by Eve Langlais
Forsaken.
That single word echoed around inside her head, mocking her and making a lie of her attempts to rebuild her life.
I’ll never have a normal life. Amnesia or not, she knew she wasn’t supposed to have survived the brutal rapes and beatings. A punishment for something, even if she couldn’t remember what she’d done.
And by inadvertently surviving, I am now endangering the first true friends I can recall. Men who would be lovers if she let them. Who would protect her with their dying breaths. It made her heart beat faster and showed her the right thing to do, the only thing she could do to repay them for their kindness and support. Because she didn’t doubt that they’d die for her.
I need to leave before trouble comes to harm them. Leave now before it was too late.
The car wound through city streets and headed away from it, to the darker countryside. She wasn’t surprised when they pulled up outside a familiar fence.
The asylum. The place she’d thought was meant to help her. What exactly had been done to her here? Why couldn’t she remember?
The driver held up a black box and aimed it. The gate opened on its electric track, and he drove through, past the parking lot for the employees and onto a service road that wound around the building to the east wing.
The partially burned structure loomed against the cloudy gray sky, the broken windows in the damaged area covered in plywood. Others still had their glass and bars. A person looking out of them would see the forest.
The driver slowed to a stop by a door with a sign tacked to it. No entry. Underneath it, scratched in the very surface: Unless you’re damned.
That sounded about right.
The driver opened the door for her, and she slid out to stand in the chill air. She paused for a moment in uncertainty. Her skin shivered, the flesh pimpling with the dampness of dawn. An ominous weight pressed down on her.
Here she stood at a cusp in her life. Once she went through that door, there was no turning back.
What other choice do I have? The danger to Logan and Titus wouldn’t stop. Only she could stop it.
Alone.
Reaching out, she gripped the handle—half hoping it wouldn’t budge. It gave easily without even a creak, opening wide and inviting her in.
She stepped over the threshold, letting the door close at her back, just not all the way. She wanted some semblance of escape. She took stock of the silence. A faint hint of smoke and damp hit her nose.
As this was an emergency exit, she didn’t have many options. The square room contained two things: a door to the main floor and stairs. She gazed upward, the area not completely dark, given the windows that provided light at each level.
Adara didn’t know where exactly the stairs led. She’d never been to this part of the building. She wasn’t exaggerating when she claimed they rarely let her out of her room. What she did know was that she had resided on the third floor, a process of elimination from the times spent gazing outside. Those rare moments when she wasn’t drugged.
What happened when they put me to sleep?
It bothered her to realize they could do anything they liked.
What was the worst they could do? Look at what she’d survived already.
They could take away who I am.
She still had yet to decide if that was a blessing or a curse.
Despite the daunting task of all those steps, she began to climb. Second floor. Not too hard. Third floor. Easier than expected, too. She stood in front of the light green painted portal with its bold three. The solid length of it didn’t give a clue of what was on the other side.
She shoved at the pushbar to open it and stepped into true shadow. The area was thick with gloom, illuminated only by the stairwell at her back as she held open the door.
Dust motes danced in the daylight. The smell of smoke was strong here, along with dampness and decay. Looking to her left showed truly deep shadows, the doors lining the hall closed, the window on the end covered. To her right, a hint of hazy light.
That made her decision easier. She stepped farther into the hall, and the door behind her slammed shut.
She jumped.
Her heart raced, especially since she’d lost her main source of light. Breathing in short pants, she advanced, her skin prickling with awareness and fear.
Danger.
It screamed at her, told her to turn around and run.
Only cowards run.
She took another step forward, her tread coming quicker as the light grew brighter, its brilliance somewhat diminished by the clear plastic tarp sealing off the hall. She ducked through the side that was ripped out of its staples and entered a place she recognized.
This was her hall. Down at the end, an elevator and more stairs. The third door down? Her room.
Pausing outside the chipped paint exterior, she found herself holding her breath. She exhaled noisily.
This was the room. The place where they’d kept her locked up.
For my own good.
Forsaken. None can help her or share her fate.
Did the doctor know that when he treated her?
Curiosity pressed strongly to explore further. See what the other rooms held.
Procrastination would only delay the inevitable.
She gripped the handle and opened the door. A wave of memories flooded out. Some more vivid than others.
Lying on the bed, tied, staring at the ceiling. One dot. Two dots…five thousand and four dots. Five thousand and five.
Thrashing as they bring yet another syringe. I am screaming at them. “Let me go.”
“Let me die,” sobbed as tears roll down my cheeks and my knees are tucked to my chest.
“I will murder them. One by one.” Slitting their throats. Watching them panic as they drown on their own blood and gasp for air they can’t find.
The tearing. The biting. The breaking as they attack my flesh. Try to rip out my soul. But I hold firm. I laugh and laugh at their attempts. I won’t let them break me. And then they find the one thing that destroys me.
“I will carve out your hearts,” screamed as I pull at my chains. “You cowards. How dare you condemn me?”
The pain rips at me. I am being split asunder. Something is torn from me. Something I can never have back.
I scream.
And scream. Adara let out a shriek to beat all shrieks as so many things hit her at once.
When the sound died down, she opened her eyes because she heard a voice.
“Are you done?” Sitting on a chair was Dr. Forrester, his hands on his knees, his glasses low on his nose. He still had that full head of gray hair. The wrinkles of age, the kind that made a man look sophisticated, adorned his face. He also bore the pompous air of a man with too many degrees who thought people were beneath him.
How could she have thought he was her friend?
“What a rush, seeing the old place,” she said, pretending to glance around. “I thought it was smaller.”
“I’m glad you contacted me, Adara.”
Way to avoid dealing with the fact that they were meeting in her prison.
“I don’t see why you’re glad. I’d think you’d be annoyed that I’m bothering you. After all, you released me, Dr. Forrester. I would think this is a reflection on you that you might have misjudged my condition.” She crept slowly into the room, fighting the rising panic at the tightness of the four walls, the memory of pressing her face in the window, knowing that breaking it wouldn’t get her past the bars.
“I’ll admit I might have been hasty. Yet you seemed to be doing so well last time we spoke.”
“So well for a girl who still can’t remember her name?” She pressed her back against the window. The mock semblance of freedom outside better than the long hall.
“I was hoping to jog your memories.”
Lie. She couldn’t have said how she knew it was. She eyed him. Noted the nervous tic by his eye. Just the tiniest of tremors.
“You’l
l be glad to know it’s working, Doctor.” She used the kernel of rage inside to burn away her fear and finally speak the words she’d kept bottled inside. “I’m remembering so many things. Like you ordering me to be tied to the bed because the procedure failed.”
“All part of the remedy, Adara.”
“A cure meant to kill me.”
“You’re being melodramatic. Have you been taking your medication?”
“Nop-p-pe.” She popped the p. “Never felt better.” She shoved away from the window and prowled the small space, keeping out of his reach.
His face definitely paled. “Adara, you cannot just stop taking your medication.”
“I thought I was fixed, Doctor.”
“If you take your pills.”
“But I haven’t been, and do you know what’s weird? My mind has never felt clearer.”
“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” he snapped.
“Who asked you to help?”
He struggled to answer. “I am helping you because I care.”
Big fat, fucking… “Lie!” She yelled the word, her chest heaving.
“I care more than you know.”
“Is that why you sent me to work in that slum? How was that caring for me?” She accused him with a laser glare.
“I was trying to keep you safe.”
“By dangling me like tasty bait?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
“You’re the one who was spouting off things about zombies.”
“Did I forget to mention the vampire and the werewolves?”
His lips flattened. “You’re not well, Adara.”
“My name is not Adara.”
“You remember?” For a moment, he looked frightened.
“Not yet. But I’m getting fragments. It won’t be long before I know who I am. And when I do, how do you think I’ll feel about what you’ve done?” she accused in a soft voice. “Not to mention, how do you think you’ll fare once it’s discovered that you helped the Forsaken One?”
“I did what I could without condemning myself.”
She pounced on the admission. “You do know what I am.”
The doctor rolled his shoulders. “I know only what I’ve been told. You are forsaken. A broken thing that can only hope for redemption by sacrificing herself for the greater good.”
The starkness of his claim punched her. “Why?” she whispered. “What did I do that was so bad?”
“I was never told. I simply had my orders.”
“You’re a lackey?” Her lip curled. “Who do you work for?”
“Not someone you wish to cross.”
“I want to meet him or her.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Dr. Forrester stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve done my duty here.”
“We’re done when I say we’re done.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, no longer afraid. She used to think him so intimidating, and big. But as she stared, eye to eye, she noted how insignificant he truly was, and he couldn’t entirely hide his fear. Her lip curled. “You will tell me everything you know.”
Earlier, when Titus had asked if she could kill something, she’d been uncertain. Now, however, with the doctor nervous in front of her, feeling stronger than she had since waking, she knew she could.
I could choke the life out of him if I chose.
He took a step back. “Foolish girl. You should have remained meek and drugged. This would have gone easier on you. But, instead, you chose to fight against the natural order. Which means whatever you suffer next is your own fault.”
At the word suffer, ice froze the blood in her veins. “What will happen?”
“The bargain will be met. Farewell, Adara.” The doctor brushed past her, and for a moment, she stared, not reacting. Then she chased him down the hall, grabbing at his arm. But he was stronger than he looked, enough to shove her off.
“Come back here, damn you. I’m not done. Tell me who I am!” she shouted.
The raspy voice that replied brought a shiver to her skin.
“Dinner,” it said before the decaying hands grabbed her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
One moment he slept. The next, Titus woke, just before sunset.
A sense of wrongness filled him, yet he couldn’t pinpoint the cause. He didn’t have time to examine the sensation because Stefan knocked and stuck his head in. A Renfrew always knew when his master woke.
“The wolf pack alpha is here to see you.”
Kind of early, yet Titus found himself eager to hear the details of what had happened. Adara had done something rare to him the past evening. She’d made him feel guilt at leaving a comrade behind to face danger alone.
How long since his lost notions of civility and friendship had surfaced? Selfishness was a popular vampire trait.
“Let him in.” Titus rose from his bed, his silken night pants hanging low on his lean hips. He reached for a robe when Logan stepped in.
“Holy fuck. What a day and night.”
Sliding his arms into his robe, Titus didn’t look at him as he replied, “I see the lawyers managed to spring you.”
“Yeah, but they had a hard time of it.”
“A zombie attack with witnesses makes it difficult to hide.” It was also rather brazen of the necromancer. All supernaturals knew the number one rule of survival was ignorance. Humans had an annoying tendency to hunt and kill what frightened them.
“I don’t know how the lawyers did it, but they somehow convinced the cops and the judge that we were filming a movie.”
Knowing the lawyer he’d sent to help, Titus wagered that Claudette would have used a charm to make it more believable. “Don’t expect that to be the end of it.”
Stefan, who’d stood quietly by the door as they talked, grunted. “We are countering as much of the evidence as possible. The forensics will come back quoting pig’s blood and tissue. Videos will be hyped as part of a zombie movie. However, even given all the spin we’re going to give this, I’d advise you and your pack to lie low for a while.”
“I will, right after I find that asshole necromancer and rip him a new one. This obsession with Adara is starting to piss me off.”
Titus shrugged. “I share your frustration.”
“Speaking of Adara. Where is she?” Logan asked.
“Upstairs in the guest quarters.”
“How was she last night?”
“Understandably upset. She feels some guilt over the trouble the necromancer is causing.” A guilt Titus now felt over having let Logan fight alone.
“Did you explain that we’d be hunting the bastard even if she weren’t being targeted?”
“I tried, but it didn’t seem to sway her. Hopefully, when she sees you unharmed, she’ll realize that we mean what we say. While on the topic of the attack, I wish to apologize for not having provided reinforcement.”
“I told you to leave with Adara.”
“And yet, as she reminded me, friends don’t let friends fight alone.” He wrinkled his nose and twisted his lips.
“Friends?” Logan practically choked. “I am not friends with a leech.”
“You’re right. You’re much better as a pet,” Titus snarled, the rejection bringing out an embarrassed anger.
They glared at each other, jealousy finally overflowing.
Over a woman.
But the prickling sensation plaguing Titus, the unease he’d felt since rising, heightened. “Something is wrong.” He cast out his senses, looking.
He found…nothing.
“Adara!” Titus barked her name as he opened his eyes.
They both fled his basement room and flew up the stairs, Logan bounding up them four at a time while Titus misted and shot to the top; however, speed didn’t change the outcome when they burst into the guest room.
The empty room.
A note lay on the bed.
Dear Titus and Logan,
While I apprec
iate all the help you’ve given me, I can’t allow you to be drawn any further into the mess that is my life. I’ve left and ask that you not try to find me. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to either of you because of me. Thank you for being so kind to one who is broken and forsaken.
Adara
Logan growled and crumpled the missive before flinging it across the room. “Un-fucking-real. I thought you were supposed to be protecting her.”
Titus stared about the room in disbelief. “It makes no sense. The grounds are guarded. Someone should have noticed her fleeing and stopped her, or the very least, notified me.”
Logan sniffed loudly and growled, more beast than man in the sound. “She obviously had outside help.”
“Or inside aid.” Titus whirled and glared at Stefan, who’d followed and stood in the doorway of the room. “You let her go.”
His Renfrew didn’t even deny it. “I did. Anyone could see she addled your common sense.”
“You are supposed to obey me!” Titus roared, his power clamping onto his servant and slamming him into a wall.
“I was protecting you, which is also my duty,” Stefan yelled back. “She’s bewitched you. Both of you.”
“And by letting her go, you’ve killed her,” Logan said, in a low guttural tone. He stepped close to Stefan, his beast pulsing at the surface, rippling under his skin. “You knew the danger she faced, and you let. Her. Go.” The hand around Stefan’s neck kept him from replying.
Titus sighed and let go of the invisible fist. Stefan slumped, held up only by Logan’s choking hand. “We are wasting time here when we should be searching.” But Titus knew it had been too long. Much too long.
Despite knowing that, they looked for her. It proved easy—once he put his nose to it—for Logan to follow her path. Down the stairs, outside, then a few blocks over, where it stopped.
Titus perused the empty street and stated the obvious. “Someone picked her up.” And the trail was lost.
“This is your fault,” Logan roared. “I trusted you to guard her.”
“I’m sorry.” Titus glared right back.
The words took Logan aback. “Sorry doesn’t save her.”
“No, it doesn’t. Neither does us fighting. We need to think. Where might she have gone?”