Guarding the Mermaid

by Eve Langlais

  The sudden quiet eased the tension in the air only for a moment. There was a flurry of motion as the door opened, nervous fingers sitting on triggers.

  A man in a white coat exited. “He’s asleep,” Doctor Cerberus announced, his voice rich with a hint of an accent. His dark skin contrasted with his jacket, and his graying hair appeared darker than the last time Jett saw him. “Keep two guards at the end of the hall. I want someone monitoring him twenty-four-seven.”

  “Yes, sir.” Travis, one of the newer fellows recently expelled from the military and snagged by the clinic, practically saluted before he headed up the hall, the other guards at his heels. Jett gave them a nod as they passed and then went to meet with Cerberus.

  The doctor had a tablet and was sliding his finger across it.

  “Did they double his restraints?” Jett asked as he neared.

  “We put him in the new titanium ones. He’s a strong one.”

  “No shit. He almost killed the nurse that was with him when he woke.”

  “I heard. Might have been a blessing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The doctor tucked his tablet into a large pocket. “It means, given how sick that girl will become, the agony she’ll go through, that a quick death might have been better.”

  “You know about her cancer?”

  “I do.”

  “And you know Chimera has a cure for it.”

  “No, he has a prototype, unproven yet with humans.”

  Jett exploded. “Bullshit. You and I both know he’s used it. Why not give it to the girl? It’s not like he gives a shit about laws.”

  “No. He doesn’t.” Cerberus offered a faint smile. “However, he is picky about his patients, so there must be something about this woman that doesn’t make her a viable subject.”

  “She’s not military.” Or ex-military. For some reason Chimera went after those who’d served. Which made no sense to Jett.

  “He’s made exceptions in the past for civilians. So there must be another reason.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about his reasons. He’s gonna let her die. Hell, he even taunted her with it. Showed her the cure then told her she couldn’t have it.”

  Cerberus arched a brow. “How unusual. Almost as if he wants her to take it on her own.”

  A snort escaped Jett. “And how is that supposed to happen? He keeps the shit under lock and key.”

  “If Chimera wants her to have it, he’ll find a way.”

  And if Chimera didn’t, did Jett care enough to do it himself?

  A few days ago, he would have said fuck her.

  But she’d gone and kissed him. Now…now he didn’t know what to think.

  “What you gonna do with him?” He jerked his head at the door.

  “The same as always. Study him. See what changes were wrought in his genes. Then tweak the formula for the next one.”

  Always experimenting, and yet Jett hadn’t quite figured out their end goal. Some were easy to grasp. The cure for cancer would make the scientists and the clinic rich. But the other stuff—the stuff that made patients into something else, something more monster than man—he had no idea.

  Chimera and his bevy of doctors like Cerberus and Sphinx kept playing with their mixtures, after something more than just healing.

  Jett’s best guess was they were looking to make super soldiers. The kind that could fight without weapons. Last longer. Be stronger.

  Problem was, apart from a small handful, most of the experiments were mindless shits. A soldier was no good if it turned on its own command.

  “I hear the snipers spotted movement in the woods again,” Jett remarked.

  Awhile back, a foolish employee, feeling sorry for some of the patients, had made the grave mistake of setting them free. That employee was the first to die. And while some of those escapees had been caught, a larger number remained at large. Thought to be long gone or dead.

  Until recently.

  “We are aware of the increased activity and taking measures.”

  “Capture or kill?” Jett asked. Because, if the latter, he’d be miffed if no one called upon him.

  “Neither. We’ve chosen observation for the moment. There must be a reason why they’re watching.”

  Yeah. Revenge. But Jett held his tongue. “When is your kid coming to visit?”

  “Jayda?” Cerberus beamed. “Next month. Which means we’ll have to warn everyone.” Because Jayda would be one of the few people allowed to visit and then leave. If she didn’t see anything she shouldn’t.

  “We should take care of the problem in the woods before then,” Jett suggested. Given his recent temperament, he could use something to calm him down. Hunting would fit the bill.

  “We’ll see. For the moment, we’re going to watch. Maybe learn a few things. But fear not, when the time comes, we will request your services.”

  That time couldn’t come soon enough. Especially since he found himself watching Becky that night. Watching and wondering what might have happened had he stayed.

  Chapter Nine

  Becky would have laughed as Jett fled if she didn’t fear it would hurt. The man took off as if she would chase him. He’d enjoyed the kiss, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The boner in his pants gave him away. What she didn’t understand was why he ran away. Did a kiss scare him so much?

  A thing to explore further if she didn’t have more important things to ponder than his fear of making out.

  She raised fingers to her throat, the ache in it demanding she find some acetaminophen or some other pain reliever. Entering the bathroom, she immediately glanced at the mirror and gasped at her reflection.

  Her throat was a mottled, bruised mess. The flesh puffy. Purple. Blue. Almost black in spots. Red in others.

  Yet not crushed. Which was strange because, as she lay under Larry, his fingers digging, she could have sworn she heard something pop and crack. However, Dr. Chimera never even put her in a brace. Just implied he’d given her some top-secret treatment. But what kind of treatment healed crushed and broken bone?

  Perhaps my injuries weren’t as bad as I thought. She had, after all, passed out.

  Leaning forward, she traced the damage and shuddered as she realized how close she’d come to dying. If Jett hadn’t come to her rescue…

  She’d have died a few months earlier than predicted and skipped the inevitable descent into pain.

  A sigh escaped her. So much for hiding her diagnosis. Her boss knew the cancer was back, and then the jerk taunted her with the possibility of a cure. A cure she couldn’t have because of the rules.

  Which was ironic considering part of the reason she’d come here was in the hope of uncovering a scandal. She’d expected to find unethical medical practices. So far, though, she had nothing. Just a hint of the possibility of a cure, out of reach… Or was it?

  Dr. Chimera had asked her to come work for him. In his lab. This was her chance to not only finally get a grasp on what happened deep within the clinic but maybe, just maybe, convince the doctor to give her a taste of the cure.

  Despite telling Jett she wasn’t tired, it didn’t take long to realize she needed sleep. She prepped for bed and had just about climbed into her sheets when there was a knock.

  Probably Margaret. As it turned out, no one stood outside, but a tray had been left with a thermos. Opening it, she expected a vile concoction; however the fluid within, which steamed, had a smell similar to vanilla and, while it had a bit of a bitter undertone, went down smoothly.

  It also put her right to sleep.

  The next morning Becky woke with a sore head and an even sorer neck; however her smile had returned. Life was too short to be upset or grumpy. She knew this better than most.

  And she also had another reason to grin. She’d kissed sourpuss Jett. Not that it would happen again. He knew her deadly secret. No man in his right mind would want to get involved with a dying woman.

  It was part of the reason why she flirted an
d didn’t follow through. It didn’t seem fair to burden anyone. Which meant she spent more time alone than she enjoyed. It was also why she usually kept her door open and invited random people in. Not that many took her up on the offer. Only Margaret, as stuck up as she was, ever popped in to see her.

  This morning, though, Becky didn’t feel like opening the door. Not when she had secrets to write down. She’d not written much in her journal after her arrival. Mostly first impressions, a few wild speculations. Until Larry, the most excitement she’d seen was when they’d arrived and a patient on level six went a little nuts.

  Since then? Nothing. While the clinic had a strange mode of operation, she’d not come across any illegal activity. Truly disappointing.

  But she had a feeling she’d barely scratched the surface. Take for instance Dr. Chimera’s secret lab. Why did the man keep it hidden?

  And what of the concoction he’d given her? He implied he sold it to the military. Was it some kind of miracle cure being kept from the general public?

  She tucked the journal under her arm and entered the bathroom. Gazing upon her reflection, she couldn’t believe the difference from the night before. Craning her head, she noted most of the pain was gone, the bruising and swelling not as pronounced.

  One would almost call her recovery miraculous. Sitting on her bed, with her legs tucked under her, she scribbled, detailing everything she remembered from the attack to Chimera’s lab. Breaking who knew how many rules in doing so. She didn’t care. What was the worst they could do to her?

  They could send me away. Send her off to die alone instead of keeping her here where a cure might be hiding.

  A knock at the door froze her. She tucked her journal inside her pillowcase. Not the greatest hiding spot, but then again, it wasn’t as if this were a prison with guard searches on cells.

  “Becky?” said Margaret from the hall, tapping again.

  “Go away,” she croaked, the hoarseness better than before but not completely gone.

  “Are you okay?”

  No. Far from it. But chances were, by now, word had travelled about the attack, which meant she couldn’t exactly pretend it hadn’t happened. “Fine. Just healing.”

  “Healing from what?” was Margaret’s startled query.

  The fact she’d not heard surprised Becky. Then again, the only two people who knew about the incident with Larry probably didn’t talk about it. Becky was the one who’d slipped up, and Margaret seemed determined to see her.

  Didn’t it just figure. Becky sighed. A month she’d been trying to cultivate a friendship, and now that Margaret showed an interest, she just wanted her to go away. Best deal with this now. Becky opened the door just enough to peek out and say, “I had a problem with a patient. It’s all cool now.”

  “What kind of problem?” Margaret shoved at the door, and Becky initially resisted, not wanting to deal with the censure she was sure Margaret would toss her way.

  The other nurse walked in and gasped. “Your poor face. What happened?”

  “One of the coma patients woke up. He was a little erratic.” Understatement. He tried to kill her.

  “A little?” was Margaret’s incredulous reply. “He beat the hell out of you.”

  “Not his fault. He had no idea who I was. I’ll be okay.” Only because Jett had saved her and Dr. Chimera had given her some miracle potion. She knew better than to mention that part aloud.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. This is a good thing. Dr. Chimera gave me a promotion. Said I was wasting my time on the wards. I start in his secret lab tomorrow as his personal assistant.” An unexpected boon. And one she was eager for. Finally, she might understand what was going on here—and maybe find a way to steal a taste of what he hid in his fridge.

  “That sounds amazing.” Margaret’s reply was wooden.

  It might be petty, but she kind of enjoyed the other woman’s obvious jealousy. “It is.” She couldn’t help a faint smile.

  Margaret glanced at her watch. “Shoot I have to run. My shift is about to start.”

  “Have fun.” Becky waved and then shut the door. Leaned on it.

  Weird how she was usually the one with her door open, encouraging Margaret and anyone else to visit. But today… Today she felt different.

  For one, she had no interest in seeing or talking to anyone. People would ask questions she didn’t feel like answering. She also wanted to process some of her memories. Memories of inhuman eyes that glowed. Just like the guy in the ER.

  Whatever the cause, Chimaeram was obviously the source. Since she’d gotten special treatment, would her eyes glow, too? She ran to the bathroom to check. The same green orbs stared back. Perhaps she needed to be angry. Emotion seemed to trigger it.

  Clenching her fists, she tried to irritate herself. Thinking of things that made her mad. Like no more pudding because she didn’t eat fast enough. Or rain on a day she wanted fresh air. None of it was enough.

  Her eyes remained the same.

  Then again, what did she expect? It wasn’t as if she’d been in a coma and given the IV like the other patients.

  A knock at the door drew her attention. Probably Margaret again. Maybe with food. She was getting kind of hungry.

  She opened her door, only to gape, as Jett stood in its frame. A flutter of pleasure erupted within, even as she reminded herself he’d probably not returned to claim another kiss.

  “What are you doing here?” For a moment, she wondered if he’d come to give her the bum-rush out of here. A dying woman would be considered a liability no matter what Chimera or anyone said. She couldn’t fault them for firing her.

  Or maybe they knew about her journal and her plan to expose their secrets—once she found them—to the world.

  Or—

  “You look better,” he stated.

  Not exactly a glowing compliment. Heat still filled her cheeks. “I feel better. But how are you here? I thought this wing was for women only.” Mr. Lowry had showed Becky and Margaret when they first arrived what happened to men who strayed down the wrong hall. A giant zap that put them on the floor drooling.

  “Exceptions can be made.”

  “Why are you here?” Had he come to check on her? The very idea warmed.

  Then chilled as he said, “Chimera sent this.” He thrust a thermos at her.

  “What’s in it?” she asked, taking it from him.

  “Shit to make you feel better.”

  “Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you brought it. I didn’t know you were his errand boy.” Yeah, it was a dig; however, his attitude irritated. So much for that half-second when she thought he actually cared.

  “I offered.”

  “You did?” The surprise lilted her reply.

  He shifted uncomfortably, not meeting her gaze. “You were in rough shape.”

  “And you worried about me?” Would wonders never cease? “I’ll be okay.”

  “No, you won’t.” Said bluntly.

  “Because I’m dying.” She shrugged. “We all have to die at one point.”

  “But you’re young.”

  “Yup.” How nice of him to point that out. She turned on her heel and moved away from the door.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?”

  She whirled, eyes blazing. “Yes, it bothers me, but what should I do? Huddle in a corner and cry?”

  “Why aren’t you in a hospital fighting it?”

  “Because I’m what you call terminal.”

  “You don’t look sick.”

  “It will come. The cancer is spreading. Breathing hurts.” A twinge with each lungful she took.

  “Surely there’s something you can do.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “And you can stop pretending you care. We both know you don’t. You’re just freaked out by the fact I’m young and dying and cool about it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?” She blinked at his profanity.

  “I don’
t believe for a moment you’re cool about it. I think you’re pissed and scared and determined to not show it because if you show it then you have to face it.”

  “I’m already facing it. I’ve been facing the fact I’m going to die young for years.”

  “Then why aren’t you fighting it?” he snapped back.

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Because you’re afraid.”

  A sneer pulled her lips. “Do you really think you know me so well? The man who doesn’t smile psychoanalyzing me. That’s priceless.”

  “You saying I’m dumb?”

  “I’m saying you wouldn’t know emotions if they smacked you in the face.”

  At that, his lips curved into a smile. A slow, deadly, sexy smile that did things between her legs that made her wish he’d leave so she could have fun in her shower.

  “I feel things, sweetheart. I’m just not some pansy-assed pussy who talks about them.”

  “Says the guy talking about them right now.”

  “I will deny it if asked.”

  “You assume I’d tell anyone. You’re not exactly my main topic of conversation.”

  “I better not be. My business is my own.”

  “Yet you’re involving yourself in mine?” she said with the arch of a brow.

  “Yeah, well, someone has to because you apparently have a death wish.”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “So you claim, and yet I’ve twice had to save your ass.”

  “Twice?” It took her a second before she clued in and breathed, “It was you in the hospital who rescued me.” It explained his familiarity.

  “Wondering now if I should have bothered.”

  “I am not suicidal.”

  “Then fight.” The last words he said before turning on his heel and leaving, meaning he missed her whispered, “But I don’t know how.”

  Chapter Ten

  What the fuck possessed him to go see her? Even worse, Jett blathered like the biggest of pussies about caring.

  Hello. He didn’t fucking care. He’d made a career out of not caring.

  At all.

  About anyone.

  Especially not a little bit of a woman with attitude who was dying. Surely there was a mistake in there somewhere.