“We’re not,” she said calmly, running her hands down her shirt. “If you get hurt, it will be your own fault. Stop fighting.”
“Never. I will never stop fighting.” Never. As tears crested her eyelids, she knew she was weak. She wanted to be stronger. Needed to be stronger. “Never.” But it didn’t matter what her mind wanted—her body just wasn’t up to the challenge.
“You are the ones responsible for this, aren’t you?” At least her voice wasn’t defeated. “This is The Clinic, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” The Clinic that Hyde had growled, that Carter’s confession had outed. The Clinic that had been drugging her for years, drugging Mitch for a decade and a half. That Jolie had worked for, that Carter had…betrayed her for.
“This is The Clinic.” The woman shook her head. “But we aren’t responsible for your condition. Please, calm down. If you stop struggling, they will let you go and we can talk about it.”
When the devil tells you to stop struggling, do you? “No.”
“If you can’t calm yourself, or calm your Jekyll—”
“My what?”
The woman quickly glanced at the guard before refocusing on Eden. “We have a lot to discuss. But only if you are calm. If you can’t do that, then we’ll have to strap you down so you can’t hurt yourself or anyone else.” She took a step forward. “Don’t make us have to tie you up.”
The men’s hands dug deep into Eden’s skin. She’d have bruises. Matching, angry bruises to prove just how weak she was. There was no way out. Not yet.
She took a deep breath and willed her muscles to relax. Her body slumped, as if it had heard her command and let go of everything at once. Complete shut-down. Or death. She hung in their arms, her legs crumpled underneath her, holding none of her body weight.
The guards grunted as they shifted their grips—holding her up instead of holding her still.
“That’s…better,” the woman said, her head tilted. “I think.” She came closer and lowered her head. “Are you alright?”
When she brought her hand towards Eden’s face, Eden jerked away. “I’m just fine. Thanks for asking.” Her legs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, but she pulled them underneath herself and stood slowly, glaring.
“Good.” The woman smiled politely.
Eden wanted to smack her. She squinted, trying to remember where she’d seen the woman’s face before. Not knowing if she was someone she’d met or Chastity had known. “I know you,” she said. “How do I know you?”
“I was the psychologist you spoke with at the police station.”
Vaguely, she remembered their conversation—the woman she’d thought was a police-shrink trying to lead her into a story about what had happened with Carter. A story that wasn’t true.
Lies. Damn it, there were always lies.
“Do you remember meeting me, Eden?” She looked at her quizzically. “After that unfortunate situation with Carter Poole?”
“Unfortunate situation? You mean when Jolie tried to kill him?” Her words shot out like weapons, the only weapon she had at the moment. “Before she tried to kill me? That unfortunate situation?”
“That’s the one,” she said nodding as if it hadn’t been the worst day of Eden’s life. As if her picnic-of-a-life had been ruined by ants instead of a psychotic bitch. As if her life had been a picnic to begin with. “My name is Alexandra Bertram, and I’m the facility’s clinical behaviorist-slash-administrator. You can call me Alex.”
“Gee, thanks. You can call me ‘Kiss My Ass’.” She blinked. It was as if Mitch had replaced her tongue with his. And it had happened like it was a habit. Which it wasn’t.
“I think I’ll stick to Eden.” She stretched her neck and sighed. “Are you ready to talk now?”
Eden turned her head to the goons holding her still. “Are your dogs ready to heel?”
After a pause, Alex said, “You can let her go.” She cocked her head, staring straight at Eden. “But stay close until she proves that she can behave like a normal human being.”
That was the problem. “Am I?” Eden asked softly. “Am I a normal human being?” Even quiet, her voice held more power, more confidence. But it wasn’t hers. Not exactly. It felt foreign. Somehow she knew that the minute she let her guard down, Chastity would take control. But it also felt comfortable, empowering, and safe. No, Eden was many things, but being a ‘normal human being’ wasn’t one of them.
Alex’s lips tightened and sadness danced around her face before being outmaneuvered by a more business-like expression. “That’s one of the many things we need to discuss. Come on.” She turned and walked in the opposite direction the guards had come from, quickly telling the guard whose knee Eden had bashed in that he could see to his injury.
“Don’t piss me off anymore,” the bigger guard said as he slowly released her. “You walk, you talk, and we’ll have no more problems. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” What other choice did she have?
The men stayed a half-step behind her as Alex led her past a bunch of doors that all looked exactly the same. The only light was from the overhead fluorescents, and the stale air was suffocating.
“Doesn’t The Clinic believe in windows? This place could use some airing-out.”
“I’ll put a note in the suggestion box,” Alex said without turning.
This was something out of a movie. Not real. None of this was real. Maybe she was in a coma, in the hospital room next to Carter’s, and all of this was part of a terrible psychotic break-down. Yeah, right. She wasn’t that lucky.
Eden coveted the keycard Alex pulled out of her pocket. One keycard for a place with so many doors, and one of those doors must lead outside. Which meant that keycard was her way out. If she could—
“We can talk in here.” Alex stood to the side after opening the door, waving her hand and expecting Eden to go in first. “Then I’ll show you around a bit.”
Please. I’m not that stupid, not that trusting…anymore. Without taking another step, Eden peered into the room. It was just like the one she’d woken up in, except instead of a bed, there were a table and a few chairs. Same wall-color, same floor.
“Some pillows would really warm this place up, you know,” Eden snapped. “Make it more home-y.”
“Great idea. I’ll get right on it.” She waved her hand again.
“You first,” Eden said, glancing at the guard out of the corner of her eye.
Alex sighed. “Fine. But if you try to run, he’ll just stop you again. And after that dog comment back there, I can’t guarantee he’ll be gentle.” She went into the room, holding her arms out and swinging them around. “See? No booby-traps. Are you convinced?”
“You’re going to have to do a lot more dancing to convince me of anything.” But Eden went in, her eyes everywhere at once, looking for the next trap. Like she was surrounded by predators and seemed to be everyone’s prey-of-choice. Which was nothing new—that’s all she’d ever been.
After Alex sat down, Eden pulled out the chair across the table from her. She stopped when the guard came in and stood behind her. “I thought we were going to talk. Why does he need to be here?”
“Because…I made a mistake that I don’t intend to repeat—trying to wake you without someone else being there. Lesson learned. I should’ve been more prepared, since I didn’t know which side of you would be present.”
“Which side of me?” Like a coin—one side’s the winner, the other’s not. Ever since she’d learned about Chastity, she’d seen it that way. But now she wasn’t so sure. Things were different, as if the coin had become a sphere and both ‘sides’ of her were swirling within it, bumping into each other, fighting for supremacy in her mind and her body.
“Yes. I assumed you would be Eden because of your hair.”
Eden ran her fingers through her hair, bringing it forward so she could look at the color. It was brown, straight, and just over shoulder-length, not Chastity-red, long and curly. Thank God.
“But I should’ve known better,” Alex said. “You’re different now.”
She felt different. For one, she should be crying in pain from the fight in the hallway. But it felt like her body was already healing, or maybe all of her pain receptors had suddenly gone on the fritz. And if the fight had proven nothing else, Chastity’s ability to fight was now Eden’s. Because Eden had always been more of a cowerin-the-corner-until-the-fire’s-out kind of gal.
“That’s the understatement of the fuckin—” Eden slammed her mouth shut. What other parts of Chastity could Eden access now? The part of her brain that controlled language was definitely screwy, because every other word was one Eden had never used before.
Alex smiled, nodding. “Yes, it is.”
“What did you do to me while I was asleep?”
“Nothing.”
Her laugh was bitter. “Liar.” She felt like a different person—they’d given her something. “Was it the same crap Carter gave me, but in a higher dose?”
“That’s the most amazing part, Eden.” Her eyes flashed. “We haven’t given you anything, and yet, you’ve changed.” She leaned forward. “Would you like to know what you are?”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? Of course, I want to know.” But she didn’t. Not really. What she wanted was for Alex to tell her this was all a cruel joke, that they were just messing with her, that she could be the same person she’d thought she was. Before. When her pain had only been the result of a terrible childhood, and not from being a monster whose terrible childhood might be the happiest time of her life. Before she’d been betrayed, fallen in love, and then been dumped faster than week-old take-out. But that wasn’t likely, was it? “So…Alex. What am I?”
“You’ll be happy to know that the majority of you is human.”
Eden flinched. “That’s supposed to make me happy? I don’t know what world you’re living in, Alex. But in mine, when someone tells you that you are mostly human, it isn’t good news.”
Alex fidgeted uncomfortably. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started off with that.”
“Ya think?”
“You are human in all things but one. One we—The Clinic—are trying to understand more fully. There are so many unknowns because each case is so different.”
Eden swallowed. “How many cases are there?” She only knew of three—herself, Mitch, and Mitch’s father. Mitch had suggested that her mother might also be one, but since she’d died long ago, Eden would never know.
“Many. A few. It depends on how you look at it.” She shrugged.
“How about we look at it on a factual basis? I want a number. And stop being so fff—” She stopped the word just before it came out and tried to control it, make it a bit more her own. “—fricking vague. You’re the one who wants to talk. I’m the one who wants to leave.”
“You can to leave whenever you’d like.”
She rocked back in her seat. They would just let her walk out? Yeah, right. But easy enough to test. “Well then, let me go. I want to leave now.” She stood, pushing her chair backwards into the guard’s legs. He caught it incredibly fast, scooted it to the side, and stepped closer. “I thought you said I could go. How about you explain it to him?”
“He’s only here for my protection. And yours. You can go now, if you wish. But I assumed you’d want to know a bit more about your condition. Mitchell Turner’s condition.”
“Nah. Thanks, but I’m good.” She took one step.
“He’s going to die, you know.”
Eden felt a stabbing pain in her gut. This place was so full of lies, she could practically smell them in the air. Why would she believe this one was truth?
But she couldn’t stop herself from turning. “What do you mean?”
“Without our help—yours and The Clinic’s—he will die. And it won’t be pleasant.”
“You’d kill him?” she asked, her voice steady, her mind shrieking.
“No. We don’t kill people.”
She laughed. “Except to cover things up, right? Mitch’s sister, a few witnesses, Carter?” For all she knew, Carter was already dead. That’s what being kidnapped will do to someone—leave them a bit out of the loop. But, in this instance, she wasn’t sure if she cared. She didn’t want anyone else to die, but asking if Carter had come out of his coma and was able to live a normal life after everything he’d done to her meant that she might get an answer. And Eden really didn’t want to imagine him living it up someplace far from here, with a beer in his hand and a frigging song in his heart.
“You must believe that we had nothing to do with those people’s deaths or Carter’s attack. That was all Jolie Cabot’s fault. She acted without our knowledge or permission. We don’t kill people.”
Eden remembered Jolie confessing what she’d done, right before she died. Before Eden had killed her. It didn’t matter that they’d been fighting for their lives, that Eden had tried to inject Hyde with enough narcotic to subdue him and had missed, injecting it all into Jolie instead. And it didn’t lift the weight on Eden’s chest or make her sin easier to carry. She’d killed someone. And despite the fact that Jolie had killed three people and tried to blame it on her, Eden would wear the death she’d caused around her neck for as long as she lived. Jolie had confessed, but she’d never know for sure if The Clinic had ordered the murders or not.
Lies on top of lies on top of dead bodies. How could she tell what was true anymore?
“Then why did you say that Mitch will die?”
“Did you change your mind about leaving right away? Sit down and I’ll tell you.” Alex was waving a carrot in front of her—‘You play along and I’ll tell you what I want to tell you.’ And what anyone working for The Clinic told her had nothing to do with what Eden needed to know.
Eden could leave, supposedly. But she’d never get another chance like this one. She knew better than to take everything as gospel. But the truth is often hidden in even the most well thought-out lies. And though The Clinic was good at it, there was a chance Eden could pick through the bullshit and discover some small bits of fact.
Fine, she’d play the good-girl. “I want a soda,” she said to the guard, her tone sickeningly sweet. “And a snack. Would you be a dear and go get me something?”
“It would be a pleasure.” He nodded deeply, showing his disdain, and brought her chair back to its original spot. “Just keep your ass firmly planted on this chair, and your wish is my command.” Unfortunately, instead of leaving her alone in the room with Alex, he only went to the door, opening it and telling someone outside to get her some food. “Regular or diet, my love?” he asked her.
“Whichever,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want to be a pain-in-your-ass.”
“Just get her something,” he grumbled to whoever he was talking to.
“And can I have some clothing so my ass doesn’t freeze to the metal chair?” she shouted out the door. “If not, you’ll have to come back and peeled me off of it.”
“There are some scrubs in the linen closet,” he said before shutting the door and resuming his position behind her.
Eden hated feeling his stare on the back of her head, not knowing exactly where he was or being able to see his body language. You know, like if he pulled a wire out of his pocket and stretched it taut, prepping to wrap it around her neck.
“Does he know the command for sit?” she asked Alex, patting the chair to her side.
“Why are you making this so hard, Eden? It doesn’t have to be.”
“The next time you’re almost killed, kidnapped by armed men, and then wake up in the enemy’s extra bedroom, let me know how you feel.”
Alex waved her hands in front of her. “Never mind. Let’s just get this over with. Mitchell Turner. We were talking about Mitchell. You call him ‘Mitch’ though, don’t you?”
Mitch. Even hearing his name hurt. He was a part of her, even more than Chastity. He’d reached a place inside her that she had never known exist
ed. Reached it, caressed it, loved it, until she’d been reborn with a feeling of worth and love. And then he’d tossed that part of her like a dirty sock, shut her out, just when she’d realized that she never wanted to live without it. Because of fear. Fear of himself—of what he was, of who he was.
Sitting in the house of the enemy, Eden shared some of that fear. But it was subdued. Controlled by a part of her that seemed more present than it had ever been—Chastity. The sister she’d never wanted, the world’s worst best friend, the woman men wanted and women wanted to murder.
Chastity was not only in the room, the bitch was in Eden’s mind and body, occupying space that wasn’t hers. Not while Eden was awake. And she couldn’t have it. Not if Eden could stop her.
CHAPTER II
Mitch was stewing in his cage. A slow simmer of pain, disappointment, and—hell, why not—a huge motherfucking dash of plain, old anger. When he’d told Eden to go away, that they could never be together, he hadn’t expected this. Someone taking her was not acceptable. It was— Shit. Unimaginable torture. Except he was living it, not imagining it.
Hyde was doing a constant push-pull inside of him, allowing Mitch to venture out of his house, away from the cage and the morphine. But only in short spurts. He couldn’t afford to be caught in public whenever Hyde gnawed his way out. Because he knew exactly what would happen. And while he pretended not to give a shit about anyone, he did. If anyone was going to die, it should be him. And it would be. But only after she was safe.
“Give the floor a break,” Landon said, watching Mitch pace. “The wood will probably give any minute. You’re gonna end up downstairs pretty soon, and I’m not leaving my drink to go rescue you.” He took another swig of his whiskey and set it down on the table. Right next to a big-ass syringe and the key to the cage.
Mitch stopped. “Let me out. He’s gone.” For now.
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” he grumbled. “Why would I tell you to open the goddamned cage if I wasn’t?”
“Because you have a shitload of drugs in your system that might impair your judgment? Not that your judgment would be any good without the drugs. At least not when it comes to her.”
Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy Page 2