Big Marcy’s eyes widened. My response caught him off-guard—a small victory. He laughed with some uncertainty, on the fence if I was joking or if the Adumbrae inside me was a literalist. I needed to break his flow.

“Well, that is true,” he said. “How are you enjoying the trip so far?”

“Eh… so-so.” I rocked my head left and right. “I’m not a fan of cruises. Too many people packed in the same place. I’m a bit of an introvert.”

“Though this entire ship is a cover for traveling to Red Island in luxury—also, to provide a visible excuse for our clients’ absences from their high-profile lives—we tend to pack as many normal passengers as possible for economic reasons. The price of oil is running high, especially with the African Adumbrae crisis still unresolved.”

I was right about where this ship was headed. But why did Big Marcy readily tell me? Given our sour past, lightly put, he should know what I intend to do if I ever found that stupid place. Was he giving me hints as a show of goodwill?

Or a trap?

“I can arrange for you more private accommodations,” Big Marcy said, “if you prefer, to help with your introversion.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“What about your friends? How do they—?”

“I know you’re trying to rattle me that you’re aware of us lurking on this ship,” I interjected to keep my hand on the ball. “But before that, someone should do something about the dead guy back there.”

Big Marcy’s leather chair squeaked as he shifted in it. “Dead guy?”

Ramon gripped the headrest of my seat.

“On my way here,” I said, “I passed a dead guy in the middle of the corridor going to this room. If he sees it, Mr. Tussell might get a heart attack.” I pointed at the old man hobbling to the exit.

Big Marcy’s eyes turned to slits. He pressed a button on the table. “Wiggins. Check the hallway outside. There might be some… obstacles. Clear it before Mr. Tussell passes through for his safety.”

“On it, boss.”

Big Marcy inhaled long. His nostrils flared, making him look more like a gorilla. He laced his fingers and rested them on the table. With an eerily composed face, he asked, “I do not suppose you are aware of how the dead body got there?”

I shrugged. “Maybe he did something that someone didn’t like, and he got what was coming for him?”

“That is a likely scenario,” Big Marcy monotonously said.

Ramon shook my headrest. “Erind, is that blood on your slippers? Were you shot?”

“No, I wasn’t. And that’s not my blood.”

“It’s not? Hang on…”

I could almost hear the screws in Ramon’s brain grind against each other.

“Di-did you…?” Ramon didn’t continue his question.

“If you told me you were coming, Ms. Hartwell,” said Big Marcy, “we could have ensured that you would avoid the unpleasant experience of running into a corpse. I do hope no new dead bodies will mysteriously crop up during your stay here. I am rather short on men. Furthermore, I want to provide you and your friends with a pleasant stay.”

Bringing the hero wannabes up again? Dario assured us we wouldn’t be seen in the passengers’ logs or database whatever of the cruise—I wasn’t really listening to his explanation. Apparently, he failed on what he was supposed to do. Or it might be that Dario and Johann did their best in their hacking shit, but I was just too recognizable.

A more dangerous possibility was that Dario intended for the 2Ms to know I was on board. It’d draw enemies to me, leaving me no choice but to transform and fight. A repeat of what happened at Eve might be his goal.

“Provide us with a pleasant stay?” I snorted. “Even if we stowed away—oh, wait. We paid for our tickets; we’re not stowaways. I guess we’re entitled to a pleasant stay.”

“If you and your group want to dine in our exclusive restaurants at the top decks,” Big Marcy continued, “just say the word. The finest food you will ever taste in your life. I make that claim, but I am unsure how it compares when you devour… your prey.”

“Sir, Erind doesn’t eat people! It was the Adumbrae inside of her.” That was Ramon, of course.

It was fun to have someone who always saw the good side of me, even if it wasn’t there. He was kind of like Deen in that way.

“Another jest, Ramon,” replied Big Marcy, waving to calm his mutated bodyguard. “Ms. Hartwell did it to Mr. Tussell. I merely continued the joke.”

“Did what to that old man?” I asked.

“Tell me if I am right, Ms. Hartwell.” Big Marcy pointed with a sausage-sized finger at the empty seat previously occupied by Mr. Tussell. “You realized he cares dearly about his mortality, so you played a cruel joke, threatening to eat him.”

“It was just a regular joke,” I said, striving to sound nonchalant. Big Marcy was right about what I did. I wiggled the toes of my swinging feet. “I swear I wasn’t being cruel about it. What do you think, Ramon?”

“Me? Uh, I think—”

“Mr. Tussell was a few days from reaching Red Island,” Big Marcy pressed on, not letting me escape. His brutish facial features disguised intelligent beady eyes. “Dreams of immortality within his grasp. But here you appeared, an imminent threat to it, as he was about to cross the finish line. Perhaps starting a new race is a more apt analogy. Did you threaten to eat him because he viewed you as a curiosity? Striking fear into the hearts of impudent humans?”

“Big Marcy, sir,” Ramon said. “I don’t think that was Erind’s intention.”

“Yeah, you’re looking too much into it.” I resisted the human urge to turn away if caught in a lie. But I also didn’t maintain eye contact, or it might appear I was overcompensating to come off as honest.

Uncanny how fast Big Marcy read me from a small interaction. I might be in for a challenge here. I had assumed Big Marcy was just some run-of-the-mill bad guy, those in movies that the heroes mow down wholesale. Big Marcy got muscled aside by his brother for the top spot in their criminal organization—he should be the weaker sibling, right?

But I might’ve guessed wrong.

Big Marcy chuckled. “Possible I am finding meaning where there is none. There is something I must confess, Ms. Hartwell. I have simulated how our meeting would play out many times in my head, and it was not this. Vanessa was right that you’re interesting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Was this a quippy enough response? Irritating that he viewed me as a novel attraction rather than someone above him.

Wait, this was the same that Mr. Tussell did. Big Marcy continued to needle at me. This mountain of turd!

“Where’s Vanessa?” I asked before Big Marcy could speak. I had to take the lead.

“Unfortunately, she is not aboard the ship,” replied Big Marcy. “There are matters that require her peculiar espionage abilities. Had I known earlier that you would be our guest, I would not have sent Vanessa elsewhere. It would have been comforting for you to have your friend while we discuss.”

Should I deny that Vanessa’s a friend? She was a self-appointed one, like Deen.

Nah. Better let Big Marcy think he had a hold on me through other people. Then I’d snatch them and use them against him. To Big Marcy, I might be an Adumbrae, but I was still an ordinary girl before that—just a harmless, first-year law student whose life was upended by bullshit.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He wouldn’t suspect what I—the human part, not the Adumbrae—was capable of.

“There’s still a familiar face in Ramon,” I said, batting my lashes over my shoulder. I hoped it looked flirtatious instead of trying to remove dust from my eyes.

“Nothing to worry about, Erind,” said Ramon, shifting to a taller stance. “You’re safe here. Big Marcy wants to help.”

“Yep, that’s what Vanessa told me.” I turned back to Big Marcy. “But it’s a different thing hearing it from the man himself. I find it hard to believe you want an alliance after I tried to kill—to eat you.”

Actually, it was very believable. After all, I was here trying to make an alliance despite what they had done or tried to do to me. But let him think me naïve.

“Let bygones be bygones,” Big Marcy said. “We have never succeeded in killing you—that is why you are here!” A hollow laugh followed. “Any injury we caused, you have regenerated.”

“My condo’s not regenerating,” I said.

“That is on my brother. He ordered that attack. Nonetheless, I am willing to reimburse you severalfold for any pecuniary loss. I have a selection of La Esperanza penthouses for you to choose from.”

“It’s just a jest,” I said, grinning. “I can find my own place to stay.” If I’ll ever return to La Esperanza after Red Island, I added in my head.

“Let it be on record that I offered you a reimbursement, and it stands until you claim it. Now, look at our side of the table, Ms. Hartwell. You have done plenty of damage to us in terms of lives and property—permanent damage. If someone were to tally the score, you would come out on top. But I am willing to consider it even and all debts erased… if that is what it takes to dethrone my brother.

“Dethrone, yes. Mark is sitting on the throne of the empire our father had built and passed to us. Before this affair with the Supplier, I managed the family business. If it were not for me, we would not have survived. And yet, he snatched the fruits of my labor and claimed them as his own.”

Too much backstory. Big Marcy was trying really hard to sell common ground between us.

And was he not using contractions? So that was why he talked funny. It couldn’t be his usual way of speaking, was it? He must be doing it on purpose to unnerve me.

“You’re telling me all that,” I said. “But I have no clue if it’s true or not.”

“We have no quarrel, you and I,” replied Big Marcy. “It was all my brother. My brother and the Supplier. He ordered me to capture you, and you escaped, destroying everything in your path, which narrowly included me. But again, that was on Mark. If it were up to me, I would offer you everything you want to work for me.”

“Why did Mark want to kidnap me?” I briskly asked.

“Firstly, I extend my apologies for—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But why do it?”

Big Marcy threw his barrel arms up. “I am afraid I do not know the answer to your question. I surmise it must be connected to Mark’s dealings with the Supplier. But I have no insight as to the Supplier’s designs.”

“Really? Vanessa told me that you do have, at least, some insights into the Supplier’s… what did you call them? Designs?”

“Indeed, I do. Several you might be interested in. But they are on matters unconnected to your taking. I will be willing to share them—”

“Later,” I curtly cut in. “Let’s focus on this taking first.” What a neat way he couched it, I sarcastically thought. That incident was the start of my connection with the 2Ms. There should be more to it. “What did Mark and the Supplier want from me? Don’t you, uh, take random people from the streets? Those in the underground arena—”

“We never aim for specific individuals. Only those society wouldn’t miss. There are exceptions, such as rivals who should know better than to be our rivals. But yours, Ms. Hartwell, was a different scenario. As far as I am aware, you are not an enemy of ours, and your disappearance will make news. If I had to speculate, you must be connected to the Supplier’s projects handled by our organization. It would not make much sense otherwise.”

“Like the parasites?” I stuck out my tongue and fake gagged.

What the fuck would my connection with parasites be? If I ever find out that Mark, the Supplier, or whoever else had planned to make me a host for those disgusting abominations, I would rip them apart, atom from atom, even if it causes a nuclear explosion.

“But why you specifically? I do not know.” Big Marcy looked at his watch in a not-so-subtle way—an assertion of dominance. “Ms. Hartwell, I can try to find out more about it. I am sure you would like to ask plenty of other matters of me, but I am strapped for time. I hope you will not eat us if I point out it is an hour past midnight, and I have to talk to Mr. Tussell and many others.”

Scratch Jeffrey from that list, I thought, noncommittedly shrugging in response to Big Marcy.

Big Marcy leaned forward, a small hill of muscle on the table, to whisper as if enemies could hear us. “We should focus on your most immediate concern—Red Island.”

I allowed a flicker of interest to cross my face. I thought I had to be the one to bring it up. Was Big Marcy attempting to look sincere by offering up his brother?

He held up four fingers. The rings on them glinted from pin lights lining the ceiling. “On the fourth night of this cruise, from Ensenada going back to California, three small ships will depart from this cruise ship’s bowels heading for Red Island. That is your target.”

“You’ll allow us to get on?” Everything was suspiciously easy.

“Aiding you is what I will do,” said Big Marcy. “My brother and I are supposed to be in equal control of the organization. He decided that I get the ship and operations in La Esperanza and elsewhere on the mainland, reasoning that it is much bigger in scope, while he gets Red Island.”

“I get it,” I said. “He made himself appear the kind brother, sacrificing a large share but ended up controlling everything. I can see your problem.”

“I appreciate the sympathy,” Big Marcy said, even though I offered none.

“So, his men control the smaller ships going there? You’ll be able to get us on?”

“I will do my utmost,” he replied, confidently nodding. “On your end, you must find a way to get your group on those ships without revealing our connection. A far harder task, perhaps, than actually stowing away on them. Yes, you have to be stowaways that time—I cannot manipulate the list of attendees this near the deadline. You came on such short notice, so we make do and adapt. I will be in touch with you.”

This was proceeding too smoothly. This contractionless bastard must be on to something. “Um, you know what we’ll do on Red Island, right?”

“Either my brother will tell me that he has fresh specimens, or I can no longer contact my brother anymore… or ever.”

“Not just your brother. I mean… Eve wasn’t technically my fault. But the destruction of the Tea Party base was—I’m guessing you know of it.”

“I would not expect anything less from Red Hood.” Big Marcy pressed his hand as wide as a plate on his chest. “This is the sacrifice and assurance I present on my end of our alliance.”

“Huh? For what? Assurance that you won’t betray me?”

“That is so, Ms. Hartwell. I am sure it is a that has crossed your mind.”

I nodded. This guy was too clever. Not only was his body huge, but his intellect was also pervading an oppressive aura. Try as I might asserting control, he kept wrestling it back. When Domino learned that Big Marcy was here, I pushed her—or myself—to find him. Surprising Big Marcy with my appearance should give me the initiative.

“I want my brother out,” said Big Marcy. “That is simply it.”

“And you will take his spot?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And deal with the Supplier?”

“Yes.”

I tilted my head, asking the obvious.

“The business must go on,” he replied matter-of-factly. “This is where the assurance comes in. If you destroy Red Island, then I cannot go after you, even if I were ordered to do so by the Supplier. Do you see, Ms. Hartwell? Trample Red Island to your heart’s content. The Supplier cannot spare a thought for you while rebuilding. We—you and I—will use that time to hide you… wherever you want to go.”

And they lived happily ever after, I added in my head. Big Marcy should know I wasn’t buying his story. How could I? I didn’t have my wallet with me. I kill his brother; then he kills me… somehow. If Big Marcy managed to pull that off, he’d gain favor in the eyes of the Supplier—his happily ever after.

The logical thing for me to do was destroy both brothers. But from my short interaction with Big Marcy, he had contingency plans for that too.

“Vanessa told me something interesting,” I said. “She mentioned that you think my friends and the Supplier are connected. Care sharing your insights?”

“Ah, yes. A rather simple question started my investigation. Two, actually. Why does this small group of pesky bandits have powers? And how do they keep tracking us?”

“Them just showing up must’ve been very surprising to you,” I said, recalling when Myra first wondered that something might be wrong with Dario and the Professor.

“Surprising, indeed,” said Big Marcy. “Possible answers are limited. Corebrings? Cannot be. The Corebrings would not send cockroaches to annoy us. Other Adumbrae? Too weak. No motive. A rival organization? Perhaps. But backed by who? The Supplier was the only one with the technology to induce seeding artificially. What about the government? I could see that happening if they were testing experiments they could not admit to the public.”

“Same thoughts. Then what happened?”

“You already know of the next pieces, Ms. Hartwell. Over in Las Vegas, the Tea Party also experienced a similar infestation problem. Either it was a coincidence, or we were up against a large organization. Quite concerning.”

“I bet it was,” I automatically replied. Big Marcy had no idea about the artificial Cores.

“If that was the case, then how big was our side? I was eager to uncover how far the Supplier’s reach extended. I have found eight other groups across the United States, connected in varying degrees with the Supplier. There are three in Mexico. And I am positive there are more.”

“Woah, that’s new information to me. But also… kinda expected. The Supplier doesn’t seem like a small-time guy limited to a couple of cities.”

“Here is the unexpected part, Ms. Hartwell—each of them faces a small group of super-powered humans. The mother of all coincidences?”

I slowly nodded. “Okay, that’s really unexpected.”