“Almost there,” Jake said, looking back at his comrades.
They entered the stairway and headed up. As they neared the ninth floor, a ghastly smell enveloped Jake’s nostrils. He gagged and buried his face in the crook of his arm.
Rodger swore behind him. “What is that awful smell?”
Piers coughed. “Smells like the old cemetery next to the church in Roxsford where I grew up. Sometimes when the place flooded, the coffins would surface and split open. The whole village would smell like this.”
Jake gagged again at the thought of open coffins and decayed bodies. Rotting corpses were about the only thing that made him queasy. They quickly passed the ninth floor and headed toward the tenth. At the top, they found a row of doors. The tainted smell still lingered here, but not as strongly. Strange green light seeped out beneath the last two doors. A faint light shone through the first door. The dingy window at the end of the short hall did little to light up the place.
“Let’s get this over with,” Rodger said.
A long moan came from the nearest door with the green light.
A cold sweat broke out across Jake’s body, and his heartbeat hammered inside his ears. He couldn’t agree more. He moved across the hall toward the door with the faint light and knocked.
There was a rustle behind the door, then it opened with a creak. Dr. Bloodmayne stood in the doorway, his silver hair slightly disheveled and three dark stains across his white lab coat. His hawkish eyes took in the three men, then settled on his unconscious daughter. His thin lips stretched into a wide smile. “Good. I’ll show you where to place her.”
Dr. Bloodmayne stepped into the hallway, leaving what looked like his office behind. He bypassed the doors until he reached the last one with the green light. “In here,” he said, unlocking the door.
Jake entered first. His eyes adjusted to the dim green light coming from lamps set around the room. A single metal table stood in the middle, bathed in the sickly glow. Black tubes hung from the ceiling. On the floor were white chalk marks, drawn in precise lines and curves. This did not look like a place of science at all—more like a pagan ritual scene from hundreds of years ago.
“Place her on the table. Gently.”
Everything inside Jake screamed for him to leave and take the woman with him.
Just think about the money, he chanted inside his head, drowning out the other voice. It didn’t take long. He’d learned a long time ago not to ask questions about his bounties. Turn them in and take the money, that was his policy. The habit helped him now.
Rodger laid the young woman on the table. The green light made her look otherworldly, eerie. Like he was catching a glimpse of the woman from Covenshire who had picked them up with her mind and thrown them across the room.
Jake twisted around and held out his hand. “The bounty, if you would.” His palms were sweaty, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Piers frowned as he looked around the room. Jake grit his teeth. Now is not the time to become moral, he thought toward the dapper bounty hunter. Rodger didn’t seem to care as much.
Dr. Bloodmayne ignored him and walked toward his daughter. “Did you have any issues with her during the trip?”
“No, the needles you gave us kept her sedated.” Jake kept his hand out.
“Good, good,” Dr. Bloodmayne said under his breath. His eyes glistened as he looked over the woman, much like a raven might look over a carcass.
Jake felt that rush again to grab Miss Bloodmayne and run. What kind of man was Dr. Bloodmayne? And what was this place really? This was not at all how the Herald portrayed the Tower.
He closed his eyes and pictured an overstuffed chair next to a roaring fire. And a dog—a hound of some kind—sitting at his feet while he held a glass of brandy. With that image in mind, Jake looked at Dr. Bloodmayne. “Our money, Dr. Bloodmayne. Or we leave and take the lady with us.”
That seemed to wake up the old man. He straightened and glanced at them. Piers looked a bit pale in the green light. Even Rodger now had a wariness to his being.
“I have your bounty back in my office. Follow me.” Dr. Bloodmayne bypassed the men and headed back into the hallway. As they passed the other door with the green light, another moan drifted into the hallway. Jake walked faster, his throat dry.
Dr. Bloodmayne entered the door at the end of the hall where they had first found him. Unlike the dark and morbid room they had just left, this one was warm in a sterile, intellectual sort of way. A single gas lamp was lit along the left wall, casting its yellow light across a large wooden desk and chair. Behind the desk was a wide window that overlooked World City. Gloomy gray clouds continued to hang low over the cityscape. Bookcases lined the walls, filled from top to bottom with countless leather-bound books, many of them very old.
Dr. Bloodmayne went around the desk, pulled open the drawer, and retrieved a thick sealed envelope. “Your bounty.”
Before the other men could move, Jake crossed the room and took the envelope. They would divvy it up once they were away from the Tower.
Piers and Rodger followed him as he left the office without another word. The faster he left this place, the better. And he never wanted to return.
Down the stairs they flew until they reached the bottom floor. The hall was empty and silent. The only sound was their breathing.
“Wait.” Piers grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “Are you sure about this?”
What the blazes? Jake spun around. “What are you talking about, Piers?”
Piers dropped his hand. “Leaving the woman here. You saw that room. That’s not a normal room. And those were definitely not normal markings on the floor.”
Jake glanced around as if expecting something to jump out from the shadows. “Now is not the time to develop a conscience.”
“But what if by leaving the woman here, we’ve done something heinous?”
“I’m sure we’ve all turned in bounties that we didn’t agree with.”
“This is different. And we all know it.”
Piers was right. What if by leaving the woman here, they enabled the Tower to eventually create even more people like Miss Bloodmayne? What would become of World City? The world itself? Is that why Stephen had come back for her?
No.
Jake clenched his teeth. Stephen came back because he’d grown soft. Maybe he was even infatuated with the lady. Jake had no such compunctions. What the Tower did was not his business. His only job was to find bounties and turn them in. Whatever happened afterward was not his problem. Stephen had become involved, and that’s where he’d gone wrong.
“It was a job, just like any other job. We may not like what the client does, but that’s not our concern. We find the bounty, we get paid. That’s it. So what’ll it be, Piers? Do you want to go back for the lady? Or”—Jake held up the envelope—“do you want the money?”
Piers glanced at the stairs, then stared at the envelope with a pensive expression. “I’ll take my cut. However, before we leave, we should make sure the money is in there.”
Jake paused. He glanced at Piers, then at Rodger. They had come this far together, but who was to say if, at the sight of the bills, the men would turn on each other? He had no desire to fight for the cash, not here at least. He just wanted his share and to leave this place.
“What are you waiting for?” Rodger asked in a gruff voice. His eyes narrowed as he slowly reached for one of the weapons strapped to his chest.
“Equal shares, right?” Jake asked, pinning Rodger with his gaze.
“Yes, that is what we agreed upon. Unless you’re having second thoughts.” Piers tilted his head to the side as if studying Jake.
“No, I’m not. I just wanted to make sure.”
Piers folded his arms. “Make sure of what?”
Instead of answering, Jake opened the envelope. It seemed Rodger and Piers just wanted their money as well. The bills were in the largest denomination and—he counted them quickly—all there. He recounted and
divided the cash into three equal shares.
Piers and Rodger took their shares with suspicious gazes.
“It’s all there. You watched me count it.” Jake glared at the two men. “I don’t think any of us want any trouble. But—” He drew his gun out so fast that Piers and Rodger were still blinking as he pointed the weapon at one man, then the other.
A muffled scream echoed from somewhere upstairs.
The hair rose along Jake’s neck and arms. That sounded like a woman—No. He wasn’t going back up there. “I say we take our money and get the blazes out of here.”
Piers looked up at the ceiling, then back at Jake. “Agreed.”
Good. Piers had come back to his senses.
Piers placed the bills in his breast pocket and turned around. He headed toward the front doors, his cane clicking against the floor, his white attire pale in the dark hallway. However, Jake knew Piers was watching his back, even if his demeanor looked nonchalant. Given how his hand was tucked up by his chest, he was probably fingering his small pistol.
Jake swung his revolver at the other bounty hunter. “Rodger?”
Rodger grunted. He had already put his money away. “Good working with you, Jake.” Rodger gave him a firm nod and followed Piers down the hall.
After a couple seconds, Jake let his breath out, and his shoulders sagged. It had been a risk to work with them, but in the end, it had paid off. Another scream came from deep within the Tower. He looked at the ceiling. Nope, not his business. He tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his vest and started for the door, his revolver in hand. He wasn’t about to stick around to find out what Dr. Bloodmayne had planned for his daughter.
Chapter
31
Kat was drowning again in that dark, deep ocean of her dreams. Every time she rose above the water, something grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her back under.
She gulped in a mouthful of water and choked. Her arms and legs ached from the exertion of keeping her face above the waterline. She couldn’t keep this up much longer. Soon her body would give out and she would sink into the dark, murky water. Why keep fighting the inevitable? Her body felt so heavy, so tired.
Yes, yes. Let go, whispered that insidious voice.
Kat stopped treading and let her body slip beneath the water. She watched the surface draw farther and farther away.
No! I can’t give up. Not yet! She kicked out and reached for the surface—
Her eyes flew open. She breathed rapidly, searching the room around her. Everything was dark save for a single gas lamp against the wall to her right. In moments, her eyes adjusted. She saw no windows or doors. The air was cold, like a winter’s night, and smelled like dust.
Kat sat up and brushed her hair back. Nausea crept up her throat, and stars popped across her vision. She could still feel the effects of whatever medication had been injected into her, and the point where the needle had been repeatedly inserted into her neck.
She pressed a cold hand to her heated face and swallowed. Her heart continued to thump rapidly inside her chest, but not as fast as it had a moment ago.
She was no longer drowning in a dark ocean. But where was she?
She glanced again at the gas lamp on the wall. The bare hint of a doorway stood beside it. And in the corner to the left—
Kat gasped and pulled back. The area around her vision darkened.
A rectangular brass box the size of small bed stood near the gas lamp. Tubing and wires wound around the contraption and near the very top was a round piece of glass, faintly lit.
Inside the glass window . . . was her mother’s face.
The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. Kat held a hand to her mouth and screamed again. She would know that face anywhere, even though her mother had died at her birth. For hours she had stared at the painting of Helen Bloodmayne in the hallway back home, looking for traces of herself in her mother’s image.
Only to see it now in the flesh.
Kat turned away and squeezed her eyes shut, her hand still pressed to her mouth. It couldn’t be! She was hallucinating. Yes. The medication was interfering with her mind.
She glanced back at the metal box. Her mother’s face was still in the glass, her eyes closed as if she were asleep. What looked like frost surrounded the glass.
Kat slowly lowered her trembling fingers. Was it possible?
She did a sweep of the rest of the room. There was nothing else. Just the gas lamp and the metal box.
Kat slowly stood, her body drenched in sweat. She felt like at any moment her mother’s eyes would open. But as she cautiously walked toward the metal container, nothing happened. A faint humming sound emanated from the tubes and wires. Kat stared at her mother as another shudder rippled through her body. Every detail was exactly like the portrait back home, down to the small beauty mark on her left cheek.
She hesitated, then reached out and touched the glass. Instantly she pulled back. Her fingers burned from the intense chill. She looked at her fingers, then back at the glass. Whatever this contraption was, it was colder than ice. Colder than anything she had ever experienced before.
The longer she stood there, staring at the face inside the glass, the more she knew that the woman inside the box was indeed her mother.
“How is this possible?” she whispered. She had visited her mother’s gravesite many times with Ms. Stuart. How could it be she was here? Unless . . .
Her mother had never been buried in the first place.
Her stomach doubled over. She held a hand to her mouth again, afraid she was going to retch. What was going on here? This room. She spun around. What was it? Where was it?
Only one place would hold such an advanced piece of technology. Only one place her father—if he was involved, and she was sure he was—would have kept her mother.
The Tower.
Kat took a couple steps back before she fell to her knees. When did I get here? She could only remember bits and pieces of the last few days. Those men, those bounty hunters, must have brought her back to World City. And here she was again, back in her father’s clutches.
She gripped her face, gouging her skin with her fingers. Why was her mother here? Why had she not been put to rest? What did father hope to accomplish with her? Was he experimenting on her like he was on other corpses?
Kat gagged on that last thought. If he were, then her father was truly vile.
The door opened beside the gas lamp, sending a beam of light into the room. Kat looked up and blinked.
“Hmm. You weren’t supposed to wake up for a few more hours.”
Father.
A burst of hatred welled up inside of her, burning away the terror from the last few minutes. She brought her full gaze on him and struggled to her feet. “Why is mother here?” She pointed at him, her finger shaking. “Why is she here?”
Her blood burst into fire inside her veins. The wind began to whip around her, pulling her skirt tight around her legs. Her hair flew back away from her face.
Her father stood in the doorway, a satisfied look on his face. “So I was right. Emotion is what triggers your power.”
Wait, what? Kat brought her hand up. Flames licked her fingers and palms. For one moment she wanted to thrust her hands out, choke her father, and watch his eyes bulge as she forced every bit of life out of that arrogant head.
She took a step back. The darkness inside her was overwhelming, almost as if she were drowning again.
No. She shook her head and looked down. No. I will not be like him. She closed her hands into two tight fists, quenching the flames. She breathed in through her nose. I will not kill. I cannot give into the darkness.
But it felt like it was up to her neck, sucking her into its fiery embrace. Only barely was she maintaining control.
Father walked into the room, seemingly oblivious to the struggle inside her. He reached out a hand and caressed the side of the box. “Yes, this is your mother. Sweet, beautiful Helen. I had her bod
y preserved in special cryo unit I invented myself.”
Cryo? That explained the intense cold. And why her mother looked perfectly preserved. “So who’s buried in St. Lucias?”
Her father shrugged and looked at Kat. “The coffin is empty. But I couldn’t have Helen’s body disappear. The Herald needed a burial to write about, so I gave them one, while keeping Helen for myself.”
Kat looked at him in shock. He was insane! Keeping the dead body of her mother? What did he expect? To bring her back to—
Kat froze. Dizziness swept over her. That was exactly it. All this talk about power and matter, life and death. It led to one thing. Her father wanted to bring her mother back to life. In a small way, she could actually understand. He had loved her mother more than anything in the world. Perhaps she would have done the same in his place.
He turned back toward the brass box, his hand near the circular glass. If he could, she was sure he would cup her mother’s face. How his fingers were not burned by the cold, she didn’t know.
“I never wanted you, you know.” His voice, even and smooth, struck her like a whip, and any pity she’d felt for him vanished. “Helen was my life. And you took her away from me.” He turned around, his face cold. “Then I found out what you could do and I thought we could be partners. That we could forge a relationship, and through our work, bring your mother back. However, you turned me down.”
He’d never wanted her. Father had always been cold toward her, but to actually hear him say those words . . . Kat felt like she was going to collapse. Only strength of will kept her on her feet. She would not show such weakness in front of him.
“But I will have Helen back, one way or another.” He walked toward her, his hands in his lab coat pockets. “I do not need you, I just need what is inside of you. And the council wants their share of your power as well. All I had to do was figure out what brought that power out, and now I know. Emotions. I just have to push you far enough, and the power comes out.”
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