Bone Music (Burning Girl #1)(51)

Did it matter that they were willing volunteers? That they knew the risks? That the last two had actually watched videos of what had happened to the first two and still agreed to take the drug? These facts had comforted him some back then. Back then he thought he’d put a stop to it by shutting the project down. He never thought Dylan capable of taking the nightmares they’d seen in that lab out into the world.

“Do you need to sit?” Dylan asks.

“Fuck you,” Cole whispers.

Dylan nods and looks away, waiting, it seems, for Cole to collect himself.

“So this first girl,” Cole asks, “she went lycan?”

“She knew the risks. I told her I wouldn’t let her suffer. I kept my promise.”

“So you were wrong. It had nothing to do with the gender of the subjects. And even though I forbade you to test it on women, you went out and did it anyway.”

“You forbade me to test it on women because you’re a sexist and you have Mommy issues.”

“I put a stop to it because I was tired of watching people tear themselves apart.”

“I see, so it was just an excuse then. So you could fire me because you’d finally panicked. Give me a break. You didn’t care about those volunteers. You cared about exposure.”

“I didn’t fire you. I cut the funding for a project that ended in disaster, and if you remember correctly, it wasn’t just my call to make.”

“Don’t worry. I remember our partners quite well.”

“You were one of our most brilliant scientists, Dylan. I could have put you on something else the next day.”

“Oh, on what? Some antianxiety drug that’s just going to tranq people into functional oblivion? I was trying to create survivors, not blissed-out drones.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Until now.”

“And you killed a woman to do it, which makes you a monster.”

“And you, as always, are a revolutionary pretending to be a shill. The conflict will drive you mad, Cole. I guarantee it.”

“Because I’m not willing to kill any more people in the name of your research?”

“You don’t have to.” He extends his arms and gives Cole a bright smile. “You have a successful test subject.”

“And she’s already killed someone.”

“I’d say that’s an unfair reading of what happened on that video, wouldn’t you? She was protecting herself from two thugs who were probably going to rape her and leave her for dead in the middle of the desert. Forgive the absence of tears.”

“Where is she, Dylan?”

“She won’t be that hard for you to find if you reactivate The Consortium.”

Cole’s barely been able to say this name aloud to himself in the two years since Project Bluebird ended. It’s easier to remember those horrifying videos of their test subjects than it is to recall the weight of responsibility these secret partners brought to bear on him. The idea that Dylan could so casually call for its reactivation is as offensive as everything else he’s said and done these past few days. Maybe even more so.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You want me to call up five defense contractors, all of whom still lie awake at night worrying the results of your project will come back to haunt them, by the way, and . . . what? Invite them to brunch? Tell them you’ve set a successful test subject loose in the world with your drug? How exactly do you think they’ll respond?”

“Managing The Consortium has always been your responsibility. I’d prefer to stick to the science. Our relationship works better that way.”

“We are not in a relationship.”

“I understand that you’re hurting, Cole. I understand that I caused some of that pain when I left so quickly. But deep down you know I truly don’t give a single red fuck. That I consider your pain to be an inconvenience and a distraction from a goal far more important than anything your heart might think it wants. And if there’s anyone who should know the importance of prioritizing objectives over feelings, it’s the head of Graydon Pharmaceuticals.”

“If you think for one second that my contempt for you in this moment has anything to do with the fact that you got me to bottom in a couple of hotel rooms, you are even more of a delusional narcissist than I thought. What you have done is irresponsible and reprehensible, and it might bring a show of force down upon your head that not even I can stop.”

“A show of force worse than this?” Dylan asks, gesturing to the phalanx of guns.

“A lot worse.”

Dylan nods sagely, as if Cole were offering up this information as part of a deal point, and not a warning, and he’s decided to accept.

“Gender might not have anything to do with it,” Dylan begins, ignoring the bitter laughter that comes from Cole when he realizes Dylan has reverted to a scientific lecture. “With Charlotte, I pursued another theory, and it looks like it’s paid off.”

Dylan checks to make sure Cole is still listening; then he slowly walks around behind him, turning his back to the security team. He’s making himself a better target, but he’s also concealing his hands and any weapon he might draw and blocking Cole from the strike team’s view while he does it. It’s a test, Cole’s sure, to see how willing he is to hear more about the science of Dylan’s latest experiment. Cole turns.