has been tampered with,” Stan said thoughtfully.
“His memory?” Colt echoed. “You’re saying he has amnesia?”
“In a sense, but it’s highly selective, as one would expect from a telepathic manipulation. I asked him a few questions while the drugs were kicking in, and it’s clear he has no memory of Peter, or of his kidnapping.”
“What?” Andrew cried. “How is that possible?”
“Peter is remarkably powerful,” said Stan. “We can’t even fathom the full extent of his abilities. I’m sure for him it was, for lack of a better word, child’s play.”
“So what does he remember, exactly?” asked Colt.
“He thinks he hit his head painting his new apartment,” said Stan. “Needless to say, I encouraged that assumption.”
“This is bullshit,” Andrew growled. “He deserves to know the truth.”
Stan looked uneasy with the direction the conversation was taking. “I’m just the messenger. Beyond keeping him healthy, it’s not my business, but there is the matter of Harrison Vaughn…”
“Roland is taking care of the body,” said Colt.
“That’s good to hear, but I was referring to the fact that a Plague Doctor is dead. And my son is the one who killed him.”
“No one will know about Ronnie’s involvement,” Colt assured him. “If this gets out, I’m taking the fall for all of it.”
“I appreciate that,” Stan said, his gaze softening. “But as you know, Plague Doctors pass on their abilities through death. Has Ronnie shown any sign of…?” He trailed off, as if he didn’t know what the right word was. Colt couldn’t blame him, either. Ronnie had gone to grab coffee from the hospital cafeteria and check in with Roland for an update, so it was probably the only chance he’d have to ask for a while.
“No,” said Colt. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Hasn’t what?” Andrew asked, looking between them.
Colt sighed. This wasn’t a conversation he’d wanted to have in front of Andrew, but it was panning out to be that kind of day. “Plague Doctors aren’t like other variants. Their power isn’t genetically transmitted and activated when they become Alphas, it’s passed on when a new candidate is chosen to kill the Plague Doctor and take his place.”
“Seriously?” Andrew seemed to be waiting for a punchline. Colt wished there was one. “So that twenty-year-old kid is going to turn into one of them?”
“No,” Colt said firmly. “I told you, for all intents and purposes, Ronnie is as human as you and Jason.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” Andrew pressed.
His line of questioning was starting to get under Colt’s skin. He liked to think he had a pretty long fuse, but there were a few topics that ate it all away at once, and Ronnie was one of them. “You worry about your business and I’ll handle mine.”
“Will you?” Andrew quipped. “Because if it wasn’t for a stroke of luck, you’d be dead right now.”
“Yeah, and so would Peter,” said Colt. “Trust me, luck had nothing to do with it.”
“He’s right,” said Stan, clearly regretting his decision to bring the matter up in front of Andrew. Colt knew he had been working a double shift and wasn’t functioning at optimal. “When ghouls eat ghoul flesh before awakening, it doesn’t turn us into Alphas. I suppose there’s no reason to think Ronnie would be affected by the Plague Doctor mutation.”
Andrew didn’t look convinced, but he met Colt’s challenging stare and finally looked away with a snort. “Guess it’s more of a problem for you than me, anyway. Peter, on the other hand… How exactly are we supposed to find that little freak?”
“We’re not,” said Colt. As much as it grated on his nerves, it was the truth. Peter wouldn’t be found unless and when he wanted to. Besides, Peter’s killing spree was all about getting his attention, and now he knew he had it. “But I have no doubt I’ll be hearing from him soon.”
“What was he talking about before, about how Vaughn found out about you?” Andrew asked suddenly.
Colt frowned. “I don’t know.”
Andrew looked like he didn’t believe him, but it was the truth. Before the conversation could go any further, Ronnie came back carrying a tray loaded with coffee and all the fixings. “Okay, I know Colt takes it black and Dad takes it with three creams, but I have no idea about you, so I just brought everything,” he said, handing Andrew a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” the DA sighed, taking the cup.
Colt gave him a pointed look. Crazed killers didn’t exactly care whether someone liked one cream in their coffee or two. Andrew just rolled