Chapter 24: The Hannah Introduction
The Miami Botanical Gardens greenhouse smelled like earth and secrets. Humid air carried fragrances from plants that could heal or kill depending on dosage and intent—oleander, nightshade, foxglove, wolfsbane. Hannah McKay moved among them like a curator of beautiful death, her fingers trailing across leaves that most people couldn't identify and shouldn't touch.
She didn't turn when Elijah approached, continuing her work with the methodical precision of someone who understood chemistry at the molecular level.
"You've been tracking me for months, David," she said without looking up. "Or should I call you Marcus? Or whoever you really are?"
Hannah had first noticed him at the nursery six weeks ago—expensive camera, background checks on her employer, always maintaining exactly fifty feet of distance. Not threatening, just... interested. Like a scientist observing a specimen whose behavior patterns didn't quite fit expected parameters.
Most men who discovered her nature either ran screaming or tried to exploit her talents for their own purposes. This one simply watched, calculated, and remained present without making demands or threats.
Curiosity had finally won over caution.
"David, Marcus, whoever," she continued, pruning dead growth from a particularly venomous specimen. "You can sit. I won't bite. Today."
He settled into the chair across from her small workspace, pulling out the ever-present tablet that seemed to serve as his voice. She watched him type with practiced efficiency, then turn the screen toward her:
I know about Wayne Randall. I know what you did in Argentina. I'm not a threat—I'm impressed.
Hannah's pulse quickened—fear or excitement, impossible to distinguish. "Most people who know that information tend to run. Why didn't you?"
More typing: Because I'm not most people.
She studied his face, looking for tells that might reveal his true intentions. Blackmail was always a possibility, but blackmailers usually led with demands rather than admiration. Law enforcement would have arrested her rather than engaging in botanical small talk.
"What do you want?" she asked directly.
His response surprised her: To understand someone who shares my particular set of moral compromises.
Honest. Most people wrapped their darkness in justification and self-deception. This man seemed comfortable acknowledging what he was without pretense or apology.
Hannah liked honesty. It was rare enough to be valuable.
"I have a business proposition," Elijah typed, watching Hannah's expression shift from wariness to professional interest. "I need access to certain botanical compounds for research purposes. Willing to pay premium rates for discretion and quality."
"Research." Hannah's smile carried sharp edges. "What kind of research requires untraceable toxins?"
Client confidentiality. But nothing that targets innocents.
Hannah laughed—bitter, knowing sound that suggested experience with human nature's darker aspects. "There's no such thing as innocents, David-Marcus-whoever. Just people who haven't been caught yet."
She agreed to the arrangement. First transaction: ricin precursors, delivered within a week, ten thousand dollars cash.
As she prepared to leave, Elijah activated his most expensive scan of the day:
Leverage Finder scanning Hannah McKay...
Subject fantasizes about killing again despite claims of retirement. Poisoned five people for Wayne Randall beyond reported victims. Deeply lonely, craves connection with someone who accepts her nature. Considers current lifestyle sustainable but unfulfilling.
Tier 3 secret. Cost: $9,200.
And then, because caution had kept him alive this long:
Probability Assessment: Will Hannah McKay betray or expose me within six months?
8% probability of betrayal.
Cost: $1,200.
Low enough to proceed. Hannah valued loyalty from those who accepted her darkness—a trait that made her simultaneously dangerous and dependable.
As she walked away, Elijah found himself genuinely intrigued for the first time since transmigration. Hannah represented possibility: someone who might understand his necessary compromises without requiring explanations he couldn't provide.
Dexter's phone call came that evening, voice carrying the controlled concern of someone who'd learned to manage crises through careful planning.
"Stay away from Hannah McKay. She's dangerous."
Elijah wrote his response carefully: So are you. So am I. We're all dangerous, Dexter. The question is who we're dangerous TO.
A pause. "She'll try to kill you eventually. It's what she does to people who get too close."
Then I'll be ready.
"You can't save people by surrounding yourself with killers, David."
Elijah's speech curse almost activated as he tried to explain the mathematical reality of his situation. Instead, it came out as: "But I can... coexist... like friendly sharks!"
Dexter hung up, exasperated. Elijah smiled—the first genuine expression of amusement he'd felt in months.
Hannah represented something he'd thought impossible: someone who might understand him without needing complete honesty. She'd built a life around necessary violence, justified through personal philosophy rather than external codes. Her darkness was self-aware and unapologetic.
Maybe the Entity's game wasn't entirely cruel. Maybe it was testing whether a human could survive hell while maintaining enough humanity to form meaningful connections.
"Hannah McKay is simultaneously the most dangerous and most promising development since my transmigration. She's a future anchor—romantically and strategically—who accepts darkness without demanding explanations I can't provide. The Entity's timeline might be offering me a reward for surviving this long."
Hannah's text arrived at midnight: I looked into you. You don't exist before 2008. That makes two of us who are ghosts. Coffee next week?
Elijah stared at the message, feeling something he'd thought the Entity had burned out of him completely: hope. Not just for survival, but for the possibility of connection with someone who understood the weight of necessary compromises.
He typed back: Yes.
Outside his window, Miami's skyline glittered like a circuit board—electric current flowing through urban arteries, carrying power and possibilities in equal measure. Somewhere in that sprawl of light and shadow, Hannah McKay was probably tending her garden of beautiful death, preparing compounds that could heal or kill depending on intent and dosage.
Tomorrow, he would continue his blackmail operations, funding supernatural abilities through exploitation of criminal enterprises. He would calculate probabilities and assess leverage, transforming human weakness into financial stability.
But tonight, for the first time since waking up in Marcus Reid's body, Elijah Chen allowed himself to hope that survival might include something more than fear.
Maybe the Entity wasn't just a tormentor. Maybe it was testing whether a human could navigate hell and emerge with enough soul intact to recognize another traveler on the same dark road.
Hannah McKay was that traveler. And she'd chosen to reach out first.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
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