Chapter 10: The Lila Problem
Elijah's eyes felt like sandpaper as he stumbled through Miami International Airport, the red-eye flight from Albuquerque having transformed his circadian rhythm into abstract art. Coffee tasted like bitter regret, and his reflection in the terminal bathroom mirror showed David Chen wearing Marcus Reid's exhaustion like an ill-fitting mask.
The Omniscient Locator revealed Dexter's location with clinical precision: a community center on Northwest 7th Street, currently engaged in what appeared to be a group therapy session.
Cost: $150.
Confusion spiked through Elijah's tired mind. Dexter didn't need Narcotics Anonymous—his addictions were far more exotic than anything twelve-step programs addressed. Unless this was another cover story, another layer of camouflage in his elaborate performance of normalcy.
Elijah parked across from the community center and waited, watching through sleep-deprived eyes as people filed out of the building. Recovering addicts, mostly, wearing the careful composure of people who'd learned to navigate life without chemical assistance. And then Dexter emerged, walking beside a woman who made every instinct Elijah possessed scream warnings.
She was striking—auburn hair, pale skin, the kind of beauty that came with sharp edges and hidden costs. The way she moved suggested predatory confidence, and the way she looked at Dexter suggested possession rather than friendship.
Red flags detonated in Elijah's consciousness like emergency flares.
"David!" Dexter's smile seemed genuine as Elijah approached them on the sidewalk. "Lila, this is David Chen, the forensic consultant I mentioned. David, meet Lila Tournay, my sponsor."
Sponsor. The word carried implications that made Elijah's stomach clench. Dexter didn't need sponsorship; he needed isolation from people who might discover his true nature. This woman represented a variable he couldn't control.
"Pleasure to meet you," Lila said, extending her hand with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The moment their skin touched, Elijah activated his most expensive power.
Leverage Finder scanning Lila Tournay...
The secret hit him like a physical assault—images cascading through his consciousness in brutal succession. Apartment buildings consumed by carefully set fires. An ex-boyfriend's studio reduced to ashes. Insurance claims filed with forged documentation. The sexual thrill she derived from destruction, the way flames reflected in her eyes like captured stars.
Serial arsonist. Burned ex-boyfriend's apartment in London, former colleague's studio in Paris. Uses fire as mechanism for control and sexual gratification. Seeks dominance through destruction. Extremely dangerous when threatened or abandoned.
Tier 3 Secret. Cost: $8,500.
Elijah's face went carefully neutral, but he felt something shift in Lila's expression—a predatory alertness, as if she'd sensed exposure on some instinctual level. Her grip tightened slightly before she released his hand.
"Just tired," Elijah said quickly, noting Dexter's concerned glance. "Long flight from the west coast."
But Lila's eyes remained fixed on his face, studying him with the focused intensity of a scientist examining a fascinating specimen. Whatever she'd felt during their handshake, it had triggered her survival instincts.
"David travels extensively for work," Dexter explained. "Forensic equipment sales."
"How interesting," Lila murmured, never breaking eye contact with Elijah. "What brings you to Miami so frequently?"
The question was casual, but Elijah heard the interrogation beneath it. This woman was dangerous in ways that went beyond arson—she was intelligent, suspicious, and territorial about Dexter's attention.
"Expanding client base," Elijah replied. "Law enforcement agencies always need better tools."
Lila smiled—predatory, knowing. "I'm sure they do."
POV: Lila
Lila watched David Chen walk away with Dexter, her instincts screaming that something was fundamentally wrong with the forensic consultant. During their handshake, she'd felt exposed—truly exposed—for the first time since childhood. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.
David had looked at her like he knew her secrets. Not suspected, not guessed—knew. With the certainty of someone who'd witnessed her work firsthand. Impossible, of course. Her activities had been carefully planned, meticulously executed, the evidence consumed by flames that left no witnesses.
But impossible didn't mean untrue.
She pulled out her phone and texted Dexter: Your friend David is interesting. Very... intense.
His response came within minutes: He's just a colleague. Why?
Lila didn't respond immediately. Dexter was lying—nobody maintained that level of professional distance with "just a colleague." David Chen was important to Dexter in ways that neither man was admitting.
Which made him either a rival or a threat.
She began planning her research immediately. David Chen's background, his company, his travel patterns, his connection to Dexter. If he was hiding something significant—and her instincts insisted he was—she would find it.
And if he proved to be a threat to her relationship with Dexter, she would eliminate him.
Fire, after all, consumed everything eventually.
POV: Elijah
Back at Dexter's apartment, Elijah tried to warn him about Lila without triggering his speech curse. The moment he attempted to say "She's an arsonist," the words twisted in his throat like living things seeking escape.
"She really... lights up a room! With... enthusiasm!"
Dexter raised an eyebrow. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, David."
Frustrated beyond measure, Elijah grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling rapidly: She's dangerous. Fire-related past. Check records.
Dexter read the note with growing irritation. "You're being paranoid. Lila's helping me maintain my cover with Rita. The relationship serves a purpose."
Elijah activated his Probability Assessment despite the mounting financial cost.
If Lila Tournay remains in Dexter's life: 67% probability of major crisis within six months. Variables include: her psychological instability, territorial behavior regarding Dexter, likelihood of discovering his true nature through proximity.
Cost: $3,400.
"I'm rarely wrong about people," Elijah said carefully.
"Then be wrong this time." Dexter's tone carried finality. "I can handle Lila."
"He's making the same mistake Walter made with Tuco—assuming he can control a dangerous variable through superior intelligence. But some people can't be managed; they can only be avoided or eliminated."
Elijah's inability to verbally communicate urgent warnings was becoming a fatal flaw. The speech curse forced him to rely on written communication, which made him seem calculating and emotionally distant. People trusted instinct and emotion more than logical analysis, especially when that analysis came in the form of cryptic notes.
He needed to establish better communication protocols, but every attempt to seem more human pushed people away from the very warnings that might save their lives.
That evening, Elijah met Vince Masuka at Murphy's Tavern, maintaining his David Chen social cover through forced interaction with Dexter's colleagues. Masuka had been drinking steadily and was in full flirtation mode.
"You should come to the lab more often, David," Masuka said, leaning closer with alcohol-fueled confidence. "You're so... analytical. I like that in a man."
Before Elijah could respond, Debra Morgan slid into the booth beside him with the predatory grace of a detective who'd caught an interesting scent.
"Speaking of analytical," she said, studying Elijah's face with uncomfortable intensity. "You travel a lot for a salesman. What's your company called again?"
Elijah's stomach dropped. Debra had memorized his business card from their first meeting, which meant she'd been thinking about him. When detectives started thinking about someone, it rarely ended well for the subject of their attention.
"Chen Scientific Supply," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "Forensic enhancement solutions."
"Right." Debra's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Funny thing—I called that number today. Got a generic voicemail, no company directory, no live operator."
The trap was closing around him with digital precision. Debra Morgan was too good at her job and too suspicious by nature to accept convenient explanations from mysterious consultants who appeared at crime scenes and disappeared to the west coast.
"Small company," Elijah said. "Family business. We keep overhead low."
"Uh-huh." Debra's stare didn't waver. "And you just happened to be in Miami when Lila's apartment caught fire?"
The non sequitur hit him like a physical blow. Lila's apartment had burned? When? Why hadn't Dexter mentioned it?
"I'm sorry?"
"Lila Tournay. Your friend Dexter's sponsor. Her apartment building had a suspicious fire two days ago. Arson investigation is ongoing." Debra leaned closer. "Funny how often you show up right before or after interesting events."
Elijah's mind raced through implications. Lila had set her own apartment on fire—classic arsonist behavior, destroying evidence or creating a cover story. And now Debra was connecting him to events he'd had no part in, simply because his presence in Miami coincided with suspicious activities.
The Entity's game was becoming a chess match where he couldn't see the board, and every move created new vulnerabilities.
"I'm just here on business," he said finally.
"I'm sure you are." Debra stood, tossing money on the table. "But business has a way of following you around, doesn't it, David?"
She walked away, leaving Elijah alone with Masuka's confused expression and the growing certainty that his carefully constructed cover identity was developing cracks that would soon become fractures.
His phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: I know what you are. We should talk.
No signature, but Elijah recognized the tone. Lila had made her opening move in whatever game she thought they were playing.
The Entity's curse had given him supernatural powers, but it couldn't protect him from the most dangerous predator of all: a smart, violent person who thought she understood him better than she actually did.
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