Chapter Eighty-Six - Harper
“Let go of my hand, you bitch.” I yank my arm out of her grasp and turn, my ridiculous full skirts on this elaborate gown swirling at my feet in a whoosh.
“Where is he?” Mrs. Fenici spits. Her breath is laced with alcohol and her hands are trembling as she points her finger in my face. I smack it away and she tries to grab me again, the bangle bracelets on her frail wrist jangling. “That is not my son out there. Where is my son?”
“That is your son, you drunken bitch.” And then I look over at the door and spy Sasha. I want to smile and give her a hug but she looks like she’s all business. The witch turns to follow my gaze and Sasha gives her a little wave.
“Hello there, Mrs F. Do you need help, Harper?” she says in her sweetest little-girl voice.
I almost smile. “No, thank you, Sasha. I’ve got this. Why don’t you go find Nick and take care of his little problem.”
“Will do,” she quips, and exits through the door just as quietly as she came in.
“What are you doing? I demand to see my son. Who did you marry last night?”
“Not the son you think,” I say in a low voice. “And you’re not going to leave this room, I’m afraid. So you won’t be seeing anyone.”
“Right,” she spits through her teeth. “I’m—”
“You’re sick,” I say, cutting her off. “What kind of mother sends her sons off to kill? What kind of mother sends her daughter off to kill?”
“Your James did that.”
“No.” I shake my head. “My James owed your assassin a life debt. He had no choice. You’re the one responsible for all this because you were so power-hungry or weak-minded, you didn’t have the wherewithal to resist selling out your children.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I slap her so hard across her mouth she sways sideways and falls to the ground.
“You bitch,” she seethes.
I step forward and kick her in the teeth with my pretty white shoe that matches my pretty white dress. Her head crashes back against the floor this time, her legs sprawled out in front of her.
I lean down and grab her dark hair and look her in her green eyes as I yank her head back. “It’s unfortunate that I never learned to shoot, because then you’d go quickly. But the only weapons I have at the moment are my hands. So I’m going to take your life with those.”
She thrashes her legs and waves her arms around, trying to land a punch, I think. But this woman, Jesus. It’s almost like a lioness toying with a mouse. She is weak and pathetic. I dodge her attempts, but even the couple that land don’t hurt bad enough to make me wince.
And then I have a fleeting thought. Why? Why am I such a highly trained killer?
She sees this change in me and smiles.
“He set you up too, darling. Just like I set up James. You’ve been programmed, dear. You’ve been programmed to kill, just like all the other Company contracts.”
Contracts. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re here to kill me, darling. Going through with it only brings you farther into the fold. Why do you think we pay such close attention to Company children, Harper? Because we love them? Please,” she laughs. “Please. I’ve been told you’re naive, but surely you understand what you are? What you were born to be? You’re a killer, Miss Tate. One of the secret ones. One of the Zeros brought up in a loving family. But a killer nonetheless. He called us all here to die by your hands, just like last summer on the ship. Your father is the evil one in this world.”
“Then why come?”
“Because I have someone here representing me as well. And your father should know better than to double-cross me. We both have daughters, Harper. And mine is killing your brother. Right now. But she’s not the only delegate I brought to this party, sweetie. Your father and I talked about joining forces. Becoming one powerful family by wedding you and Vincent. Our last hope for a compromise. But then… you killed my delegates. And they let you get away. Your father protected you, even smoothed things over with Vincent. But I knew better.” She reaches up to tap her head just like James did last night. “I know everything.”
When she echoes his words I panic.
“And his secret mission—the one he’s been on for years but has no clue about—is to kill everyone at this party, Harper. James didn’t come up with this plan, dear. I did. And you walked right into it. You—”
I snap her neck just as easily as James snapped One’s and then I let her drop to the floor and go searching through the desk until I find what I need to finish my job here tonight.
A gun.
And I guess she’s right.
I’m a goddamned killer.
But at least I’m not a goddamned liar.
Because she’s full of shit. I don’t believe he’s been programmed. I know my James is damaged, but he’s not a ridiculous robot programmed to kill.
He kills of his own free will, or not at all.