“It’s politics,” my mother said. “You were right when you said it takes us off mission for dubious benefit.”
“No, I was wrong,” I said. “It’s a certain benefit; it keeps the other government agencies we’re relying on for intelligence happy with us, shows we’re willing to do the bidding of our congressional overseers, and builds some good will.” Hopefully, I didn’t bother to add.
She frowned at me, her long, dark hair hanging over her shoulders as she leaned over the chair in front of my desk. It reminded me of me when I looked into the mirror in the mornings. “You can’t tell me you changed your mind because of anything besides the way Li just made you feel.”
I felt the pressure of the leather against the back of my head, and the scent of it, still new, filled my nose. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“Playing politics?” She snorted. “It’s a fast way to forget your mission, to lose yourself in useless trivia and bureaucracy.”
“People died,” I said quietly. “We need all the leads we can get. Hildegarde seems to at least have some sense of how to hit Century, and we need that or we’re just continuing to operate blind, striking out into the darkness until they come for us.”
“You let him get to you,” she said. “About what you’ve done.”
“I didn’t let him do anything,” I said, tired. “I didn’t let him do anything I haven’t already done to myself.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty about Wolfe,” she said. “That was a righteous kill. Same with Gavrikov. They were both murderers.”
“It’s not Wolfe and Gavrikov that I feel guilty about,” I said. “Nor Bjorn, though I had about as much to do with him getting killed as I did Zack.” I let my voice fall. “I murdered Glen Parks. He taught me so much about fighting, about shooting, tracking. He filled in a lot of the cracks that you couldn’t. He was a mentor, and what he did to me that night with Zack tore him up inside. He was drinking his life away, and I murdered him. I killed Clyde Clary, too. Big, dumb Clyde. He was an asshole, every inch of him, but he didn’t want to do what Winter told him to do. I knew that, and I killed him anyway. Eve wasn’t even around when Zack was killed; she dragged Ariadne off to get her out of the way because she was fighting Old Man Winter on it, screaming at him. And Bastian ... he said his piece, followed his orders, and he died for it, ultimately.” I looked at her, and she wouldn’t meet my gaze, hands white-knuckling the back of the chair, staring down at the black pleather. “I killed them all. Plus Rick, the Primus of Omega, and one of the ministers, Eris. I killed them all, killed all those people.” I felt the energy drain from my voice, what was left of it. “I don’t need Li’s judgmental eyes to feel guilty. I am guilty.”
She looked up, slightly stricken. “You—”
“I want you to remember before you say anything,” I said, looking at her with just the slightest amusement, “that you’re the same person who used to lock me in a metal box when I broke one of your rules. Whatever reasons you had for it, telling me now that I’m not guilty when you spent all that time punishing me for infractions much less than murder is going to sound ... really screwed up.”
I saw her bite back her instinct to snap at me, and she looked to her left. “This is the world I wanted to protect you from. I didn’t want you to ...” Her voice trailed off.
“Leave the house?” I asked with bitter amusement but not any rancor. “Get caught up in crazy events? Get in fights? Sleep with boys?”
“Add in drugs and following your guitarist boyfriend around on tour for a summer and I think you’ll have hit all the ‘parenting fears’ high points.” She paused, and I watched the emotions roll across her face. “I didn’t want you to be like me,” she said, and it echoed in the office. “I didn’t want you to have to kill. I prepared you for it in hopes you’d never have to do it.” Her hands left the back of the leather chair and she cradled them, one upon another. “I never wanted you to have to do what I did. I don’t like to kill. Never have. I’m not like Charlie. I’m not like others of our kind. I hated the feeling when I took my first soul.” She ran her thin fingers through her hair. “I never wanted you to know what it was like to kill, let alone what it was like to use your power, to lose yourself in the moment of the drain. And I’m glad you’re not an addict.”
“I’m definitely not that,” I said, staring at her. “How many do you have?”