Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III)

by Stewart, Lauren

  Hate radiated from him. “It doesn’t matter anymore—the facility was destroyed by you people, and the drugs were confiscated by the police.” And would be released by Fuller any day now, no doubt.

  “Not all of them. In fact, I have a friend who, until a little while ago, lived in a cage. Now you get to tell me how much we use to keep him that way.”

  Steve blinked. “Turner’s alive?” So much for the guy being in the know.

  Too late to deny it now. “Yep.”

  “And he’s human?”

  “Yep.”

  “For how long?”

  “You tell me. What’s the going dose these days and when will he need it again?”

  “Another dose won’t help him.” A smile crept onto Steve’s face, slow but steady, until it was a full-blown sneer.

  “Tell me why you’re smiling or things are about to get very unpleasant, very quickly.”

  The expression slipped. “Turner has been without any serum for a long time—long enough to allow his Hyde to completely take over. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

  Landon didn’t nod, but something gave him away.

  “Giving a large dose of J-0026 to a Hyde makes them revert to their human form.”

  “I know that,” Landon said. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”

  “The reversion doesn’t last. And when it ends, it ends very abruptly.”

  “Define ‘abruptly’.”

  “To use a method of measure you’re probably more familiar with, he’ll go from 0 to 60 in forty-five seconds.” That damn smile was back, as if he saw the ripple of panic move through Landon’s body. “With a standard deviation of 15 seconds, of course.”

  Landon’s mind flashed to Eden and Mitch happily doing some post-coital, sappy shit. Together. Outside of the cage. So when—not if—it happened, Mitch would have between thirty seconds and a minute to get into the cage and be chained down. “How long does he have before it happens?”

  “The longest I’ve observed is twenty-four hours.”

  Landon sighed but didn’t relax. When someone says, ‘the longest’, it usually means the window is wide. “And the shortest?”

  “Just over four hours. How long has it been?” He popped an eyebrow. “Maybe you should hurry home just in case.”

  Landon backed up, unsure of what to do. Taking a hostage was a pile of something he didn’t want to step into. “We have more to talk about.” When he tried calling Eden, like always, she didn’t answer. Probably too busy to hear the phone.

  Damn Abnormal hormones are going to screw everything up. Hopefully not permanently. When he was done with Steve, he’d try to reach her again. And again. And again.

  “Tell me how the drug works, Steve. There has to be a way to stop the switch-back.”

  Steve looked at him innocently, confusedly. “We haven’t done enough testing to be sure of anything with J-0026, especially not with the Hydes. But we know they don’t just ‘switch back’. When the J-0026 stops staving Turner’s Hyde off, he’ll have a seizure.” He paused. “A fatal one.”

  Fatal. No way could one man be that unlucky. Landon’s mind went into ‘will he or won’t he’ overdrive. Could he trust Uncle Steve or was this just more bullshit? “I don’t buy it. There has to be more than that. You brought Hyde01 back repeatedly, right? That’s what Fields said. So how did you do it?” He swallowed. “Tell me or I will drag you back to the house and have him convince you to talk.”

  “I need an assurance that you’ll let me go.”

  “And you’ll run straight to your bosses. Not going to happen.” He spoke quickly because he needed to get back to the house to warn them. Before it was too late.

  “I’m leaving Florida.” He started to put his hand in his pocket.

  Landon took another step backwards and drew his weapon.

  Steve slammed his back into the wall with his hands up, staring at the barrel that was inches from his face. “It’s a plane ticket! Check my pocket. I stayed at my sister’s because I thought it would be safer.” With two little kids to shield him when the shit he wrought came down on him. “But it wasn’t.”

  Landon reached into the man’s pocket and took out a passport with a folded piece of paper tucked inside. He dropped the passport and opened the paper one-handed, his other being occupied with something more important.

  Sparing only a quick glance, he saw the boarding pass. London. He’d always wanted to go there. “Here’s the deal, Steve. One time offer. No negotiations. You talk and you talk fast. Then I let you go see Buckingham Palace.” Maybe. But probably not. Because trust was a rare commodity these days. Too rare to waste on someone who’d already proven themselves unworthy.

  “But if you lie to me or Turner dies,” he continued. “I won’t hesitate. And I’ll have enough time and motivation to find anyone, anywhere.”

  “London is a big—” His snide remark died in his throat as he realized he’d just given Landon a very good reason to kill him now.

  “I wasn’t talking about you. You’re one of six kids, right? Uncle to how many?” He let the threat settle in Steve’s mind. Gave him a moment to fully absorb it. Saw a new sense of terror on the face of an already-cowardly man. As hateful as the guy was, he loved those kids—Landon had seen it. “Tell me how to help Turner.”

  Tears filling his eyes, Steve nodded. “There’s another pharmaceutical, but…I don’t know if you have it.”

  “Pretend I do.”

  “It’s called ‘RLS-7’. It encourages the Abnormal side to appear. If you want to keep Turner from dying, you need to force his transformation—the Hyde’s physiology can handle what its human side can’t. Your timing has to be right on—while he’s seizing. If you wait too long, he’ll die just like any human would.”

  “How much do we give him?” Landon went through a mental list of the drugs he and Eden had taken from The Clinic. They’d been tagged with undecipherable numbers and letters, but one of those number/letter combos was RLS-7.

  “Don’t hurt my family.”

  “Give me a reason not to. How much?”

  “Fifty cc. Diluted in saline from the concentrated powder form to a ratio of 1:20. Injected directly into a vein, not muscle, not fat.” The words kept coming, broken up by pleas for his family, for pity, mercy. Landon only listened to the information he needed, ignoring the rest because it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to hurt the man’s family. His threat was empty but, thankfully, it was also convincing.

  “His Hyde can metabolize the rest, so an overdose is basically impossible with the RLS-7. Every Abnormal is different and every episode is different. There’s no pattern to how long he will stay human—no way to predict it.”

  “That it?”

  “We’re talking about decades of research. But yes, that’s what will keep him alive.” A few tears escaped and rolled down his cheek.

  “This time. And long term?”

  “There may be something, but I don’t know very much about it. Bradford was working on something outside of what the rest of us were doing, and he was in contact with the other lab that’s conducting trials. But that’s all I know, I swear. Too bad you—I mean, the gun-toting alligator murdered the only one who did.”

  “I didn’t kill Bradford. Someone from your side did.”

  “Please. He was the head scientist, brought in from Texas and the only one reporting directly to the top.”

  “And he was killed by someone who isn’t me.” If Landon had to venture a fairly obvious guess as to why The Clinic would be killing their own people, he’d go with them having serious trust issues. He shook his head and focused on learning as much as he could before things went awry. Because things always went awry. “Someone else has to know.”

  “Maybe, but it isn’t me. I had nothing to do with the other lab or the higher-ups.”

  Not a good enough answer, but Landon was out of time. And patience. And he was really tired of trudging through the labyrinth of lies, bogus rational
izations, and bullshit excuses. Thank goodness he knew two other people who would be happy to take over for him.

  “I hope you bought a refundable ticket, Uncle Steve.” He nodded towards the parking lot. “You can show me how to whip up the first batch.”

  With nonstop whining, Steve walked in front. Landon was just as unhappy about it—taking a hostage brought a whole new level of bad to the situation. Another liability. Another thing to go wrong.

  There’s always the chance of a hostage escaping. The more you refuse to believe it could happen, the higher the probability that it will.

  Although this was officially Landon’s first kidnapping, he’d seen it from the other side more times than he had fingers. The more arrogant the hostage-taker, the faster they dropped when everything came out from under them.

  But he didn’t have a choice. He had to get back to the house, and he needed all the information that was inside Steve’s head. With it, they’d finally have answers, leads. They could set up an actual plan instead of rushing into things with nothing but crossed fingers and a strong desire not to get killed.

  When he heard a popping sound, he pushed Steve to the ground and landed on top of him. Weapon raised, he spun to look around, knowing he’d probably just face-planted the guy because a patron at the café ordered champagne. Then he heard another pop and felt something displace the air a bit too close to his head. It wasn’t a champagne cork.

  “Move!” He grabbed Steve by the shoulder and yanked as he rolled to the side of the alley. All Steve did was flop over, exposing the hole in his forehead.

  Shit. If they’d moved faster, argued less, or thought more, both of them would be better off. It seemed like Newman had arrived a little early, bringing a gift from The Clinic along with him. Landon was a simple man. He didn’t like gifts. Or surprises. Or being shot.

  And he probably wouldn’t like death very much either. He snapped the safety off, knowing he had thirteen chances to get out of here alive.

  Chapter IX

  Eden would never get tired of looking at him. Sure, it’s the inside that counts and she loved every bit of his, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy his outside too. She couldn’t stop touching him, making sure he was still there and still himself, not knowing if or when he would transform again. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind her hands or mouth on him at all.

  They spent the time planning for each contingency and taking turns using their lips to torture each other while they spoke. Mitch looked at the files, asked questions, and listened intently as she explained every bit of information she and Landon had gathered. She watched him, answered him, and thought about how incredibly peaceful she felt. Finally.

  A perfect blend of business and pleasure. As soon as Landon got back, they would pack and go check out the moving truck they found. But this moment was hers, theirs. And she needed it.

  A car pulled up outside, a door slammed, and footsteps pounded around downstairs. But it was one car, one door, one set of feet, and a lot of Landon mumbling.

  Sadly, it was time to rejoin reality. She pulled out of Mitch’s arms and sat up. “Landon’s back.” And was cursing to himself as he came upstairs. Using words more commonly heard coming out of Mitch’s mouth.

  He yanked her back down. “He’ll probably head straight for the liquor cabinet, so we have a bit more time.”

  “He hasn’t had anything since we left The Clinic. Not a drop.” Although she knew he wanted to, was aching to. Yet another reason to respect him—he put the team’s needs ahead of his own. Because they were a team. Of three.

  Dang, she owed him a big apology.

  “Are you both alright?” Landon’s steps were heavy as he went from bedroom to bedroom. “Where are you?” He slid to a stop in front of the door. The knob wiggled and then he pounded on the wood. “Open it! Now!” His voice was higher than normal, his speech faster.

  Right. Only Mitch has changed—the world is still a cesspool. She’d almost forgotten. She jumped up and opened the door. “Do they know where we are?”

  “No. But we need to leave. Now.” He averted his eyes. “And you need to put on some clothing.”

  “What’s going on?” Mitch asked, sitting up.

  “I’ll tell you downstairs. I need to mix something up. But we need to hurry.”

  “And again I ask: What’s going on?”

  “Bad things. I’ll tell you after I have the second serum mixed. I’ll be downstairs.” He looked at Mitch for a moment longer, fear filling his eyes. “Yeah, downstairs. Hurry.”

  “What did he mean by ‘second serum’?” She’d find out soon enough. Without much to pack and the duffel bag she’d thrown together for Mitch never even opened, all she had to do was get dressed.

  He played with the row of safety pins attached to the belt loop of her jeans. “This is cute.”

  “I put them on every pair of pants I own.” She shrugged. “Never know when they’ll come in handy.”

  He nodded sadly. “Someday stuff like that won’t be necessary.”

  “I know.” She held her hand out for him to take. “Ready?”

  He stood in front of a small mirror, staring at her reflection silently for a moment, unmoving. “I…I need a minute. Okay?”

  She wondered if he’d forgotten who he was too. But looking in the mirror didn’t help—she’d tried it.

  “Sure, of course. I’ll go see what spooked Landon so badly.” It definitely wouldn’t be good news, because Landon didn’t spook easily. She found him in the kitchen. “What going on?”

  He didn’t look up from what he was doing. “Where’s Turner?”

  “Can you stop stalling, please?”

  “I’m not stalling. I’m preoccupied by something that takes some concentration. But I’ll try to multi-task.” He started by telling her about his old chief. There was pain in his eyes, just under the anger—things left behind by deceit.

  By the time Mitch—now clean-shaven—came in, Landon was at the point of his story when he had the scientist up against the wall. And so far—minus the Chief’s involvement—it all sounded like great news. He’d learned more in the last few hours than they’d learned in days, maybe weeks.

  But she knew a bomb was coming because, for a reason still unexplained, he was carefully measuring and mixing saline with one of the powders they’d taken from The Clinic.

  “I’m all packed,” Mitch said, shaking the empty box of condoms. “But we may need to stop off somewhere for supplies.”

  “Jesus, Turner, this isn’t a goddamn pleasure cruise.”

  Mitch flinched. “Didn’t think it was. But it’s always darkest before someone screws in a light bulb, so I thought I’d keep things light. You know, until we get screwed.”

  After a pause, Landon went back to work, filling three syringes with the liquid. “So the guy Steve was supposed to meet shot him and tried to shoot me.”

  “Motherfucker!” Mitch stepped forward as if he could fight an enemy who wasn’t there.

  “Relax, Turner. I’m not dead. And I lost him. But he wasn’t like any of the guards we’ve come across. So we need to be more focused now.”

  “I should have come along,” Mitch growled.

  “Because you can catch bullets? Or because you want to get shot?” The tone of Landon’s voice was one she’d only heard him use once before—when they were huddled together on a cot, sprinklers pouring water down on them, talking about whether or not to electrocute someone they both loved. Frustration mixed with deep regret and hopelessness.

  “Because I want to back you up,” Mitch said slowly. Eden saw the guilt on his face—he would never have forgiven himself if Landon had been shot. “I swear, cop. If you die on my account, I’ll—”

  “I’m not doing this for you, Turner.”

  “You think I don’t remember? I know you have your own shit to pay them back for, but I still don’t want you to die, asshole.”

  Despite Landon’s claims, Eden knew a big part of it wa
s for Mitch. And by association, her. He wanted payback for the death of a woman who might have made their team a foursome. But more than all of that, Landon was doing this for redemption.

  “Well, the same goes for me,” Landon grumbled. Then he popped needle covers and plunger guards on the syringes so they wouldn’t accidentally be emptied.

  “We’re a team. Next time, call us.” Although she probably wouldn’t have called either. “Now can you skip to the part where you tell us what that is?”

  He stood, tucking the syringes into his pocket and staring at Mitch.

  Mitch waited silently, but the question never left his face, the tension never left his body. Finally he spoke. “Longing looks don’t tell me anything other than you want me. But I already know that. So spill already.”

  Landon spilled. He hurried through the high points of his story, ending with a reiteration of the reason they needed to leave. But all Eden could focus on was a few words from the middle: ‘seizure’ and ‘die’. Each swinging on separate pendulums in her mind, bumping into each other, ricocheting off in different directions, none of which made sense.

  Seizure.

  Die.

  That couldn’t be right. Mitch was back—they’d brought him back. She’d brought him back. With her whole being, she’d believed it was possible, and it was. He had to stay here. She could deal with occasional appearances from Hyde because she knew it would be temporary, but ‘seizure’ and ‘die’ were permanent. Things not even Hyde could come back from.

  “Huh,” Mitch said calmly. “That sucks. Did he mention how much time I’d have?”

  “Between four and twenty-four hours.”

  “Big difference between four and twenty-four.” He blew out a breath. “We should probably get moving.”

  She whipped around to face him. “That’s it? ‘We should probably get moving’?” Didn’t he understand what Landon said? What it meant for him?

  “What would you prefer? That we have a snack and wait to see if this Newman-guy will find us? Or just sit in a triangle with you two staring at me until I start to convulse?”