Basilisk (The Korsak Brothers #2)(49)

On the table was a chipped mug and in the mug was a pile of small pieces of metal—GPS chips. “They figured that out damn quick, didn’t they?” Stefan remarked grimly at my shoulder. “How’d they know where they were? And how’d they get them out? With a butcher knife?” He waved a hand at a butcher block knife holder on the counter. It and the knives were dusty with disuse. Our absent owner wasn’t into cooking. No, they hadn’t used those knives.

I put the gun on the table and pulled up my sleeve to absently trace a finger across my forearm. Beneath my touch a cut instantly opened. Chimeras, except for Wendy, were bred to block harm from other chimeras, but harming yourself was another story. You had only to open that internal door you kept locked from others like you. “That’s how. As for knowing the chips were planted at the base of the spine as mine had been, if you knew you had a chip, you could search and find it within yourself. I didn’t know, so I didn’t look. Peter’s smarter than I am, Stefan. Much smarter than I remember him being. You should know that. You should know that things have gotten more difficult.” I pulled my sleeve back down as the cut began to heal. “More . . . lethal. We should send Saul back to Miami.”

If Stefan had gone for it, I would’ve added that he should head somewhere far away too. Let a chimera deal with an impending chimera apocalypse. But that wasn’t going to happen. I knew my brother too well there.

“You really should’ve slept with that girl at the coffee shop.” Stefan had both hands full, but he had a free elbow to poke me lightly in the ribs. I didn’t know how an elbow could be reassuring, but it was.

“I really should have.” I sighed and reached past the mug for a cell phone resting there. There was one voice mail. I thought for a fraction of a second, then punched in the only password it could possibly be: Jericho. The father of us all. Bellucci had been nothing but the most distant of reflections, an ego with nothing to back it up. The phone pinged in my ear and I heard Peter’s voice, smooth and convincing as any lawyer on the TV commercials telling you he’d get you millions for your fender bender. “Michael, Michael, how can you be with your family when you can’t keep up? Can’t catch up? I thought you were better than that. You always lacked a love for the work, but I’d hoped the outside world had changed you. After all, our god chased after you and didn’t come home again. No one could have predicted that.”

No, no chimera could, and Peter couldn’t know I had nothing to do with Jericho’s death. Even that monster I couldn’t kill. There had been failures before me—chimeras who weren’t genetically perfect, not strong enough to kill. I had been the only one strong enough, but I had refused.

“We have things to do, Michael. Many things. Entertaining things. We can’t wait forever on you, but I’m not writing you off, brother. If you’re worthy, you’ll find us. Don’t forget you are one of us.”

The voice mail disconnected in my ear. Peter’s voice disappeared.

It wasn’t true. I wasn’t like them, not in the ways that counted.

And they were not my family.

“Are you all right?” Stefan’s elbow nudged me again. “I heard the voice. It was that kid Peter. What did the son of a bitch say?”

“That he wants me to find him, but I’m just not trying hard enough.” I wanted to throw the phone against the wall. I didn’t. When you could kill with the touch of a hand, when you were taught to want it and do it exceptionally well, you were also trained to not lose your temper. No one wanted to buy an assassin who got pissed off that he was served fish instead of chicken and would exterminate you instead of your enemies. Obedience was a must. The Institute had failed there with me and failed with Peter too. Peter’s disobedience had been more catastrophic than mine. I wondered how his temper training had taken.

“There’s something in the backyard.” Saul joined us. Like Stefan, he had a tranq gun in one hand and a real one in the other. He peered in the mug at the bits of metal encrusted with dried blood. “Yum. There’s a new way to get your daily iron. Chug it in your coffee.”

“What’s out there?” Stefan headed for the window over the cracked and stained sink.

“Looks like a body.” Saul shrugged. It was the kind you saw in ex-military people: been there, killed that. “Smells like a body. I cracked a window for a whiff. Someone had to own this mansion before the kiddies moved in.”

“Shit.” Stefan stared out the window. “Another one bites the dust. Could be worse. I just hope it’s not another Zombie Bob. I’ll go check it out. You two look around and see if you can find something, anything that points to where they’re going next.”

“I already have that. I’ll explain later.” I slipped the cheap phone into my jacket pocket. “So we can all check out the body. I can tell how long they were here by the decomposition rate.” The helium in the balloons gave me an estimate as to how long they’d been gone. The bright balls, though still floating, were beginning to dip. They’d left three to five days ago.

“Looking at dead bodies doesn’t bother you, Mikey?” Saul asked with a bemused note that thrummed under the words.

You didn’t have to be ex-military for that to be true. I shoved the tranquilizer gun into the back waistband of my jeans. “I’ve dissected dead bodies; I’ve been surrounded by dead bodies; I’ve made dead bodies,” I said flatly. “I wish they did bother me. You bother me, though. One more ‘Mikey’ and every time you see a woman, you’ll piss your pants, then vomit, and maybe, just maybe, lose control of your bowels. Good luck finding a thong lover who’s willing to take you on then.”