry. I have to admit that I’m occasionally swayed by the unconventional ideas that get batted around here. Just now, for example.”
“Like I said, it was just an idea.” Talia stepped out of the elevator and started down the hall.
“So here’s my question: what would a person stand to lose if they made the choice to become a wraith?”
“Literally, their humanity.” Surely he could see that. “One look at Jacob and, in spite of his appearance, there’s no way to classify him as Homo sapiens. Only mythology and magic have labels appropriate for his kind. Hence, wraith.”
Talia stopped outside her door. She punched in her code and made a mental note to change it immediately. She didn’t like the way Spencer looked over her shoulder. The lock disengaged, and Talia opened the door.
Spencer raised a hand to stop it from shutting again. “And what is humanity, really?”
Talia frowned. She had no idea where he was going with this.
“Just playing the dev il’s advocate here. What is humanity? And doesn’t everyone lose it eventually? Is Jim’s Lady Amunsdale human?”
“I really couldn’t say.” Talia slipped inside. “That’s his area of expertise.”
“What I’m suggesting, Dr. O’Brien, is that human nature, in its very essence, is about change. No other species on this planet is aware of change. Aware of passing into and out of life to somewhere or something else. From body to spirit. Your work actually supports my conclusions—the tunnel, the bright light, moving from one state to another.” His hand flipped left to right to demonstrate.
“Yes. So?”
“Perhaps becoming a wraith is no different. A passage from one state to another, with the single difference of remaining on this plane of existence.”
Single difference! “You forget—they feed on their brothers and sisters.”
“That’s just the cycle of life. We are all predators, in our own way. We all do what it takes to sustain ourselves. Lie, cheat, steal, murder. They are no different.” He flashed his lopsided grin again.
He couldn’t be serious.
A weird light gleamed in his eyes. “Maybe they’re better.”
Talia’s jaw dropped.
Spencer abruptly laughed, brought his hands up to sur-render. “Hey. Just playing dev il’s advocate here.”
“Yeah, okay.” Talia closed the door in his face.
SEVEN
“OUT.” The guards took one look at Adam’s face and left the outer atrium to Jacob’s cell.
Sudden movement on the monitor drew his attention. Jacob on his feet, running his hands through his hair to bring the lanky mop under control. Then he brought his face up to the camera while his body effected the grave and servile bow of a butler. May I help you? Always mocking him.
“You chose this.” Adam dropped his hands on the console for support.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Jacob inclined his head as if trying to understand what Adam implied.
Playing them both for fools. Not anymore.
“You chose to be this monster,” Adam clarified, careful to enunciate each syllable. “Your condition isn’t a new disease, an unanticipated consequence from using an exotic drug, or some strange possession. You chose this. You want this.”
“And?” Jacob blinked rapidly in an outward show of extreme patience at Adam’s stupidity.