Page 83 of Desecrated Saints
Seven grumbles unintelligibly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Heading further inside, we keep a careful watch. This site was closed over a decade ago and left to disintegrate into the ravages of time. Old, rusted shipping containers and burned-out vehicles mark the post-apocalyptic landscape. It’s the perfect place for this meeting.
“Lazlo is due to arrive in five minutes,” Hunter informs me. “Remember, use force only if necessary. Bring him back alive, Brooklyn. That’s non-negotiable.”
“You got it. No asshole piñata today, noted.”
“Fucking spoilsport,” Seven mutters.
I can hear Kade’s worried voice in the background, but Hunter soon tunes him out. The guys were very reluctant to let me do this. Hudson even threatened to tie me up in our fancy-as-fuck apartment. Not that I would mind a little bit of bondage, but this is my moment to own.
I can’t be a songbird trapped in its cage forever.
Brooklyn West and Patient Eight have to become one.
In the furthest corner of the dockyard, we gather around the long-dead embers of a bin fire. Theo already scouted the place out with his drone army, ensuring there are no pedestrians to interrupt our task. The minute Lazlo approaches, they’ll know about it.
Seven twirls a blade in his hand like a circus performer. “This could easily be a trap. Miss White’s bait didn’t work. They’re taking another shot.”
“Not this time. Lazlo was excommunicated for trying to get me killed, despite being hand-selected for Augustus’s program. He was removed within seconds of Augustus entering Blackwood.”
“Your point being?”
“Incendia doesn’t forgive or forget. Miss White was an obstacle to be removed. Lazlo? He was the grand architect of their empire, and he stabbed them in the back. They wouldn’t recruit him for this.”
“Incoming,” Theo’s voice whispers in my ear.
“He’s here.”
Holding out my hand for his knife, I exchange it for the gun Enzo handed me. Seven’s a far better shot than me. With our weapons raised, we stare into the gloom, waiting for our ghost to arrive. The crunch of footsteps cuts through the cloying mist.
“Brooklyn West!”
Parting shadows, the short, rounded figure of Professor Lazlo approaches our location. Dressed in worn civilian clothing with an old hat covering his crop of grey hair, he studies me through his smashed, partially sellotaped spectacles. He looks far from the terror that haunts my hallucinations.
I clear my throat. “Professor Lazlo.”
“Two of my finest creations. Oh, this is a treat. Pleasure to see you again, Doctor Farlow.”
A snarl escapes Seven’s gritted teeth. “Professor.”
Halting opposite us, Lazlo slides his hands from his pockets to hold them up in surrender. The gleeful smile on his lips is even more deranged than it was during our sessions together. A year in exile has done him no good, even less than it did for Miss White.
“I am here, almighty Sabre. Ready to surrender myself.”
Seven cocks his gun. “You’re alone?”
“Of course.” Lazlo beams at him. “Who do I have left in this world, Jude? Like Frankenstein longing for the embrace of his creation, my life ended the day my work was taken from me. I am all but dead.”
“How are you alive?” I ask next.
Chuckling again, Lazlo inches closer. I immediately back up, my body reacting on instinct. Just having him near me has my heart racing and body twitching with barely controlled anger. I want to tear him apart, limb from fucking limb.
“Thirty years at Incendia taught me one or two things, including how to disappear. When Doctor Augustus ordered my immediate removal, I was taken captive by the very corporation I helped to build. My escape took months of planning and a large dose of luck.”
“Luck?” Seven scoffs.