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They soon arrived. Jenny entered first and joined Geoffrey by his side.

As soon as he saw the aberration’s face--his father’s face--Hector had to hold himself back. The urge to attack immediately was so strong that it made every muscle in his body go taut. If it hadn’t been for Sheryl’s presence, for the notion that her safety trumped killing Geoffrey, then the fight would have already begun.

“You are bleeding,” Geoffrey observed. “Why have you not healed yet?”

He could hardly feel the wound on his arm, even though he was sure that it must’ve been throbbing like crazy. But instead of answering Geoffrey’s question, Hector chose to reassess the situation. Ms. Trent was pinned to the wall, covered from neck to toe in crimson shadow. Her mouth was covered, but according to her wide, panicked eyes, she was still herself.

Geoffrey smirked after a moment. “You have always been a difficult person to read, haven’t you? Even your father--well, your previous father--even he never really felt like he understood you. But then, he did not take a very active role in your life, did he? I am honestly curious as to what you thought of him. The whole reason I took his body was because I thought the two of you were close, but according to his memories, that does not seem to be the case. And yes, I know I said we should not drag things out, but I think we need to have a nice father-son chat before we finally settle matters here. Don’t you?”

Hector had no intention of responding. All he wanted was an opening.

“Ever the quiet one. Hmm. Then perhaps you will be interested in what I have to say. For instance, did you know that your father suffered from quite vivid hallucinations? Your parents never told you, right?”