Page 45 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

The other paramortals were already gathered in the lobby. Niles and Oriana were bundled up from head to toe in scarves, jackets, gloves, and boots, but Steig wore only a dark green hunter’s vest over a green plaid shirt, and his hands were bare.

Niles and Oriana had on so many layers I couldn’t tell if they were carrying any weapons. Steig was sporting his usual hunting knife on his belt, and my synesthesia painted the long blade a brighter, bloodier red than usual.

No one spoke, and tension thickened the air. We’d played a few games at the poker table last night, and now it was time to get down to our real, deadly business.

The elevator in the far corner dinged out its arrival, the door slid back, and Henrika strutted into the lobby. She was dressed in a light green jacket, sweater, and pants, and she looked sleek and stylish, whereas I felt like a puffed-up blue marshmallow.

Bryce followed Henrika out of the elevator. He was dressed all in black, as were the guards who crossed the lobby and fell in step behind him. All the men had their jackets unzipped and open, showing off the guns holstered to their belts.

Henrika didn’t break stride as she walked past us. “Come along, children. Time to see the toy you’re all so desperate to acquire.”

Oriana rolled her eyes, and Niles glared at Henrika’s back, but the two of them followed her. Steig ambled along behind them.

Bryce gave Desmond a thin smile and held out his hand. “After you, Dez.”

Desmond spun around on his heel and followed the other paramortals. I fell in step beside him, while Bryce and the guards closed ranks behind us.

My gaze flicked around the lobby. Joan was perched on a stool in the corner, checking her phone and sipping a hot chocolate, while Gabriel was leaning against a column, reading a newspaper.

Neither one of them looked at Desmond and me.

Our friends would do their best to keep an eye on us, as would Gia, Diego, and even General Percy through the resort’s security cameras.

But for the most part, Desmond and I were on our own.

We left the warm confines of the lobby and stepped outside.

The winter wind slapped me across the face and knifed through my heavy clothes, making me shiver.

A couple of inches of snow had fallen overnight, crusting everything in a blanket of sparkling white.

Dark gray clouds cloaked the skies, indicating that a massive storm was on the way.

Niles and Oriana grumbled about the cold, and even some of the guards stomped their feet and muttered their displeasure.

Steig drew in a deep, appreciative breath and held his arms out wide. “Ahhh! This sort of weather reminds me of home.”

“Yeah, if your home is an iceberg,” Oriana muttered.

Niles snorted out a laugh. So did Bryce, but Steig ignored them both.

Henrika strode over to the nearest set of stairs and headed down to the lawn, where several black snowmobiles were waiting with small red winter sleighs attached to them.

Henrika climbed into a sleigh, along with Bryce. Niles, Oriana, and Steig got into another sleigh, and Desmond and I claimed a third sleigh.

A guard hopped onto each snowmobile, cranked the engine, and took off. The snowmobiles easily pulled the passenger sleighs along behind them, and the smooth sensation reminded me of flying.

“If we weren’t going to a weapons demonstration, being tucked in a sleigh with you would be an excellent way to spend the morning,” Desmond murmured in my ear.

I laughed and rested my head on his shoulder. He was right. It was pleasant, and I was going to enjoy the journey, even as my stomach tied itself into knots about the destination.

The snowmobiles and sleighs sped across the golf course, then slowed down and stopped at the edge of the woods. We all got out of our sleighs, while the guards grabbed long coils of ropes that were attached to the backs of the snowmobiles. What were they going to do with the ropes?

“We walk from here,” Henrika said.

Steig strode forward with no hesitation. Oriana and Niles grumbled again, but they too followed Henrika. Desmond and I fell in step behind them, and Bryce and the guards once again brought up the rear.

We went deep into the woods, so deep that I couldn’t see or hear any noise from the hotel.

According to the maps I’d studied, there were no buildings on this side of the resort grounds where Henrika might possibly have a hidden lab.

I raised my eyebrows at Desmond in a silent question, and he nodded in return.

This was the same area he’d searched with Gabriel last night, and he didn’t know where Henrika was taking us either.

The trees thinned out, and we stepped into a large clearing with a lone spotlight at one end. It was still glowing, given the dark clouds gathering overhead. I recognized the area from Desmond’s description. What were we doing way out here?

Henrika nodded at Bryce, who disappeared into the trees on the far side of the clearing. Then she faced the rest of us. “And now, what you’ve all been waiting for. A demonstration of my Redburn formula.”

“What are you going to do? Blow up some trees?” Niles asked in a snide voice.

Henrika smiled, but it was a sharp, thin expression. “I promised a formula that will kill even the strongest paramortals, and that’s exactly what I’m going to deliver.”

Footsteps crunched through the snow, and a man stumbled into the clearing.

He was wearing a long white lab coat, as though he was a scientist. One of his eyes was blackened, his lower lip was split and bloody, and his hands were bound in front of him with black plastic ties.

Bryce followed the man, a gun in one hand and a small black briefcase in the other.

“Please, please! You don’t have to do this!” the man pleaded. “I’m a scientist, not a spy! I don’t even know what Section 47 is!”

Lie , my synesthesia muttered.

Even though no one was threatening me, a sick, sick feeling flooded my stomach. Desmond’s hands clenched into fists, but Steig, Niles, and Oriana looked more curious than concerned.

The other guards forced the scientist up against a tree at the edge of the clearing and tied him to the trunk with the thick ropes they’d grabbed from the snowmobiles. The man kept begging, but no one else said a word, not even Henrika.

One of the guards produced a cloth from his pocket and shoved it into the scientist’s mouth, although he kept trying to yell through the makeshift gag. His muffled pleas reminded me of a wounded animal keening, and the sounds ground against my heart like a dentist’s drill.

Henrika studied the scientist with a cold expression. “You should have known better, Ethan. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you were taking photos of Redburn and offering to sell a sample to the highest bidder?”

Surprise spiked through me. Ethan had to be the person who’d sent General Percy a photo confirming Henrika was storing Redburn at the resort, although it sounded like the scientist had been interested in a quick payday more than anything else.

Desmond glanced at me, the same uneasy realization on his face.

Bryce passed the black briefcase to Henrika, who opened it and plucked something out of the dark depths.

She passed the briefcase to a guard, then turned around and held up an auto-injector where we all could see it.

Red liquid shimmered inside the clear plastic, and the thick fluid matched what had been in the vials that Desmond had found at Tannenbaum Castle.

“And this is my Redburn formula,” Henrika said, pride rippling through her voice.

For a moment, everyone was silent. Then Niles let out a derisive snort. “You promised us an explosive. Not some jelly in a jar.”

Oriana and Steig murmured their agreement.

Henrika’s lips flattened out into a thin line, and anger shimmered in her gaze.

Danger-danger-danger , my synesthesia warned.

Henrika whipped around and stabbed the injector into Ethan’s upper left arm.

Desmond cursed and started forward. Red flared in the corner of my eye, and I saw Bryce snap up his gun. I grabbed Desmond’s arm, stopping him.

Desmond tensed like he was going to pull away, but I tightened my grip in warning. If he tried to interfere, Bryce would shoot him, and my synesthesia was muttering that it was already too late to save the scientist anyway.

Desmond’s gaze flicked over to Bryce, who smirked in return.

A haunted look filled Desmond’s face, and his shoulders slumped in resignation.

I slid my hand down and gripped his cold fingers.

Desmond didn’t look at me, but he clung to my hand like it was a life raft keeping him from drowning in a sea of miserable memories.

Ethan’s dark eyes bulged. The scientist shouted and shouted, although the cloth stuffed in his mouth muffled his cries. He also jerked and struggled against his bonds, although the thick ropes held him tightly to the tree.

Suddenly, Ethan stopped struggling. His eyes bulged even wider, and his muffled shouts morphed into sharp, shrieking screams that even the makeshift gag couldn’t fully silence.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and streamed down his face, as though he was standing in a too-hot sauna instead of the cold, open air.

A large red blister erupted on his left cheek like a volcanic pimple jutting up out of his skin. Then another blister on his right cheek. His nose. His chin. His neck . . .

Within seconds, every inch of Ethan’s exposed skin was covered with ugly blisters, which puffed and puffed and puffed .

. . until they popped. But instead of oozing fluid, the blisters disintegrated, and fresh ones formed, puffing up and popping just like the first wave.

That happened over and over again, and the scientist’s skin quickly turned a bright, shiny neon red.

Shock knifed through my heart. Not blisters— burns . The Redburn formula was literally burning through one layer of Ethan’s skin after another.