Page 109 of From Hell

“He killed his own mother. Did he tell you that?”

I blink at him, not wanting to believe the horror coming out of his mouth.”

“She was sick, dying. She needed a new heart. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I looked for one, there wasn’t a donor. Instead, her body and soul would be offered for the Harvest. Jaxon saw what had been done to her on the altar. He delivered the final blow.” He pauses, waiting to see my reaction.

I stay very still, giving him none. Inside, my chest squeezes tight, tears forming a thin glaze over my eyes. If I blink again, I’ll cry.

“I thought his mother died from an overdose?” My voice sounds scratchy.

“So, you’ve read the police report.”

“Freedom of Information Act,” I spout.

“As you can see”—he waves his arm, cruel smile still carved on his lips—“we own the London police, Miss Summers.”

“All I hear is that you left his mother to die, so he was forced to assist in her death. It was a mercy kill.”

“You may be right, but he didn’t hesitate and, after, became unruly. Later, we learned from various treatments, doctors, and special facilities that Jaxon’s childhood psyche had splintered. Part of him remembers that boy who killed his own mother. The rest, unfortunately, doesn’t.

Jaxon is devoted to the Society and its needs, but there’s a side of him I can’t control easily. He needs a regular outlet for his passions, or he regresses. At least during Harvest, we can use him to his full potential. He does the work no one else wants.”

“You mean you use him to cover up your crimes.”

Simmons shrugs. “The Divine chose my son. He gives, and the society protects. Without us, he would have to answer to the authorities. Be locked away. No one appreciates his qualities like I do. Jaxon doesn’t always recall his contributions during his lost time, but he understands their importance and significance.” He gives me an unnerving stare until I have to look away. “Or at least, he did...until you.”

Outside, the police are cordoning off the entire street. It’s surreal to see them taping off the areas from the public, setting up a barrier between Jaxon’s home and the rest of the world.

“What’s your game, Miss Summers? How are you able to control my son?”

I glance back at Simmons. “I’m not controlling anyone.”

“You should be dead. My son was supposed to kill you.”

I already am.His words make my stomach twist, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of showing it. My scar feels like it’s burning. “We all have choices. Jaxon should be allowed to make his own.”

“And did he?”

He left and didn’t look back.

“I’ll make the offer one last time. Tell me where my son is and let you live, and I’ll spare your mother and father the pain of losing their lives as well as their imprudent daughter.”

“Fuck you.” It’s not original, but it has the desired effect.

“Very well.”

I don’t watch Simmons leave, but I hear him go, the swish of his fancy coat against the door. A moment later, the officers come back into the room. I’m not afraid of Simmons. He may have a transactional relationship with the police, but he can’t get to me now I’m in custody, and if he tries anything once they release me, I’ll kill him.

His threats are useless without Jaxon to do his dirty work.

I keep telling myself that all the way to the station because it’s the only I can function through the fear.

And I’m already dead.

* * *

Havinga father in the force helps matters. Dad shows up and pulls some strings, enough to end the ongoing questioning.

As we walk out, the police superintendent calls my father over. “Kendall, a word?”