Not only that, but a Breed female with Gen One dermaglyphs and the inexplicable ability to walk unharmed in broad daylight.
Holy. Hell.
The thought hadn't lost any of its impact on him. If anything, it was more astonishing to think that she actually existed. Deeply disturbing to imagine the only way that could be possible. Dragos had made her.>Dragos certainly had intended to help clear the way by any means necessary.
But fuck that. Bobby Clarence would soon be dust, and Dragos had better options to pursue.
Assuming those options played into his hands as he expected.
"What time do you have?" Dragos asked his Minion driver for what hadn't been the first time.
"Ten minutes before two, Master."
Dragos hissed a curse against the dark-tinted glass of his backseat window. "He's late. The service will be starting soon. Any sign of a Secret Service motorcade up ahead? Any federal vehicles anywhere at all yet?"
"No, Master. Shall I drive around the cathedral to have a better look?"
Dragos dismissed the suggestion with a curt wave of his gloved hand. "Forget it. He may already be inside. I need to go in before it gets any later. Drive toward the rear of the place, away from all the commotion and prying eyes. I'll find a way in through the back."
"Of course, Master."
The Minion eased the sedan around the corner to inspect the perimeter of the cathedral. As Dragos had hoped, there was an unimportant little nook that provided service and staff access to the monstrous building. The waist-high wrought-iron gate stood open, nothing but a couple of small Dumpsters and a parked car sitting on the poorly patched asphalt. Two red doors provided a couple of choices in terms of entry.
"Over there." Dragos pointed to the one farthest back, where the afternoon shadows and a peaked eave provided a pocket of shade amid the glare of the afternoon sun. The Minion brought him in front of the door. Organ music vibrated from all around the building, a holy place unaware it was about to usher in the launch of Dragos's unholy war. He stepped out of the car. "Wait at the curb until I summon you. This shouldn't take long."
The Minion gave him an obedient nod. "Yes, Master."
TAVIA RACED INTO THE HOUSE, leaving Aunt Sarah out at the curb taking care of the cab fare, since her own money - like her medicine - was left behind in her pocketbook the other night at the hotel. She felt on the verge of relieved collapse as the familiarity of home greeted her. All of Aunt Sarah's soft, ruffle-edged furniture and assorted knickknacks on every available surface, the very things that had long ago begun to make Tavia yearn for a place of her own, with her own belongings arranged to her own taste, now felt as comfortable and welcome as the cocooning warmth of a fleece blanket.
The house felt normal.
It felt solid and real, when just a short while ago, she'd been sure she was trapped in some kind of harrowing, inescapable dream.
As she took a seat at the kitchen table, a gust of wintry air blew across the floor from behind her as Aunt Sarah came back into the house. "Where have you been all this time, Tavia? Don't you know I've been worried sick about you?"
Tavia pivoted on the chair to face the older woman, feeling nothing but glad for the concern that radiated in from her wringing hands and wide, desperate brown eyes.
"The police were here yesterday," she informed Tavia in a questioning voice, her hands fisted on her hips. "They told me if I heard from you, I needed to call them right away. Of course, I thought you were with them. Isn't that what you told me? When we spoke last, you said you were staying at a hotel downtown to help the police with their investigation."
God. The police-arranged hotel suite seemed like a hundred years ago now. Everything that happened since that night seemed like it had occurred over the span of a lifetime. All she wanted was to put it behind her and get on with the life she knew. This life, the only one she wanted. "You've never lied to me before, Tavia. It's going to break my heart if you're keeping something from me now, after all these years ..."
"No." Tavia took her aunt's nervous hands in a light grasp and guided her to the chair next to her at the little table. "I wouldn't lie to you, but a lot of very strange things have been happening lately. Terrible things, Aunt Sarah. The gunman from the senator's holiday party - he broke out of police custody and killed Senator Clarence."
"I know," the older woman murmured. "It was all over the news. There's a manhunt under way for him all across New England."
Tavia shook her head at the futility of that notion. "They'll never get him. Even if the police find him and take him in, they won't be able to keep him behind bars. He'll just break out again. He's more dangerous than anyone can possibly imagine."
Aunt Sarah was frowning now, her gaze searching. "Where did you get these clothes? And where's your pocketbook? I was so relieved to see you, I didn't even think to ask why you didn't have money to pay the taxi driver ..."
Tavia kept talking, even as her aunt's voice trailed off. "He can't be dealt with like a normal criminal. He can't be dealt with like a human, because he's not. He's not human."
"You look positively peaked, dear." Aunt Sarah reached out and touched her fingertips to Tavia's forehead, then clucked her tongue as she picked up one of her hands and clasped it between her smooth, cool palms. Her skin felt like wax against Tavia's significantly warmer touch. "Are you feeling queasy right now? When was the last time you took your medications?" "Goddamn it, will you please stop fussing and listen to me!"
The older woman went immediately silent, her eyes fixed on Tavia now. Guarded and uncertain.
"That man, he broke into the hotel suite just a little while after I called you, Aunt Sarah. He killed a police officer and he incapacitated two federal agents. Then he came into the room where I was, and he took me away."
Aunt Sarah seemed somehow stony now, not breaking into the hysterical fretting that was her usual reaction to everything where Tavia was concerned. Her brown eyes unblinking, scrutinizing, she was serious and contemplative in her calm. "Did he touch you, Tavia? Did he do ... anything to you? Did he hurt you?"