Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(133)

“Yes, you are a quick learner,” he said. “But not quick enough. You never found out anything that could have hurt me.”

“Then why me?” she burst out. “Why did you come after me?”

He shook his head sadly. “Once Howard pronounced the words ‘Magda Ranieri’ and mentioned her son, your fate was sealed,” he said. “You had to be prevented from making contact with Bruno. Separately, the two of you had nothing that could threaten me. But together . . .” He shrugged. “Bruno was the fuse, you were the match. We didn’t succeed in eliminating you before that contact took place. So all we could do after is to contain the mess, as best we can.”

“But my father . . .” She shook her head. “How could he have . . . he was a doctor, a fertility specialist! He grew babies in test tubes! What could he have possibly known that would bother you?”

He shook his head. “That’s none of your concern, now. Believe me, you have much more urgent things to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you just kill him, too?” she demanded.

He sighed. “I should have, in retrospect. Magda had to be eliminated because of the kind of person she was. In brief, just like her son. Can you imagine Bruno knuckling under, promising to be good? He would fight to the death, like Magda. She was indomitable.” He looked dreamy, nostalgic. “An incredible genetic heritage. But I digress.”

“Uh, yeah,” she muttered. “You sure do.”

“The simplest way to make sure your father never said anything would have been to kill him, of course,” he went on. “But this may surprise you, Lily. I prefer to avoid killing, if possible. It’s a logistical nightmare if the authorities get involved. Such a terrible drain of resources, and the risk of exposure, too. At the time, I thought it would be better to just terrify him into silence.” He gave her a regretful smile. “It wasn’t hard. Howie wasn’t like Magda, you see.”

That bastard. Her fists were clenched, her knuckles white. “So how did you do it?” she asked. “What did you threaten him with?”

He looked impatient with her dullness. “With you, of course.”

She wouldn’t have thought she could feel worse, but the day was full of surprises. “But I never even knew that you existed!”

“Of course not. That would have meant certain death for you both,” he explained. “My people were discreet. We made sure that Howard was regularly reminded of what would happen to you if he went to the authorities with what he knew.”

“Oh, Dad,” she whispered. A sick ache of grief twisted at her guts.

“Every now and then, we would send him a fresh video,” King said. “I have the originals. They were very effective. Terrifying. Artistic, even, in their own special way. Would you like to see them?”

“No,” she said.

He burbled on as if he were doing her a big favor. “I’ll have Hobart put a monitor in your cell. Some video entertainment, while we wait.”

She tasted blood. She had bitten her lip. “That is so cruel.”

“Cruel?” He looked offended. “I hesitated to orphan a tenyear-old girl who was already motherless! That would have been cruel! I was generous! He kept his life, didn’t he? You kept your father!”

“Kept his life?” she repeated. “What life? I never had a father. You did murder him, you son of a bitch. You just took eighteen years to do it!”

He tutted. “Don’t be overdramatic, Lily. You’re being irrational. I’m disappointed in you.”

“I’m glad that you are,” she said. She stared at his hurt expression and the weird commando no-name creatures who hung on his every word. It clicked in her mind. His blind spot. He saw people as machines. He didn’t perceive their hearts, souls. He didn’t receive that wavelength. They were just dolls to him.

He was like a person who had never seen the colors of the sunset, but worse. He was missing a crucial piece, but in its place was insatiable hunger. Yawning greed and self-worship.

“Such hostility,” he complained, miffed. “I’m surprised at you.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I have to thank you, you son of a bitch. I’ve finally found out what my problem is, after a lifetime of wondering.”

He blinked, expectantly. “And that is?”

“You,” she said quietly. “I finally know who to hate. Not my dad. Not myself. Just you. Only you. What a gift you’ve iven me. Finally.”

His eyebrow twitched. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

She ignored that. “I don’t have to look any further for someone else to blame. The blame is all yours. You monster.”

“Melanie, Hobart, back,” he snapped as his minions leaped to attack her. The two subsided, clenching their fists.

King rubbed his hands together. “Well, then. Thank you, my dear. I think we have everything we need here. Hobart, let’s get right to work.”

“On what?”

“On our editing,” he explained. “This footage of our debriefing interview needs to be edited for your precious Bruno’s benefit!”

Icy fear pinched her. “You’ll never get Bruno,” she said. “He won’t come looking for me. It’s not like that. It’s just bittersweet memories.”