Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(60)

She snorted. “The Bunker is a fantasy invented by loons. There’s no Bunker.”

Bullshit. He’d seen enough hints in the documents he’d found in the Oval Office to know that there was a Bunker out there, one safe from the outside and fully stocked . . . with the cure hopefully. But that knowledge had been in the former president’s head, and Bret hadn’t realized it until too late. “The Bunker exists.”

“Huh.” Vivienne blinked.

He grimaced. “Don’t you want out of here?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her pink lips twisting. “I’m seeing the charm of the place.”

He studied her. Even after a month of containment, of his messing with her head, of sparse showers, she was beautiful in a tragic way. Long blond hair, blue-green eyes, aristocratic facial features. Although feminine, she had the spirit of a fine soldier. Too bad she wasn’t Lynne. “If you just tell me what I want to know, I’ll let you go. Anywhere you want.”

She snorted. “Bullshit. Even if I had the ability to find Lynne, and I don’t, you’d kill me the second you found her.” Vivienne lowered her chin. “I know you think I’m psychic, Bret, but I’m not. Never have been, and never will be.”

Oh, she was. “I’ve read your file, and I’ve seen you work. Before the fever, you had abilities beyond the norm, and you will tell me what I want to know.”

She rolled her eyes and settled her head back on the wall, her movements weary. “Listen, jackass. I was a profiler, and a damn good one, which was why they brought me in when Scorpius first started changing people’s brains. I’m just good at profiling. There’s nothing psychic about it, and I’ve never even met Lynne Harmony, so I can’t guess what she’d do.”

He shook his head, his hand tightening on the silver letter opener. “You’re lying. You solved several murders for the FBI before Scorpius hit, and your abilities were beyond normal even then. Nobody is that good.” His arm jerked with the need to jam the letter opener into her leg. “You survived the fever, so any skills you had should be enhanced. In fact, I read how the CIA used you to trace the path of the contagion through the military.”

She blinked.

His chest heated. “Yeah. I have those files. Nobody should’ve been able to figure out those stats, and yet you did.”

Her lips tightened.

“Scorpius changes brains, and it changed yours. Now tell me where Lynne is. Or I will kill you.”

“Go ahead,” Vivienne whispered, shutting her eyes.

Ah. He was getting closer. “I have new plans for you.”

Her eyelids opened. “You’re a Ripper, and that’s a fact. You know that, right?”

He shook his head. “Wrong. The fever reorganized my brain and increased my intelligence, much as it rewired your brain and gave you new skills.” Based on the research he’d studied, it was more than possible.

Her fine eyebrows arched. “Oh, you’re definitely a crazed killer. There are several types of serial killers, and you’re the more organized kind. Those whispers in your head telling you I’m physic or that you’re special? Yeah. They’re lying to you.”

The woman was a good liar, but he’d seen what she could do. Bret backed away from her. “We’ll know soon enough.”

She stilled. “Meaning what?”

He grinned. “I sent men to a former CIA location a couple of days ago, and they’ll be returning with drugs you won’t be able to beat. Finally, you’ll tell me the truth.”

“You are a damn nut,” she whispered. “Why don’t you just kill me and be done with it?”

“I’ll let the drugs do that.” He rubbed his chin.

For the first time in weeks, real fear glittered in her eyes. Yet she didn’t speak.

Yeah. He was finally getting her attention. He grabbed the lantern and turned for the door, leaving her in the dark. He had to get to Myriad in time to stop Lynne, and then he’d take her home. Soon.





Chapter Twenty





Monsters are among us, inside us, around us. It is statistically impossible for them to lose every battle . . . or even every war.

—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony




The rain continued to batter the earth, and only the lightning periodically piercing the cloud cover lit the way through the inner city as they searched for the missing scavengers.

Broken and empty buildings lined their way until they reached the warehouse district. The smell of the ocean, salty and briny, filled the air.

Jax kept low to the chipped concrete, his baseball hat shielding his face, his bulletproof vest hopefully protecting his chest. He’d been shot more than once, and at some point, the vest would just fail. He reached the south side of a building on the planned scavenger list for the night and put his back to it.

Wyatt appeared next to him, his breath panting out. “We need more vests.”

They needed more of everything. “We’re sure this was one of the scheduled locations tonight?” Jax asked.

Wyatt gulped in air. “Yes. We sent a team to scout this area of the warehouse park, looking for anything. Preferably fuel and food. Guns and ammo. Per usual.”

The team hadn’t returned by the appointed time, so Jax had ordered sets of two out to the known targets. “I don’t like sending kids out, Wyatt.”