Page 47 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)
Sébastien
M artin helped us connect many dots when he began cooperating in our endeavor to counteract the Windmill’s plans to release the Zeitnot virus and rescue Frank from captivity.
He confirmed what we had already suspected—that the DPW and other shady parts of the US Military Intelligence body had been involved in the original project; a serum that would not only allow the change of designation at will—but one that would eventually strengthen the chosen designation to potentially superhuman levels of ability.
The fruits of the Penny’s labors would miss the mark, giving rise to what would become the Zeitnot virus.
The Windmill, through various layers of corruption and subterfuge, had managed to get samples from the original strain of the Zeitnot, deep in storage with the Penny’s research.
Before they knew about the potential cure, the Windmill had experimented with introducing the original strain of the virus into at-risk populations via tainted drugs.
Dennis, Frank, and the late Michael Duboze had all been involved with chasing cases that dovetailed with the Windmill’s Zeitnot explorations. Of course, nothing would ever come of any findings, because of Windmill plants in the DEA—but it was certainly illuminating to see in retrospect.
It became obvious to the Windmill that if they really wanted to get the results they were after; they were going to have to make some changes and upgrades to what the Penny’s had been working with. If they wanted power, money, and that mythical serum… They had a long way to go.
Martin was also able to get us access to some of his fellow federal higher-ups who moonlit for the Windmill.
Much like he had with Compton—Caz was able to gain access to anything and everything on the personal devices of Feds who used his deadly little USB cables. As innocuous as the string of rubberized wire looked—it left sinister vulnerabilities wide open to Caz with the greatest of ease.
All of Compton’s old connections had been closed out since we used him to help us break into the Country Estate, so we were in the dark as to where Frank was transferred after we were parted during our daring escape.
Though Louise could feel a great deal down the mating bond from Frank now that the two of them had exchanged bites, it seemed clear that the Windmill was doing its best to keep Frank in pain in order to entice Louise to come save him—as such, there wasn’t much helpful information to be gleaned from the bond.
Caz determined that Frank was being held at the Windmill’s largest Research and Development facility; a massive compound in rural Alaska that was extremely difficult to reach without detection.
I sincerely doubted that it was a coincidence the Windmill decided to intern Frank at the Alaska facility; the very birthplace of the Zeitnot virus and super serum research.
They may as well have made a neon sign or sent a flowery invitation.
Your fated mate is here—along with the drugs for which you will be the keystone to a cure.
A jaunty little request; walk directly into this trap.
Our objectives seemed simple, but impossibly out of reach; enter the Alaskan R the scent of poppy and iris wafting up off of them like a sigh.
After the confrontation with Martin, she’d cried until her eyes ran dry, then Caz had come in and curved himself around her like a pale sliver of moon—his sweet smoky scent helping to soothe them both into slumber.
Outside the tent I could just hear the low murmuring of Quentin and Dennis’ voices—deep in the throes of architecting and reviewing our daring rescue plan, but I have done more than enough of my share of scheming and preparing this night; for now, all I want is to rest my bones alongside my pack and sleep with pleasant dreams or none at all.
Everything else will have to wait until the morning.
Parting ways with Martin Penny helped ease the tension in the group considerably, but the likelihood of failure in our wildly ambitious endeavors is not helping the atmosphere.
There is a grim determination that has carried us through the first few legs of travel, amassing guns, and materials for me to make explosives. A nervous energy bubbles up from our early sessions reviewing interior maps and floor plans of the Alaskan facility where Frank is being held.
The momentum sputters as we draw closer and closer to the border in northern Washington, and our transfer to yet another goddamn boat.
If I never traverse another body of water in a floating can again—it will be too soon. It wouldn’t be so bad, except every moment I’m on one with Caz—who can barely manage to paddle like a dog—it’s always at the front of my mind; elevating my blood pressure and ruining my peace.
But we have bigger problems at hand.
I’ve been eagerly awaiting an update from Dr. Perla after Martin Penny contacted her upon his return to DC… I have only received one cryptic message from her since she and I parted ways at Saint Joseph’s.
[“It’s her. She’s the key—as soon as it’s safe, we must meet again. Together we will find the way forward; andiamo! ”]
I had tried seeking clarification and gotten nothing, and it was too dangerous to reach out to Martin directly to see if they had connected.
While Dr. Perla’s attitude had seemed positive, none of us liked the heavy silence that expanded in place of the confirmation that Martin and Azura had made their very necessary connections ahead of our little rescue mission.
Still, the show must go on—so we travel by the dark, icy waters of night, for a port somewhere in the Cook inlet, before we find ourselves on ground transport bound for the Windmill’s facility near the eerily named ‘Red Devil’ town and abandoned gold mines.