Devil's Blood by Amity Cross

Author:Amity Cross [Cross, Amity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Royal Blood, Book Three
Publisher: Amity Cross
Published: 2015-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

X

I stared at the phone box that was the last suspected whereabouts of Mercy Reid.

I stared at the spots of blood on the glass and wondered why nobody had bothered to clean it. I didn’t know if it was hers or her kidnapper’s.

Glancing around the street, I wondered why she’d chosen this spot. Probably because it was one of the only phone boxes in the whole of Exeter. Or maybe because she just happened across it as she drove to clear her mind. It could mean anything.

I’d left Hawkes behind at the distillery. He’d been working all night, coordinating the rest of Vaughn’s contacts and men, trying to find a lead on where Royal Blood had taken him. As soon as it was light, he’d packed up what little was left behind in the office and drove away. I’d assumed he had forgotten all about Mercy in his determination to see his boss back safely.

I’d lost everything, so I let him go. He had a way to contact me if needed, but I didn’t expect to hear from him. I was now in this one hundred percent solo.

I had no leads of my own after the failed attempt at the warehouse, none but the protocol Weiss had shoved into my face before I shot him in the head.

If you want to know the truth about your identity, you will follow the protocol. It may be the only thing that can help you save Mercy.

I didn’t want to believe him, but I had nowhere else to turn. My past and future were colliding, and I could no longer run from it. I’d fought against my identity ever since I’d realized my conditioning was unraveling, and I’d realized Mercy Reid was my target. Now it was catching up with me, whether I wanted it to or not. This part was inevitable.

Stepping inside the phone box, I picked up the receiver. Mercy had stood right here, used this exact telephone… What was I going to find once I called the number?

Raising my hand, I pressed my finger against the number pad, dialing the digits that Weiss had given me in his last moments. Pressing the receiver to my ear, I listened to the dial tone, counting each beep as the number rang. One, two, three, four…

“Exeter Medical Clinic, how can I help?” The receptionist’s voice was chirpy, one hundred percent friendly without a care in the world.

I took a deep breath. “I’d like to talk to Dr. Jonathan Hancock about some test results.”

The pause stretched on a minute too long, and I realized they knew exactly who was calling. This was a dead protocol and I realized only one person should know it. Me.

“I’m sorry, but Dr. Hancock is currently with a patient. Would you like to wait?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

Music began filtering through the handset, a soft classical piece that I found oddly familiar. Had I been an asset? Had I been working with them before I was conditioned? I supposed I was going to find out one way or another.

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