by Roh Morgon
“Good. And what did your original answer tell me?”
I think back. I’d said I didn’t like the city.
“That I’m uncomfortable, likely alone, or had unpleasant experiences.”
“It also revealed your instinctive level of honesty and a possible lack of adaptability, both traits which can be easily manipulated and used against you. Your facial expression and body language confirmed it.”
Damn. It seemed like such an innocent question.
“The remainder of our conversation only served as a way to unbalance and prepare you to reveal the real information I was after.” He pulls open a drawer and takes out a pad of paper. “Of course, my line of questioning was blunt and its delivery quite crude. Since most Chosen enjoy the verbal cat-and-mouse play that comprises The Game, you can be assured they will try to decipher you with much more finesse and sophistication.”
The thought of engaging in meaningless talk with such calculating Chosen while having to maintain my guard beneath a façade of interest both exhausts and terrifies me.
Sympathy momentarily clouds Colin’s eyes, then he bends over the pad of paper and begins writing.
The fountain pen scratches across the fine linen paper for several moments before he sets it down and tears the sheet from the pad.
“Here’s a list of common questions you should be prepared for. Work on both an analysis of each question’s purpose and your answer to it. Then rearrange the questions and do it again—you’ll find their order changes the entire nature of the exchange. Do this several times and we’ll discuss them the next time we meet.”
I glance them over.
“You should also expect to answer any questions about your origins as per your agreement with Alina. I hope you understand I’ll know if you are lying.”
His delay in discussing my “origins” is almost as unsettling as the idea of answering his questions now.
A cell phone softly chimes and Colin withdraws it from an inner pocket.
“Yes.” His gaze settles on me as he listens. “I believe so—with a little time.” He pauses once more. “We’ll see you then.”
Colin slips the phone back inside his pocket.
I want to ask him if that was Alina, but he starts to speak before I can.
“Have you ever practiced meditation?”
Not sure where he’s going with this new line of questioning, I answer cautiously.
“You mean like Buddhism?”
“Many cultures utilize meditation in their spiritual practices.”
“Can’t say that I have. I’ve not found religion to be particularly useful in my situation.”
“Meditation isn’t about religion. Its primary purpose is to raise awareness of self and one’s interactions with the surrounding environment.” His narrowed eyes and the slight edge to his words betrays the first sign of impatience I’ve detected. “Sit back in your chair and close your eyes.”
“You’re not going to attack me again, are you?”
“That depends upon whether or not you do as I ask.” His gaze hardens. “I’m not here to play games.”
I lean back and, closing my eyes, crank up my other senses. Just in case.
“Now focus on the space between your nose and upper lip. Think of nothing else. If a stray thought or image enters your mind, refocus on that space.”
What the hell? My lip?
I touch it with my fingers.
“Not your lip. Just above it. And keep your hands in your lap.”
I do as he says. After several minutes, I can feel a weird crawling sensation in that little area between my nose and upper lip.
“What do you feel?”
“A tingling there.”
“Good. You can open your eyes.”
When I do, I can’t help but flinch. Colin is standing right in front of me, his arms folded.
“I want you to practice that for an hour—every other hour—until our next session.”
He steps away and heads toward the door.
“It’s time to meet Alina. Don’t forget your homework questions.”
I grab the paper and, rising from my chair, follow this strange and demanding Chosen—who’s apparently my new teacher—out to his car.
Alina glances over at me as she maneuvers the shiny black Porsche out of the shopping center parking lot.
“Well? What do you think of Colin?”
“I… I’m not sure. He’s hard to read. I can’t tell where I stand with him.”
Alina softly laughs.
“And you probably won’t until he’s ready to let you. In some circles, he’s known only as The Chameleon—a title well-earned. I can’t think of anyone better to introduce you to Chosen ways.”
As long as he doesn’t decide to kill me in the process.
She says nothing further, and after several moments, begins humming a quiet tune.
Surprised, I shift slightly so I can see her better without being obvious. I think back on some of Colin’s instructions and note the air of relaxation that hovers about her. Her pale lavender eyes and rosy complexion indicate she’s recently fed, but the soft smile playing about her lips and the way she’s caressing the steering wheel lead me to believe that her donor may be more than just the meal of the evening.
My own hunger stirs, then something more awakens at the thought of Alina meeting a lover. I turn toward the window, trying to suppress the bitter loneliness in my throat as I recall being in Nicolas’s arms, and wonder if I’ll ever feel them around me again.
SUNDAY
CHAPTER 61
After several nights of practice interrogations by Colin, I feel better prepared to deal with Chosen inquiries, no matter how polite or direct. My meditations are going well—after the first session, he had me extend my concentration to my whole body until I now can almost feel my cells buzzing with electrical energy whenever I turn my focus inward.
But he hasn’t asked me any more questions about my past.
He’s in a rare mood tonight, seeming almost jovial. I’m not sure what’s behind it—I still know nothing about him. But I like this easier-going Colin far better than the demanding taskmaster who’s been drilling me in Chosen social behaviors.
Which is a good thing. Because even though I’ve made Alina aware of the fact that I need to feed, she hasn’t made any provisions for me to go hunting. It’s now been over a week since Taz and I fed after our tumble down the hill. And my increasing hunger has me irritable and on edge.
Colin walks back into his office from outside where he’s been for the last ten minutes after answering a call on his cell phone. He settles into his chair across the desk from me.
“Now, where were we? Oh yes. I believe we were talking about the next phase of your training.”
“Colin, before we do that, I need to ask a favor of you.”
He leans forward and laces his fingers together on the desk, his expression friendly and open.
“Certainly, Sunny. Shoot.”
“It’s been awhile since my last meal. Would it be possible to take me out to hunt?”
He smiles.
“I don’t see why not. Who’s your Maker?”
I blink at the suddenness of the question, then focus on suppressing any further physical responses.
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm. You blinked and your fingers on your right hand twitched. You need further work on that question. Where were you when you were attacked?”
I have a little more trouble clamping down on my reaction this time. I focus inward and release the knots of tension threatening to work their way to the surface of my skin.
“Stockton.”
“What were you doing?”
“Shopping.” I ease out a smile, managing to keep the rest of my body stable.
“For whom?”
Andrea. Her birthday present.
My control shatters and I swallow.
Colin eases himself back in his chair, the satisfied expressio
n on his face punctuated by an index finger resting against his lips.
“Hmm. I suspected as much. You’re protecting someone. And it’s not your Maker.”
I retreat to that cold, detached place in the center of my core and, with my newfound awareness of my body, find that it’s stronger than ever.
“I’m not protecting anyone. I was shopping for myself.” I smile and tip my head.
Colin’s eyebrows arch.
“Tell me about the attack.”
I take a breath.
“I’d felt as though I was being watched for several weeks prior. The locations were random—work, school, my home. The night it happened, I had a feeling I was being followed, but couldn’t spot anyone. Once I got into my car, I felt safe, but before I could leave, someone smashed in my window and grabbed me.”
I keep my face neutral as I wait for the next question, monitoring all the fine muscles beneath the skin to erase any tension before it surfaces.
Colin studies me a moment.
“What happened next?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I passed out. After that everything’s a jumble. All I know is that I woke up at one point and broke out of an abandoned warehouse.”
“Who were you shopping for?”
“I told you. Myself.”
“Where did you live at the time of the attack?”
“Lodi.” The lie I’d practiced over and over slides out easily.
“What kind of work did you do?”
“I was an administrative assistant.”
“Who were you shopping for?”
“Myself.”
Colin takes a slow breath.
“All right, we’re done then. There will be no session tomorrow. Or the next night. Or any other night, for that matter.” He stands, his expression ice cold.
“But—”
“But nothing. We had a deal. Your information in exchange for assistance in locating Nicolas.”
“But I gave you—”
“Lies. I told you I would know if you were lying. Do you think a few nights of practice enables you to match wits with someone who’s been practicing for well over a century?” His expression hardens as he moves out from behind the desk, heading toward the door.
“I don’t want her hurt,” I whisper, nearly choking on the fear rising up in my throat.
Colin stops as he passes my chair. He rests his hand on my shoulder, then touches my chin and raises it so he can look me in the eye.
“Oh, Sunny, Sunny. You gave in far too easily.”
Bloodtears obscure my vision and I turn away. Colin strolls back to his seat.
“I assume you’re protecting family?”
I nod.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t want to know anything more about them than is absolutely necessary.” His voice softens. “I think we can discuss the circumstances of your change without involving them.”
The years I’ve spent guarding the secret of Andrea’s existence burst from my chest as an explosive breath I’d not been aware I was holding. A fresh wave of bloodtears threatens to spill from my eyes. Colin offers me a tissue which I gratefully accept.
“So now, tell me how it happened.”
I tell him. Everything. My suspicions about my boss, the increasing sense of being watched, and where, the long sleepless nights filled with worry that I was losing my mind. But when I get to the attack itself, my memories blur into shadows and pain.
“Think, Sunny. What happened when you were pulled through the car window? Do you recall being bitten then?”
“I… I don’t think so. All I remember is being crushed against someone’s body, and being unable to breathe beneath the hand clamped over my mouth, and feeling so damned helpless as my strength and awareness slipped away.”
Colin studies me a moment.
“From what you’ve said so far, this was not a random attack. You were targeted, and whoever snatched you from the car was not some revenant after his next meal. The question is—why you?”
I shrug, no nearer to the answer than I was six years ago, or any time since.
“You mentioned a warehouse. Do you know how long you were there?”
“No. It seemed like a long time. It could’ve been a week, or several weeks.”
“How often did your captor visit you?”
“I… I don’t know. It seemed like he was always there, but…”
“But what?”
“But I remember the door in the tiny room opening, and closing, a lot. Like someone was coming and going, yet he never left.”
“Is it possible there was more than one?”
Was there? I try to think through the muddied haze of memories. Rising to my feet, I walk over to the window and stare out at the hallway, recalling the darkness of the room, and the darker shape of my captor. A shape that sometimes seemed to split in two.
“Do you remember what happened to you in that room?”
My mind recoils in horror as I try to force it to reveal the secrets it’s kept hidden from me all these years. Secrets so terrifying I’d willed them to stay buried forever, far beyond my reach.
“No,” I finally whisper, shaking my head.
And without warning, the fiery scourge of hunger sets my body aflame.
A small gasp slips out as I clamp my jaw, and clutching the window frame for support, I turn to look at Colin. Recognition flickers in his pale blue eyes and he gives me a sad smile.
“Come,” he says, rising from his chair. “I believe I know how to help you remember. What we need is in the other room.”
Trembling, my vision colored with the deep red of need, I trail him to the door behind the receptionist’s desk. He opens it, ushers me past him, then follows me inside.
The windowless room is larger than his office and, in fact, likely takes up the rest of the building. We thread our way through a cluster of high-end workout equipment and past an area filled with boxing bags and other fighting gear, our heels ringing out against the tiled floor. At the far end of the room sits a lone chair.
But not just any chair.
This one is of steel, and has steel manacles attached to the arms and legs.
I spin around, but I’m too late. Colin’s unyielding grip pins me by the shoulders against the wall.
His gaze bores into me.
“This is the only way. Your instincts will guard your memories unless the defense mechanism is completely broken down. And only one thing will do that.”
I try to claw my way free, but his hands dart like lightning to my wrists.
“You lied to me, you son of a bitch! You said this was my choice!” My fangs descend, battle ready. His betrayal triggers something deep in me, and suddenly I’m back in the club with Nicolas, a dying man at my feet. Crimson rage erupts with a guttural roar and I head butt Colin, nearly stunning myself. I jerk my knee up, aiming for his crotch, but he twists and slams his hip against mine, now trapping me with his whole body against the wall.
“Stop,” he says through gritted teeth. “Think about this. If I wanted to force the information from you, it would’ve already happened. The first day. I wouldn’t have wasted my valuable time teaching you how to survive. I have better things to do than play nursemaid to someone who nearly destroyed all our lives.”
He releases me.
Panting and rubbing my wrists, I glare at him, then start for the door.
“Sunny!”
I hesitate, then stop. If I take one more step, I have a feeling there’s no turning back.
“You have two choices. You can either sit in that chair and do what needs to be done to learn who your Maker is and find Nicolas, or you can walk out the door. But I promise you this: if you leave, we are finished. I will not give you another second of my time.” He takes a deep breath. “And furthermore, there will be a bounty on your head. That is not my doing. Alina is bound by blood to follow the wishes of her Maker, and the fact that you’re still alive is a testament to her willpower,
creativity, and loyalty to Nicolas.”
The fight slowly drains out of me, leaving me limp and exhausted. And hungry.
I don’t know what else to do. I want to know who Made me, but it’s my need for Nicolas that drives me like a whip, and in spite of everything that’s happened, I can’t contemplate a future that doesn’t have him in it.
“You’ll take me to Nicolas?”
His expression softens.
“No. But I will point you in his direction. Finding him will be up to you.”
Of course. It’s never as simple as I think it’s going to be. But it’s all I have to go on.
Focusing on the chair, I stride over to it with as much dignity as I can muster, then plant my ass on the cold, steel seat and lay my arms into the waiting manacles. My instincts scream at me to run, to get the hell out of there and never look back. I struggle to remain still as Colin fastens the unforgiving metal around my forearms, then does the same with the ones at my ankles.
“How long has it been since you fed?” he asks, straightening.
“Eight nights.”
He blinks.
“How long do you usually go between meals?”
“Five, maybe six nights.”
Colin is silent as he studies me, his brow furrowed.
“Well,” he says after a long moment. “That’s a bit impressive, especially for one so young. Most can’t go for more than a day or two. Have you thought about why you can do this?”
A fresh wave of hunger sears my throat and sends flickering tendrils along my veins. I suck in my breath and answer through throbbing gums.
“I never knew it was unusual until I met Nicolas. We think it’s because my normal prey has a blood supply measured in gallons, not pints, and I consume as much as I can hold whenever I feed. Which seems to be more than the average Chosen, according to Nicolas.”
Colin gazes down at me, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Fascinating. No wonder he was so intrigued by you when you first met. You’re quite different from any Chosen I’ve ever known.”
“So now what?” I pant, as the burning pulses through my body.
“So now we wait. And I ask you questions until you can no longer bear to answer. And then perhaps your mind will give way to your body’s demands, and provide us access to the memories we need.”