Connected (Bureau #12)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

“ W ell, this is a fun surprise.” Miller gazed at Keaton, unconscious but firmly bound to an upright support beam, his head lolling. At least the bastard hadn’t taken away Keaton’s clothing. Yet, anyway.

Owen felt a lot of things at the moment, and one of them was a bit of grim pleasure. Because although Miller was acting as if Keaton’s appearance was a delightful new twist to his game, in fact he looked a little worried. And he was also a mess, with blood caking his head and suit.

Miller spun around to grin at Owen. “Aren’t you going to act all gruff and blustery and tell me to leave him alone? Or perhaps do something noble like sacrificing yourself if I let him go?”

“Telling you to let him go won’t do any good. And I wouldn’t trust you to keep your end of any agreement.”

“Fair enough.”

It was clear that Miller was still considering his options, and also clear that none of them would be good for Owen or Keaton. Stalling for time was the best tactic Owen could think of. “Why are you doing this? Even if I joined you, the two of us aren’t enough to take over the world.”

“Oh, it’s not just the two of us. We are legion.”

Owen shook his head. “Don’t pretend you have a demon army. I know demons.” There was Tenrael, of course, and a few others he’d encountered over the years. They weren’t exactly nice guys, but they weren’t necessarily evil. Like humans, they made choices—some good, some bad.

Miller did his fucking annoying chuckle. “You recognized the phrase. You must be a churchgoing man.”

“No.”

“I was too, once upon a time. It’s all nonsense—all religions are—but they do serve a useful purpose now and then, don’t they?”

“I’m not interested in discussing theology.”

“No,” Miller said. “You want useful intel, don’t you? Not that it’ll do you any good. But maybe it’ll help you reach a decision once you know exactly what I’m asking you to join. There are many of us, Agent Clark. Human and otherwise. Since long before you were born we have been identifying individuals who could be useful to our cause, and we’ve been persuading them to join us. And once they have, each one turns around and finds other new recruits.”

Owen tried to understand this. “It’s a pyramid scheme? You’re the Amway of evil? Then who the hell’s at the top?”

Miller shrugged. “I have no idea. It doesn’t matter. This is a process in which every contributor’s work is valuable. Not like your Bureau, which will hardly miss you when you’re gone.”

This struck closer to home than Owen wanted to admit. He’d always been taught that Townsend chose agents with care, picking only those who he knew would be important to the Bureau’s mission. Hell, Townsend had said so himself. Early in Owen’s career, this had made him puff up with pride. He might have once been an unwanted kid from Copper Springs, but now he was someone . Except… whatever potential Townsend had seen in him had never been fulfilled. Owen was an adequate agent, but that was all. He was nothing special.

Perhaps sensing Owen’s thoughts, Miller hoisted himself onto the nearest metal table and sat with his legs crossed. “Wouldn’t you like to be something more, Agent Clark? Wouldn’t you like to make a difference?”

“Not when it means harming others.”

Miller scowled. “Don’t act self-righteous. You’ve harmed plenty of others in pursuit of the Bureau’s goals.”

“Not the same thing.”

God, Owen was tired. The ache from his abused joints had settled in deeply, and the rest of his body protested from Miller’s nasty magic trick and the smaller, more run-of-the-mill tortures he’d inflicted earlier. It had been a long day and was getting late. He would almost have sold his soul for a glass of water, some maximum-strength gummies, and his familiar bed.

Almost. Because it wasn’t just his soul at stake. He tried not to focus on Keaton, in hopes that Miller would ignore him too.

“Why are you doing this to me specifically? Or was I just the one you happened to catch?”

“It’s you. For one thing, it’s exceptionally handy that you’re a Bureau agent. But you’re interesting in your own right. I couldn’t say why. It’s… intuition. You’re not my only target, of course—I have many. But you are one of them.”

“So you came out to the middle of nowhere and set a trap, hoping that I’d stumble into it.”

“It’s… not that simple.” Miller stared up at the ceiling while he thought. That gave Owen the opportunity for a quick glance at Keaton, who hadn’t yet moved. Then Miller turned his attention back to Owen. “We are currently not in the coal tipple, or in Wyoming at all. This room is a construct I’ve created. For my convenience, it has connections to many places on the planet, although I should note that only one connection can be open at any one time, and opening them takes a good deal of effort. Our work isn’t always easy, my friend.”

Owen managed not to bristle at the false familiarity, and after a moment, Miller continued. “I’ve made it hard for anyone to find the portal between here and ordinary space. I allowed you in, of course. I’d been hoping for years to lure you here. I tried baiting my trap.” He shook his head in false sorrow. “I really thought you’d come back after I killed your mother.”

His mother. Owen had carefully kept her out of his head for so long that the word mother felt alien. And the fact that this bastard had apparently murdered her… well, Owen couldn’t process that right now.

Miller was still speaking. “Your friend somehow managed to blunder his way in, which puzzles me. When our business here concludes—with one resolution or another—I’ll close this portal permanently and open another to take myself back home. If you choose wisely, you’ll be with me. If not, you’ll be a corpse in a coal tipple.” He laughed as if this were funny. “I have dozens of portals all across the United States. Sooner or later, I catch all my prey.”

“I don’t get it. You say you’re human, yet you can do this kind of shit.”

“I was human. Now I’m something more. Much like your beloved Chief Townsend, I should add. And you can be as well.”

Owen wasn’t exactly surprised by this revelation about his former chief, who was creepy as hell and capable of a lot of things generally beyond human skill sets. And the thing was, while Owen had never been entirely thrilled with himself, the idea of becoming another… species ? It filled his veins with ice water.

But it was also exciting.

“You’re saying that if I join you, I’ll be able to reshape reality?”

“In a small way, yes. But my god, man, it’s so much more than that.” Miller hopped down from the table and walked over. His eyes were still like looking into an abyss, but his face had settled into softer tones, and for the first time, Owen had the sense that Miller was entirely sincere. “You’ll never be ill, you won’t age, and you’ll live far longer than humans do. I was born in 1856, and look at me! All of those stupid things that vex you now—rent, taxes, traffic, annoying neighbors, pesky family—will be irrelevant. Right now, the world is your prison, but it could become your playground.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Owen’s head turned so quickly that it hurt. Miller spun around, and both of them stared at Keaton, who was now wide awake.

“Keaton—” Owen began.

But Keaton spoke over him. “What’s he trying to get you to join? Because he’s not lying to you, but you don’t want to have anything to do with him. Believe me.”

How long had Keaton been pretending to be unconscious? He was an actor, after all.

Miller obviously found something about Keaton unsettling. His scowl was back when he turned to Owen. “Who is this man to you?”

“Nothing. He rented me a guest house for a couple of nights.”

That produced a snort. “Airbnb hosts don’t generally follow their guests into abandoned coal tipples in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

Owen tried to calculate whether things would be better or worse for Keaton if Miller learned that he was an empath. But he just didn’t know enough about Miller’s goals. No matter what, Keaton’s future looked grim.

“Why did you come here?” Owen asked, giving up any pretense that they were nothing more than nodding acquaintances.

“I got worried. Justifiably.”

“But you can’t…. What the hell did you expect you’d be able to do?”

“Nothing. But I couldn’t just sit there. I’ve been doing that for way too long.”

Owen would have liked to point out that this didn’t make logical sense, and that Keaton was stupid, and that the entire effort had been useless. But Keaton already knew that. And besides, a tiny part of Owen was pleased. Someone… not just anyone, but Keaton… had cared enough about him to risk his life.

Keaton, who must have sensed what Owen was feeling, gave a small smile.

“This is a lovely reunion,” said Miller, raising his hand. “But I have other things to do.”

“Are you trying to make him be like you?” asked Keaton, not showing any fear.

“Yes.”

“You won’t. You can’t. His inner self is good . Yours is putrid. You are literally rotten to the core.”

Miller waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not rot. You people think in simplistic terms. Black and white. Good and evil. That’s not the way the world works.” He did his hand gesture.

Keaton was still screaming when Miller turned the gesture on Owen as well.