Hunting the Dark

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Hunting the Dark Page 20

by Karen Mahoney


  ‘Hey,’ said the woman on my left, nudging me with her handy little Taser, ‘keep moving.’

  I ignored her. ‘Do you have another vampire here?’

  ‘Shut up,’ the man said.

  I dragged my feet, but took a few more steps. ‘What are you doing to him?’ Are you going to do that to me? I didn’t ask that part, but I wanted to. Maybe whoever the screams belonged to was undergoing his own ‘medical exam’.

  I gulped and stopped moving again.

  The woman zapped me without further warning and I yelped, picking up the pace while nursing my injured dignity. I also tried super-hard not to think about how quiet it had suddenly become. The person wasn’t screaming any more. It was weirdly comforting, somehow, knowing that I wasn’t alone here. That I wasn’t the only one suffering, terrified – in pain. Of course, I was immediately slammed with guilt for thinking something so horrible.

  I sighed. Maybe if I spent too long at the Facility I really would become a monster – if I wasn’t one already.

  I was herded into a new room by my guards. The room was large and nondescript; it felt like it belonged in a lab rather than a hospital, although there was what looked like a medical examination table bolted to the floor in the center. Like the ones you see on hospital dramas. I looked around for a hot surgeon, but there was no sign. The walls were lined with various medical equipment, some of them glinting nastily under the harsh fluorescent lights. In one corner of the room was a cubicle with a thin shower curtain – like something out of the changing rooms in a clothes store. I swallowed and pictured Caitlín, and how just days ago, we’d been doing regular things together.

  A rumpled man in glasses and wearing a lab coat was working at a computer screen in the opposite corner of the room. I could see his profile, and the expression of intense concentration on his face was clearly illuminated in the light of the oversized monitor filled with numbers.

  He felt the eyes of a predator on him and looked up.

  I gave him a little finger-wave and his already pasty face went even paler. This was definitely not the hot TV doctor.

  The huge guard to my left shoved me in the back, and I stumbled in my chains. ‘Don’t mess with the nerds,’ he said.

  ‘I was just being friendly,’ I replied, smiling sweetly. I did my best to readjust my stance, trying to keep the silver away from any exposed flesh.

  The soldiers in here seemed scarier. These guys looked different from the ones in the corridor, but it was hard to tell – after a while all their faces blurred into a single entity: they were enemies.

  Whoever they were, they were huge. Lucky for me, I was the Anti-Buffy.

  I sniffed the cool air, wrinkling my nose at the sharp, antiseptic undertones. They’re all about the cleanliness here. It made me wonder what they had to keep cleaning up, and my eyes landed on a rectangular drain set into the floor beside the steel examination table.

  Gulping, I forced my gaze away as I was led over to the curtain and into the little changing cubicle. No point in scaring myself any more than necessary. Right?

  A young woman dressed as a nurse (seriously) breezed in and held a crumpled wad of material out to me. ‘Please put this on, Miss O’Neal.’

  I stared at the white gown and sneered, crossing my arms over my chest and giving her my best go-screw-yourself expression.

  ‘I can bring someone in to . . . help you if it comes to that. Far better to do this by yourself, don’t you think?’

  ‘You want to know what I think?’ I asked. I slowly raised the middle finger of my right hand and showed it to her. It was tricky, what with the cuffs and all, but I managed it well enough. Oh, yeah.

  She flushed. ‘Don’t make this harder than it has to be.’

  I stuck out my chin and glared. ‘It’s the only way I know.’

  The nurse turned on her heel and almost walked into Dr Stark, who had just come to join us. Oh, joy.

  They both tutted under their breath, as though it was totally unreasonable of me to be so uncooperative, and the harried-looking ‘nurse’ began to mutter to Doctor Stark. I could hear most of their conversation from my little changing booth:

  Nurse (sounding exasperated): She won’t put it on. Does she really need a gown?

  Stark: We’re not savages, Faye. She wears the gown.

  Nurse: Might have to tranq her. Again.

  Stark (annoyed): Then the tests won’t be accurate.

  Nurse: I don’t know what to do.

  Stark (challenging): You’re afraid of her.

  Nurse (defensive): She’s inhumanly fast, stronger than several of our soldiers combined, and she has fangs. I don’t think being . . . wary of her is unreasonable.

  Stark: She is also sluggish from the drugs already in her system. We can handle her. We can always get the muzzle, if it comes to that.

  Nurse (sullen): You handle her, then.

  Stark (sounding increasingly irritated, but clearly doing her best to hide it): Give me that gown. I’ll speak to her.

  Stark approached me, smiling pleasantly as though I was at a hospital appointment and was just one of those reluctant patients who wanted to get out of there at the first possible opportunity. Everything was totally normal.

  I smiled equally pleasantly in return, hoping to get under her skin.

  ‘Marie,’ she said, spreading her hands in a casual gesture that said, what-are-you-gonna-do? ‘It appears we need your cooperation.’

  ‘And I need you to let me out of this prison.’

  She sighed, shaking her head as though genuinely disappointed. ‘It’s not a prison. I hope, in time, you’ll see that.’

  I laughed. ‘You’re sick. Or maybe you’re genuinely deluded – I haven’t quite decided yet.’

  ‘Well, while you’re busy figuring it out, perhaps you’d be good enough to put this on.’ Stark handed me the gown again.

  I took it from her, smirking a little as I saw the I-told-you-so look that the ever-hopeful doctor gave Nurse Faye.

  Maintaining my untroubled and friendly expression, I ripped the gown into two pieces, then handed them back to Stark. I tried not to show how difficult I’d actually found it to tear the cloth in half – my strength must be really low; I was running on adrenaline, but that would have to be enough.

  Stark pursed her lips and handed the shredded gown to the nurse. ‘Get another. If she ruins that one, there won’t be any more after that. We can just as easily do the tests with her naked.’

  I swallowed, feeling every inch of my skin prickle, but I wouldn’t let her get to me. At least, I wouldn’t show her how much she was scaring me. I’d die first.

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘This is all quite unnecessary, you know. We don’t intend to hurt you.’

  ‘You honestly expect me to believe that? When I’m wearing these?’ I pointed down at the silver manacles and chains that still bound my wrists and ankles. ‘Because they really kinda hurt.’

  ‘I apologize for causing you discomfort then, Marie. But we can’t allow you to leave until we have all the data that we require.’

  ‘Right. Like you’re really going to let me fly away once you’ve poked and prodded at me. Why wouldn’t you just keep me as your own personal Lab Vamp forever?’

  The less beefy of the two male guards, the redhead, snorted a laugh. Stark glared at him and he coughed, trying to cover up the fact that he found me funny.

  Great. Now I was the comic relief.

  Stark pursed her lips, and I saw something mean pass through her eyes. I didn’t trust her. Not even the tiniest bit; she was sneaky as hell. I knew sneaky when I saw it, and Helena Stark was all about the Cunning Plans. None of which were going to lead to a positive outcome for me.

  ‘I won’t cooperate,’ I said, standing my ground. ‘You’re holding me against my will, and God only knows what else you’ve got going on in this place. Whatever you’ve told me is just the tip of the iceberg. So I’m going to end your little experiments. I will tear this pl
ace apart, and then I’ll bring my Maker here and he’ll burn the remains.’

  Sadly, my threats were empty, considering that I didn’t even know where ‘here’ was, but it made me feel better to throw my weight around. I took a step toward Stark, ignoring all the weapons that were suddenly aimed at me. Maybe if they shot me I wouldn’t have to go through with this examination.

  ‘Fine.’ She nodded at the lab dude who was still watching me from his corner, mouth slightly open. He’d been working on that sleek-looking computer, but whatever he’d been doing was long-forgotten as he watched the drama unfolding in the room. ‘Bradley,’ Stark said, ‘why don’t we see what’s happening in Room Six?’

  Room Six? Now things were getting interesting.

  Bradley jerked into life, rubbing his hands together and looking excited about something. He typed rapidly on his space-age keyboard and then stepped away from the large monitor.

  What I saw on the screen wiped away all traces of even cynical humor and I couldn’t hold back a gasp. Flashing a look of pure hatred at Stark, I edged closer to the computer terminal. Bradley’s eyes widened in panic, and two of the guards took a step toward me. The big guy raised the tranq gun and I stopped moving. I didn’t want to go down again. Wasn’t sure I’d be able to function at all if I had to come back from yet more of those drugs. My legs were shaking enough as it was.

  Dr Stark said, ‘Now do you see why you have no choice?’

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and gazed at what I assumed was a security camera view of Room Six. The lighting was dim, but I could still see what Stark intended me to see. She had moved to stand beside me, and I’d been so engrossed in the screen that I hadn’t even noticed. That should have worried me more than it did – my lack of awareness – but right now all I could think about was the fact that she had me. Stark always seemed to be trying to figure me out. Trying to unravel me, the way she wanted to somehow unravel my DNA.

  This time she’d won.

  She whispered in my ear, and I swallowed at the feel of her hot, eager breath. ‘If you cooperate for all of the tests, he won’t be harmed any more than he has been already. I’m sorry it had to come to this, Marie. I really am.’

  Jason Murdoch was kicking the door of Room Six – his cell – and I assumed he was yelling a lot of very obscene things. I couldn’t hear any of them, because there was no sound coming from the monitor. As though he was aware that he was being observed at that precise moment, Jace turned to face the camera. I could see the bruise on his left cheek, and his eye looked like it might be closing up a little. The silver ring was missing from his eyebrow and the flesh was torn. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth and I swallowed, wanting to look away as hunger sliced through me. But I couldn’t look away, because they had Jace and it was all my fault. They weren’t interested in him; he was human. Not part of their plans, just an innocent caught in the supernatural crossfire.

  No, they simply had him here as insurance. His presence would keep me under control, so it seemed strange that they hadn’t played this card earlier. Maybe Stark really had hoped I’d cooperate of my own free will.

  Whatever. I swallowed and tried to hide how much I was trembling. Whether it was from fear or rage I wasn’t entirely sure.

  Everyone was watching the screen, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Jace flipped us off. With both hands.

  ‘Nice,’ I whispered. I totally approved.

  ‘Switch it off,’ Stark said to the unfortunate Bradley. ‘I think she’s seen enough.’

  They had Jace. They had Jace, and I didn’t even know why I was surprised. I’d been wondering what had happened to him after the dagger incident, but things had been moving too fast for me to keep track of, especially with a ton of drugs running through my severely blood-depleted system.

  ‘No further harm will come to him,’ Stark said. ‘You know what you have to do.’

  ‘You’ve already been torturing him,’ I snapped, glaring at her. ‘How can I trust you to leave him alone now?’

  ‘“Torture”,’ she said, her expression one of disappointment. ‘Such a distasteful word. I understand that your Mr Murdoch has been making rather a nuisance of himself. Some of the guards were forced to . . . restrain him.’

  ‘By beating the crap out of him?’

  Dr Stark didn’t reply. She simply began readying her equipment as though this was just a normal medical exam. The nurse – Faye – handed me a new gown and stepped back quickly. ‘Hurry up now, Marie,’ Stark said. ‘We’ve wasted enough time already.’

  I thought of Jace, battered and bloody in that room – a cell much like my own – his defiant screams still ringing in my ears. Now I was sure whose screams I’d heard on my way to the lab. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to wish myself back home.

  When I opened them again, nothing had changed and the real nightmare began.

  After I’ve gotten changed, two men wrap their hands around my upper arms and others take hold of my ankles. More people seem to have entered the room, but I can’t be sure from my position.

  I try to stay still, to allow this, but instinct means I have to move, to fight them. It’s hard to do much, though, with the silver burning me and the occasional jolt from a cruelly-aimed Taser. Also, with the reminder that Jace is already hurting because of me, and as stuck in this madness as I am.

  I become increasingly spacey – the tranqs they hit me with earlier are holding me under what feels like a giant invisible wave. I am drowning, but at the same time I am wide awake and aware of what these sickos are doing. The heavyset man closest to my face gives me a dead-eyed smile. They’re enjoying their jobs and I hate them for it.

  I imagine stretching up and taking a bite out of his meaty throat, but I can’t move. Not even a little.

  They slam me down onto the examining table, laughing among themselves the whole time like this is some kind of game. Maybe, to them it is. The cool steel beneath my back makes me shiver involuntarily, even though the cold doesn’t really bother me. Not now. I snap at a hairy hand that moves too close to my face, grazing flesh with fangs and tasting copper.

  The red-haired man smashes his fist into my face, and I can’t do anything about it because of the drugs and silver-threaded restraints and the voltage one of the women blasts me with to keep me down. Cowards. They are all cowards and if . . . no, when I get free I will make them pay.

  She will make them pay: Moth. My very own inner monster.

  For now I simply have to . . . endure. Vampires are good at that. We have an eternity in which to practice.

  And then the tests begin: a series of methodical invasions into my flesh. Needles and blood pressure and heart rate monitors. It is all bizarrely . . . normal. Blood tests, resulting in more vials of blood than I have seen in a long time. My own blood – it feels strangely personal seeing it there. Intimate. Like they are seeing a part of me that I hadn’t intended to share. I am still hungry, but watching each syringe as it is filled doesn’t make me feel any worse. Holly once told me that a vampire’s blood is sort of dead. It doesn’t have the nutrients that we need to survive, which is why we don’t crave the blood of our own kind – not unless that vampire has very recently fed from a fresh human vein.

  I watch, in a distracted sort of way, as Stark directs the increasingly perky Nurse Faye. They work together as though this is a well-practiced dance. It is almost soothing, and I find that I am pathetically grateful that they left the stupid gown on; let me keep a shred of dignity. I just lie there, a slow-burning rage building inside me. I feel vulnerable. Ashamed. I hate every person in that room, but I think of Jace and what they will do to him if I don’t play by their rules. At least for now.

  I wish for Theo to come riding in to save me, something that I can’t remember thinking in a very long time. I was far more used to saving myself. But, right now, I would have given anything to see him kick down the door and sweep in like a beautiful, avenging angel. My own personal d
emon.

  But he doesn’t come of course, and I am truly on my own. I tell myself to be strong, that it’ll be OK. Hang in there. None of this matters.

  I’m not convinced. It is impossible to hold onto myself when these people are so intent on stripping me down to the bone, and taking everything that I am.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hunter. Predator.

  I had no concept of how much time had passed.

  They’d dumped me inside some kind of weird glass cage. For the first time since my ‘arrival’ at the Facility, I wasn’t chained. I stared at the walls and sighed. It might look like glass, but was more than likely reinforced in a way that would make it impossible for me to break.

  Nausea and a headache threatened to overwhelm me. My new cell was, once again, silver-lined. This time it wasn’t particles in the walls (because of all the glass), but the entire floor was coated with the stuff.

  At least those . . . people . . . had given me back my clothes, so I was wearing the black leggings and tunic combo that I’d worn for meeting Jace at Harvard.

  Jace. I couldn’t help remembering him on that monitor. He was in a bad way, and it was all my fault for getting him into this in the first place. Fighting tears and panic, I tried to think – forcing myself to work out a plan. Escape. Fight. Anything but this hopeless fear that I’d be stuck here forever. I squeezed my hands into fists and tried to believe that I would be OK. That Jace would be OK too.

  I managed to find a position, sitting cross-legged, that meant no part of my skin was touching the ground. The soles of my bare feet were already burning, but I didn’t think I’d stood for long enough to cause permanent scars. See? There I go again, trying to look on the bright side.

  I was in a circular enclosure in a room filled with similar . . . containers. They were like transparent booths, all space-age and creepy. I counted: there were twelve of them, including mine. The lighting was pretty bad, but my inhuman eyes allowed me to see enough to know that I wasn’t alone.

  The cell next door to me was occupied.

  I watched the girl through the glass that separated us. Subject Ten was sitting with her booted feet on the ground, knees bent with her chin resting on them. Her eyes were shut, but I had no doubt that she was completely aware of my presence. The wire-tight tension in her body told me that she was very definitely not asleep, and somehow I doubted that she was meditating. Adrenaline seemed to thrum both inside and all around her. Adrenaline, energy, and something dangerous.

 

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