The doctors did not catch it during my daily physical testing and blood draw. I detect no side effects. As for the kill switch . . . She placed a napkin to her mouth and discreetly spit a small metal sphere about the size of a ball bearing into it. The toxic container was a simple yet deadly device. Bia put it back in her mouth, and willed it back through the roof of her mouth, through bone and tissue, until it was back in its proper resting spot inside her brain. It is simple to remove.

All of the demons heard and understood. Though their faces remained expressionless masks, there was rejoicing around the table. The kill switch problem was solved. After millennia of torment, and months of slavery, their freedom was at hand. Kurst was pleased. They would allow Stricken to obliviously continue building bodies for the host, and once he had an army, they would strike out on their own. Putting up with the mortal’s nonsense was galling, and demons were not known for their patience.

Why wait, General? Your new ally would allow us more freedom than the albino, and surely his cultists could find the resources to replicate Project Nemesis. I worked with the Condition before. Their arcane abilities are remarkable. Why wait for the whims of another creator, when we can create life ourselves?

That was an excellent idea.

Bia’s claws receded, but she let her hand linger on his thigh. Eventually the cameras would observe that demonstration. Let them. It would give the psychologists something to talk about.

* * *

Franks chugged down the dose. At least he could drink without it spilling out the side of his face now that they’d stretched some extra skin over the gash and stapled it down. The burning hit his stomach and then radiated out through his limbs, burning the discordant bits of flesh into one coherent whole. It was gag-inducing, but MHI’s version of the Elixir would do.

“According to everything I know, I can’t figure out what this stuff is supposed to do.” Trip Jones’ dossier said that he had been a high school chemistry teacher before being recruited, so he at least knew enough not to totally ruin the mixture. “How is it?”

“It tastes like swill,” Franks said, grimacing through clenched teeth.

Jones bit off an angry response. None of the Hunters wanted Franks hiding here, but Jones especially seemed to dislike him. Some humans just had an instinctual sense about Franks’ true nature.