“Completely.”
“Good.”
When she closes the door behind her, I flop onto my back, sucking in gasps of relieved breaths. That was too close.
My bed is so much colder than Victor’s. From how he’s treated me since I arrived, I didn’t think sleeping in his room would be as comfortable as it had been. My walls feel so close yet the room still feels hollow. My pillows smell of nothing except the stringent laundry soap used by the staff and I let my eyes close, my stomach curling slowly as I think of how good Victor’s pillow smelled. How the blankets tugged around my shoulders felt as if he was surrounding me, cradling me in my sleep. The nightmares hadn’t returned, and he seemed to believe me about what I was running from.
I’d felt safe in the bed of a man who loathed me, and I’d sleep there again if Victor invited me.
I must have dozed off again because I’m groggy as I hear an insistent knock at my door.
“Coming,” I groan out and slide out of bed. When I open the door a crack, I’m surprised to see Cordelia there. I’m not surprised at the disgruntled annoyance on her face. I swear her face is stuck in a perpetual scowl. “Yeah?”
She shoves something at me and I open to the door to take it. It’s my backpack. I look over at my chair where I normally keep it, but it’s not there.
“Victor said you forgot it in his room.” Cordelia is almost seething.
“I didn’t take it,” I say but she’s not listening and I’m really talking more to myself. How did he get my backpack? Why would he have?
“Look,” she bites out and I almost take a step back at the vitriol in her voice. “If you want to be the school slut, go ahead. It’s probably all you’re good at. But don’t expect me to be a delivery service. I only brought it because Victor asked me.”
I don’t know how to answer but she doesn’t seem to be expecting one, since she starts to leave. Something stops her though, and there is a strange look in her eyes. If she’d ever spoken a kind word to me, I’d almost think it was concern. But her voice is filled with contempt.
“Don’t get too comfortable with him, Wollstonecraft,” Cordelia says. “Victor and Malcolm might be interested in you now, but they’ll drop you the moment you bore them. That’s how they are. Don’t think that they actually care about you.”
“Is that what Victor did to you?” I ask, defiant against her. Screw her. I might not be able to fight back the way I want, not without bringing Mrs. Browning’s swift punishment down on me, but I won’t put up with her crap. She pulls back, like I physically struck her, and I know I hit a nerve. She covers it quickly enough and steps into my doorway, her dark eyes narrowing at me with hatred.
“You will never be anything more than a play toy to him,” she says, her voice harsh with fury. “You will never be his equal. He is a lion and you’re just a mouse he’ll toy with until he gets bored and either eats you or forgets you exist entirely.”
She storms away and I watch her, surprised at the hurt behind her words. If she wasn’t such a cow, I think I’d feel bad for her. Nikolai appears at the corner, and I see the physical change in her. She goes from stiff with spite to languid, almost like a cat in heat. He must be coming to get me, if he’s heading this way. I lean against the doorjamb, my bag at my feet, and she looks back at me, a scowl on her face.
I smile broadly, fluttering my fingertips at her in a wave. She charges away, Nikolai watching her with bemusement.
“Has anyone ever called you a bitch before?” He’s not asking in a way that makes me feel like it’s an insult. There’s humor in his voice, and he’s looking back down towards where Cordelia disappeared instead of at me.
“Not really.” I might as well be honest. “Never stuck around one place long enough for people to form a real opinion of me. But she started it. You here to collect your servant?”
The look Nikolai gives me heats my blood, and I swear I can feel the air thicken between us. His promise comes rushing back to me and my cheeks burn, but I refuse to look away.
“Yes.”
I step back into my room, closing the door between us as he moves as if to follow. “I’ll be right out then. I’m not wearing my pajamas.”
I don’t listen for a reply as I return my backpack to where I remembered it last. Had Victor come into my room while I slept? The thought conflicts me. It annoys me that he’d come in and take what he wants without permission. But... the thought of Victor being here, in my room, touching my things. I shake the thoughts out of my head and open my small clothing dresser and groan. The only clothes I have clean right now are my black skirt and a red tee shirt. I consider pulling something out of my dirty laundry but dismiss it entirely. I really need to gather my courage and talk to Mrs. Browning about more options for clothes.
Dressing and shoving my feet back into my ballet flats, I open the door. Nikolai is where I left him and I ignore him as he takes me in. I’ve been avoiding wearing this skirt because the girls all seem to wear skirts for the most part. I know a knee-length loose skirt isn’t scandalous, but as I pull my hair into a high ponytail, I feel overly exposed. I haven’t wanted the attention this skirt could bring.
“Are we going?” I ask, not waiting for him to make any comments about my outfit. I know this skirt is flattering, I wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t feel cute in it, and while I know I’m not Cordelia levels of classic beauty, I’m no ugly duckling.
“This way,” is all Nikolai says.
We pass some of the other students on the way to the wing with the private labs, but I don’t see Victor or Malcolm. I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see Victor again. Last night was the first time I slept in a boy’s bed. I hear Cordelia’s warning, and I wonder if that’s what it is. He seemed more interested in me when I told him about the ghosts. If he stops believing me, I wonder if he’ll ignore me as he does Cordelia. It’s not like he doesn’t ignore me already, I tell myself. Except last night, when he carried me in his arms, and then listened to me, it didn’t feel like he was humoring me. It felt like there was a connection between us.
My thoughts are interrupted as Nikolai walks into his lab and it’s so similar to Malcolm’s, I almost ask if he took me there instead. But there are enough differences for me to know this isn’t Malcolm’s. Malcolm’s was immaculate, almost like a showroom of a lab. Nikolai’s work is everywhere. Every surface of the walls is covered with diagrams or notes, or...
“Is that a crime scene?” I ask, shocked at the site of the mutilated body. I can’t even tell if it was a man or woman.
“A particularly interesting one,” he answers over his shoulder as he goes to the far wall and opens a cabinet. “Another victim of a particularly strange serial killer. The man believed himself an oracle of a divine being. Each victim was someone he claimed was possessed. He swore he meant them no harm, but that instead they were collateral damage as he killed the demons inside them.”
“So, he was insane?” I’m unable to look away from the rest of the images covering the walls. All gruesome murders or violent acts, half the papers surrounding them are news articles, the others are police reports.
“Tell me, Mary,” Nikolai has moved to my side, looking at the images with me. “Do you believe evil exists?”
“Yes.”
My answer seems to interest him, his blue eyes piercing me.
“Most students, and professors, don’t believe evil exists. Not true evil that is,” he amends. “They believe nature is chaotic, but ultimately neutral. That there is no such thing as good or evil, just actions with positive or negative consequences.”
I wish that were true, but I don’t say that out loud. If true evil didn’t exist, then my monsters wouldn’t exist. My mother would still be alive, and maybe my father would still be with us. I wouldn’t be waiting for the next time I will have to run. Because I will have to. My monsters will find Crowsrest Manor, and then I will have to run away. I can never stop running.
“I believe, as you do,” he c
ontinues when I don’t respond. “I believe there is such thing as true evil. I believe that everyone has evil inside of them. And I believe I can capture it, contain it, and ultimately, remove it.”
I blink, trying to understand what he means. “How is that possible? Good and evil are just...” I wave my hands, “they’re not physical things. It’s mental, a state of mind. It’s not an organ.”
“People say the same thing about love.” Nikolai’s voice has a tone of sorrow and I almost reach out for one of his gloved hands. “But love is just a chemical our brains make. Oxytocin. If I were to inject you with some, and simply look into your eyes, you would believe yourself in love with me. Your entire body would believe yourself in love with me. Not just physically either. Your mental state, as you say, would be one of love. It would eventually lessen as the oxytocin is broken down, but from that moment on, your brain would be trained to flood your blood with it when I looked at you, reaffirming your love.”
“But it wouldn’t be real.” The idea of such artificial emotions was staggering. Nikolai shrugs.
“You would be able to tell yourself that,” he concedes. “But it’d take a long time for your brain to accept that.”
“So you think good and evil are the same? That they’re just chemicals our brain makes up and you can figure out how to eradicate evil?”
“I don’t think it, Mary.” Nikolai’s voice is wrought with a fevered excitement, his gaze so intense it almost terrifies me. “I’ve already isolated the chemicals of evil in the human brain. And now I just need to test it.”
I shudder as I step away, even though he matches me step for step, until I’m pressed against the wall. Papers flutter loose, drifting to the tiled floor around us, but I dare not look away. Nikolai touches his gloved fingers to my cheeks in a way that could be considered romantic if he wasn’t looking at me so manically.
“I’m going to make you a very good girl, Mary.”
Chapter Eleven
“No.”
Nikolai tilts his head at my defiance, amusement quirking his lips. I push him back, but it’s like trying to get a stubborn horse to move. He gives me one step and that’s all I need to squeeze away from him. I charge towards the door, heedless of the threat of Mrs. Browning.
“You said it was a ghost we saw.”
I stop, a few feet from freedom. It’s like his words have caused thorny vines to grow up from the floor and wrap around my legs, sinking into me and holding me in place.
“There are no such things as ghosts,” I say, willing myself to move but my body isn’t listening.
“That’s not what you told Victor.”
He’s leaning against a table when I look back at him, watching me with vague curiosity. “You told him you can see the dead ever since your car accident,” he says. “And I know I’m sound of mind, and that we could not have had the same hallucination.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“Never said you were,” Nikolai replies, watching me. Silence stretches out between us again, fraught with tension and uncertainty. Well, I feel tense and uncertain, Nikolai looks as relaxed as I imagine he’d be at the poolside of a resort. “What if I could make the ghosts go away?”
I blink at him, finally able to move as I turn back towards him. There are two tables between us, and I’m close to the door. I can run if I need to. “You do exorcisms?”
He snorts and waves a dismissive hand. “No. But my experiments? I can adapt it so the part of you that sees these... visions is contained. Like antibiotics except customized specifically to you.”
The thought of being free from one of my nightmares is tempting, and he knows it.
“What would it take?” I ask. I’m not going to throw myself at his feet, not even if he could promise to make me absolutely normal—boringly so.
“I’d need to study every part of you.” Nikolai’s voice lowers and he walks towards me. Again, the thorny vines hold me in place. It’s like I’m a butterfly caught in his wicked web. He prowls, something I never thought really happened, but that’s the only way to describe Nikolai walking towards me. He’s angelically handsome, but his smile is dastardly. I can still run and escape this web of his... but there’s something in the dark of his eyes that tempts me too much. My heart hammers against my chest as he charms me so expertly that I turn towards him, unable to deny him my attention.
“You are fascinating, Mary Wollstonecraft,” he says once he’s in front of me. The table’s edge presses into my back. Nikolai is tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to keep my eyes on his. He’s overwhelming, just as he was in the library, but I don’t think a ghost is going to save me this time. I don’t know if I want one to. There’s something completely dangerous about Nikolai and instead of running, there’s a part of me that wants to lean over the edge and fall into his darkness.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Nikolai steps closer, his gloved hands going to my hips. I can feel him along the entire length of my body and I’m on fire. But I don’t break eye contact.
Screw the cat.
He lifts me, so swiftly and easily I squeak, and grab his arms to steady myself. Once I’m settled on the table, he pulls my hands off of his, pressing them flat against the cool wood of the table. I’m still not at eye-level, and somehow this feels so much more intimate than when he was pressed against me.
I notice he shaved, the faintest golden stubble roughening his cheeks. He smells like expensive cologne, but it’s faint—teasing my senses and making me want to search him out. He drags his fingers up my arms until his thumb presses into the bend of my elbow.
“First, I’ll need a baseline sample.” His voice is rough and it makes my heartbeat spike. “Then,” his other hand wraps around my neck, two fingers pressing against my erratic pulse, “a baseline pulse rate.”
Nothing about this should make me want to squirm, but it’s all I can do not to look at him like a cat in heat. His hands drop to my bare knees, my black skirt still modestly covering my thighs. He hardly has to push them apart and my body burns with shame and lust. Nikolai steps between my legs, spread wide enough that we’re not touching, as he holds my chin.
“I’ll need a record of your vitals.”
His fingertips trace my jaw, so gently that if I didn’t feel magnetized to him, I wouldn’t have known.
“Then, I’ll need to put you through stress tests.” He breaks his gaze but I’m still riveted to the spot, clinging to the table, as he runs his fingers through my ponytail, tugging slightly. “I need to know exactly what... stimulates you, Mary.”
My eyes flutter closed and I can’t stop the whimper when his lips brush over my cheek.
“I will take you apart,” he promises, his voice so cold that it scalds me. “You will be my perfect specimen. And we’ll discover what multitudes you have inside your blood.”
Nikolai is gone, a chill runs through me from the sudden loss of his warmth. My brain is foggy and my body is crying out for something. Something Nikolai was teasing open with his darkness before depriving me of it. His back is to me as he’s once again going through drawers, pulling out sterile packages.
“You’ll take a blood sample three times a day.” His voice is more professional and mature than I’d expect from an eighteen-year-old, no matter how much of a genius he claims to be. “When you first wake up, before eating lunch, and just before sleep. If you experience any more visions, I need a sample immediately. I want you to keep a notebook on you at all times. I need you to record the times you take the samples, but also anything you notice before, during, and after your episodes.”
“Okay,” I say, at a loss for words at his sudden change.
The door opens and Cordelia pauses in the entry, staring at me in surprise. Had Nikolai somehow known someone was about to come in? I ease back down to my feet, trying to banish the blush from my face. I was full of bravado this morning when Cordelia returned my bag, but having her catch me now with Nikolai is almost too much. It doesn�
�t matter that what we were talking about was completely innocent, I still feel as if she caught us doing something.
“Nikolai?”
If I guess at Cordelia’s tone, she feels like she caught us doing something too. If she asks me, I don’t know how I’d explain what happened. Oh, the handsome as an angel genius has a demon inside of him who wants to turn me into his experiment and for some reason, I’ve agreed? Isn’t making discoveries the whole point of this school?
“Delia,” he turns towards her with his signature charming grin. “As always, you are perfectly punctual.”
His charm disarms her easily, and it’s as if she forgets completely about me as she goes to him.
“I would hate to disappoint the perfect lab partner,” she simpers back. I roll my eyes, but Nikolai seems to thrive on her attention. “Is everything ready?”
“Of course,” he answers, and walks towards the far table where three thick binders wait next to microscopes. He pulls out a stool for her, and looks at me as if he’s forgotten me too. “Miss Wollstonecraft, I believe you’re supposed to be cleaning the lab. Don’t just sit there watching us. This is much more complex than your fourth grade science fair.”
Cordelia laughs at his insult, looking at me with a satisfied grin. She has her sights set on Nikolai and it seems as if he’s indulging her attentions. Nikolai may be wanting to study me, but I’m learning plenty about him. He’s vain, utterly arrogant, and craves attention. I’ll not give him any of those, no matter what happens the next time we’re alone.
The sound of something hitting the floor and glass shattering is followed by Nikolai’s smug voice. “Oh, Delia, you can be so clumsy. At least we have our personal lab servant here.”
I grit my teeth, trying to not let any of my anger show. “Where’s a broom?”
Nikolai shrugs before taking a seat next to her, totally ignoring the glass shards at his feet. “Not a clue. I don’t bother with sweeping. If you can’t find it, I guess you’ll just have to get on your hands and knees.”
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