“Oh, no,” I murmured, dread rising.
He finished transferring the minced root into the bowl then busied himself with tasting the concoction before adding a final touch of what looked like black salt. I didn’t have to be a genius to understand that he needed a moment to compose himself. I doubted this was a subject he talked about much.
“I’ll spare you the horror of the details,” he said, and I suspected the short version was more to spare himself the horror of it. “The mob. People, friends and associates I’d known for years. So savage. So full of hate.”
A shudder ran through me. Though what he described happened a long time ago, he might as well have been painting a picture of my worst nightmares. Louisiana backwoods justice for the monster that ate Grampa Joe’s brain. “How’d they find out?”
“My wife.” His voice grew thick. “I never told her what I was. When she found a cask of brains in the winter cellar, she exposed me.”
Throat tight, I laid my hand on top of his. If he had told her, would she have been swayed to accept his way of living, or would she have turned on him then and there? It could’ve gone either way no matter how deep the relationship. What if Jane had turned on Pietro? There’d been no time to think about it in the moment, but damn, it could have been disastrous. Double kudos to Jane for being super cool.
Dr. Nikas’s hand trembled under mine as he spoke again. “They forced brains on me as they mutilated, broke, and burned my body by every means they could imagine. And they had vivid imaginations.”
Chilled to my bones, I squeezed his hand, silently grateful he’d decided to omit the graphic details. What words were adequate? None, and so I settled on the simple, “I’m so sorry.”
He turned his hand over and closed his fingers around mine, silent for at least a full minute. “They broke me, Angel,” he finally said in a voice choked with emotion, and I knew he meant far more than his physical body. “I don’t know how long it went on. Forever. Eventually they piled wood and brush around me for a final burning, but it never happened.”
I let out a breath I’d been holding, like reaching the turning point in a book when you know everything’s going to be okay. “What stopped them?” I asked, genuinely curious about what could put a halt to a situation so out of control.
“He did,” Dr. Nikas said with a nod toward Pierce’s room. “He emerged from the darkness like an avenging angel, a mercenary captain and his company. In moments he and his men scattered the mob like dry leaves in the wind. He cut me down, told me it would never happen again. I’ve been with him ever since.”
“Pietro. Oh, wow.”
He wiped a stray tear away with the back of his free hand. “Yes. Strong, capable, fearless, and feared.”
“In other words a badass mofo.” A few days ago it would’ve been impossible for me to imagine Pietro Ivanov as a mercenary captain. But now that he had the form of Pierce Gentry I sure as hell could. And hell, what better place to get a supply of brains than a battlefield? “He hasn’t budged off that badassness one little bit, has he?”
“No, he has not,” Dr. Nikas stated. “The Pietro identity proved quite challenging for him, as he chose to adopt Pietro’s relatively tame and passive lifestyle in order to ensure a seamless transition. It meant he had to enlist others to conduct business he would normally do himself.”
My respect for Pietro expanded. He’d willingly taken on a life that didn’t suit him for the sake of securing a steady—and mostly non-violent—source of brains for his people. He sure as hell wasn’t a squeaky clean, shiny hero, but he was turning out to be a tried-and-true tarnished one. “With you as his sounding board and moral bullshit meter, you two seem to make a good team.”
Dr. Nikas laughed. “When he listens to me.” He kept hold of my hand even though the tension had eased. Between his story and what I knew of him from the lab, I had the feeling he truly was a people person, a healer who couldn’t be around people, and probably had little physical contact with anyone. How sucky was that?
Dr. Nikas squeezed my hand then reluctantly released it. A wave of sadness swept through me as if I’d lost a comfy blanket, and I took a deep breath to shake off the feeling.
The sound of the garage door rumbled through the house, and about half a minute later Brian came in from the garage. He wore a leather jacket over dark jeans instead of his typical suit, which was so out of character I’d have probably passed right by him on the street without recognizing him.
“That was a pain in the ass, but it’s done,” he announced.
I stood and stretched as Dr. Nikas poured the pale blue contents of the bottle into the bowl of glop. “Did you bring home something fun?” I asked.
“Sure did,” Brian said. “A cargo van and a small dumpster.”
“Do I want to know what this plan is?”
“Probably not,” he said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. “How about the basics of what we’re up against.”
“Our best estimate is at least a dozen of Saberton’s Special Security Team,” Brian told me. “In general, they’re hardcore pros handpicked for company loyalty and willingness to do whatever is required.” A muscle in his neck briefly tensed. “Out of the SST, a select few who apparently have an extra dose of fuck you about human rights are assigned to work directly with zombies.”
“Zombies don’t even count as human to them,” I said with a black scowl. The memory of my own capture was still crystal-clear, including how much Mr. Perfect Eyebrows and the others had gotten off on humiliating and abusing me. “I hate those fuckers.”
“No argument from me,” Brian said, matching my scowl. “Some of them use torture as entertainment. I’m ready to bury the lot.”
“I’ll bring the shovel,” I said. “What’s next?”
“A chat with Saber. Want to come with me?”
I gave him a dubious look. Chatting with Andrew wasn’t exactly on the top of my list of fun things to do. “Depends. What are we talking about?”
Brian’s smile faded. “I had a talk with Mr. Iv—Gentry. We need to put a little heat on Saber to determine where he stands concerning his sister.”
“You mean so we know whether or not Naomi should see him in person?” At his nod I continued, “No matter what, I think he needs to be told his mother knew Julia wasn’t dead. That should piss him off and rock the happy family when he goes home.” If he goes home, I added silently. That wouldn’t happen if Pierce considered him a serious threat. But Brian’s broad smile told me I was right on target. “What about Naomi?” I asked. “She needs to have a say in this.”
“When she gets back from the clinic,” he said. “My hope is that our little interview will help her decide what to do.”
“Gotcha.” I was totally happy to gather info to help Naomi out, especially since it was a lot like being nosy, which I was already pretty damn good at.
“Not to mention, I figure this could be a good start to your training,” he added.
“Training?” Was I supposed to run around the house a few times before talking to Andrew? I gave him a baffled look. “I’m lost.”
“After you outed Dr. Pennington’s bodyguard, I promised both you and him that I’d cover the basics,” Brian explained. “Interview and interrogation isn’t really a basic, but it’ll help you think on your feet, and it’s as good a place as any to start.”
“Oh! Right.” Whew, no running or pushups. Yet. “Sure, totally up for it.” Especially if it could keep me from having another incident like the one with Victor and Jane.
Brian’s expression grew more serious. “We also need to see what information can be wrung from Saber that will help us rescue Kyle and Marcus.”