Falling Scales — Vladimir Duran

Everything you know is wrong. NSA agents Alexander Renault and Francis Duffy have been chasing a legend for two and a half years. Now that legend had them as its mercy. Wraith will take away what they think they know, who they think they are, their faith. What he leaves behind when he's done is up to them. Are they still guardians of the people or just dead men in cheap suits?



Excerpt



The more the kid went on the more interested Vlad seemed to become. His eyes lost some of the play and became more focused on the physicist. When Francis started talking about their casework, they became like razors.



Lex's eyes began to drift to the knife sitting next to his untouched chicken parmesan. His gun would be more reliable but he wouldn't be able to draw it and fire fast enough. Even if he hit the man there were people behind him. No, the Knife. How fast could Vlad pull his trick? Could he do it fast enough to stop the agent? Maybe he was going insane. Twenty minutes ago he didn't believe in telekinesis. Fantasy stuff. Now he was considering reaction times.



There would only be one chance at this. Last time he went after someone with those eyes the subject killed six people just to prove he could. Timing would be everything. The eye, it would have to be the eye. The neck was soft too, but the eye would blind him at least. Kill him if Lex drove it in deep enough.



Francis was talking about how the satellite picked up signals, Vlad was engrossed. Now!

Lex's hand barely twitched. And the knife twitched away. It slid soundlessly along surface of the table along with the fork and Francis's silverware.



Just like that, it was over. Lex looked up, Vlad wasn't even really paying attention to him, he was still engrossed in Francis.