Messiahs by Matt Rogers (bookstand for reading txt) 📕

typical of the fragile human anatomy, her kick had found the right place on his skull to rattle his brain in just the right way to shut his lights off forever.

She’d killed three people in a surprisingly short time frame.

So Slater was right.

This world was messy.

She said, ‘Do what you’ve gotta do.’

Slater looked at King and jerked his head for the front door. ‘Shall we?’

‘We’ve been home for ten minutes,’ King said. ‘Can’t I make a coffee?’

Slater glanced at Violetta. ‘He doesn’t learn, does he? Some partner. Like he’s rubbing the magic of caffeine in your face…’

She rolled her eyes.

Slater started for the door. ‘The sooner I know what’s in this Bodhi shit, the better. Make your coffee later. We’ll swing by Starbucks on the way to Pressfield’s clinic.’

He knew full well that King would rather make himself vomit than drink Starbucks.

King followed him to the garage.

13

The private practice was in Summerlin, only a five minute drive from The Ridges. It was a small but exclusive place, catering to the wealthiest residents who lived out west and wanted the fastest results and the most discretion.

King and Slater had a deal for a different sort of discretion.

They walked straight in, and Slater fed his name to the receptionist, who recognised him anyway.

The young woman said, ‘Noah’s finishing up with a patient now but he’s on his lunch break in fifteen minutes. I’ll let him know you’re here. Is that okay?’

Slater nodded. ‘That’s fine. We’re in no hurry.’

They technically were, but complaining about it achieved nothing and would only serve to make her standoffish. Sometimes politeness is the key to expediency.

They sat in the waiting room, out of place amongst frail or overweight Summerlin residents riddled with a variety of medical issues, most of which could be relieved by actually paying attention to what went into their mouths instead of opening their wallets for the best medical care every time something went wrong.

Finally Dr. Pressfield appeared in the hallway. He didn’t come into the waiting room and announce their real names, mostly because he didn’t know them. Instead he met Slater’s gaze and jerked his head toward his office, then disappeared back down the corridor.

King and Slater got up and bled past the reception desk, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Slater still heard someone grumble. ‘They just got here…’

They didn’t need directions — they’d been here before. Pressfield’s office had his name on the door, and it stood apart from the rest of the doors in the clinic. Most of the doctors were GPs. Pressfield’s expertise was a little more … specialised.

Pressfield shook their hands as they entered, and King closed the door behind them. Pressfield was a small man with a no-nonsense attitude. He was in his fifties, with thick black hair shaped in a sharp widow’s peak and a handsome wrinkled face.

He said, ‘I must say I’m surprised you’re here. I thought we were four weeks away from the next cycle.’

King said, ‘We are. It’s not about that.’

‘What’s it about? I don’t have a whole lot of time today. I only just managed to squeeze you in.’

‘With what we pay you, you’ll squeeze us in whenever we ask.’

Pressfield said, ‘What do you want?’

Slater took the vials out of his pocket and handed them over. ‘We need these tested as soon as possible. Cancel an appointment if you have to. This takes priority.’

Pressfield took the vials and turned them over, one by one. ‘What is it?’

King said, ‘Why do you think we’re coming to you?’

Pressfield narrowed his eyes. ‘So you’re really going to pretend you ordered this stuff off the dark web without a clue what was in it. I thought you’d at least know loosely what you were buying. Isn’t that what you’re using me for? To ensure the purity before you have a wild night?’

Slater said, ‘We have no idea what’s in it.’

‘So sample it yourself.’

A still snapshot flashed like an effervescent nightmare in Slater’s mind. Jace’s eyes wide in splendour, bringing the gun to his temple with his skinless hand.

He said, ‘We’d rather not.’

Pressfield said, ‘Where’d you get it?’

Slater didn’t respond.

King stayed mute, too.

Pressfield tutted. ‘This is a highly unusual request.’

‘We don’t care how unusual it is,’ Slater said. ‘We’re here to pay you to test it. Is there a problem? Should we go elsewhere?’

Pressfield smirked without lifting his eyes. ‘I doubt you’ll find a deal like ours anywhere else.’

‘You think you’re the only doctor in this city up for sale?’

Pressfield grimaced, like he didn’t want to continue down this road. It was one thing to risk your medical licence, it was another to openly discuss it. ‘I’ll need to take it into the lab.’

‘Can’t you do it here?’ King said. ‘Surely you have the means to test it in this clinic.’

‘I can test it here, but all I’ll be able to say is, “Yes, these are drugs.” Immunoassays — the methods we use here — aren’t sensitive enough to pick out some of the higher-tier stuff. I’m guessing this is some designer shit.’

‘Almost certainly,’ Slater said, remembering Jace throwing his head back, struck by something otherworldly.

Pressfield nodded. ‘Exactly. So I’ll go do a Mass Spec on it.’

‘What?’

‘Mass Spectrometry,’ Pressfield said. ‘Its compound detection sensitivity is off the charts. And it can pick up multiple compounds in the same analysis, which basic methods like the ones we have here can’t. Would you wager there’s more than one substance in these vials?’

King looked unsure.

Slater said, ‘Yes.’

‘Then leave it with me. I should have the results before the end of the day. Then we can organise to—’

‘After you test it, destroy it,’ King said. ‘We don’t need it.’

Pressfield hesitated. ‘Then why do you need to know what’s in it?’

‘Best we leave that unanswered,’ Slater said.

He saw the glint in Pressfield’s eyes.

Slater said, ‘Take it yourself if you deem it safe enough. You’re the expert, after all. Consider it payment.’

Pressfield said, ‘What sort of degenerate do you think I am?’

King rolled his eyes, like that was self-explanatory.

Pressfield said, ‘Give