Page 60 of Decimation

“Did he know who she was? That she was Ezekiel’s sex slave?” I ask.

“I don’t know. He never spoke to us. He just looked at her, for a long time, and then he left. The next thing I knew, we were being transported here.”

I stand up from the chair and begin to pace. My mind is racing, calculating possibilities, assessing threats.

Antonio is loyal to the Brethren. That has never been in question. But he is also loyal to the old ways, to the traditions that have kept our order alive for centuries. He will not stand by and let me usurp Konstantine, and I suspect he will not accept Leandra as anything other than a threat to be eliminated.

He is a problem I need to fix.

I’ve been meeting with him regularly, playing the part of Grand Master. Half the time he doesn’t realize it’s me and not my brother. The tattoos, the mannerisms, the voice I’ve practiced until it’s second nature have fooled even the best of us. But I know it’s only a matter of time before he sees through the deception. Antonio is too sharp, too experienced. He knew my father, he knew my brother. He will know me.

“What else?” I ask, turning back to Magdalena. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing. I’ve told you everything.”

“You’re lying.” I can see it in her eyes, the flicker of something held back, some final secret she’s been hoarding. I walk back to the table and pick up the flensing knife again.

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing else…”

I make a cut along her collarbone, shallow but long. She screams, her body jerking against the chains.

“Tell me.”

“She sees colours!”

The words burst out of her, desperate and raw. I pause, the knife hovering over her skin.

“Colours?” What the fuck does that mean?

“Around people. Auras, is what we call them. She’s had it since she was a child. She can see things about people; their intentions, their emotions. She knows when someone is lying, she knows when someone means her harm.”

Synaesthesia. She has Synaesthesia. I know it runs in the old Esau bloodlines, it’s why they were excommunicated, or one of the reasons. It’s a sign of their sin, at least that’s what our superstitious ancestors thought.

This is valuable information. This is a weapon I can use.

If she can see when people are lying, then I cannot lie to her. Not directly, but I can use the truth to manipulate her. I can show her exactly what I want her to see. I can make her trust me by being the one person who never deceives her.

“How do you know this?” I ask, my voice soft, dangerous. “How can you be certain?”

Magdalena’s eyes meet mine, and in them I see something unexpected; a flicker of defiance, even now, even after everything. But beneath it I see the resignation, the exhaustion, the last of her walls crumbling.

“Because I have it too,” she whispers. “It runs in our family. My mother had it. I have it. Ines had it. And Leandra... Leandra has it strongest of all.”

I lower the knife completely, my full attention fixed on her now.

“You see colours.”

“Since I was a child. Around everyone. I see what they are, what they intend. I see the truth of them.” Her voice breaks. “And I see you, Lazarus. I see what you are. The colour around you is unlike anything I have ever witnessed. It is not one colour, but many. All of them dark, all of them bleeding into each other like a bruise that never heals. My daughter will see it too. She will know what you are the moment she looks at you.”

I consider this. The information settles into my mind, rearranging itself into new configurations, new possibilities.

“Ines,” I say. “Your niece had this gift as well?”

“Yes.”

Something monumental seems to snap into place at that. Ines always seemed one step ahead, always knew what I was thinking, what everyone was thinking, and this explains how.