“FBI.” Meng flashed his badge. He never tired of its effect on people. “We caught this one just in time.”

“Is she a . . . ?”

“I know,” Meng said. “She doesn’t look like much. But she’s as dangerous as they come.”

“Really?”

“I’m surprised you guys missed this one,” Meng said, maneuvering April in the direction of the exit.

The security officers looked at each other.

“Don’t worry, boys,” Meng said, pushing April ahead. “I’ll cover you this time.”

The two backseats of the limo faced each other, an inconvenience for Meng, who was forced to sit in the furnace of April’s harsh glare. “Stop it,” he finally said.

April kept staring.

“I’m serious.”

“Why are you doing this?” April asked. “Whatever it is you want, it can’t be worth killing people.”

“That’s a pretty narrow viewpoint.”

“It’s my viewpoint, so, yes, it’s very narrow.”

“And that’s the problem,” Meng said. “You’re only thinking about yourself.”

“I’m thinking about my family.”

“So . . . what? A few more people? Three? Four?”

April returned to staring.

Meng laughed. “In the early days, the Order of the Dragon killed hundreds, even thousands, to keep its secret safe. You. Me. We don’t matter. Our lives mean nothing.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Haven’t you heard of the greater good?”

“This isn’t the greater good.”

Meng leaned over and opened a small, refrigerated compartment, pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap, creating a sound like a cracking spine. “I think Cornelius would disagree with you.”

“Cornelius can—”

Meng put his hand up. “We’re here,” he said as the vehicle screeched to a halt. “You can express your thoughts about Cornelius directly to his face.” He opened the door and jumped out.

April followed with her hands still held securely behind her back. She tried not to fall as she exited the vehicle. A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her off the seat.

“Meet Cornelius,” Meng said.

April drew in her breath. There was something about him—the translucence of his skin, the ocean-deep embrace of his gaze, the twist of his smile—that let her know she was in the presence of evil.

“It’s good to finally meet you, April.”

The way he said her name made her skin crawl, like a million tiny roaches had just been unleashed in a race across her body.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Cornelius said, fishing in his jacket pocket.

April wanted to decline the gift, wanted to scream at him, wanted to cry. But she found she could do nothing.

Cornelius held up a syringe like a boy admiring a snake he’d found in the garden. “I really should have changed the needle,” he said. “But I figure, why? You all have the same blood.”

He stepped forward and with one swift thrust, plunged the needle into her neck.

Twenty-two

twenty-two