Shards of Hope

Chapter 36

BLAKE HAD BEGUN to “court” Beatrice. He’d started quietly by calling her into his office and commending her on her performance during a weapons drill. The truth was that she’d been average—not good, not bad. Acceptable. He’d praised her nevertheless and he thought he might have been the first person ever to do so.

The following day, he’d attended her hand-to-hand combat session, and spent time with her afterward, offering her personal tutelage. They’d spent two hours alone in an outdoor training area, and he’d been careful to encourage her, mimicking things he so often heard Cris saying to her students. The need for such approval was a weakness, but he’d chosen Beatrice because she was weak.

First he had to build her up, make her look to him for approval . . . then he had to break her down so she stopped thinking for herself and became his creature. That was why he’d berated her for a mistake toward the end of a session, after making sure he’d been nothing but encouraging and complimentary to that point. She’d all but crumpled inward. When he’d told her it was all right, that she could learn to correct her error, she’d agreed to another hour of instruction.

It wouldn’t take long to break her to his will; she was already isolated and submissive, and he’d quickly become her “friend.” He’d kill her without hesitation if she proved a mistake, but he didn’t think it would come to that. Beatrice was hungry for approval, for attention. If she hadn’t been such a well-behaved Arrow trainee, the trainers would’ve realized that she was fundamentally unsuited to the squad.

Then again, perhaps not. Beatrice needed to cling to something and the squad had given her the chance. He’d simply give her a far more individual opportunity. Once she was his, once she’d made the first cut, there’d be no going back. Satisfied with her progress to date, he was in the right frame of mind to receive a call from the individual who’d been so encouraging of his tendencies.

“Anyone in particular you’d like me to kill?” He knew the support he was receiving had to have a political motive, but it was working in his favor so he had no argument. “An intransigent business associate, perhaps.”

“No. We can’t be connected on any level.” The speaker’s voice was made unrecognizable by what had to be a simple scrambling program on their end. “I reached out to you because I don’t agree with the direction the Net and, it appears, the Arrows are taking.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” he said, pointedly using a human expression. “I’m touched. I was under the impression it had to do with undermining the fall of Silence.” It had taken him time, but he was positive he knew the identity of his supporter—it had been a slipup during their last conversation that had given him the first clue and he’d taken that and dug.

He might be a psychopath but he was also a damn good Arrow.

“If that is my motive?”

“Silence or not, I have the same playground.” The only difference was that now, his psychopathy would be considered an aberration; under Silence, his lack of empathy had been a coveted state of being.