Robert Crane - Family

“He told me he was there to recruit me from the Directorate, though he didn’t say who he worked for at the time.”

“That wasn’t all, though, was it?” He peered at me across the table, eyes boring into mine. It was hot now. The air conditioner had to have stopped working. “I mean, we know how the story ends – you and he went back to your hotel room. So what happened next?”

“He showed me that he could touch my skin without getting hurt,” I said, and the uneasiness grew. “And I realized he was an incubus.”

“After which you went to your room,” he said, looking at the pad, “where you remained until Katrina – Agent Forrest – informed you that Ariadne was on a conference call?”

“Yes.”

Mormont clicked his tongue as he skimmed the page in front of him. “Could you describe what happened when you got into the room?”

“Well,” I said, “we turned on the TV, and watched an episode of The Vampire Diaries .”

His eyes came up again, half-lidded, skeptical. “I’m sorry. Was that another joke? I can’t tell.”

“You’d have to be humorless to do this job, I suppose, so that makes sense.” I flashed him a tight, insincere smile of my own. “We started to undress, and before we finished, Kat knocked at the door.”

He waited, looking at me as though trying to sift my guts right there in the interrogation room. “And at this point, you didn’t mention anything about Directorate operations, anything that was going on?”

“I didn’t know anything was going on other than that we were hunting someone who was assaulting convenience store clerks and that we’d stumbled onto Omega operations in Eau Claire that had some tie to the robber.” I folded my arms, pulling them off the table, and leaned back, felt the top of the chair press into my back, smelled the cold mechanical scent of the processed air.

“You returned to your room and spoke with James Fries again.” He looked up from the pad and tapped his pen against the yellow paper. “What did you tell him?”

“That I had to go.” I let it out, forced it out. “That I had a mission. That I was heading east,” I said with reluctance, mentally smacking myself not so much for admitting it to this stiff-collared douche as that I had done it at all.

“And he was at the Omega facility when you arrived?” Mormont looked from me to his notes. “This…Site Epsilon?”

“Yes.”

“Did it occur to you…” He looked up again, and this time there was a kind of faux concern I desperately wanted to smack sideways off his face. “…that he might be an Omega operative when you gave him this information?”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, “but I acknowledged it was a possibility.”

“I see. And when you got there, you were ambushed?” He stared at the paper. “Do you think perhaps when he realized where you were going that he summoned some additional Omega security?”

I froze. I hadn’t considered that. “No. I mean, it’s possible I guess.”

“Possible.” He had a semi-smile now. “Is it also possible that because you warned him, he was able to rally additional Omega forces in the forms of helicopters and sweep teams – the very ones that ambushed you after your escape, and caused the death of the subject Andromeda?”

I felt overly warm now. “Possibly, yes. But in my judgment—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, not sounding remotely sorry and on something of a roll, “but you’d been drinking twice in the previous two nights, all while active on a mission.” He looked up at me. “Would you consider that to be good judgment or bad?”

I wanted to grind my teeth but felt I lacked the muscle control. Instead my mouth hung slightly open, and I felt a surge of emotion. “Not so good.”

“And taking an Omega operative back to your hotel room,” he said, now riveted, focused in on me, “was that good judgment or—”

“Bad,” I said, not looking back at him. “Obviously.”

“So you really weren’t exhibiting the greatest judgment, were you?” His smile went slightly toothy, baring them like a predator, and I noticed a slight yellowing on them, probably from coffee.

I was caught in his stare, and I looked behind me again, to the cold glare of the mirror, the overhead fluorescent shining off it, my face visible looking over my shoulder. I looked stricken, that’s the only way to describe it, and Mormont knew it. I saw him, watching me in the mirror, and I didn’t bother turning back to answer him. “No,” I said, only just above a whisper.

“So,” he went on, back to the pad of paper that I wished I could burn, “your mother left you in the state in which your colleagues later found you?”

“Yes,” I said, a deep, galling pain stirring inside. “She did.”

“And what state was that?” His voice was slick, like oil, his words almost fluid in his delivery, as though they were simply sliding out of him.

“Beaten. Bloodied. Wrecked.” I stared back at him with all the faux defiance I had left. “Between James Fries and my aunt, I was pretty much an immovable mess.”

“I see,” he said with a clicking of his tongue. “And two of these people – actually three, if we count your mother, who didn’t hurt you but did leave you in said condition – were ones…you trusted in some way.” He stared at the paper. “Your aunt wasn’t an Omega operative? Just another random psychotic succubus?” he asked, as though it were expected. “You are aware that the incubus and succubus are the most shunned of all metas – the ‘old world’ attitude toward incubi and succubi?” He smiled. “They’re not well-regarded among metas. Something about being able to drain souls with a touch tends to alienate you from others; makes you untrustworthy.” He was grim in his delivery, and I caught the subtext: he’d just finished drawing the line between the behavior of Fries, my aunt and my mother, and now he was connecting it neatly back to me.

“It’s not exactly my favorite thing about myself,” I mumbled.

He gave it a moment’s rest, as though declaring silent victory for making me turn on myself. His eyes never left me. “Your mother went by the name Brittany Eccleston outside of your home. Do you know why that was?”

“I assume she was hiding from the people she used to work for,” I said.

“You mean the U.S. Government, who might be curious about why she survived their metahuman policing agency’s destruction?” He wore a small smile. “Did she give you any indication what she was at the Omega facility for?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “She just kicked Charlie’s ass, activated the control panel that set loose Andromeda and then left.” I held my arms up in total exhaustion and uncertainty. “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” he said with a nod. “A few things we can rule out, I think. First, she wasn’t there for you.” He delivered this line with a cold precision and a hint of a smile. “She left Gillette, Wyoming and committed a string of robberies on the way, and it was only by following her trail that you even found the Omega facility. So…it wasn’t because you were there.”

“Right,” I said, my voice lower than a whisper. I felt a burning at my eyes, and I hated Michael Mormont right then, more than anyone ever.

“Tell me.” He looked up from his pad again. “Where do you think she would go? Now that she’s kidnapped your colleague?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t know where to look for her before and nothing has changed. If she’s not at our house?” I shrugged. “I don’t even know what she was doing in Wyoming.”

“We’ve already looked over your house and have agents in place to make certain that if she returns there, we’ll know about it.” His answer was brusque, businesslike and…almost remorseless, like he was attacking me with it. “Andromeda,” he said. “What she told you; repeat it for me. As close to word for word as you can, please.”