the essence. We are all in danger, and none of us will be safe until this serial killer is brought to justice.”
“So let the police handle it, that’s their job,” Alex said. “I can look after myself. I don’t want to be involved in any of this.”
Benjamin bristled at her words. “You are already a part of this,” he said harshly. “There is nothing connecting the murders that can be traced by the police .” The last word was filled with no small amount of scorn. “Arthur Brennan, as crude an instrument as he might be, is the only tool at our disposal. Point him in the right direction, and he will lead the police to our hunter.”
“Why me?”
“Because he is utterly incapable of reason. Brennan will never accept my word. He holds his lies too close to his heart.”
“And when this is over,” Alex said, “do you plan on killing him?”
“I fail to see how that is any of your concern.” His eerily glowing eyes bored holes in her.
Alex’s gaze shifted away to the bed. “Henry? What is his part in all of this?”
Benjamin regarded his ailing grandson with pity. “He is as much a part of this as you or I. Until the serial killer is caught and Brennan himself is brought to justice for his actions, my grandson remains.”
“You don’t think it’s cruel to keep him alive like this?” she asked, gesturing to the life support equipment piled around his bed.
“Killing is a mortal sin,” Benjamin said. His eyes met hers, and they carried a different kind of intensity this time. “Death leaves a mark on the soul, one which cannot be washed away and which remains in place until it is our time to be judged. Mine is sullied without a doubt, but my actions have always been for the greater good. I am confident in my decisions.” He placed a spotted, wrinkled hand on Henry’s shoulder. “If I took the life of my own blood, I couldn’t—I would never be able to live with myself.”
“It could be a kindness to your grandson,” Alex suggested.
Benjamin refused to acknowledge what she said. “Will you speak with Arthur Brennan?”
If the old man before her was right, Brennan was her best chance at remaining alive. Without his help, a serial killer would remain at large. Someday—perhaps not today or tomorrow, but at some time in the future—that murderer would track her down for what she was. Alex didn’t know what she was getting involved in, but somebody was hunting people with powers, and she was a pragmatic survivor to the end.
“Fine,” she said eventually. “I’ll talk to him. Any idea where he lives?”
Chapter Eleven
Brennan woke early, just as the murky black of night was giving way to a wan gray morning.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and picked his laptop up off the floor. It turned itself on at his touch, and he navigated to his email. He frowned at the results and refreshed the page again to be sure. No new messages.
It was odd, but he had butterflies in his stomach ever since he had sent a private message to Clara Thompson. He hadn’t approved of the idea of online dating, yet now he was refreshing his inbox like a lovesick teenager.
I need to see a shrink. He closed the laptop again and rose from bed. It was cold out from beneath the blankets, and he quickly covered himself with heavier clothes. He heard the distinct sound of dry cereal being poured into a bowl and headed for the kitchen.
“I sent a message to a prospective date,” Brennan announced.
Greg looked unimpressed. “Congratulations.”
“Remember that agreement we reached last night? The one where I meet beautiful women in exchange for you finding a job?”
“Oh, right.” His nephew sighed. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
In spite of the wording, it didn’t sound like sarcasm. “Good,” Brennan said. “Hey, I’ve got to run.”
“Did Sam get back to you with something?”
“No, not yet. But I realized last night that I’ve been looking at this case all wrong.”
Greg shoved