“No!” Gabi gasped. She didn’t think Cleo would hurt her, but if Mathew did something impulsive to free her, things would get out of control quickly. She had to keep him safe, but her head was growing light, and she didn’t know how long she could remain conscious. Her traumatized lungs were unequal to the task of resisting the crushing pressure of Cleo’s arm.
“Give us the girl and Fiske and we’ll take you in alive,” Ames said, picking up Mathew’s gun. “Otherwise I’ll shoot you myself.”
“The boy drowned,” Cleo stated. “He’ll be returned to his family so they can mourn him properly.” Shocked murmurs and an uneasy shuffling broke out among the Witnesses.
“As if you could be trusted to honor the dead,” Ames snarled, taking a step toward Cleo. She pressed the knifepoint deeper into Gabi’s throat, clutching the girl tighter still. Gabi’s head began to pound as Marnie muttered a violent curse.
“Tell you what, Burtie,” Cleo said. “If you tell your Witnesses the truth about Unitas, I’ll call off my troops and send you on your way.”
Ames cut his eyes toward his teams and snarled at Cleo. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cleo rolled her eyes. “Give it up, Burtie. You and I both know that your advance teams have been raiding FCC warehouses for years to keep the fellowship supplied, then pillaging to create the myth of savage Tribes and now these ‘Lilim.’ Tell your Witnesses how you and the council have known about the Free Coastal Confederacy from the beginning but kept it under wraps with your reign of terror. I hear you’ve done quite a job of it out east too. Almost pulled it off. I guess I taught you too well.”
The Witnesses grew more restive, shooting baffled looks at Ames.
“Sir, what is she talking about?” Sykes asked, lowering her weapon. “Is it true about the advance teams?”
“Hold your targets!” Ames thundered. “She’s a traitor in league with the devil! There is no FCC! Follow her and see for yourself, but you’ll be walking right into a slaughter at the hands of the Lilim!”
“Is that so?” Cleo asked, her tone as light as if they were chatting over tea. “Well, let’s hear from an eyewitness, shall we? Front and center, Ingles.” All heads turned as the thin figure who had delivered the news of the Witnesses’ approach stepped forward into the firelight. He withdrew a kerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the paint from his skin, revealing the gaunt face of Marcus, the living skeleton from the Care Center.
Gabi gasped, her knees turning to water. That was why she’d recognized the soldier’s eyes, though the last time she had seen them, they’d been bugged out with bloodlust and hunger for his friend’s flesh. He was more filled out, but his body remained frail, and horror still haunted his face.
“My name is Marcus Ingles,” the man said, turning to face the Witnesses. “I am a border patrol officer with the FCC. My partner, Nicolas, and I were attacked one day out on patrol. We were badly beaten, abandoned, then found by an advance Witness team and brought back to the Care Center in Alder Branch. Nicolas died from his injuries, which I now know was because he was never treated. My wounds were tended to, but I began to starve. The doctors told me it was because I had contracted a terrible illness that caused my body to reject food. They put me on some kind of dialysis machine that altered my blood somehow. When I was on the verge of death, they brought in Nicolas, and—” Marcus covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.
“That will do, Ingles,” Cleo said. “You’re dismissed.”
“This is obscene,” Ames brayed. “I’m not going to stand here and let you poison my team against me!” He charged toward Cleo, but before his first footfall landed, Marcus lashed out and disarmed him, catching him in a headlock and pressing the gun to his temple.
“Genetic modification was the fellowship’s strategy to justify a seek-and-destroy mission to exterminate the last holdouts,” Cleo explained to the shocked Witnesses. “Unitas has been losing ground for years, so they decided to make use of their secret weapon. You see, they found a way to reactivate traits that get suppressed in human DNA as we adapt to our environments, and I’m not talking fur coats and webbed feet. I’m talking cannibalism.”
Gabi’s stomach roiled at the memory of Marcus’s bloody, grasping lips, and the temple in Spruce.
Cleo ratcheted her grip tighter. “By altering DNA, Unitas scientists hoped to create the perfect demon to strike such fear in the hearts of their fellows that no defensive action would be judged too severe. They did their Frankenstein work, and when they were sure they had their cannibals, they planted them around the FCC. They assumed the modified humans would wreak havoc and send people running to Unitas for shelter. They needed to centralize everyone before the FCC could get to them. That’s why the outer branches have been so ill-supplied in the last decade or so. The council was trying to starve them closer.”
“Oh God,” Marnie moaned, going a sickly green. “That’s why those poor people at Spruce looked so torn up. Cannibals.”
Gabi wanted to reach out a hand to steady her friend, but it was all she could do to keep her own eyes open as her lungs became vacuums.
“No,” Walker said. “The people who attacked Spruce, and Marcus and Nicholas when they were on patrol, were advance Witness teams in disguise. They burned, killed, then set wild dogs loose on the place to make it look like the ‘Lilim’ had paid a visit. It’s a strategy they’ve been employing for months.”
Jordan’s face went slack and he sank to his knees.
“On your feet, recruit, that’s an order!” Ames bellowed, his arms restrained by two of Cleo’s soldiers while Marcus kept the gun at his temple. Jordan looked directly at Ames; then he
