it, Edward? This is just . . . what? A virus he contracted before the meeting?”
His father had nodded firmly. “I’m sure that’s all it is. That would also explain why he’s had such difficulty coming to terms with the trial.”
“Yes, of course, darling. Time. That’s all he needs.”
“There he is,” Lucas said now, nodding toward a cluster of pedestrians to their right. “Tall, bald head. Nose ring.”
Farrell spotted him easily. The man looked like a biker, rough and dangerous. The cobweb tattoo on his throat was a well-known gang symbol.
“What did he do?”
“Serial rapist. Got off on the last charge on a technicality. Someone in Hawkspear brought Markus his name, told him that this douche is responsible for attacking her cousin and nearly killing her. We heard he was in New York, but he took a flight here two days ago. Lucky break for us.”
“Yeah.” The thought of capturing the guy filled Farrell with fevered anticipation. “You think we can take him down?”
“Maybe not gently, but we’ll take him. For now, we’ll follow and see where he goes. This can’t happen in public.” Lucas had already shown Farrell the special ring he wore on his middle finger. Pull off the top and a syringe appeared with a small dose of etorphine at the ready. One jab to the neck and seconds later they’d have an unconscious prisoner.
Farrell had been promised his ring in the next couple of days. He didn’t usually wear jewelry, but he’d make an exception this time.
They trailed after the guy for a minute in silence.
“Question,” Farrell asked.
“Yeah?”
“Did all of your senses improve after you got the second mark?”
“Hell yeah. Amazing, isn’t it? Like waking up from a coma and seeing the world for the first time. Like Dorothy entering Oz and everything’s in color.”
“No one warned me what a killer bright light would be, though.” Farrell winced as he remembered the unexpected pain he’d felt yesterday morning when he pulled up the blinds in his room. “I have to wear sunglasses all day.”
“Don’t you normally?”
“Sure, but I don’t have to. You know? I’d prefer not to go blind just by walking around in broad daylight if I can help it.”
Lucas nodded. “Same with me. We’re hypersensitive now. We’ve evolved.” He grinned. “But those quick moments of discomfort are a small price to pay for the chance to see in the dead of night, right?”
There was no argument there. “Absolutely.”
“So you feel good?”
“I feel renewed.” There had to be a better word for it, but it was the best he could come up with. “And I’m stronger. I know I am. It was no effort at all to smash in that scumbag’s face.” As he said it, he realized he didn’t feel even a sliver of remorse about that unplanned violent act. Just the opposite, actually. “I liked it. I liked seeing his blood flow and hearing his nose break. I liked knowing I was the one who’d hurt him. Is that wrong?”
“Not at all. Bastard got what he deserved, I’d say.”
Their target paused and moved his black-eyed gaze through the crowd. He made a right at the next intersection to follow a woman who’d broken away from her group of friends.
“Looks like he’s chosen his date for the evening,” Lucas said under his breath.
They kept at a healthy distance so they wouldn’t be noticed.
“Connor used to do this with you?” Farrell asked.
Lucas nodded. “Only once, but we made a good team.”
“Did he have any problems with it?”
“Not that I noticed.”
Other than the coincidental timing, Farrell hadn’t been able to find any real proof that Connor’s suicide had been related in any way to his induction into the circle.
So it had to be the girlfriend. Mallory had come to the funeral, her eyes red and puffy. The rest of the family had shunned her, but not Farrell.
“This is all my fault,” she’d whispered. “I shouldn’t have made things so final with him. I just needed some space to think about everything. But he’d been so cruel to me lately. . . . I don’t know. I thought he wanted to break up.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Farrell managed to reply. “He made the choice. He could have asked for help.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
Farrell pushed the memory out of his mind and drew a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He lit one, his mind drifting now toward his younger brother. “Here’s another question for you. Ever heard of the initiation mark not working properly?”
“No. Why?”
Farrell fought