Basilisk (The Korsak Brothers #2)(85)
“Almost”—it was a word that encompassed more than a person could imagine.
“You said chimeras naturally blocked other chimeras from damaging them? And if that’s what you’re doing, won’t they heal?” He didn’t like this. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t like it either.
“All that practicing I told you about, all the healing I did on the animals and myself for almost three years every day, it increased what I can do tenfold. We weren’t taught to try to be more than what we were. I don’t think it crossed any of the researchers’ minds that we could actually increase a genetic trait by exercising it, but I did. I worked Jericho’s gene until I could make it do f*cking backflips.” Lily went quicker than Michael and the third even faster. “If you can build something up, you can tear it down more easily and efficiently—even if it is a chimera.” It was a simple logic and I thought the only reason Jericho hadn’t thought of it was that healing others and building, not manipulating, wasn’t part of his mental wiring.
I looked at all the fallen chimeras around us. “They couldn’t stop Wendy and they can’t stop me now. They can’t heal what either of us does to them. They’re not strong enough.”
“There was no cure, was there? All along there never was.” Stefan stood, his hand resting on my shoulder.
This was my last omission from all that I’d told Stefan and Saul. I wasn’t going to say it was my last lie. I knew better now.
“I am the cure.” I raised my eyes to him. “There’s no way to turn off the gene Jericho gave us. It would fight off any attempted gene therapy, any bone marrow transplant. And I can’t stop the gene from functioning either, not without killing them. It’s an intrinsic part of our DNA, not an extra chromosome. Not something we can do without. I turn the gene off, I turn them off, permanently. This”—I rested my hand on the next forehead—“is the only answer.” That was one lie I hadn’t told. I had researched for a way, which was how I’d found Ariel. I’d had hope, but I was a child of Jericho and that meant reality and ruthless necessity always trumped hope. When I finally accepted the truth, I used the time to become what I was now. I found the cure inside of me, not in an outside world nowhere near ready to scientifically understand what we were, much less change that.
“Misha. . . .”
The sympathy in his voice was strong. He knew. I knew. It didn’t have to be said aloud. I’d pledged day in and day out that I wasn’t a killer, but I was a thief of souls. The twelve that remained here, they might as well have been the Four Horsemen, bringing death and despair to the world. They had to be stopped. But which is worse? To take who a person is, for good or bad, and erase his free will, or to kill him? If I’d asked them, every one of them would’ve chosen the same fate Ariel had. I didn’t give them that choice. I did what I thought was best. I played God . . . just as Jericho had.
But with him dead, someone had to.
“They can’t murder without aggression,” I said, “and they can’t have aggression if I destroy the part of the brain that births it.” It was the best I could do—a very poor best.
I rested my hand on the forehead of the last one—Peter. He’d played genius and villain well, while all the time Wendy had been pulling his strings and feeding him his lines. He was a killer too, same as the others, but he wasn’t what I thought he’d been. He was both predator and prey, because there was nothing in his mind now except silence. Wendy’s last act before falling away, besides killing the sniper who had shot her and his companions, had been to turn Peter off as if he were a toy she was done playing with. Only his brain stem worked now, keeping his lungs inflating and deflating, his heart beating, but the rest was dark and dead. He was brain dead. She’d made a true puppet of him, empty and hollow. It would’ve made her laugh, the irony, even with a bullet in her small chest. Peter was gone and I couldn’t fix that. The other chimeras wouldn’t be able to undo what I’d done and I couldn’t undo what Wendy had done. She and I were a new breed of chimera—with a new balance of power.
Ariel had been a chimera, able to survive a good deal, but the unquenchable hunger of water at the bottom of the dam? No. I had no hope there. Wendy, though . . . the Grim Reaper himself would be afraid to touch her long enough to take her life. Fine. If I saw her again, I’d do it for him.
Somehow.
Chapter 15
For the second time in his life Raynor was going to do some good. The first had been having one of his men shoot Wendy, because Raynor knew as well as anyone that Wendy wasn’t viable for sale, profit, or life in general. He’d saved Stefan or Saul from having to do it—if they could’ve lifted a hand to do it. It didn’t matter how evil a ten-year-old little girl was; putting a bullet in one would haunt your nights for years to come—unless you were Raynor. The only regret he would have was a lack of a commemorative photograph to hang on his wall.
“Well, chaps, it looks like you’ve done my work for me.” He had walked around the sheriff’s car and was heading toward us, his gun up and aimed at the cluster of the three of us. “One, two, four . . . twelve unconscious chimeras wrapped up in a bow and ready to go to rehab. Learn to mind their masters.” He didn’t know what I’d done to them and I wasn’t inclined to tell him. I didn’t know what kind of life they would have now. The ability to kill remained within them, but they wouldn’t use it. They couldn’t. With a complete lack of aggression, they wouldn’t be able to kill, even in defense. As I’d told Ariel, they’d be smart as they’d been before, but they’d be blander, milder, less interested in life in general. When they woke up from the tranquilizer, my best guess was they’d keep the Institute story to themselves—they’d know by now that would only end them in a psych ward. They’d wander off and do as Ariel had done; as I’d done. They would make fake IDs, get jobs, live their lives—but without flavor or zest. They would be gray people in a gray world, but without leaving a trail of torture and murder in their wake.