"You haven't asked Ascii yourself?" Atticus asked.
"I've asked her," Zheng said. "She wouldn't answer me."
"Why do you think she'll talk to me?"
"Because she might mistake you for your brother."
How did she know about Ukiah? Was she here in Massachusetts because of Ukiah's jacket? If so, why was she chasing after his brother? How was Ukiah involved in the cult? And what did it mean for Atticus now that the trail led to him?
"Aliens and demons," Atticus scoffed. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Why not, Agent Steele? You are a half Ontongard, created by them to be a breeder. You were to be their tool for taking over the human race—only they misplaced you."
It took him a full minute before he could breathe again.
"Yesterday," Atticus countered as calmly as he could, "I was told I was a werewolf."
Why had it been so much easier to know that the bikers considered him inhuman? Because they couldn't truly inflict harm on him?
"Lately I've been keeping an open mind about old legends." Stunningly, Zheng seemed neither afraid of him nor hostile.
"What does the FBI plan to do about me?"
"Nothing," Zheng said. "The FBI doesn't know about any of this. Not about the Ae, the Ontongard, or about you and your brother. Only I know about this."
For a moment he was relieved, and then annoyed.
"You've got a group of madmen with a bioweapon they could set off in a city with a population of half a million, and you haven't reported it to your superiors?"
"I've let the FBI know that I suspect that the cult has biotoxins, type unknown, origin unknown. I've let them know that Boston is a possible target."
"You know a hell of a lot more than that."
"What am I supposed to say?" Zheng's voice went brittle with anger. "That the cult has stolen a device from aliens that they think are demons and are trying to prevent the Second Coming?"
Atticus glanced at Ru for suggestions. Ru shrugged, looking slightly panic-stricken.
"Currently they're wanted by the FBI for the kidnapping of five infants and the murder of two. ATF wants them for illegal weapons. NSA wants them for wiretapping and hacking government sites, including some top-secret spy satellites. Every law agency in this country is looking for them."
"This has the possibilities of being bigger than nine-eleven."
"I realize that. I also realize that the moment that aliens and demons are mentioned in my reports, my validity will be questioned. The cult has biotoxins. Their target is unknown. That anyone can believe and act on."
Agent Zheng glanced at her watch. "The public defender will be here shortly. If we want to get answers out of Ascii without him acting as a filter, we have to do it now."
Atticus studied Agent Zheng. If she was telling him the truth, their goals were identical—finding the cult. He considered the possibility that she was lying, but he couldn't ignore the simple fact that she'd known he wasn't human. "Okay, let's do this."
***
Atticus paused by the door into the questioning room, gazing through the two-way mirror to the room beyond. Sunlight shafted down from a high barred window, motes of dust making the light seem substantial as it cut down onto Ascii.
The cultist was as he remembered her from the turnpike: a pale, thin blonde. The black running suit had been exchanged for prison grays, making her look more colorless than before. She seemed nearly void of color, a watercolor stain on plain paper. Strangely the insubstantial look flattered her, her fragile features becoming ethereal. She sat composed at the questioning table—hands folded in her lap, staring off at the left-hand corner of the room, eyes unfocused.
She didn't seem like a ruthless killer, but Atticus had found that few murderers did.
Agent Zheng stood beside Atticus, a dark reflection of Ascii: black hair, expensive black pantsuit, focused with bitter intensity on the woman within. "There's no telling which way this conversation might go. You're going to have to stay sharp."
"Takahashi usually does the talking," Atticus said.
For some reason, that summoned a Mona Lisa smile, making Atticus aware of how tightly composed she kept herself. The smile slipped away.
Ru had been watching the exchange, and a small wrinkle of jealousy creased his brow.
Atticus opened the door, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.
Ascii didn't look up until he slid into the chair across from her, and when she did, stunned amazement took over her face. "You!"
That answered any question of her mistaking him for his brother.
"Oh, oh, forgive me," Ascii cried, hands hovering near her mouth in distress, as if she was torn between pleading for forgiveness and keeping her silence. "Please. Ice said we had to take you by force. It seemed so wrong to kill an angel of the Lord, but Ice said it was the right thing, but Ice wasn't touched by God like Core was, so . . . I'm sorry that we raised our hands against you."
What did you say to something like that? Atticus thought of Ukiah, battered, shot, bound and dead in the trunk, and rage went through him. Even a Dog Warrior shouldn't die like that. "It was an evil act."
"We weren't sure if you were really an angel. You're the first we've found. Even when the mice formed, we weren't sure if you weren't just a new type of demon, but then, when the police opened the trunk and you were gone, I knew. I knew. You'd ascended to heaven to take your place in the glory of God, and I was sore afraid."
He found himself standing, putting distance between himself and her.
Wan as she was, her eyes were vivid green, luminous in her pale face. "Forgive me, for I have sinned."
"Why would you do something like that? What if he . . . what if I were just a regular man?" And not a Dog Warrior."Thou shalt not kill; it doesn't get any clearer than that."
"Surely you of all beings can see the necessity—that the needs of the one or the few are nothing to the needs of the many. We are sacrificial lambs for the good of mankind. We will kill to protect, taking the sin upon ourselves to save the world. The demons are winning this war, and God might choose at any time to wipe the slate clean once more."
He wanted out of the room, but he still needed to ask Agent Zheng's questions. "Where is Loo-ae?"
"Ice has the founts."
"The founts? Is that what you call Loo-ae?"
She hesitated a moment, before asking. "Is that the wrong name?"
"We call them the Ae." When did it become "we"? Somehow with a flash of the badge, Agent Zheng had established herself as sane.
"Ohhh. I get it," Ascii said. "Loo-ae. Hu-ae. Doh. We've been calling them Huey and Louie. And there was Chewie and Dewey, but . . ." She eyed him, chewing on her bottom lip. "Core said they were like the Ark of the Covenant, most holy of relics. We called them the founts, because from them God's will would flow."
"Where are the founts?"
"I don't know. Ice didn't tell us where he was taking them. We were to go to the parking lot of the Salem train station and wait. We didn't know what vengeance we might be calling down upon ourselves in slaying you, so we who did the killing kept ourselves separate from the rest. And we were right to. Within hours I lost my child, and the others were dead, and despite our efforts, you were gone."
It would seem miraculous, except that Ukiah's ascension had been via Atticus's keen nose and Ru's lock picks. Ukiah had gone to a luxury beach house instead of heaven. If Atticus were inclined to believe in miracles, then one would be that he had been at the Ludlow rest stop, standing out in the parking lot, when the cultists arrived. Just a few seconds later, inside the Jaguar and out of the wind, he wouldn't have caught the smell of blood.