The Haunted High Series Boxed Set

by Cheree Alsop

  The scientists behind him nodded at each other as though they had participated in the conversation many times.

  I took his bait in an effort to stall until I could come up with a plan, which was going to be difficult given the size of my headache. “Why is that?”

  “Superiority,” Dr. Fagrin replied with the same tone Professor Briggs used when his students should know the answer to a question. “Mythics are superior to the human race. Consider them, well, you, the next evolution of mankind. But in most evolutions, the inferior beings are wiped out.” He gave a predatory grin. “But not this case. Here at the Labs, we’re fighting back to ensure that the evolution process is stopped in its tracks.” He speared me with a triumphant look. “And we’ve been waiting for you to finish our work.”

  A chill ran through me. “This was all a trap?”

  Dr. Fagrin nodded. “You may have set a few more mythics free than we were planning, but the trap worked out splendidly. With the shortage of werewolves, we’ve been waiting for one with the Alpha genome in order to complete our studies. Fortunately, your dear professor informed us that you were just the werewolf we’ve been looking for.”

  I glanced at the professor. Brigg’s head was bowed and he glared at the floor with his hands clenched into fists. I should have felt betrayed, but instead I wondered what they had done to him to make him reveal that kind of information. By his twisted expression, it hadn’t been pleasant.

  Dr. Fagrin continued, “Not only do we have you, we have your vampire companion in the throes of some sort of poisoned bite. We’ve never seen something like that impact a vampire, so this is exciting to everyone.” He waved his hand toward the table. “I thought you’d like to watch.”

  They pushed the table to a stop a few feet away from my cage. Standing, I could see Vicken’s pale form strapped to the top. He had been dressed in a medical gown and the black, weeping wound on his leg was visible near the hem. My stomach roiled at the sight of the damaged flesh.

  “As soon as the bite has taken over completely and your friend’s demise is certain, we can begin figuring out how to weaponize the effects of the venom using your friend’s blood as a virus to wipe out the others of his race.”

  “No!” I shouted.

  Vicken’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. From where I stood, the black streaks that colored his sclera were visible. The effect was ghastly and made tears burn behind my eyelids at the thought of what he was going through. Vicken’s eyes closed again. I gripped the bars with both hands.

  “Let us all go, now!” I demanded.

  Dr. Fagrin chuckled. “You get points for spirit, Finnley Briscoe. Unfortunately, even a werewolf can’t bend bars that thick.” He motioned to his companions. “We’ll return in the morning. I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.” He glanced at his watch. “Whatever’s left of it. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day for you.”

  The doctor started walking away, then paused and said, “By the way, Briggs, Stith will be over to say hi before sunrise.”

  A glance at the professor showed that he hadn’t looked up, but his face was paler than before and his hands gripped the bars where he knelt so hard the knuckles showed white.

  Dr. Fagrin walked away without another word.

  “It was all a trap,” I said with my gaze on Vicken’s still form.

  “Of course it was. Why would I tell you to come after me if I was in danger?” Briggs demanded.

  I met his gaze. “I thought you needed my help.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What’s one werewolf supposed to do against all of this?”

  “I wasn’t one werewolf,” I reminded him hotly, my anger fueled by my pounding head. “The team was here. They got people out.”

  “To where?”

  The professor’s question hung in the air.

  “To a vampire lair,” I told him heatedly. “They’ll be safe until their families come to get them.”

  Briggs shook his head as if he couldn’t believe my stupidity. “You sent a bunch of bleeding, weak mythics to a vampire lair? What are they supposed to do, wait around until the vampires suck them dry? You just sentenced them all to death as surely as if they’d been here, and your team as well. You’re as naïve as you look, Finn.”

  “What about prejudice?” I shot back. Horror pounded in my throat that perhaps he was right. Had I really just sent my entire team to their deaths? I shook my head. “I refuse to believe that any race will prey on another like that. Vicken promised me they would be safe. I trust him.”

  I looked at the motionless vampire, willing him to rise from the table, to break the straps, to set us free and tell us that the other mythics were safe, but he didn’t move.

  “You trusted a vampire,” Briggs replied with disgust in his voice. “Perhaps bringing a werewolf to the Academy was the wrong move. Mythics don’t work together like that, Finn. We protect our own.”

  “Yeah?” I shot back. “Then where is your own? When we heard you were in trouble, my team came to help even though I tried to leave them behind. We stand up for each other and trust each other. Who do you have? Where are the warlocks who are supposed to protect you? Or are have you been forgotten?”

  I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but there was no taking them back.

  Briggs shook his head and leaned against the bars with exhaustion on his face. “You’re about to learn that no mythic can be trusted, Finn, my boy.”

  A sound caught my ear. I looked back to see a man walk past Vicken’s gurney. He looked to be about Briggs’ age, but the skin of his face was thin as though it had been stretched over his cheekbones. When he opened his mouth, his crooked teeth looked like they wanted to spill out.

  “Hello, Briggsy,” the man said.

  “Hello, Stith,” Briggs replied levelly. Though he kept his face carefully expressionless, I saw the fear in his dark eyes.

  “Dr. Fagrin says he’s finished with you and I can have my fun,” the warlock said. He raised a hand toward the light above us. Electricity shot down and danced on his palm. He passed it back and forth in an electric ball.

  I stared, mesmerized and terrified at the same time. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and on my arms. I wanted to phase, to break the bars, and to bring down the man before he could hurt Briggs, but I was helpless to do anything.

  “Have you ever killed someone, Briggsy?” Stith asked.

  “I’ve killed demons,” Briggs replied.

  “Revenge is sweet,” Stith said.

  I saw it then, the shift of his head, the way his form seemed to turn a second too slow to keep up with his movements. It looked as though a shadow hovered over him, blanketing him.

  “Briggs, there’s something else there,” I whispered.

  “It’s her,” the professor replied without taking his eyes off Stith. “It’s the Wiccan Enforcer. He’s been under her control this entire time.”

  Stith’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a demonic snarl. “Give us the location of the heart pieces and this will go quickly, Briggs.”

  “Never,” Briggs replied.

  Stith raised his hands. One was shadowed while the other’s shadow looked as though it ended just below the wrist. Electricity shot from his fingers to the professor.

  The scream that tore from Briggs’ mouth was something straight out of my nightmares. He rolled on his side, his arms and legs bent and locked tight. The yell continued, filled with pain as tears ran from his eyes.

  “Stop it!” I shouted.

  But the warlock ignored me. He took a step closer to the cage as he electrocuted his onetime friend.

  “You’ve refused me for the last time, warlock,” the Wiccan Enforcer’s voice said from Stith’s mouth. The electricity increased and Brigg’s voice cut off as though his throat no longer worked. The sounds of mythics calling for help had ceased at the professor’s cry of pain. Now, only the buzz of the electricity filled the air. Briggs’ back arched and he stared at the
ceiling without seeing it.

  “You went to school together, Stith,” I said desperately. “You had a club and a hidden clubhouse.”

  Stith’s face turned toward me while the fainter image of the Wiccan Enforcer continued to face Briggs with a joyful expression at his agony.

  “He said you were amazing with electricity, that you could pull it from outlets and play with it like a pet,” I continued, my mind racing.

  Stith’s face twisted. He glanced back at Briggs and then at me again.

  “He said you would have made a great professor,” I lied, grasping at anything I could think of. “He said you were better than him at school and you may have become the Headmaster someday if you had stayed.”

  “I-I was better at school,” Stith said.

  The electricity wavered, but didn’t stop.

  “You were in the club with my mother, with Silvia Roe. She used to tell me how amazing you were. Briggs told me that, too.”

  Stith’s hands lowered despite the Wiccan Enforcer’s efforts to keep them up. Sparks danced around his fingertips.

  “She said that?” the warlock asked.

  I nodded quickly. “She said you were so smart and funny.” Darkness flitted through his gaze. I hurriedly correctly, “I mean wonderful, not funny. All the students looked up to you, and the professors, too.”

  “They did,” Stith said, nodding. The electricity snaked from finger to finger.

  “Kill Briggs,” the Wiccan Enforcer demanded, speaking with his mouth.

  “No,” Stith replied with confusion on his face. He looked from me to Briggs. “Briggsy was my friend. I won’t hurt him.”

  “You will,” the Wiccan Enforcer replied.

  Stith shook his head. “You’ve tormented me far too long, minion of Chutka. I’m done acting like your puppet.” His face twisted as though it hurt to fight against the Wiccan Enforcer’s will. Stith’s lips pulled back in a snarl and he said, “You won’t use me to hurt anyone anymore.”

  “I’ll use you however I like,” the Wiccan Enforcer replied.

  A light of triumph showed on Stith’s face when he said, “Then we’re both done.”

  To my horror, the warlock lifted his hands to his face.

  “No!” the Wiccan Enforcer said.

  Stith looked at the professor who now lay in an exhausted, charred-smelling heap in the middle of his cage. Only Briggs’ eyes moved as he watched the proceedings without the ability to speak.

  “You’re right, Briggsy,” Stith said. “I am amazing.”

  He blinked and the electricity that had moments before been torturing the professor sparked into his skull. The warlock dropped to his knees, but the arching electricity prevented him from dropping. A grunt of pain escaped from Stith’s tightly clenched teeth, then the electricity stopped, his eyes rolled back, and he fell onto his side on the ground.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wanted to check on the professor, but at that moment, Vicken’s back arched on his bed. The restraints held him and he fell back onto the sheet. I strained to listen. The vampire’s heart gave an unsteady thump, then stilled.

  “Vicken!” I shouted.

  I stuck my hand through the bars and tried to reach the gurney, but it was too far away. I looked around quickly; the only thing close enough to be of use was Stith’s body.

  Fear made my hand shake when I crouched to reach for the motionless warlock. I half-expected electricity to arc through my hand when I touched him. Instead, I felt only the warlock’s solid leg. I grabbed the hem of his pants and pulled. The man was heavier than I had expected. I put my feet against the far bars, gripped the pants harder, and yanked backwards. My werewolf strength kicked in and I nearly slid the warlock past me entirely.

  I managed to grab his shirt, slide him back up, and unhook the belt from his pants. Any fear I’d had of the warlock vanished when I tugged on the belt and he rolled over. No breath escaped his lips and his heartbeat gave no sound. He was dead for sure. I didn’t know what that meant for the Wiccan Enforcer, but I hoped she was gone as well.

  I had no sympathy for someone who had tortured Professor Briggs to the point that he gave up his students, something he never would have done if he had been free. The irony that the professor’s fear of electricity had been well-founded created a bitter taste in my mouth. Had he known somehow that he would face the warlock again in his life?

  Vicken didn’t have time for such questions. I grabbed the end of Stith’s belt in one hand and tossed the other end toward the table. It took three tries, but the metal head of the belt finally slipped into a joint between two bars on the gurney. I pulled it over with a quick jerk.

  The bars of the gurney hit the cage with a bang. I told myself I didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing. If they hadn’t come running when Stith was killed, we were on our own.

  “Vicken, wake up!” I shouted.

  I slapped the vampire’s chest, but he didn’t respond. I couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

  “Come on, Vicken. Don’t you give up on me,” I growled.

  “He needs blood.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Briggs who was still curled in pain on the floor.

  “But if the demon bite turned his blood against him, won’t more blood kill him?” I asked in fear.

  Briggs opened his eyes, then shut them again tightly as though even the neon lights of the Labs hurt.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But a vampire without blood is dead. Maybe….” He took a moment to breathe, then said, “Maybe it will dilute the poison.”

  I would try anything at that point. I shoved my wrist at Vicken’s face.

  “Drink, Vicken. I know you need it,” I urged.

  The vampire didn’t show any sign that he heard me. I brought my hand back with the thought that I needed to bite it myself to entice him with the blood. I looked at the blue of my veins running through the soft underpart of my wrist. Sparrow still slept around my other hand. The thought of disturbing her and perhaps reminding the scientists that I also had a dragon made me choose my right wrist instead. My palm ached from the rough treatment I had been through. Dr. Six would be upset at the state of the tattered flesh. I guessed adding a vampire bite to that wouldn’t increase her wrath; she could only be so mad, right?

  I couldn’t bite it. I wasn’t sure if it was my werewolf instincts or some human sense of self-preservation, but the thought of sinking my teeth into my own skin was impossible. I looked around, but couldn’t see any other options. My eyes fell onto the same bars that made up the gurney. A metal screw stuck out where the joints met. I put my wrist to it, gritted my teeth, and jerked it upward. The sharp edge of the screw sliced into my skin. When I pulled it back, a red line filled the cut. I hoped it was enough.

  “Come on, Vicken,” I breathed.

  I put my wrist to his lips. When he didn’t move, I pumped my hand open and closed in an effort to make the cut bleed more. A single drop fell from it onto the vampire’s lips. The blood stayed there in a perfect little bubble, it’s bright red a stark contrast to the vampire’s bluish lips.

  “Vicken, drink it!” Briggs growled from his place on the floor.

  “Drink, Vicken,” I urged.

  I pressed my hand closer, ignoring how morbid it felt to try to make my friend drink my blood. He had done it once, I reminded myself. He wouldn’t have been at the Labs if I hadn’t fallen for the note. I had walked into the trap just as easily as if they had handcuffed me at the Academy doors. At least Dr. Fagrin sounded dismayed at the amount of mythics we had been able to free. I told myself that if I had to be tortured and experimented on to death, at least I had saved people in the process. For some reason, that wasn’t a reassuring thought.

  Vicken still didn’t move. Desperate to try anything, I slipped my left hand through the bars and set it on the vampire’s chest. I closed my eyes, thought swiftly of a memory, and pushed it toward the vampire.

  In the memory, Vicken had me pinned to the wall, his grip
so tight I couldn’t breathe.

  “Fight me,” he said. “Fight me and prove that you’re another animal like the last werewolf.” His yellow eyes flashed as he looked up at me. “Prove that letting werewolves into Haunted High again was a bad idea and that your kind isn’t to be trusted.” His grip tightened. “Prove that I’m right.”

  I struggled to draw in a breath, but my shirt collar was so tight it shut off my windpipe. I kicked the vampire’s legs, but he merely laughed.

  “Come on, weremutt,” he challenged. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  I clawed at his hands, but he merely tightened his grip. He pulled me closer to his face and said, “Give in.”

  I shook my head. Dark spots danced in my vision.

  Vicken shook me, hard. My head wobbled on my neck like one of those figures they sold at comic book stores.

  He pulled me close again and said, “Alright, if you won’t turn into a wolf of your own will, I’ll beat you until you have to turn.”

  I gasped when teeth sinking into my wrist made the memory disappear. Vicken’s eyes were closed and his hands shook where they were still restrained by the straps. He drank tentatively at first as though he didn’t have the strength to do more than swallow, but then his gulps intensified and I felt the cold chill run up my arm.

  I wasn’t sure how much blood to give him. I needed my strength if we had any chance of fighting against Dr. Fagrin. I waited for him to take several more gulps with the hope that it would get him by until we could find help, then I pulled back. But when I tried to move, he broke his left hand free of the restraint with a quick snap and held my wrist in place. His vampire strength was astonishing. I tried to pull away again, but I couldn’t move. I closed my eyes as lethargy filled me. It took all of my concentration to remain standing.

  “Vicken, that’s enough,” Briggs said. When the vampire didn’t acknowledge that the professor had spoken, I heard him turn toward me and say, “Finn, you have to stop him.”