Vengeful (Villains #2)(49)

Eli rose from the chair and carried the file to the fiberglass divide. “I spent months researching my targets. Confirming their abilities. Tracking their movements.” He let the file fall from his fingers, paper sloughing to the floor. “You want me to do the same work from inside a concrete box, with nothing but basic information. This,” he said, gesturing to the pages at his feet, “is not enough.”

“It’s what we have.”

“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” snapped Eli. He turned his attention to a photo on the floor. “Tabitha Dahl,” he said, scanning the paper. “Nineteen. College athlete, young, social, active, adventurer. Suffers a massive cardiac event due to an allergic reaction while hiking. Friend is able to resuscitate her. She makes it to a hospital. And then—she disappears. Parents file a missing persons report two weeks ago.” Eli looked up. “Where would she go? How would she get there? Why is there nothing here about the friend she was with? How did she think and feel in the direct aftermath of her accident?”

“How are we supposed to obtain that kind of information?” asked Stell.

Eli threw up his hands. “She’s nineteen. Start with social media. Hack the texts she sent to friends. Get into her life. Get into her head. An EO isn’t just the product of their catalyst. They are the product of the person they were before. The circumstances, but also the psyche. I can help you find Tabitha Dahl. With the right insight, I can probably make a decent guess as to her power, but I can’t do any of that with five pieces of paper.”

A long silence followed. Eli waited patiently for Stell to break it.

He did.

“I’ll get you a computer,” he said. “But access will be restricted, and the system will be twinned. I will see everything you search, as you search it. And the moment you go off-book, you will lose more than just your tech privileges. Are we clear?”

“I could do more than postulate,” said Eli, kneeling to retrieve the papers. “If you let me out . . .”

“Mr. Cardale,” said Stell. “I want to make something very clear. You can help us from inside this cell, or from inside a lab, but you will never, ever see the outside of this facility again.”

Eli rose to his feet, but the director was already walking away.





XVIII





SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO


HAVERFORD COLLEGE


ELI made his way across campus, his collar up against the fall chill.

Haverford was a good school—not the best, but certainly the best he could afford, and close enough to commute from the boardinghouse. It was also massive, sporting a population that could rival most towns’, and a campus so large that two months in, he was still discovering buildings.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t seen the chapel sooner.

Or maybe, until now, the trees had simply hidden it, red and gold leaves obscuring the classic lines, the simple spire, the sloping white roof.

Eli’s steps slowed at the sight of it. But he didn’t turn around. The pull was subtle, but persistent, and he let himself be drawn to the steps.

He hadn’t set foot inside a church in years, not since God became more . . . personal.

Now, as he stepped through the doors, the first thing he saw was the stained glass. Red and blue and green light dancing on the floor. And there, before the window, a stone cross. His palms began to tingle. Eli closed his eyes, willing back the memory of a deep voice, the whistle of the leather belt.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” said an airy voice.

Eli blinked, and glanced sideways, and saw a girl. Slim and pretty, with wide brown eyes and honey blond hair.

“I’ve never been religious,” continued the girl, “but I love the look of the buildings. You?”

“I’m not big on the buildings,” he said with a wry smile, “but I’ve always been religious.”

She pouted, shook her head. “Oh no, it will never work between us.” The false sadness broke back into a smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, you just looked sad.”

“Did I?” Eli must have slipped, let the truth show through. But in an instant, he’d recovered, and turned the full force of his attention, and his practiced charm, on the girl. “Were you studying me instead of the building?”

Light danced in the girl’s eyes. “I’m more than capable of admiring both.” She held out her hand. “I’m Charlotte.”

He smiled. “Eli.” The bells rang once around them, and Eli held out his hand. “Have you had lunch?”

*

MAGGIE had appeared in the doorway of Eli’s room the week before, a basket of laundry on her hip. “It’s Friday night, Eliot.”

“And?”

“And you’re sitting in here doing calculus.”

“Biology,” he’d corrected.

Maggie had shaken her head. “All this work and no fun, for a boy your age, it’s not normal.”

That word. Normal. The center line of his calibration.

Eli had looked up from his homework. “What should I be doing?” he asked, one eyebrow raised to hide the earnestness of the question.

“Go to parties!” said Maggie. “Drink cheap beer! Make bad choices! Date pretty girls!”