Obscure

Chapter 8

Kirill

Between the stubble and the dark circles, Elias looked as bad as Kirill felt. Kirill's haggard state hadn't all been an illusion put on for Elias's benefit. It was always tiring to spend so long inside other people's memories, inhabiting their bodies along with his own. Like living two lives at once. It stood to reason that it would be more tiring than living just the one.

And the repeated blanking of his memory had taken its toll. Every time his vision had gone white and his memory had emptied, coming back had been a little harder. He was glad he had thought of the shock bracelet. He hated to think what state he would have been now in if Elias had kept it up for all of yesterday and today.

He watched Elias across the table, careful not to reveal anything in his eyes. Elias had seen something in him a moment ago—he could tell. He must have caught his reaction to the ghost boy, who made Kirill's skin crawl every time, like he had gone wandering through a horror flick. He had never met anyone capable of blurring out a face in his own memory before.

Elias clearly thought Kirill had been reacting to his contempt for what the ghost boy had done. He was wrong. As much as Elias might want him to feel guilty, the truth was, he never had.

He had been dealt a bad hand in life. The curse in his genetics: one mildly useful power, in exchange for a lifetime of being hunted. He had done the best he could with that hand. He had seen which choice was the smart one, and he had made it. Elias had made a different choice, and look where he was now.

No, Kirill didn't regret a thing. No matter how much of a traitor that made him in Elias's eyes.

He knew how to handle this interrogation now. There would be no need for pain after all, except for the shock bracelet if Elias tried to interfere with his memory again. Maybe even no need for the other incentives he had prepared. All he had to do was press that big red button in Elias's brain, the one labeled Sammy. Then, once the memories were flowing, he could turn the conversation to Elias's network. He had done it once already. It had given him several faces which were still clear in his memory, and at least partial names to go along with half of them.

And the steady fear trickling off of Elias told him it would keep on working.

But Kirill had enough experience to know it would only work for so long. The brain can get used to anything after a while, even the deepest grief. The more Elias grew accustomed to their conversations, the less powerful the emotion would become. And if he hadn't gotten everything he needed from Elias by that point, he would have to find another way in eventually.

If he let Elias ask his question, maybe he could learn something interesting about him. Something about how he perceived this interrogation, and what was important to him at this moment. And everything he gleaned from the other man now was a potential way into his head later.

So he sat back in his chair, loosened his shoulders, and forced his lips into a casual smile. "Well?" he prompted, like he was talking to a friend over lunch—not that he could remember the last time he had done that. "Go ahead. We could both use the break, anyway."

Elias didn't ask his question. He eyed Kirill with a wary gaze.

"I know you didn't ask because you wanted to hear me say no," said Kirill. "You have something you want to ask me. So ask it."

Elias gave a slow nod. "All right," he said. "Who are you?"

Kirill hadn't been expecting any question in particular. But if he had been, that would not have been it. "If this is meant to be a mind game," he said, still with the smile on his face, "you'll have to tell me how to play first."