The Syndicate Read online

  I hate that he mentions my father, but reconsider his words. My father took pride in what we do, and the fact that there’s a threat somewhere that can destroy all of what we stand for makes me feel protective.

  “What are the visions?” I ask.

  “The visions show her infiltrating the Syndicate and gaining the trust of someone inside. Then, there are visions of members being attacked by Hybrids, one by one, until the Syndicate is extinct.”

  “Well, who is seen betraying us?”

  “She doesn’t know. Readers are not meant to see our kind in their visions.”

  “Then we can try to find out ourselves and prevent it.”

  “There is no preventing the ways of human nature! Our history ought to have taught you that. You cannot fight temptation. She will have to be killed. It’s the only way, or we will be destroyed.”

  At this point, I’m speechless. I cannot allow my family to be ruined. The Readers are never wrong. Still, I’m not sure if I can do it.

  As if reading my mind, Henri says, “You have to, Vasile. You must do what you are trained to do. There is no other option. It’s not about gender. It’s not about understanding nature. It’s about the future of our Syndicate. The future of humanity.”

  Chapter 5

  THE ER

  Rosie has been doing her research, and I expect her to fill me in soon. Only, for some reason, I hope she’s not as quick at finding what I need as she usually is. Hope dwindles fast. I’m playing basketball out back when I hear someone hiss my name.

  I turn, and Dani capitalizes on my distractedness, dribbling around me for an easy layup.

  My shoulders drop.

  “I win, bro. That’s twenty-one.” He picks up the ball and heads back to the house, passing by Rosie, who keeps impatiently shifting her weight to her toes. “Thanks, Rosie,” he gloats, giving her a playful shove that puts her off balance.

  She ignores him and waves me over.

  “What, Rosie? You cost me the game and you’re acting like you’ve robbed a bank. This better be good.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “What?”

  “Your girl—”

  “She’s not my girl.”

  “Whatever. I’ve watched the girl for four days and there’s nothing up with her. Nothing.”

  “All right, all right.” I take her shoulder and turn her toward the house. “Tell me inside.”

  Back in my room, she closes the door behind us. I’ve never spent so much time in my room with my sister, but there’s this strange feeling of secrecy, and the confines of my room seem fitting.

  I sit as she continues to pace. “Just tell me, Rosie.”

  I barely finish my request before she starts spilling information.

  “She’s so boring. She doesn’t do anything but go to school, work, and then to school again. Watching her is like watching paint dry. And she’s not a Hybrid. I knew it before, but I really know it now. Her neck was clearly visible. I was nearly sniffing it, and she didn’t budge. She’s oblivious to anything going on around her. She’s clueless! I followed her on the Metro and she sat completely still, reading, the whole time. Speaking to no one. Ugh. So very frustrating.”

  “Why is that frustrating? Would you have preferred she talk to fellow Metro riders? I don’t get it.”

  She stops right in front of me, crossing her arms. “No. But something to give off any sort of sign as to why she’s a target. It doesn’t make sense. She practically repels interaction with people, she’s such a recluse!”

  I think about this information, and although she doesn’t sound hybridish, she sounds weird. “Where does she live?”

  She starts pacing again. “She lives in an apartment across the street from campus.”

  “What campus, Rosie?”

  “George Mason.”

  “She lives alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about family? Where are they?”

  “Mom’s in a looney bin in West Virginia, and her dad’s in Afghanistan. I tapped into his file through one of our agency contacts. He’s a government contractor. He’s been there for six months and isn’t due back for two and a half more years.”

  “And how old is she?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “So how long has her mother been off her rocker?”

  “Since she was five. Her dad raised her alone until she went to college.”

  This doesn’t sound too difficult to me. No one will miss her for a while, and if she’s a recluse like Rosie says, then neighbors won’t notice her missing either. Her professors will take notice of her absence, but they won’t think twice about it. College kids are always missing classes or dropping out.

  The only place where there might be an issue is her work.

  “Where does she work?” I ask.

  “At the hospital in Fairfax. She’s a registration clerk in the ER.”

  Hmm. They would definitely know she’s missing. “What days does she work?”

  “She works the three-to-eleven shift on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday.”

  “All right, so if I kill her tomorrow, that would mean no one would think twice about her missing until Wednesday, and she’d be long gone by then.”

  Rosie stops pacing again. “Vasi,” she says, sitting next to me. “You’re not really going to kill her, are you? I mean this is crazy. We’re not supposed to kill civilians. Mom and Dad would flip.”

  I begin to open my mouth to protest, but I know she’s right. Issuing an order to kill a female civilian is something I could never see my father doing. And my mother was the most gentle soul on the planet. But, I can’t let the Syndicate fall.

  I move Rosie’s hair away from her face. Staring back at me are those eyes. My mother’s eyes, and they are screaming at me to not do what I’m about to. I blink away the resistance.

  “Rosie,” I say. “These Hybrids are evolving into something we’ve never seen before. We could all be in danger. And not just us. The whole world. We have to do what’s necessary to stay intact and keep the people safe. The Readers see her as the reason for the Syndicate’s demise. I have to do it.”

  With her lips pressed together, she looks away from me and stands. I attempt to stand as well, but she puts her hand out to stop me.

  “Don’t. Just stay where you are. I don’t want to rationalize this anymore.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here’s her schedule and her address. I won’t speak of this with you again. And if you get another one of these assignments, you can find yourself another Scout.” She tosses the paper on my dresser and walks out, leaving me alone to think about doing what has previously been the unthinkable.

  I fall back on my bed and close my eyes. A million things pass through my brain, and none of them tell me what I need. Usually getting my assignment sparks some incentive or anger, giving me the urge to become a vicious assassin. But now there’s only confusion racing through me.

  Tonight is Saturday, and the realization that it’s the last shift Riley will pull before I eliminate her sinks in. My brain searches to find motivation in anything I’ve heard, but finds nothing. Frustrated, I decide to become my own Scout on this one, because I need to see something more to trigger my instincts.

  Do I know what that is? No. But it doesn’t matter. I’m restless.

  With my dagger in tow, I drive to the emergency room, hoping a plan will emerge after I see this girl with my own eyes. To see the person who’s going to destroy my family.

  It’s eight o’clock, and I don’t want to drag my feet. She gets off at eleven, and the last thing I want is to be hanging out in the ER long after she gets off. Without another thought, I lift my shirt and slide the knife across my side, being sure to move it in a zigzag motion so that it looks like I cut it on a tool and not a knife. I flinch, making it more jagged.

  Bleeding a little more than planned, I press a hand towel over my wound, get out of my car, and stagger my way into the ER. Concerned faces
stare back at me from behind the counter.

  I temporarily lift up my shirt and remove the towel. “I had an accident with a saw.”

  An older woman wearing baby blue scrubs with teddy bears on them looks down at my side. “It looks like you got yourself good.”

  I think she’s about to tell me to sit and wait my turn when she says, “Come along this way.”

  Another woman, also wearing some kind of animal-print scrubs, comes around with a wheelchair that I don’t want.

  “I can walk.”

  “No, it’s policy.”

  I look around, not liking the vulnerability, and search for anyone who could be my target, but no one looks under thirty. Frustrated, I plop into the chair, fighting the sharp sensation building in my side.

  I’ve only been to the hospital once before, and it was when Rosie broke her arm riding a bike. They made us sit out in the waiting room while they made triplicate copies of my father’s ID and insurance information before letting us anywhere near the back. The fact that we’re skipping that step makes me nervous.

  “Don’t you want my information?” I ask.

  “No. We’ll get that from you soon enough. For now, just take it easy.”

  We reach the triage room and I wait impatiently as the nurse takes my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. By the time she’s done, I’m really feeling my wound and kicking myself for being so impulsive. If I thought my mother would be upset with me before, she’d really be unhappy now. Sending myself to the ER probably has her turning over in her grave.

  “All right, sweetie, let’s get you set up in an exam room.”

  The nurse helps me onto the gurney, and I’m reluctant to look down at the damage I’ve inflicted.

  “I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.”

  I look at her like she’s insane and then remember that I’m the insane one who actually needs stitches. She helps me take off my shirt and replaces it with a hospital gown that opens from the front. At this point, I need no further motivation to kill this Riley person. If she were in this room right now, she’d be a goner. I’d have no problem. None whatsoever.

  “Okay, you’re all set,” she says, oblivious to my intentions. “The doctor will be in soon.”

  I cringe one more time as I lay back, closing my eyes.

  Eventually, a light knock sounds, as if someone is tapping a ring on metal. I open my eyes to see a girl pushing a computer on wheels into the room. It takes a minute to get my bearings, but I’m focused enough to see a very pretty face and the most perfectly curled hair I’ve ever seen. And the curls are not fake or stiff, but naturally spiraled and gently hanging down her back. I stare, my mouth open as I try to figure out the color. Blonde, no light brown.

  I clear my throat and look away.

  “Hi,” she says in the most innocent but efficient-sounding voice. I hear a sense of embarrassment in her tone. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s okay. Come in.”

  She wheels the squeaky cart over and parks it right in front of me, giving me no choice but to look at her again. I follow her plain, teal-green scrubs down to the badge dangling around her neck. Riley Bennett. My chest feels a bolt of electricity from the realization that I’m lying two feet away from my intended target, and right now she’s looking at me with a soft smile.

  Without thinking it through, I try to stand, but my mind can’t catch up with my limbs, and the room turns in an odd direction. I’m about to fall over when she jumps around her cart and grabs my biceps. Her long curls fling around her shoulders and into my face. A strong scent of mangos and strawberries races up my nose, and I feel a surge of complete confusion.

  “Whoa,” she says. Assertive, but gentle as she lays me back down. Her warm hand on my forehead calms me until she mentions going to get the doctor, and then my eyes fling open.

  “No,” I say. “I’m…” Her eyes make me cringe. Green with a hint of ocean darkness. “Fine... I’m fine.” I shake her hands off, not wanting to feel them on me. Not wanting to know what she feels like.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, okay, I just need to get your information.”

  With my eyes still closed, I give her my name, address, and insurance information. She sends my card through a mini scanner attached to her laptop on the cart and then studies it. “You have a hundred dollar co-pay.”

  I reach into my pants pocket and notice that she’s also not making eye contact with me, but her avoidance doesn’t seem devious. It seems nervous. It’s now that I notice her skin has a touch of caramel to it and also a hint of pink too. She’s blushing. I almost want to smile. In fact, against all control, I do.

  She takes my cash, hands me back my card, and tells me she’ll return with a receipt.

  She’s gone long enough for the doctor to make his rounds and tell me I’ll need stitches, and for a nurse to come in with a needle on a tray.

  “What’s that for?” I ask.

  “It’s a tetanus shot,” she replies dryly.

  Unbelievable.

  I’m thinking I should shoot myself for getting into this situation when the same gentle tap bounces against the metal door frame.

  “Come in,” the nurse says as she wheels a stool around to my right side.

  Riley comes back in carrying a receipt and casually walks over to me. I want to flinch away from the nurse because I hate shots, but I mentally brace myself. I even go as far as raising my sleeve to welcome it. With my gown pulled up far enough to expose my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Riley. Her face turns from flushed to colorless, which is shocking, because there’s nothing pale about her caramel complexion. With eyes wide, the receipt falls from her hand as she slowly backpedals.

  She looks as though she’s seen a ghost, but, last time I checked, there weren’t any in this room. And then I notice her eyes aren’t locked on any apparitions. They’re locked on my shoulder, or more specifically…my family tattoo.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I have to go.”

  Nearly tripping over her own feet, she darts out of the room, leaving me to get my shot and stitches, all the while wondering why my tattoo scared the living daylights out of my target.

  Chapter 6

  DAY OF ATTACK

  I’m back home, lying in bed with my side still aching from my self-inflicted wound. Many things are racing through my mind. Mostly pain and regret, as I wonder why I had to cut the muscle too. But then there’s confusion and frustration. Frustration because I can’t get images of Riley out of my mind, and confusion because I know something’s off.

  I turn over every detail, and the way she bolted at the sight of my tattoo tells me she knows about my family. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing more than a circle with maze-like lines inside. Not anything scary. So, in order for her to react like that, she had to know what it standsfor, and focusing on that does it. It makes me realize that she thought I was coming for her, because she does have intentions of ruining my family.

  I throw my covers back and dress. It’s after midnight, and I had every intention of killing her tomorrow night, but the urge to do it now is overwhelming me. And if I don’t go this very moment, I might lose the motivation.

  It takes me thirty minutes to cross into Virginia from my house. I’m actually relieved that I’m not killing a Hybrid. The stitches in my side would make it difficult to fight a true Hybrid. But this girl, I could handle with a thousand stitches.

  Her apartment is on the bottom level, and I immediately have thoughts of how unsafe it is for a young girl to live alone on the ground floor. Especially in such a heavily wooded area. What kind of parents did she have?

  I consider going through the window, but decide it would be just as easy to pick her lock. After making sure no one’s around, I easily slide into her foyer.

  It’s dark and I turn to silently close the door. Before I take my hand off the knob, the scent of mangos and strawberries sails up my nose just as I hear the
cock of a shotgun behind me. I want to pounce, but something in me feels pleasure that this won’t be such an easy kill. She’s actually prepared to protect herself.

  “Do not move,” she says, turning on the light.

  I can sense her nervousness, although she’s trying her hardest to sound strong.

  “How did you know I’d come?” I ask, trying not to smile.

  “Shut up,” she says, pushing the barrel into my back. “I knew it was only a matter of time. I’ve had nightmares about you.”

  Now I’m confused. “What?”

  “Well, not of you, but of your tattoo,” she says through gritted teeth.

  Now I sense distaste in her tone, and I translate it as hate for my family. She’s not afraid of me. She loathes me, and suddenly I have no doubt that she would kill me and all of my brothers if she could.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I say, estimating the distance between us, and within seconds I turn around, push the barrel away, and spin her into a chokehold. I swiftly reach for my dagger and press it to her throat.

  Mangos and strawberries. I hold my breath, knowing that the scent will haunt me forever. I close my eyes and shake the thought, leaving just enough of a pause for her to react. With as much strength as she has, she smashes her elbow into my stitches, causing my knees to buckle.

  I grab for my side and look up in time to see the shot gun in my face. Her finger is on the trigger and it’s shaking far more than I’d like. I curse myself for my weakness—for actually letting this girl overtake me.

  I put my hands up in submission, still holding my dagger. Her arms are shaking, and I know she’s going to do it.

  “What do you want from me?” she asks, her bottom lip nearly quivering.

  I think about an answer and then come up empty. “I don’t know.”

  “Damn it!” she shouts, the barrel now against my forehead.

  I’m certain she’s going to snap on me, but instead she breaks down and cries. Right there. Real tears. Sobbing into an emotional wreck with the gun still pointed at me.