Fools. I didn’t try the last time. Now I have to try.
I gather up the smolder from deep in my chest, let it rise. I push the scald up my windpipe and try to let it fill my mouth, but it doesn’t work. It’s not right. The tape is too constrictive. I can’t work my facial muscles, can’t get my mouth wide enough. Frustration burns a different kind of fire through me. Helpless rage.
I can’t flex my cheeks like I need to. I can’t even part my lips wide enough.
Desperate now, I struggle against my leather straps. Useless.
One of the lab coats smooths a hand over my sweaty brow. “Easy there, girl.”
Like I’m some dog to be soothed. If I had use of my mouth I’d spit on him. Wait—no. Burn him to a crisp. It’s what I’m born to do. Why the pride always thought I was so important. But I’m not. I can’t even help myself. I turn my head, shaking off his touch. He clucks his tongue and glances at the others.
He continues in that placating tone, “This will help us to take care of you, make sure you’re safe …”
I try to guess what that means. Is it some kind of implant to monitor my vitals? To what extent I can’t guess. Who knows what technology they’re capable of? All I know is that I don’t want it in me. I can’t let them put it in me.
“She’s feisty. This one is going to need serious management.”
“If anyone can do it you can. You’ve got such a tender way with them.”
Soft chuckles accompany me as I’m wheeled from the room, and I know that the last thing this guy has is a tender hand.
I crane my head and try to follow the direction we take down halls, which blur past me, try to spot any ways out of here. We travel a long distance and then turn left. From there we don’t go very far.
I’m pushed through a set of double swinging doors that remind me of the ones in hospital emergency rooms you see on TV. The inside of the room is just as sterile and unfriendly as an operating room.
I’m rolled to the center of the room beneath several blinding-bright lights. Other lab coats wait here. I glimpse a wide rectangular window to my right. Several people crowd in there, more lab coats and even some ordinary-looking people, dressed like civilians.
They peer through the glass curiously, like spectators at a circus come to witness the freak. And I guess that’s all I am to them. My head turns anxiously, taking it all in, helpless but still searching, scanning for a way out of this.
I look up at the lab coat examining me. He’s old. Older than any other enkros I’ve seen. The hair is so white and sparse on his head that I can see the paper-thin skin of his scalp.
His touch on my arm is cold. He squeezes a bit as though testing the texture and density of me.
Terror holds me, twists around my heart, and … and then something else intrudes. A growing thread of emotion weaves through me. The emotion spirals from a gnawing ache nibbling at my mind to a powerful wrench in my gut. It’s worry. Plain and simple. Only it’s not coming from me … it’s not me at all.
My every nerve bursts, overcome and slammed with a sudden onslaught of emotions.
His name shudders through me in a sigh. Cassian. He’s close. His worry and anxiety wash over me in prickles that flash cold and hot. Are they coming? I come alive with this possibility. Suddenly I don’t feel so wretchedly alone strapped down to this table.
With a new burst of energy, I focus on the old man above me and the way the scalpel glints with menace in the unforgiving light. His gloved hand trails up my neck, leaving a wake of gooseflesh.
“Now,” he murmurs, “let’s see.” His fingers turn my head and feel their way through my hair, stopping above my ear.
I struggle, turning in the opposite direction. My head is forced back into place with hard hands as a thick leather strap is pulled tight across my forehead, cutting into my skin.
The old man’s touch grows firmer as he delves between my strands of hair … looking for something, it seems, on my scalp. “This spot looks perfect,” he announces.
Two other lab coats peer behind him, observing his ministrations. The old man glances over his shoulder, his every motion impatient and annoyed. “Jenkins?”
“Yes, Doctor,” a voice replies in absolute deference.
A loud whirring fills the air. It’s an angry sound, alive and threatening. I can’t move my head. My eyes roll wildly, trying to see what it is.
Jenkins appears next to the doctor, a shaver in his hand.
I moan against the tape as the cold teeth of the shaver are pressed to my scalp, just above my ear. In a mere moment, a small place is shaved clean. A tuft of red-gold hair floats before my eyes. Then there is silence as the device is shut off.
“There we go.” The doctor slides his spectacles farther up his thin nose.
Jenkins takes the shaver and steps hurriedly to the side, just out of my vision. He returns with a pair of tongs that hold a patch of gauze. The cotton is stained a yellow-orange with some kind of ointment. “Here you go, Doctor.”
He takes the tongs and lowers the gauze to my head.
I cringe, unsure what it is, but brace for discomfort. The gauze hits me, cold and wet, but painless. He brushes it against the naked flesh of my scalp in several sweeps.
“Almost ready.” The doctor hands the tongs back and returns into my line of sight with a scalpel in his hand. I inhale a sharp breath through my nose. He doesn’t speak, simply frowns as he concentrates on my head.
“This will just hurt a pinch.” His gaze cuts to mine and fixes for a moment, and I wonder if he suspects that I can understand him.
I jerk against the strap holding my head down, straining my neck.
“It will hurt more if you move.” He holds my stare with those chilly eyes of his for a long moment, and there’s no wondering. He doesn’t think I understand him. He knows. And this only makes him more of a monster. Defeat spreads through me.
He gives a nod, satisfied I won’t jerk around on the gurney anymore. And I won’t. The last thing I want is for him to slit my throat or lop off my ear.
The blade lowers.
This is the part where I hold my breath and tell myself those swinging doors will fling open with Will and Cassian and Tamra. That they’ll charge inside the room and cut me free of the straps restraining me. Will’s arms will wrap around me. His lips will press to mine.
That’s the way it should happen. That’s the way it’s supposed to happen.
Only it doesn’t.
5
The doctor cuts me, pushing the blade deep into my skin, passing through tissue. Warm blood oozes free, trickling through my hair. I cry out into the tape, the sound a muffled screech. Fire burns up my throat, an automatic defense that does me no good now. Smoky air rushes from my nostrils.
He slices. I know it only takes seconds, but it feels like forever. Like everything else down here, the sharp pressure stretches infinitely.
I glance at him as he straightens up, fingers curled around the scalpel. My blood coats its silver surface, a glittery purple in the bright light, proclaiming my heritage. He quickly hands off the knife and then presses a small vial against the stinging gash in my scalp, collecting the blood.
“Not a drop wasted,” he murmurs.
That done, he accepts a new item from Jenkins. A small metal disk, no bigger than my fingernail.
He moves slowly now, carefully, his movements precise and practiced as he handles the tiny disk, and I can’t help wondering if Dad lay on this same gurney, a small metal disk poised over him.
Suddenly my panic ebbs into something calmer. I feel oddly at peace. Like Cassian is beside me, whispering encouragement.
And I know I can’t have that thing inside me. I struggle again, trying to pull away, but there’s no give in my restraints. Nowhere to go.
I cringe and strain against the straps. His rubbery grip curves against my skull. I whimper, nostrils flaring rapidly with hot puffs of breath as he stretches the incision he made wider, lowering the tiny litt
le metal disk toward me, bringing it down so that I can’t see it anymore.
Suddenly the lights flicker and flash. The doctor pauses, looks up with a frown. Jenkins murmurs something unintelligible and looks all around, his eyebrows drawing together.
And then the lights go out and we’re plunged into blackness.
The darkness lasts only a moment. Just long enough for one of the lab coats to expel a curse. But enough time for me to feel the tension sweep over the enkros.
A layer of fear drapes the room. The backup lights flicker on. A dull red glow suffuses the air, reminding me of blood. Human blood, of course. It colors everything. Turns their white coats pink. Paints the strained faces of my captors a demonic red.
“W-what is it?” Jenkins practically whispers.
The doctor shakes his head. “Probably just a drill—”
“And no one alerted us?”
The doctor frowns, his caterpillar eyebrows drawing together tighter, and I can tell he’s unconvinced, too. He doesn’t know what’s going on.
He shakes his head. “I’m sure we’re just running some kind of operations test or—”
A low steady drone screeches across the air.
Jenkins gasps. “It’s the siren!”
The doctor’s eyes bulge. “It can’t be.”
They scurry, knocking over a table in their haste, sending tools clattering, and leaving me strapped to the gurney. Anxious voices fade away, collide with others in the hallway, and then I’m all alone, stuck to a table, unable to even turn my head.
Great.
Soon I can’t even hear voices in the distance. Just the siren. An automated voice fills the air, speaking over the unremitting wail. All personnel evacuate through the stairwell. Proceed with caution.
I surge against my bindings. Hopeless. My gaze fixes on the glass room where my audience once stood. Empty now. Several of the chairs are toppled over; the door of that room yawns open. Tantalizingly close, and yet I can’t get there.
Over the siren’s wail, I hear a sound. I strain to listen, thinking it’s running feet. The swinging door behind me gives the slightest thump—like a hand pushing against it—and then a faint creak of hinges.
Someone’s entered the room. I hold my breath, almost afraid to hope …
“Jacinda?”
Even as I recognize Will’s voice I hear the fear, and realize he can’t see my face. I’m lying as silent as stone. He probably thinks I’m dead. I moan against the tape covering my mouth and squirm my body to let him know I’m alive.
Then he’s in front of me, Cassian and Tamra right behind him. Only my sister is manifested. Not Cassian.
I surrender to my relief—and get a hot surge of Cassian’s relief, too. Coupled with my own, the emotion overwhelms me and I sink deeper onto the gurney.
“Jacinda!” Will’s there, surrounding me with his warmth. It hasn’t been that long, but it’s like seeing him with fresh eyes, devouring the sight of him with a hunger I’ve never felt before. Not until I was lowered into this abyss.
As Cassian and Tamra work at the rest of my straps, he tears the tape from my mouth. I hiss involuntarily at the pain, but it doesn’t really bother me. I’m free. I’ll never look at anything the same again, never take anything or anyone for granted.
Will winces and brushes his thumb over my raw mouth, pressing a quick feverish kiss to my lips. He clasps my face in both of his hands, his eyes searching and hungry at the same time. His bright gaze lands on my bloodied strands of hair and he peers closer at the wound there. “What did they do to you? Are you all right?”
“It’s not that deep. I’m fine,” I say, knowing, of course, he can’t understand me. I’m speaking draki.
“She’s fine,” Cassian answers, his dark visage glowering in the crimson light as he sweeps me with his purply dark gaze. “Quick. See if she can stand.”
Will’s eyes flash, revealing only a flicker of irritation at Cassian’s tone. Ever the prince.
Will’s hands move fast, unbolting the last strap, and in seconds I’m free, sliding off the gurney into Will’s arms.
Then I’m in Tamra’s arms, wrenched into her embrace with more strength than I realized she possessed. She steps back to look me over. “This has had to be the worst day of my life.”
I almost smile, thinking it probably doesn’t compare to mine.
Cassian studies me but doesn’t move to hug me. His face is a stiff mask. It reminds me of everything that’s happened before this moment. Even though we came here together to rescue Miram, even though we’re bonded and as close as two draki can be, emotionally linked, we’re not … together.
Not the way he would have us be.
As I stare at him, it all washes over me again. That I’ve chosen Will. Instead of him. Instead of the pride.
Cassian looks from me to Will and back again, and his irritation crawls over my skin like a living thing. His dark gaze flashes purple, vertical pupils quivering. He blinks and the annoyance fades from his eyes, but I still feel it lingering in him. In me.
“Where’s Miram?” he asks, all business now.
I nod once, refocusing. “Follow me.”
We rush through the swinging doors, but I stop as I confront Tamra’s handiwork. Her mist lingers, drifting over the bodies of fallen enkros. Maybe only half a dozen litter the floor. The ones that didn’t make it out.
At my glance, she shrugs, the tips of her shimmering wings bouncing up over her shoulders. I push on, stepping around the bodies, leading them down corridors to the tune of the incessant alarm and automated voice advising all personnel to proceed with caution.
My ears prick, detecting running feet in the distance. Apparently Tamra’s sleep-inducing mist didn’t infiltrate every corner of the facility.
The echo of steps fades off the hollow space of the corridors, and I guess that it’s the last of the enkros fleeing.
We don’t see anyone else about, and I’m hoping, fervently, that all the draki are still inside their cells and haven’t been moved in the mass exodus. The enkros didn’t pause to bother with me, after all.
Relief rolls through me when we reach the prison block. They’re still there. Some standing, some pacing the small cells, all clearly freaked out from the alarm. They watch us with wary eyes as we enter the room.
Cassian sprints ahead to the front of Miram’s cell. He touches the Plexiglas, presses one large hand to the barrier as if he can reach her.
I run to the observation table and study the panel with all its monitors and gadgets, trying to figure out how to open the cells.
Tamra walks slowly up and down the row of cells, examining all the other draki. She stops before the cell with Lia. It’s my first good look at her, too. She’s just a girl—the smallest draki I’ve ever seen—and I know Tamra is taken aback to see one so young here.
“Jacinda, I think I got it.” Will’s voice draws my attention. He points to a row of switches, each one numbered. He flips number three. The cell Cassian stands in front of slides open.
Miram steps out and falls into Cassian’s arms, sobbing. I smile, lightness spreading through me as I watch Cassian lift her off the ground in a hug. Cassian’s happiness trips through me. It’s impossible not to absorb his absolute joy at finding her alive.
“Jacinda.”
I look up at Tamra. She’s turned toward me, but motioning to Lia’s cell over her shoulder. The message in her frosty eyes is clear. She wants to free the girl.
I’ll do more than that. With a nod, I use both hands to flip up every switch all at once. All the cells slide open.
They don’t wait for an invitation. Draki dive out simultaneously. Several fly past us without a word, intent only on escape. The one I assume is Roc, an onyx, winks and nods his thanks as he wings past us.
Lia lingers, her large blue eyes staring from me and Tamra and back again, uncertain.
I move away from the panel and approach her. “C’mon. You should stick with us.” I didn’t realize I
was going to say that until it falls from my lips, but it’s so obvious to me. Of course I’m not leaving her alone.
Suddenly the automated voice changes its tune, becomes a new mantra.
Warning. Retreat to stairwell immediately. Operation Lilith will commence in five minutes.
Operation Lilith? The enkros must have safely evacuated and moved into plan B. Whatever that is, it can’t be good for us.
“I think it’s time we get out of here,” Will announces.
I nod and we all rush for the doors, ready to head for the stairwell since there’s obviously a reason no one is using the elevators. Even if they work, it’s probably not a great idea in an emergency. If the power went off, we would be stuck inside.
“Wait!”
We pause, watching as Lia hurries back to the control frame. She glances at the open cells for a long moment before considering the panel of buttons.
“Come on!” I call, thinking those five minutes are fading away quickly.
With a firm nod, as though reaching a decision, she hits a switch.
The back wall of the cells slide open, exposing the lush green of the simulated forest.
I rush forward. “What are you doing?”
She grabs my wrist, stopping me from hitting the switch again to close that wall—to shield us from that world … from him.
“We can’t leave him in there,” she says solemnly. Her big eyes, so like Az’s, peer up at me, into me, seeming to know just what to say to affect me.
“He’ll kill us.” Even as I utter this, I’m not totally sure. If he’s free, I doubt he’ll care enough to come after us.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He’ll focus on escaping, just like us.”
I angle my head, studying her. For one so young, she’s wise.
“He’s crazy,” Miram whispers fervently to Cassian.
“What’s she talking about?” Cassian demands.
“There’s another draki in there …” My voice stops. I stare into Lia’s eyes, the vertical pupils shuddering with intensity. She’s determined to help the gray one … and I don’t really disagree with her.
He doesn’t deserve to be a captive any more than any other draki. Any more than I do.
Hidden: A Firelight Novel Page 4