Page 124 of Villains Series

THREE WEEKS AGO

EON

ELI turned through Marcella’s file. Across the cell, Victor leaned, hands in his pockets, against the wall.

For so long, he’d thought Victor was haunting him—now that Eli knew that the man was alive, he knew the phantom was nothing but a figment of his own imagination. A touch of madness. He did his best to ignore it.

Footsteps sounded beyond the wall. Eli knew by the tread that it was Stell. And he knew, too, that the director of EON was angry.

The wall went clear, but Eli kept his head bowed over his work.

“I take it,”

he said dryly.

“that the extraction was a resounding success.”

“You know it wasn’t.”

“How many died?”

There was a long, weighted silence.

“All of them.”

“What a waste,”

muttered Eli, shutting the file in front of him.

“All in the name of policy.”

“No doubt you’re feeling smug.”

Eli rose from his chair.

“Believe it or not, Director, I take no pleasure in the loss of innocent life.”

He plucked the latest photos from the cubby where Stell had set them.

“I only hope you’re ready to do the right thing.”

Eli turned through the shots from the Heights.

“She’s not exactly subtle, is she?”

Stell only grunted.

Eli studied the rest of the photos and notes, reconstructing the fight in his mind.

He noticed two things fairly quickly. One—Marcella had a flair for the dramatic.

Two—she wasn’t acting alone.

There was the obvious issue of timing, and the method of the killings, of course—but for Eli, the most damning evidence was subtler—a matter of gesture, aesthetic. The scene up on the fourteenth floor was grand, gruesome, theatrical; the killings near the transport van were simple, brutal, and efficient.

One was an exhibitionist.

The other was a trained killer.

Marcella was clearly the first, but then, who was the second? An ally? A colleague? Or simply someone with a vested interest?

“She’s not alone,”

he mused aloud.

“You think so too,”

said Stell.

It was only a hypothesis, of course, but one soon confirmed by the arrival of security footage from the Heights. Eli had pulled the files up on his computer, while Stell did the same on his tablet, and together they watched in silence as Marcella executed the first two agents. Eli saw, with grim satisfaction, the appearance of the second figure, a large man who snapped the third agent’s neck.

And then, as Eli watched, the man became a woman.

It happened between frames, the change so sudden it seemed like a glitch. But it wasn’t a glitch at all. It was an EO.

A shapeshifter, by the looks of it. An insidious ability, one of the hardest kinds of EO to find.

“Son of a bitch,”

muttered Stell.

“I hope you’re not going to insist on sparing this new one for the sake of policy.”

“No,”

Stell answered grimly.

“I think we’ve established that neither of them intends to cooperate. We’ll have to plan accordingly.”

“One or two, it makes no difference,”

said Eli.

“They may not be human, but they’re still mortal. Find them. Kill them. And be done with it.”

“You make it sound simple.”

Eli shrugged. It was, in theory. The task itself would be more challenging. It took all his restraint, but Eli did not suggest his own involvement a second time. That seed was too freshly planted, its roots too fragile. Besides, he knew what Stell’s next course of action would be—he’d suggested it himself. A sniper at a safe distance, a clean-cut execution. If it went well, no more innocents would die. Of course, if it went well, there would be no need to let him out.

Eli tensed. That hand on his, the subtle pressure pushing him forward, pulling him back—for so long, he’d assumed it was God, but doubt was a slow, insidious force, wearing away at solid things. Eli still wanted, more than anything, to believe, knew that to demand proof, to ask for a sign, was not the same … but he needed something.

And so he told himself, if God willed it … if the mission failed … if it was meant to be—

And if it wasn’t? If Eli was truly on his own?

No—he had seen his opportunity, and he had taken it. And now he had to wait.

Had to have faith.

“You know what you have to do,” said Eli.

Stell nodded.

“We have to find them again first.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,”

said Eli.

“Marcella doesn’t strike me as the type to run from a fight.”