Lux [4] Origin

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “What are we doing today?” I asked, sitting on the table. We were alone in the room.

  “We’re waiting on the doctor.”

  “That much I figured.” I glanced at Archer and took a deep breath. “What does it feel like? Being an origin?”

  He folded his arms. “What does it feel like being a hybrid?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess I feel like I’ve always felt.”

  “Exactly,” he replied. “We aren’t that different.”

  He was completely different from anything I’d ever seen. “Do you know your parents?”

  “No.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  There was a pause. “Well, it’s not something I’ve dwelled on. I can’t change the past. There’s very little I can change about anything.”

  I hated the bland tone, as if none of this affected him at all. “So you are what you are? And that’s it?”

  “Yes. That is it, Katy.”

  Pulling my legs up, I sat cross-legged. “Were you raised here?”

  “Yes. I grew up here.”

  “Did you ever live anyplace else?”

  “I did for a short period of time. Once I got older we were moved to a different location for our training.” He paused. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

  “So?” I popped my chin onto my fist. “I’m curious. Have you ever lived on your own, in the outside world?”

  His jaw flexed, and then he shook his head.

  “Have you ever wanted to?”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn’t answer.

  “You have.” I knew I was right. I couldn’t see his eyes under the beret, and his expression hadn’t changed, but I knew it. “But they won’t let you, will they? So you’ve never been to a regular school? Gone to an Applebee’s?”

  “I’ve been to an Applebee’s,” he responded drily. “And an Outback, too.”

  “Well, congrats. You’ve seen everything.”

  His mouth twitched. “Your sarcasm is not needed.”

  “Have you ever been to a mall? Gone to a normal library? Have you fallen in love?” I shot off questions left and right, knowing I was probably getting on his nerves. “Have you dressed up for Halloween and gone trick-or-treating? Do you celebrate Christmas? Ever eaten an overcooked turkey and pretended it tasted good?”

  “I’m assuming you’ve done all those things.” When I nodded, he took a step forward, and then suddenly he was in my face, leaning down so low that the beret touched my forehead. It shocked me, because I hadn’t seen him move, but I refused to back away. A small smile appeared on his lips. “I’m also assuming there’s a point to these questions. That maybe you want to somehow prove to me that I haven’t lived, that I haven’t experienced life, all the mundane things that actually give a person reason for living. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

  Unable to look away from him, I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to prove that or point it out to me,” he said, then straightened. Without speaking out loud, I heard his next words in my thoughts. I already know I haven’t truly lived a single day, Katy. All of us know that.

  I gasped at the intrusion of his voice and at the bleak hopelessness of his words. “All of you?” I whispered.

  He nodded as he took a step back. “All of us.”

  The door opened, silencing us. Dr. Roth came in, followed by the sergeant, Nancy, and another guard. Our conversation immediately dropped out of my thoughts. Seeing the sergeant and Nancy together didn’t bring good tidings.

  Roth went straight to the tray and started messing with the instruments there. Ice drenched my veins when he picked up a scalpel. “What’s going on?”

  Nancy sat down in a chair placed in the corner, trusty clipboard in hand. “We have more testing to complete, and we need to move forward.”

  Remembering the last test that involved a scalpel, I blanched. “Details?”

  “Since you have proven to have undergone a stable mutation, we can now focus on the more important aspect of the Luxen abilities,” Nancy explained, but I wasn’t really watching her. My eyes were trained on Dr. Roth. “Daemon has proven to have remarkable control over the Source, as expected. He has passed all of his testing, and that last healing he did on you was successful, but we need to make sure he can heal more severe injuries before we can bring in subjects.”

  My stomach dropped, and my hands shook as I clenched the edge of the table. “What do you mean?”

  “Before we can bring in humans, we must make sure he can heal a severe injury. There’s no reason to subject a human to it if he cannot do it.”

  Oh God…

  “He can heal serious injuries,” I blurted out, shrinking back when the doctor stood in front of me. “How do you think I got mutated in the first place?”

  “Sometimes that is a fluke, Katy.” Sergeant Dasher moved to the other side of the table.

  I dragged in air, but my lungs seemed to have stopped working. Daedalus could barely replicate the mutation and had subjected Beth and Dawson to horrific things, trying to get Dawson to mutate other humans. What Daedalus didn’t know was that there had to be a true want, a need behind the healing. A need and want like love. That was why it was so hard to replicate.

  I almost told them that to save my own skin, but then I realized it probably wouldn’t make a difference. Will hadn’t believed me when I told him. There was no science behind that. It made the whole healing thing almost magical.

  “We’ve learned from the last time that having Daemon in the room during the procedure isn’t a good idea. He will be brought in after we are done,” Dasher continued. “Lay down on your stomach, Katy.”

  A little relief eked through me when I realized it would be way too hard to slit my throat with me lying on my stomach, but I still delayed. “What if he can’t heal me? What if it was a fluke?”

  “Then this whole experiment is over,” Nancy said from her corner. “But I think you and I both know that won’t be the case.”

  “If you know it won’t be the case, then why do you need to do this?” It wasn’t just the pain I was trying to avoid. I didn’t want them to bring Daemon in here and make him go through this. I’d seen what that had done to Dawson, what that would do to anyone.

  “We have to do trials,” Dr. Roth said, his look sympathetic. “We would sedate you, but we have no way of knowing how that would affect the process.”

  My eyes swung toward Archer, but he looked away. No help there. There was no help anywhere in this room. This was going to happen, and this was going to suck donkey butt.

  “Get on your stomach, Katy. The quicker you do this, the quicker it will be over.” Sergeant Dasher placed his hands on the table. “Or we will put you on your stomach.”

  I looked up, my gaze locking with his, and my shoulders squared. Did he really think I was just going to do this willingly and make it easy for all of them? He so had another thing coming.

  “Then you’re going to have to put me on my stomach,” I told him.

  He put me on my stomach pretty quickly. It was rather embarrassing how fast he got me flipped over with the help of the other guard who had come in with them. Dasher had hold of my feet, and the guard had my palms pinned down next to my head. I flopped around like a fish for a few seconds before realizing it was doing no good.

  All I could lift was my head, which put me at eye level with the guard’s chest. “There’s a special place in hell for you people.”

  No one responded—not out loud, that is.

  Archer’s voice filled my head. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath when I tell you.

  Too panicked to even pay attention to what he was saying or give much thought to why he was trying to help me, I gasped for a breath.

  The back of my shirt was lifted and chilly air rushed over my skin, sending a wave of goose bumps from my spine to my shoulders.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. My brain was shutting down
, fear taking hold with razor-sharp claws.

  Katy.

  The cold edge of the scalpel came down on my skin, right below my shoulder blade.

  Katy, take a deep breath!

  I opened my mouth.

  There was a quick jerk of the doctor’s arm and fire lit my back, an intensely deep, burning pain that split my skin and muscle.

  I didn’t take a deep breath. I couldn’t.

  I screamed.

  Chapter 15

  DAEMON

  I didn’t feel too spiffy.

  About four minutes ago, my heart had started pounding like crazy. I felt sick to my stomach and could barely concentrate on putting one stupid foot in front of the other.

  The feeling was vaguely familiar. So was the shortness of breath. I’d experienced this own brand of hell when Kat had been shot, but that didn’t make any sense. Relatively speaking, she was sort of safe here, at least from random psychos with guns, and there was no reason anyone would hurt her. Not at this moment, that was, but I knew they had done stuff to Beth to force my brother to mutate humans.

  A warm tingle exploded along the back of my neck as the guard and I headed down the hall on the med floor. Kat was nearby. Good.

  But the sick feeling, the general sense of dread and pressure building in my chest only worsened the closer I got to her.

  This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  I stumbled, almost losing my balance, and that brought a big ol’ dose of what-the-hell. I never stumbled. I had wonderful poise. Or balance. Whatever.

  The Rambo wannabe stopped in front of one of the many windowless doors and did the eyeball thing. There was a clicking sound, and the door opened. Air punched out of my lungs the moment I got a good eyeful of the room.

  My worst nightmare had come true, springing to life in horrifying clarity and detail.

  No one was standing near her, but there were people in the room, even though I really didn’t see them. All I saw was Kat. She was lying on her stomach, head turned to the side. Her face was ungodly pale and strained, eyes barely open. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

  Dear God, there was so much blood—seeping off Kat’s back, pooling on the gurney table she was lying on, and dripping into the pans below the table.

  Her back…her back was a mangled mess. Muscle cut and bone exposed. It looked like Freddy Krueger had gotten hold of her. I was pretty sure her spine was…I couldn’t even finish the thought.

  Maybe a second had passed from when I entered the room and lurched forward, knocking the dumbass guard out of the way. I faltered when I reached her side and threw my hands out to catch myself. They landed in blood—her blood.

  “Jesus,” I whispered. “Kat…oh God, Kat…”

  Her lashes didn’t move. Nothing. A strand of hair clung to her sweat-soaked, pale cheek.

  My heart was pounding erratically, struggling to keep up, and I knew it wasn’t mine that was faltering. It was Kat’s. I didn’t know how this happened. Not that I didn’t care, because I did want to know, but it wasn’t what was important now.

  “I got this,” I told her, not paying heed to anyone in the room. “I’m going to fix this.”

  Still nothing, and I cursed as I turned, preparing to shed my human skin, because this…this would require everything in me to fix.

  My gaze met Nancy’s for a second. “You bitch.”

  She tapped her pen on her clipboard and made a soft tsking sound. “We need to make sure you can heal again on what is considered a catastrophic level. Those wounds were made precisely to be fatal, but to take time, unlike a stomach wound or inflictions to other various parts of the body. You will need to heal her.”

  I was so going to kill that lady one day.

  Rage spiked, fueling me, and I shifted into my true form; the roar rose from the depths of my soul. The table shook. Utensils clamored and toppled off the tray. Cabinet doors opened.

  “Jesus,” someone muttered.

  I placed my hands on Kat. Kitten, I’m here. I’m here, baby. I’m going to make this go away. All of this.

  There was no answer, and the tangy taste of fear coated me. Warmth radiated out from my hands, and the white light tinged with red swallowed Kat. Vaguely I heard Nancy saying, “It’s time to move on to the mutation phase.”

  Healing Kat had exhausted me. That made everyone in that room very lucky because I was sure I could’ve taken out at least two of them before they got hold of me, if I could move my legs.

  They had tried to remove me from the room after I’d healed Kat. Like hell I’d leave them alone with her. Nancy and Dasher had left some time ago, but the doctor hung out, checking Kat’s vitals. They were fine, he’d said. She was perfectly healed.

  I wanted to murder him.

  And I think he knew because he stayed far from my reach.

  The doctor eventually left. Only Archer remained. He didn’t speak, which was freaking fine by me. What little respect I’d gained for the man was lost the second I realized that he’d been in this room the entire time they did…did this to her. All to prove that I was strong enough to bring her back from the brink of death.

  I knew what was coming next: an endless stream of half-dead humans.

  Pushing that reality out of my head, I focused on Kat. I sat by the bed, on the stupid rolling chair Nancy had been in, holding her limp hand, smoothing my thumb in circles, hoping that it reached her somehow. She hadn’t woken yet, and I hoped she had been passed out through the whole process.

  At some point, a female nurse had come in to clean her up. I didn’t want anyone near her, but I also didn’t want Kat to wake up covered in her own blood. I wanted her to wake up and have no memory of this—of any of this.

  “I got it,” I said, standing.

  The nurse shook her head. “But I—”

  I took a step toward her. “I will do this.”

  “Let him do it,” Archer said, shoulders stiff. “Leave.”

  The nurse looked like she would argue, but finally she left. Archer turned his head as I stripped away the blood-soaked clothing and began cleaning her back. And her back…there were scars—vicious, angry-looking red marks below her shoulder blades—reminding me of one of those books she had at home about a fallen angel whose wings had been ripped away.

  I don’t know why she scarred this time. The bullet had left a faint mark on her chest, but nothing like this. Maybe it was because of how long it took me to heal her. Maybe it was because the bullet hole was so small and this…this wasn’t.

  A low, inhuman sound crawled up my throat, startling Archer. I mustered whatever energy I had left and finished changing her. Then I settled back down and picked up her small hand. The silence was as thick as fog in the room until Archer broke it.

  “We can take her back to her room.”

  I pressed my lips to her knuckles. “I’m not leaving her.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that.” There was a pause. “They didn’t give me any specific orders. You can stay with her.”

  A bed would be better for her, I imagined. Pushing myself up, I clenched my jaw as I slid my arms under her.

  “Wait.” Archer was beside us, and I turned, curling my lip in a snarl. He backed away, holding his hands up. “I was only going to suggest that I could carry her. You don’t look like you’re capable of walking right now.”

  “You’re not touching her.”

  “I’m—”

  “No,” I growled, hoisting Kat’s slight weight off the table. “Not happening.”

  Archer shook his head, but he turned, heading for the door. Satisfied, I turned Kat as gently as I could in my arms, worried that her back would cause her pain. When I was sure she was okay like this, I took a step forward and then another.

  The trip back to the room was as easy as walking barefoot over a floor of razors. My energy level was in the pits. Laying her down on her side and crawling in the bed beside her soaked up whatever strength I had left. I wanted to pull the blanket up so she wo
uldn’t be cold, but my arm was like stone between us.

  Any other time I would’ve rather taken Nancy out to a romantic dinner than accept Archer’s help, but I said nothing when he lifted the blanket and draped it over us.

  He left the room, and finally Kat and I were alone.

  I watched her until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I then counted each breath she took until I could no longer remember what the last number was. And when that happened, I repeated her name, over and over again, until it was the last thing I thought before I slipped into oblivion.

  …

  KATY

  I woke with a start, gasping in air and expecting it to burn me from the inside out, for the pain to still be there, ravaging every ounce of my being.

  But I felt okay. Aching and sore, but otherwise okay, considering what had happened. Oddly, I felt detached from what the doctor did, but as I lay there, I could still feel the ghost hands on my wrists and ankles, holding me down.

  An ugly feeling, a mess of emotions ranging from anger to helplessness, rattled my stomach. What they had done to prove that Daemon could heal fatal injuries was horrendous, and that word felt too light, not severe or heavy enough.

  Feeling icky and uncomfortable in my own skin, I forced my eyes open.

  Daemon lay beside me in a deep sleep. Dark shadows fanned his cheeks. Bruised shadows were under his eyes, a purplish tint of exhaustion. His cheeks were pale and lips parted. Several locks of wavy dark brown hair tumbled over his forehead. I’d never seen him look so worn out before. His chest rose steadily and evenly, but fear trickled through my veins.

  I rose up on my elbow and leaned over, placing my hand on his chest. His heart beat under my palm, slightly accelerated due to mine.

  As I watched him sleep, that ugly mess of emotion took on a new form. Hatred encased it, crystallizing into a hardened shell of bitterness and rage. My hand curled into a fist against his chest.

  What they had done to me was reprehensible, but what they had forced Daemon to do was beyond that. And it would only get worse from this point on. They’d start bringing in humans, and when he failed to mutate them successfully, they would hurt me to get at Daemon.