by Ava Gray
“Dahmer,” Taye supplied. “You think Rowan is like him?”
“I think they share certain fantasies. I doubt he could perform with a woman he didn’t perceive as completely submissive.”
He arched a brow. “Should I be worried that you know this stuff?”
“You wouldn’t believe what comes on late-night TV.”
“And you watch it because you don’t like sleeping at night.”
A shudder rolled through her. “No. I don’t want him coming at me while I’m unaware.”
“No wonder he scares you,” he said quietly. “If he figures out you’re not who you pretend to be—”
“It won’t be pretty. But I’ve done what I must to survive.”
“If his obsession with you ever reaches the next level, he’ll come to your bed.”
Gillie propped her elbows on the table. “I know.”
“And what will you do?” There was a peculiar tension in him now.
“I’ll lie there with doe eyes and take it. I want to see the sun again, Taye. Maybe you’d rather I play the medieval maiden and say I’ll die rather than let him sully my body, but he can’t touch me where it matters. I can put up with anything, as long as it means my freedom in the long run. And once I have it, I’ll never let anyone take it from me again.”
“Relax, I’m not judging you. I think you’re incredibly strong.” He dug into his breakfast, probably starving from the time he’d spent hiding in her bathroom.
She dipped her chin. “Are you being funny?”
“Not at all. Not all strength comes from brute force. Ever heard of the power of passive resistance? Gandhi?”
“I hardly think that comparison is appropriate.”
“Look, Gillie, I insisted on these visits because I wanted to stick it to Rowan. I knew it would get into his craw and chafe. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to respect you. Not everyone could adapt and thrive as you have. You’re a rare person.” He cut a square of French toast and looked away. “You give me someone besides myself to think about, someone to fight for. I’m not sure what kind of person I was before Rowan worked on me that second time—and from certain fragments of memory, I don’t think I want to know—but I’m not that guy anymore. I could be better, if I only had the chance.”
His intensity moved her. Gillie reached out and covered his hand with her own. “We’re both getting second chances, and we won’t waste them.”
Taye threaded his fingers through hers. They were both pale, but his hand was a good deal larger. Ordinarily it amused Gillie that he could tweak the cameras to show her sitting alone at the kitchen table, lulling all of Rowan’s suspicions. Now she had the thought that he could do more than hold her hand.
Unlike with Rowan, the contact didn’t give her the creeps. Taye felt warmer than a normal human, as if his gifts fevered him. But his eyes didn’t reflect a febrile glitter. Instead they were the calm, cool green of tropical waters. She’d seen them many times on cruise line commercials.
“What?” he asked. “Do I have food on my face?”
With his free hand, he wiped his mouth with a napkin as Gillie shook her head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. Before, I only had inchoate dreams. Now we have plans.”
Taye inclined his head and withdrew his hand, leaving her faintly disappointed. “Speaking of which, we need to use our time wisely.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Your ability isn’t foolproof.” Using electricity, he could manipulate the locks on the cell doors, and not long ago, he’d managed to get himself free. But he wasn’t sure enough of himself to risk their one chance at escape . . . yet. So Taye came to her in these practice runs, bright with the pleasure of sticking it to their captor. Silas knew, of course, but he had his own reasons to hate Rowan. The doctor could compel his obedience, but not cooperation; the two differed vastly.
“Nor do I have it wholly under control.” For the first time, his voice reflected a touch of strain, and she realized belatedly that the whole time they’d been talking, he had to concentrate on the cameras. It was a wonder he could communicate at all.
“God, I’m so stupid. Show me walking to the bathroom.”
Taye grasped her intent at once and followed her. Gillie made a habit of checking the toilet for audio bugs, and there was no place to hide a camera. The room was small, but they squeezed in. She helped matters along by stepping into the shower stall. That gave him the space to flip down the toilet lid and take a seat.
“Thanks,” he said. “Now I can focus on you fully.”
Gillie put her back to the wall and slid into a seated position. The tingles his words created—however he’d meant them—signaled sexual attraction. It wasn’t unexpected; he was the only viable potential mate in her social sphere. She had to ignore the feelings, regardless how intriguing and new they were.
“Good. Now, last time, we established the timeline. You’ve been laying the groundwork with the cameras. How long before we’re ready to go?”
“Another week at least,” he answered. “Possibly two. I’m still working on control. I won’t hurt you when I blow the equipment, and right now I’m not good enough with overload to guarantee your safety.”
“So you keep practicing. What’s my role?”
His mouth twisted. “I need you to keep Rowan distracted. I hate asking you, but—”
“I don’t mind. I’ve been playing to him for years. I can handle another week or two. I just hope I get to show him how wrong he was about me before the end.” Gillie smiled with fierce anticipation.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if comes to a choice between making sure he’s dead and getting out of here, we have to choose the latter.”
“I understand. Freedom is more important than revenge. You can count on me.”
“I’m aware. You have the heart of a lion, Gillie Flynn.”
She didn’t deny it. A lesser soul would’ve broken in the crucible of her life, but hardship had steeled her determination for things not to end here. The world awaited her, and she would do wondrous things.
“Thanks. But you, you give me something I sorely needed.”
“What’s that?” He should have looked absurd, reclining on her toilet. Instead he turned it into a throne. There was a faint, almost perceptible aura of power about him as if through the cruelty of a madman, he had transcended the human condition.
“Faith. For all my dreaming, I don’t know that I could’ve gotten out of here alone.”
At least, not without yielding to Rowan, becoming his creature completely in the hope of once more living in the light. Sickness coiled through her, and she put trembling fingers to her face. She didn’t realize he’d moved until he brushed her hair back.
Gillie didn’t recoil. He crouched before her on the bathroom floor, all concern. You’d never know he could turn an electrical device into chain lightning by looking at him. His tenderness threatened to undo her completely.
“What’s the matter? I’m sorry. I don’t remember how to deal with people. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she whispered. “You do everything right. You’re the only thing that’s right.”
And then she kissed him.
Gillie had been alone for two days.
That wouldn’t have been a problem, except during the past few weeks, she’d grown accustomed to company. She didn’t know if something had happened to Taye, or if she’d scared him with that clumsy kiss. God knew, he hadn’t seemed swept away by it.
She tested the memory of his reaction like a sore spot on the inside of her cheek and found it still tender. For all of ten seconds, he’d kissed her back, his mouth fever-hot and hungry, and then he’d shoved her away, as if he were a frightened virgin.
“That’s not a good idea,” he’d said quietly.
She’d hunched her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“No. We’re getting out of here. Soon I won’t be your only choice, and you’d be sorry if I h
adn’t stopped things.” Taye cupped her chin in his hand, eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to dispose of your virginity like this, as a defense from Rowan.”
“It was just a kiss,” she’d muttered. “It’s not like I demanded sex.”
With determination, she shoved away the faintly humiliating recollection. A kiss she’d instigated on the bathroom floor hardly qualified as magical. The awkwardness didn’t prevent her from worrying about him, however.
Her heart skittered in her chest as she stepped out of her quarters. They had long since ceased locking the door. Rowan deemed her no flight risk; that much was sure. Of course, the crazy bastard also thought she wanted to run away with him, so there was no accounting for the way his mind worked.
The white, clinical corridors contrasted markedly with the mock normalcy of her décor. She liked to pretend she was an ordinary girl with a small apartment, a television, and a job she hated. That was one reason she never came out into the facility proper; it destroyed the illusion. There was no grass, no sky, no sun, just endless white and soulless metal, as far as the eye could see. Overhead, the fluorescent lights offered the same wattage day after day. She didn’t know how Rowan could choose this life for himself when the whole world beckoned.
Every instinct told her to return to her apartment. It was safe in there. Instead, she picked her way carefully down the hall. Silas often brought her this way for treatments, and she knew the cells lay past the treatment rooms. She had been kept in one until Rowan grew confident she could be trusted.
And what will he say if he finds you wandering, hmm?
She got her lie ready. I was looking for you. It’s been several days since I saw you. Yes, that would work. If the words fed his ego and his delusions, he’d believe them. Gillie could envision how his face would soften and he’d give that awful smile. This time he might kiss her. She steeled herself against the possibility. At least it won’t be my first.
Gillie tiptoed past the treatment rooms. From within, she heard low moans of pain. That meant the techs were working, carrying out the doctor’s instructions. She hardly dared to breathe as she went by.
She continued down the corridor. The horror of the cells struck her anew. They were eight by eight, and each contained only a commode and a cot. An industrial drain lay in the middle of the floor, necessary because the test subjects were hosed off once a week from a spigot in the ceiling.
Some of the walls were spattered with blood, or other, less readily recognizable substances. A few of the subjects sat and rocked; others lay in the fetal position on their cots. Two paced like animals. Another pressed her hands against the glass as Gillie went by. She stopped, unable to help herself, unable to deny the woman this moment of connection. Aching, she pressed her palms to the glass from her side. There was cognition in the other woman’s eyes.
Kill me, she mouthed.
Gillie tugged on her pink scrubs, which were the only things Rowan ever ordered for her to wear. She found that faintly creepy, but at least she was out of the gray, institutional pajamas the other subjects had on. At last, the woman seemed to realize Gillie wasn’t wearing a badge.
The woman pointed at her cell door, a plea in her eyes, and Gillie had to shake her head. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
When the girl turned away, she walked on. Mercifully she could remember little of her time in these cells. They’d kept her sedated while they studied the limits and requirements of her gift. She didn’t know how the others bore it, and as for the ones who couldn’t, well, the madness was understandable.
She found Taye in the last cell. His swollen jaw and black eyes made him difficult to identify at first, but she knew the shape of his hands and the breadth of his shoulders as well. Not to mention the tousled dark hair. His gray pajamas were stained dark in splatter patterns. All too clearly she could see the crunch of cartilage and bone echoed in the discolored fabric. Gillie recognized Silas’s handiwork; he executed the doctor’s punishments, but she’d never received the impression he enjoyed it.
Goddamn you, Rowan, what have you done?
He lifted his head as if he sensed her. His eyes took too long to focus, and Gillie had watched enough medical TV to know that meant a concussion. If only I had the key code. As if Taye read her mind, he extended a hand. Blue sparked from his fingertips, echoing in the panel, and the door popped wide, but he wasn’t steady enough to stand.
He tried and fell.
Which explained why she hadn’t seen him. Mindless of the cameras, she hurried into his cell and knelt beside him. “I have to get you out of here. He’s going to kill you.”
“Won’t.” His voice came out slurry through puffy lips. “He’s selling me to China.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Overheard.”
“So that’s why he had you beaten?”
“Also suspects I see you more than an hour a day. Couldn’t prove it.” He gave her a hard look. “Now he can.”
She helped him to a sitting position, an arm around his shoulders. It was hard to know where to touch him that wouldn’t hurt. An ache sprung up inside her; he had been beaten because of her, because of a madman’s obsession.
“I was worried about you.”
“Go. Will try to wipe the cameras before anyone notices.”
“The pain makes it hard to focus,” she guessed.
“Yeah. Please go.”
Impotence made her angry. She had spent her whole life obeying orders. She was tired of toeing the line for fear of consequences. Rowan held the unspoken threat of the cells over her to compel her cooperation, and now, the one time she’d dared disobey, Taye was trying to banish her back to the safe walls that held her prisoner.
“Not just yet. When you aren’t injured, how’s your control?”
“Good.” His green eyes reflected anger and frustration. “Might be another reason why he had me beaten. Was nearly ready.”
“Then you just need a few days to heal. Try not to piss him off.” Gillie held up a hand, forestalling his instinctive protest. “I know you love to provoke him, but remember, I can’t get out of here without you. I need you, Taye.”
“I’ll be good,” he growled.
She couldn’t do anything else for him, but she knew who could. Gillie hurried out of the cell, which locked behind her when the door clicked shut. At this hour, Silas would be eating in the small employee lounge. As she’d suspected, he was spooning up some soup while staring at the television. He wasn’t homely per se, just . . . unnerving.
“Silas,” she said softly.
He turned to regard her with dead, black eyes. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Neither are you, I think. Do you like your job?”
The big man made a sound like an inner tube deflating and studied his enormous hands as if he’d never seen them before. “No.”
“You hurt Taye.”
“I know. Rowan made me.”
“How?”
In answer, Silas turned his head and showed her a faint blue pulsing light, inset behind his ear. Jesus, it had to be a control mechanism. Silas wasn’t an employee; he was a former test subject.
“I’m going to die here,” he said, and went back to his soup.
Suddenly bolder than she’d ever been in her life, she touched his arm. He tensed at the simple contact and looked at her hand as if it were an alien appendage complete with tentacles. “What if I said you could get out? Would you do something for me?”
Silas put the spoon down. “I might.”
“Taye might be able to help you. He could short out that gizmo in your head. I don’t know where that would leave you, maybe you’d revert to however you were before, but at least you wouldn’t be under Rowan’s control anymore. That has to be worth something.”
He didn’t think about it overlong. “What do you want me to do?”
ONE WEEK LATER
“It’s time,” Gillie whispered.
Taye pulled hi
mself off the floor. His bruises looked a lot better, and he seemed to have the control he needed to make this work. If he didn’t, they were going to die slowly, along with everyone else in this place.
It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered. When Rowan showed up unexpectedly the day before, it was all Gillie could do to keep from panicking. She’d been sure he knew she was hiding Taye, and that Silas was conspiring with them. Instead he’d behaved like a deranged Victorian suitor. After he finally left, she’d brushed her teeth for five minutes.
In accordance with their plan, Silas had stopped giving Taye his injections altogether. With nothing damping his abilities, he could light this place up like a summer storm. But he had to be careful, too. Fire was extremely dangerous underground. If the lift shut down, they were done for. So the situation called for a certain amount of finesse.
“I’m ready,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “I’ll sound the alarms at the far end of the complex and fry all the diagnostic equipment. Maybe put a short in some of the lights.”
“Can you open the cell doors?”
“I can,” he said. “But do you really think it’s a good idea?”
Gillie thought about the woman who had pressed her hand to the glass. “Yes. I want anyone who has the will and the desire to be able to leave when we do. What happens past that point is up to them.”
“They might do an amazing amount of damage up top.”
She regarded him steadily. “So could you.”
“Good point.”
Taye’s brow furrowed, and a soft blue glow surrounded him. She’d never seen him completely unfettered before. His dark curls lifted as if in the wind, but she knew it was electrical current. Voltage crackled from his fingertips, and the lights in her apartment dimmed. Then a siren went off, just as he’d promised. Gillie heard the sound of running feet—techs and orderlies running to check out the problem.