Evenfall (5 page)

There was a beat of silence before Boyd asked, "If the existence of the Agency is so highly classified, why was I invited here?"

Her gaze was steady on him. "You will audition for an open position."

She didn't ask him if he wanted to do this, she didn't suggest it-- she simply ordered him. This was unsurprising to him, as she had been that way for the majority of his life, but he did find what she said to be unexpected.

"A position?"

"An agent has recently been released from imprisonment and he requires supervision."

Boyd's eyebrows twitched slightly, the first expression he'd shown. "Imprisonment?" he echoed, gaze subtly sharpening on her as he tried to understand the situation.

"The agent in question is an adept assassin," she said calmly, as if it were normal to be speaking of such things. "However, he has shown extreme levels of aggression in the past. He was deemed unfit for service and has been sedated for several years, until he was recently cleared to be reinstated."

Boyd was silent a moment. "What does the position entail?"

"There are a number of undesirable qualities that the agent in question has shown in the past. He has been known to go on rampages, to compromise the mission's success by reacting poorly to certain stimuli, and to completely ignore mission parameters. He must be watched and controlled at all times."

Vivienne summarized the situation with very little inflection. "The open position is for his partner, who will act in a mediatory role, ensuring that he does not cause further issues for the Agency by engaging in unwanted activity. His partner will have additional roles aside from this, which will be disclosed at a later date."

"Based on the description, I have no qualifications for such a position." Boyd's eyebrows drew down slightly. "I don't understand why I would be chosen."

"You have been nominated, not chosen," she said coolly, her eyes narrowing and mouth tightening. He couldn't tell if she thought he was imbecilic for the comment or if there was another reason she seemed displeased. "You and a number of other candidates will go through a rigorous process of testing to determine if you have the assets necessary for the position. Should you be hired, you will receive further information at that time."

Boyd had assumed, based on the position of authority she seemed to have, that she was the person in charge. "This decision isn't yours to make?"

"No."

She was looking at him in distaste and he sat back slightly in his chair, not knowing what he had done to receive such an expression. It was possible it was a sore topic for her. He knew she was devoted to her job above all else and her aspirations had always been to move up within her profession. Having to admit that she was not the highest authority likely did not sit well with her. It was equally possible she thought he was an idiot who should have understood this all from context from the beginning.

"I am here to ensure the Agency remains a secret," she continued after a moment. "I ensure that Agency activities do not find their way into the public realm by way of the media. My jurisdiction primarily falls along those lines as well as anything to do with the public or external interactions. My position as the Inspector leaves me second-in-command to the Marshal and it is he who will make the ultimate decision."

Boyd watched her for a moment before he inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Would I return to this compound for the tests?"

"The process begins tomorrow morning at seven-thirty," she said evenly. "You will remain on the compound in temporary quarters overnight."

His distant, golden brown eyes focused on her a little more clearly at the unexpected development. The same anxiety as before resurfaced. He hadn't slept anywhere but in his house for years, nor had he been around other people on a consistent basis. The idea was disturbing.  "I'm not allowed to leave?"

"That is not a problem," she replied curtly, speaking with the strong confidence that a person typically reserved only for their own lives, not presuming to speak for others. "You have no reason to leave the compound. I am well aware that your life is meaningless."

Boyd was silent. He couldn't argue with that assessment.

"Do you have any questions?" Vivienne asked after a moment but once again Boyd didn't respond. She quirked an eyebrow. "You do not wish to even know the name of the agent?"

Boyd shook his head faintly; just enough that his hair shifted against his shoulders. "That information is useless unless I'm hired."

There was the briefest flash of what may have been satisfaction in her eyes. However, the emotion was there and gone in the blink of an eye and Boyd wasn't certain he'd seen it at all. There were so few times in his life that he could recall his mother showing anything resembling positive responses to him that he was inclined to believe it had been a trick of his imagination.

"Very well," Vivienne said briskly, already flicking her gaze away as her mind moved on to other matters. "Guards will be in the waiting room shortly to bring you to your next destination. You will stay there until you are contacted in the morning. I trust you will have no qualms with doing nothing for the remainder of the day."

The way she said it made it clear she felt he did nothing with his day regardless so it would not be new to Boyd. He could tell it was a rhetorical comment so he didn't respond. A short breath of silence passed before she said coolly, "Dismissed."

Boyd quietly stood and left her office, automatically taking care to silently close the heavy mahogany door behind him. He didn't glance at Ann or look around before he headed to one of the sleek-lined and not entirely comfortable chairs along the glass windows. He sat there and waited, not looking at anything in particular.

It didn't even occur to him to take the time to consider whether he would do this or not. He had no reason to refuse. Being on this compound or at his house was the same thing to him. Whether he joined a covert government agency or whether he had continued his life having never known of its existence were equally unimportant.

He had nothing and no one to exist for; he'd given up his desire to live years ago and with it had gone all sense of hope or belief in a future that was anything but numb and pointless. Whether he lived or died, whether he was here or there, whether he was healthy or hurt-- it meant nothing to him.

Memories had become like vivid ghosts around every corner of his house. Perhaps the worst were in his bedroom, which was silent now but once had held the quiet breathing of two who cared more about each other than anything else, and their hesitant, questioning movements for more.
For a long time when he'd lain in his bed, if he hadn't experienced terrible flashbacks then he'd been caught by haunting memories. The feel of warm, bare skin against his and of blond curls sifting through his fingers. Blue eyes hovering over his and a smile playing on lips that moved down to press against his own. Touches that had made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt since.
If there was a hell beyond what he knew, he would welcome it. He had no reason not to.

After all, a life without living was simply a death without dying. What more was there to fear or hate but life, endless life, with no respite?

Chapter 2

The general population within the Agency tended to expect Sin to act psychotic. That fact was evident enough by the looks he received when Officer Gerant came to escort him from the Fourth floor to the upper levels of the Tower.

Gerant unwisely chose to take the elevator. To say the Agency staff that had occupied it reacted strongly would have been an understatement. Some gawked at Sin, some fearfully avoided his steady green gaze and others looked on with outright hostility. He ignored them impassively, not reacting visibly to the stares. He felt nothing more than irritation about the spectacle that his appearance created everywhere he went.

Sin supposed that it was inevitable. With the vast majority of the Agency staff believing that he was a psychotic murderer, it wasn't particularly shocking that many of them were displeased with his reinstatement as a field agent.

The elevator emptied quickly but whether or not people were actually getting off at their designated floors or were simply trying to get away from him was unknown. He assumed the latter.

Within two stops the elevator was empty except Sin, Gerant and two men that Sin recognized as lower level field agents. He'd never spoken to them outright but long ago Sin had made it a point to memorize the names, ranks and addresses of as many Agency staff as he could. It was best to find out as much information as one could about potential enemies. And in the hostile climate of the compound, Sin considered everyone to be a potential threat.

Agents Angelo Morales and Adam Blake stood side by side, both dark-haired and wearing dark clothing; the unofficial uniform of new field agents who used to watch too much television. They seemed to think covert agents wore black suits and leather jackets. All that was missing were twin pairs of black sunglasses.

They stared at Sin and Sin stared back blankly, unimpressed by them. Although, he typically wasn't very impressed by much.

Adam looked at him with an intrigued expression on his pale face while Angelo glared with outright contempt.

"They should have kept you locked on the Fourth, you fucking freak," Angelo spat with disgust, casting a black glare at Gerant as though it was his fault specifically for Sin's presence.

Gerant just shrugged, looking awkward, Sin raised his eyebrows at Morales, saying flatly, "It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Agent Morales."

Angelo blanched at the usage of his name and took a step back, which wasn't much considering the elevator was only about two yards wide.

Sin's lips turned up at the side but the expression didn't make it to his coldly glittering, pale green eyes. "Tell me, how is it living in Residential Complex B? Unfortunately I've been locked in a box on the Fourth floor for the past six months so I've become quite unfamiliar with typical accommodations. Not that I've ever had any, mind you."

All remaining color drained from Angelo's face but Adam just shook his head, not appearing at all surprised.

"How did you know--"

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Adam dragged his partner out of the elevator before he could complete the sentence and Sin leered at them as they retreated. The elevator once again lapsed into silence until their destination of the next floor.

Gerant waited for Sin to exit and followed closely behind as Sin walked past offices and hallways, ultimately arriving in the lobby area of General Carhart's space. Sin was vaguely aware of the small remote in Gerant's hand and he debated causing a scene just to test how quickly the collar could be activated before he broke the guard's hand and crushed the remote. The test on the Fourth floor weeks ago by Inspector Beaulieu would have given him a full minute to confiscate the remote but they'd altered the collar since then and likely made the voltage higher.

Sin reached up and idly ran his long, slim fingers along the collar. The metallic coldness resting against his skin felt unnatural but after two weeks he was nearly used to it. He was also becoming accustomed to the idea that the collar was a tracking device as well as a control mechanism.

The lobby wasn't deserted by any means. Two field agents, a Research and Development agent and Carhart's receptionist were in the immediate area. Once again, every one of them stopped what they were doing to stare at Sin.

This time he didn't bother to antagonize anybody and waited impatiently for Gerant to knock on the door and for the General to admit them access.

When the door opened, Sin stepped inside gratefully, glad to be out of the watchful gaze of every single person he came across even if it meant dealing with Carhart.

"You can go, Officer Gerant," Carhart said to the guard although his cerulean blue eyes focused on Sin and didn't move. His handsome face was as youthful as ever, his form as impressive and fit as it'd been in the half year since Sin had seen him last.
It wasn't too surprising. In the thirteen years Sin had known the General, the man had aged very little physically.

"But, Sir--"

Carhart looked away finally and focused his eyes on the guard. "I said, you can go," he said flatly in a tone that allowed no argument.

Gerant nodded uncertainly and held out one hand, studiously avoiding Sin's gaze. "The remote, sir?"

Carhart's expression was quickly turning to one of impatience. "I don't need it. Take it and go."

Sin smirked at the General. "Pretty confident, aren't you?"

Carhart didn't respond, obviously not willing to rise to the bait. "Goodbye, Officer Gerant," he said pointedly.

The guard shot him another worried look, obviously concerned about leaving the third-in-command of the Agency alone with a psychopath, but obediently left the office and shut the door behind him.

Sin sat in the armchair opposite Carhart's desk and shifted, making himself comfortable on the soft plush cushion. He leaned his head back against the soft microfiber and let his eyes drift closed.

Carhart sat back in his own chair and shook his head, the corners of his mouth rising slightly as he watched Sin. "Have I bored you already?"

"Mm." Sin opened one green eye lazily, looking at the General with a cold smile. "No. But after sleeping on linoleum for the past six months, I may just doze off from the sheer opulence of your chair. Or maybe it's the fucking horse tranquilizers you pumped me full of for those six months that are still slowing me down?"

The amusement faded from Carhart's expression and he looked down at his computer, expression hardening. "Holding a grudge, Sin?"

"Fuck you," Sin said tonelessly, closing his eyes again. He heard a low sigh and the squeak of the
general
shifting in his chair.

"Are you hungry?"

"No. After six months on a liquid diet, I'm watching my figure."

This time the sigh was one of exasperation. "How many more 'after six months' retorts do you have left in you? You weren't nearly this witty after spending four years on the Fourth on your previous incarceration."

Sin considered the question and arched one black eyebrow. "Well that was before the box and before I was left in a stupor for the entire period," he replied flatly. "And speaking of the box, I still have to mention the abusive guards, my emaciated condition and this gorgeous piece of
jewelry
you gifted me with. I heard the medics talking. Apparently that little gem was all your idea."

"Because it was the only goddamn way I could convince Marshal Connors and the Inspector to let you out of that cell," Carhart snapped. "An opportunity arose, a way to get you off the Fourth but they didn't want to. They wanted to keep you in that box. The only way I could get around it was by suggesting a way to control you, for insurance."

"To control me," Sin repeated dully, opening both eyes to gaze across the desk at Carhart. "Interesting choice of words."

Carhart shook his head, frustration evident by the tension in his broad shoulders. "After what you pulled with your last four partners, what the hell do you expect? They paint you in the role of the murdering psychopath and you play the part while I try to be devil's fucking advocate every time you get into trouble."

"It's not my fault you designated complete morons for my babysitters," Sin replied, his eyes narrowing as he sat up in the chair and leaned forward. His black and red hair curtained his face, temporarily shading his eyes and shadowing his exotic features.

Carhart stared at him silently as a dangerous smile slid across Sin's full lips.

"Maybe you shouldn't have chosen 'partners,'" he said the word with obvious distaste, spitting it out as if it tasted terrible, "who thought the word partner meant handler and that I was their fucking pet."

"The choices made were unfortunate," Carhart agreed at length, blue eyes flicking away briefly from Sin's steady gaze. "After much debate, the Marshal and the Inspector both agreed on that note. They went over the files, the reports and debriefings and agreed that perhaps we hadn't made the most suitable choices..."

"And I see you didn't feel it necessary to share this news flash with the staff." Not that it would have mattered, Sin answered his own comment silently. His reputation and existence on the compound had been tarnished and despised for years.

Carhart ignored the comment and asked again, "Would you like coffee? Something to eat?"

Sin made a face, annoyed by Carhart's incessant habit of trying to feed him whenever they came face to face. "Will you shut up with the eating?"

"You're skin and bones," Carhart said pointedly, indicating Sin's lanky body that looked lost in the loose threadbare clothing that he wore. "If you're going to be reinstated you have to get your weight up and start rebuilding muscle. We have a specific timetable that we're working with."

"Fine. Get me a chocolate milk and a donut."

Carhart stared at him.

Sin shrugged.

Shaking his head but not appearing overly surprised by the request, Carhart pressed the intercom on his desk. "Amy, can you bring in a coffee, some donuts and... a chocolate milk?"

There was a pause and a very uncertain sounding, "Right away, sir," in response.

Satisfied, Sin crossed his arms over his chest and threw his legs out in front of him.

The amusement appeared on Carhart's face once again and he shook his head. "You're going to need to develop better eating habits, Sin. You're about thirty to forty pounds underweight. That sweet tooth isn't going to help you in any way. I don't even know where you get that from. Certainly not your father."

Sin went very still in the chair and his eyes narrowed. "Don't."

Carhart frowned slightly. "I was just sayi--"

"Don't," Sin repeated in a warning tone. "Leave it, General."

The sudden tension in the room was palpable and only broken by the appearance of Amy with a tray full of donuts, a mug of coffee and a large Styrofoam cup presumably filled with chocolate milk. The receptionist seemed mildly alarmed by Sin's icy glare and Carhart's stiff posture but she didn't comment, instead offering Sin a flexy straw before she hurried away.

Sin looked down at the neon pink straw in bemusement and the moment was broken.

"So," Carhart said with obvious relief, grabbing his coffee from the tray. "The opportunity I spoke of. Any clue as to what it is?"

"Mm." Sin took a bite of half a chocolate donut and nearly closed his eyes at the delicious taste of sugary icing. "Either you're in desperate need of my wonderful assassination abilities or your super elite unit is still short a high-ranking fieldie due to your relative lack of high ranking fieldies?"

"Precisely. My options are limited to you and Senior Agent Trovosky."

"So go with Trovosky. I'm sure he'd come in his pants at the opportunity to be on your extra special team."

"Ha ha. Funny." The General looked at the donuts and selected a plain one without icing. "As I was saying, my options are limited to you and Trovosky since you're my only two level 10s and he's been sent away on an extended undercover op so my choices are down to, well, you."

"It's so nice to be needed." Sin's voice practically oozed with sarcasm.

"Janus activity has been rearing up again and they're getting stronger with each passing day," Carhart said seriously, once again trying to impress the importance of the unit to Sin.
It wasn't the first time he'd made the effort-- that had occurred six months ago when Connors had arranged the unit whose sole purpose existed to get information on and stop the ever-expanding rebel organization.

"We need to act now before they induct every single ragtag rebel group into their fold. They've swallowed insurgent groups here and overseas and their influence is spreading."

"Sounds dire," Sin replied blandly, grabbing a Bismarck donut that looked to be filled with some kind of custard.

Carhart glared at him. "Can you take this seriously?"

"No."

"This is your job, Sin. Your job--"

"Fuck my job." Sin smiled around a mouthful of custard, the sticky white filling smearing on his wide lips. "If you think I'm still here because of loyalty to the cause, you're more delusional than I thought. I'm here because it's too much trouble to bother trying to escape Connors' tentacles."