by Frost Kay
He glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable. “You can’t fool me with pretty words.”
“I’m sure, but you’re blinded by your own hate and cast it on me,” she said steadily, her heart galloping in her chest. “I wish to speak to your leader.”
“You’re a prisoner. You get no requests.”
Her stomach quivered as she steeled herself for her next words. “I do if you want any information out of me whatsoever. I’m sure your leader would hate to hear of your unwillingness to grant me this one thing in exchange for something you seek.” It was a gamble. She didn’t have any information that he wanted to hear.
He eyed her in disgust. “I am the leader, and I don’t negotiate with mass murderers.”
With that parting remark, he disappeared and slammed the door. The sound echoed in the room and reverberated in her mind.
Mass murderer? Who did he think she was?
Fourteen
Hazel
She didn’t sleep.
Every sound made her jump and her pulse leap, but the worst was the absolute darkness. No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t see a damn thing. She almost cried when a man with auburn hair carrying a tray and a lantern arrived.
She blinked back the tears and watched silently as he placed the lantern down on an old wooden table. Next, the tray full of medical supplies. He was normal, and he’d brought soup. Savory soup. Her mouth watered, and her cheeks warmed when her stomach growled.
He smiled and leaned against the table, crossing his ankles. “How are you feeling?”
There wasn’t disdain or malice in his tone, just a question. Something loosened inside her chest. “Fine,” she whispered.
“You can do better than that.”
Her gaze darted to the open doorway, where a bulky shadow stood just out of the light. Fear kept her mouth shut. There was no telling what they were reporting back to their fearsome leader.
The man’s red brows slashed together as he glanced in the direction she was staring. “Close the door, Jameson.”
“You sure, Doc? That goes against my instructions.”
Doc scowled. “I don’t care what he bloody well says. The girl deserves some privacy. Close the door.”
“Fine, but it’s your butt when he hears of this,” Jameson grumbled, closing the door.
Her breath came a little more easily with the door closed. She shifted her gaze to Doc and stifled a gasp. Not normal. His tangle of red hair had hidden his true form. Pointed red and white ears popped up and swiveled toward her. Tainted. Another monster. How stupid was she? She was in a Tainted compound. Why would she assume there was anyone human here?
She cringed against her pillow, wishing the bed would swallow her when he stepped closer with a bowl of something that smelled herby. “What is that?” she barked. Was it another drug? If he tried to force anything on her, she’d bite him. They might have tied her down, but at least they hadn’t gagged her. Putrid breath and a bandana flashed through her mind.
He scanned her face and slowly set the bowl back onto the table. “It’s something for the pain and infection.”
“I don’t want it.” She never wanted to be drugged again.
Doc studied her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The pain after her escape rushed back to her. The monsters didn’t care for her wellbeing. She shook her head to dispel the memory. “I don’t believe you. What do you want?” He was here for something. She’d seen and heard the disdain the monsters had for her. There was no way he was here just to help.
“To help you heal.”
“For what purpose?” There was always a purpose.
“What other reason would there be but for you to heal?” he asked, lips pursed.
He was playing a game with her. “You tell me.”
“So suspicious.” He tsked. “I’m not here to harm you.”
“Any worse than you already have, you mean?”
His ears laid back. “Your injuries are not my doing.”
“But they are your leader’s.”
The holes in her memory had slowly filtered back in last night. Her agony had been caused by him. Her stomach clenched every time she thought back to flying. She’d never felt so helpless in her life.
“He didn’t know,” Doc said, picking up the bowl and moving toward her again.
She scooted as far away from him as possible, but he kept coming. Hazel yelped when he lifted the sheet, exposing her stomach. He averted his gaze, made sure her important bits were covered, then dipped his fingers into the green paste and gently smoothed it across the myriad of bruises and cuts.
“You’re a mess,” he commented. “You’re lucky you survived your injuries.”
Luck had nothing to do with it. Maybe bad luck. She glanced away and stared at the wall. “It would’ve been better if I died.”
His cool fingers paused. “Has someone hurt you?”
The answer was obvious, but she understood what he alluded to. She didn’t want to answer, but the fear of him doing an examination had her spewing the venomous words she’d locked inside. “Not for lack of trying.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue. She could almost feel her cheek throbbing in memory of Aaron backhanding her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he slowly draped the sheet over her belly and moved to her bandaged feet. Hazel refused to meet his russet eyes and zoned out as he went about his business. Only when he held a spoon out to her did she respond.
“No.” She stared him down, lips firmly pressed together.
His rust-colored eyes narrowed on her. “You have to eat.”
Her stomach growled, punctuating his words. She ignored her belly and glared at his hand. “I said no.”
She’d stayed up all night analyzing her conversation with the Tainted from the day before. Everything he’d said led her to the conclusion they were keeping her alive to extend her torture, to sell her to the highest bidder, or turn her into some sort of amusement. None of those options were acceptable. She’d beat them at their own game.
“Not eating will solve nothing.”
She kept her mouth shut. Doc huffed out a breath and lowered the soup. He placed it carefully near her cuffed hand. “If you change your mind, it’s right here.”
She watched as he cleaned up his supplies and left the room without another glance. The smell of the savory soup caused her stomach to cramp painfully. Hazel slapped the wooden bowl off the bed and silently mourned as the delicious-smelling soup splattered all over the dusty floor.
It was done. She couldn’t go back now.
“You have to eat! So help me, I’ll force it down your throat if I have to,” Doc growled.
Hazel stared back at him, her face a blank mask. No one would ever make her do something she didn’t want to again. He’d visited her twice a day for the last week, along with others. Various terrifying Tainted had observed her and tried their hand for information. They all seemed to think she was some sort of spy for a homicidal group of people. Her people.
She’d tried to tell them the truth. The people of Harbor were peaceful. She’d never hurt anyone. No one listened, so she stopped speaking. They obviously wanted her to confess to something she didn’t do. Honestly, she was tempted a few times, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. It was one thing for her to take the blame, and another to give her enemies a reason to strike at Harbor. Her blank persona worked well for her. She’d been gathering information on the Tainted that had visited her and she’d come to an alarming realization. Harbor was vastly out-manned. The Tainted had abilities that her people could never compete with.
“Are you listening to me?” Doc threw his hand in the air in an uncharacteristic show of anger. She’d learned a bit about the Tainted doctor in the last week. He was professional, gentle, and had a dry sense of humor. She almost liked him.
He stabbed a finger at her. “This cannot continue. I refuse to watch you kill yourself. I’ve already set you up with an IV, s
o you can’t die of dehydration. Don’t force my hand, Hazel.”
She jolted at her name.
He dipped his chin to meet her eyes. “That’s right, Hazel. I know your name. No thanks to you, I might add.”
Hazel blinked at him and turned her face away to stare at the rough wall.
“So be it.”
She didn’t turn when he slammed the door shut or when he began yelling outside of her cell. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Her eyes closed, and she drifted in her thoughts and memories. Happy ones.
Hours passed, and Doc didn’t come back for his second visit. The dull light from the bars in her door faded into nothing and darkness descended. She still hadn’t gotten used to the total darkness. She had to keep her eyes closed, so as not to panic. It was stifling, and too quiet.
No matter how many times she tried to sleep, she couldn’t. Tears gathered behind her lids and silently slipped out, each an admission of misery and weakness. She missed her family, her mama, and Matt. She choked back a sob. No matter how many stories she’d read, there was no such thing as happily ever after. Life was cruel, and then you died.
She sniffled and lifted her hand to wipe the corner of her eye, her cuff sliding across the metal bar of her bed. She paused and twisted her wrist. The cuff was looser. She pulled, and her hand slid out a little before catching. Disbelief and hope warred in her chest. Could she get out?
She slowly sat up, her ribs smarting, and pulled harder. The metal bit into the fleshy part of her hand. Hazel wiggled her hand back and forth. No give, only discomfort. Sweat beaded on her brow and she bit her lip, pulling harder. Wicked hell, it hurt. If only she had something wet to grease the metal.
Her eyes flickered behind her lids and she frantically looked for options. The saline solution wouldn’t help. The healing paste Doc had used on her had already dried on her skin so that was out. Spit? No, that wouldn’t work either. She tugged again at her wrist and pain flared.
Blood. The thought came unbidden to her. She inhaled deeply and clenched her jaw. What was a little pain when it came to freedom?
Nothing worth doing was ever easy. Her papa always said that.
Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes into hours. It turned out that it was a lot harder to cut yourself with a blunt cuff than she imagined. When she finally did manage to do it, the pain was so bad she blacked out. Or at least, she thought she did. One couldn’t tell when it was pitch dark.
Liquid dripped down her arm and pooled in her elbow. Soon, it dried and became sticky. Over and over, she aggravated her wound to slicken her cuff. Dull light began to filter back into her room, and she stared at the mess she’d made. The once tan sheet was now a grisly painting, her wrist a mangled mess that made her want to puke.
She breathed through it and began her efforts anew. She glanced at the door occasionally, her panic doubling. Doc would be here soon, and with him, her escape would disappear. She yanked harder, biting back her yelp of pain. Voices filtered in through the barred window in her door. Her time was up.
Hazel yanked viciously, a whimper of pain escaping her closed lips. The cuff scraped over her knuckles. She lifted her free hand and stared in awe. I did it. Her joy was short-lived, though. Her door swung open and Doc stormed in. He skidded to a stop, his eyes rounding.
She pulled her wounded wrist to her chest. Warmth seeped through the sheet and onto her chest. They stared at each other for a moment before Doc held his hands up slowly as if to soothe her.
“Hazel, honey, are you okay?” he asked softly.
“I’m fine.” She was. It was just a little blood. Well, a lot of blood. “It looks worse than it is.”
“Doc, I smell blood.”
She jerked at the male voice outside of the door. The monster.
Her eyes connected with Doc’s for one second before she threw herself out of the bed, tearing the sheet from it as she moved. The IV in her arm burned as she tilted the IV rod in front of her.
Black wings were the first things she noticed as the monster burst into the room. She kept her eyes on him. He and Doc were both monsters, but the scaled one was the most dangerous one in the room.
His midnight gaze swept the room and he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as his eyes settled on her. Her legs quivered beneath her and the room spun. Days without food had not helped her. “Stay back,” she yelled.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Doc said, stepping closer.
“Lies,” she hissed. If she didn’t kill herself, they would. This was her choice. She was in control.
Doc took another step closer. “Honey, put down your IV. I need to look at your wrist. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
She bared her teeth at the monster who stood like a statue. “No. You’ll never take me alive.”
“Hazel, please let me help you. I’ll send him away.”
The sheet slipped a little to reveal the top of one breast, but she didn’t care. The whole world could see her naked if it meant she could escape. “You want to help me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then let me go.”
Silence.
“I can’t do that, honey.”
A bitter smile twisted her lips. “You say can’t…” She met Doc’s eyes. “I say won’t.”
It only took one moment for her escape attempt to end. She knew she shouldn’t have taken her eyes off the predator in the room. The monster launched over her bed and moved toward her. She swiped at him with her IV, but it did nothing. The monster plucked it from her hand and yanked her off her feet. For one moment, she was airborne, and the next, she was pinned to the bed.
Her breath came in heavy pants. She bucked and screamed, but it did nothing. Flashes of Aaron and the pig man swirled in her mind. “Nononononono,” she cried. “Get off me!” Tears blurred her eyes, distorting the monster leaning over her.
“Noah, you’re making it worse.”
The monster on top of her yelled, “She’s hurting herself, Doc.” A choking sound. “There’s so much blood.”
“She’s not badly hurt.”
“There’s blood everywhere!” he snarled.
The sound made the hair on her arms rise. Primal. Dangerous. Deadly. Her body shook harder. Something soft brushed her cheek. Hazel turned her face into the warmth and shuddered out a breath. She opened her eyes and bile burned the back of her throat.
A wing. It was the monster’s bloody wing.
She jerked away and caught the onyx-eyed brute staring down at her with something akin to wonder. Her stomach rolled. “Get off me! I’m going to puke.”
His gaze shuttered, and he shifted to the side as she leaned over the bed to heave. Bile flooded her mouth, but nothing else came up. Tears, blood, and bile mixed on the floor. A hand smoothed down her hair and a voice crooned, “That’s it, honey. It’s okay. Doc’s going to take care of you. No one will hurt you.”
She pulled back, collapsing on the bed. Her wrist pulsed with her heartbeat. With every second that passed, her eyelids drooped. Voices rose around her, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was a nap. Maybe she would go to sleep and never wake up. A pinch to the inside of her elbow had her eyes springing open.
Doc stared down at her with worried eyes. “Hazel! Can you hear me?”
“Leave me alone,” she moaned. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone?
“Now’s not the time,” the monster stated.
“So help me, Noah,” said another voice, “if you don’t let me in that room, I will go right through you. You and Remy have both kept her from me long enough. Get out of my way.”
Hazel frowned. She knew that voice. Where did she know that voice from?
Doc glared over her shoulder at someone. “You two pipe down,” he snarled. “I need to stop the bleeding. Either help or get the hell out.”
A cool hand brushed her forehead and along her cheek. “Baby, I need you to look at me.”
She knew that voice. From where?
; So tired. Her eyes closed. Lips pressed against her eyelids.
“Get your lips off of her.”
“Go pound sand, Noah.”
Something about that voice…
“Baby, please, please open your eyes for me. Please.”
Something in his voice called to her. His pleading about broke her heart.
Hazel forced her eyes open. She squinted as the room spun and the person before her solidified. She blinked and whispered, “Matt.” He was alive. Alive. Jerking her hand from Doc’s, she placed a bloody hand against Matt’s cheek. Tears slipped from her eyes. He was here. With her. Alive. “You’re alive.”
“I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He pressed his cheek into her palm and smiled at her.
Her happiness fizzled out, horror taking its place.
Fangs. He had fangs.
Fifteen
Hazel
“Please look at me.”
Hazel kept her face averted, cocked her head, and squinted at where the ceiling rounded into the rough stone wall. It drove her nuts that there weren’t any corners. A weird, random thought, but she’d been thinking lots of random things in the last three days to help her ignore the specter who wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace.
Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked at the monster version of her long-lost friend. She hated everything about him. He’d been at her side since she’d woken up three days ago. She had never been prone to passing out, but her body had been through a lot in the last several weeks and could only handle so much.
He reached for her, and she scooted away from him, his fingertips just barely grazing her arm. The monster who wore Matt’s face scowled; his fingers curled into a fist, which he dropped limply into his lap. She longed to reach out and erase the sorrow and anger from his face. It was killing her not to speak to him. But she had to remember he wasn’t her Matt. This Matt was a trickster. A liar. A deserter.