“Over the years we—with the help of Father Nicodemus—have managed to weaken their effectiveness by feeding them lies about who and what we are. About our strengths and weaknesses.”

“Disinformation,” Vox supplied. “Stakes, crosses, sunlight, that sort of shit?”

“Yes.”

“Nicodemus is a tricky bastard. What about garlic?”

Grigor did not answer.

Vox said, “I heard a rumor that some other group is gunning for you too. Arklight?”

Grigor hissed like a snake. “Whores and daughters of whores.”

“Maybe,” said Vox grudgingly. “Whores with high-powered sniper rifles, though.

With a black-nailed finger, Grigor pointed into the darkness in the direction of the wretched weeping. “They were our whores once. There is not one of them who has not screamed for us.”

“Charming,” murmured Vox. A wave of nausea swept through him and he stopped to steady himself on a wall. “When do we start the treatments? I’m losing a lot of ground here.”

The King of Thorns smiled.

“The treatment will make you scream,” he murmured.

“Then I’ll fucking scream,” snarled Vox.

The word “scream” echoed through the endless darkness.

A challenge. A promise.

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Homa Hotel

51 Khodami Street, Vanak Square

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 9:06 a.m.

The sniper’s name was not Violin.

But it would do. For Joseph Ledger and for this crisis, it would do. The name meant something to her from a long time ago. Back when she meant something to herself. When she had a life instead of a mission.

Violin.

Even the sound of it in her mind was bittersweet. A memory of a girl who laughed freely and who thought that all the monsters in the world were in storybooks. Back before her eyes were opened.

Violin. She had liked the way Ledger had repeated it. He had truly tasted the name, the way a sensualist would. That intrigued her. She already knew that he was a passionate man, that was clear from the profiles Oracle had read to her. Ledger was a sensuous man, and a tragic one. He wore death and grief like garments.

And Violin understood that very well.

What she did not understand was why she had lingered to watch him, or worse yet, why she had called him. It felt correct while she was dialing, and yet in every way open to her analytical mind it was wrong. A tactical and strategic error and a clear break with Arklight protocol. Mother would be furious.

No, she corrected herself, Mother will be furious. The call was now part of her phone log, which meant that it was part of the mission file. Lilith would never overlook it.

“Oracle,” she said aloud.

The screen on her small computer lit up with its smiling Mona Lisa.

“Oracle welcomes you.”

“I want to enter a new code name.”

“Voice recognition is active. What code name would you like to enter?”

“Violin.”

“Is this for file or field use?”