The Rising dr-3

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Yesterday.”

  “Is he . . . okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They haven’t found him.”

  Rafe sat on the edge of the bed with me.

  Rafe set the photos aside, facedown. “They’re lying. They doctored photos to spook you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I do.” He straightened. “I’m sure of it.”

  I shook my head. “We were separated. Daniel didn’t meet up with us. The only reason he’d do that is if he . . . couldn’t.”

  “Temporarily. He’d have found you as soon as he could.”

  Rafe drew my gaze up to the vent. A microphone or camera, I was guessing. Rafe was warning me not to say anything that could lead them to Daniel. I nodded and leaned against his shoulder.

  He put his arm around me. “Daniel’s fine. You know he is.”

  I nodded, closed my eyes, and tried to believe it.

  When I felt a little better, I looked around. I’d known I was in a bedroom. Now I noticed the double bed, closet, desk, and dresser. It looked—

  I fought back a chill.

  It looked like my room. Not exactly—there were no photos or mementos. The furniture was different. But it was the same kind of pieces in the same configuration. I hadn’t recognized it because the most important part of my bedroom had not been duplicated. I had huge windows along two walls that opened onto the wraparound second-story balcony. Mom’s design, one that let me feel like I was outdoors even when I wasn’t.

  There was, to my surprise, a window here. Just a normal-sized one. It looked out onto what seemed like an empty blue sky, but when I walked over to it, I could see the glass was opaque. It let in light, but wouldn’t let me look out. I rapped the pane.

  “Shatterproof,” Rafe said. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Broke my desk chair throwing it at mine.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Gave me a stern talking-to about damaging property, while letting me know that they understood the urge to act out.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like being in a group home. No one ever gets mad about anything. They take away privileges, but they don’t get angry—they just want to talk about it.”

  “They don’t want us feeling like we’re in a prison.”

  “Sometimes I’d prefer a prison. This is just creepy.” He walked over to stand beside me at the window. “They say that when we accept the situation, they’ll replace these with glass we can actually see through.”

  “Really? And they’ll make them breakable, too?”

  He laughed and put his arm around my waist. “Not a chance. But we will get field trips. To the mall and stuff. Because I know you love going to the mall.”

  I shuddered. He laughed again and pulled me against him, our hips bumping, his fingers warm, his smell washing over me, a familiar musky scent, skin-walker scent. I relaxed a little, then stiffened.

  “Field trips? So we’re . . . stuck indoors. All the time?”

  He rubbed down the goose bumps rising on my arm. “There’s a yard. With a twelve-foot wood fence and guards with tranq guns. There’s a rooftop exercise area, too. More walls that we can’t see past or climb over. Like a big kitty playground, with huge balls of yarn and wind-up mice to chase.”

  I stared at him.

  “I’m kidding. Kind of. They have a boxing ring and weights for the benandanti and balance beams and hurdles for us. It sounds awful, and I’ve been really tempted to ignore it, but the fresh air and the exercise . . . ?” He shrugged. “It helps keep me from going nuts while I figure out a way . . .”

  He glanced at the vent and didn’t finish.

  “Any luck with that?” I murmured.

  “Not really. Scoping the situation for now.”

  “So we’re in . . . a lab? A compound of some sort?”

  He shook his head. “A house. Huge mansion of a place. It doesn’t smell like city, so I think we’re outside Vancouver. They’re still working on the house, but it was pretty much ready to go when we arrived, which makes me think the St. Clouds had been working on it for a while.”

  “A contingency plan in case we decided we didn’t want to stay in Salmon Creek after we found out about the experiments. The Nasts must have bought it along with us. The lab rats and their habitat.”

  “Yeah. So for now I’m just taking stock and—”

  A rap at the door. I waited for someone to enter, but Rafe had to call a “Come in” before it opened. He rolled his eyes at me.

  In walked a woman I’d known for almost my entire life. Dr. Inglis. Head of the lab in Salmon Creek. She’d been in charge of our medical care since I moved there. She hadn’t always been our personal doctor, but she’d been a fixture in town and in our lives. Last time she’d seen me, I’d been in cat form—pinning her to the ground.

  When she stepped in, her gaze went straight to me, and she started to smile. She caught herself and turned to Rafe instead.

  “Is it time?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It went well?”

  She nodded. Again she looked at me. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. Whatever it was, she just murmured it under her breath, gaze dropping, and withdrew.

  “What’s she doing here?” I asked.

  “The Nasts hired her,” Rafe said. “Seems she wanted to stay and ‘help’ us. Which I’ve suggested she could do a lot better by opening a door and letting us out. But apparently, that’s not the plan.” He shook his head. “Enough of that. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  He walked to the door and turned the knob. I expected a security escort on the other side. The hall was empty.

  I peered out.

  “Yeah, we pretty much have the run of the place. Not much damage we can do. Shatterproof glass. Cameras everywhere. Only two exits—both with alarms and guarded by multiple guys with tranq guns. Patrolling guards, too, both on foot and in cars.”

  He really had done his research. Not that I expected any less.

  I started to step out, Kenjii at my heels, but Rafe waved her back.

  “Better leave her here,” he said. “She doesn’t like some of our jailers, not surprisingly. They’ve threatened to kennel her.”

  I nodded and urged her back inside. She obeyed with a sigh, as if she was expecting it.

  As he closed my bedroom door, I said, “So that wasn’t locked?”

  He shook his head. “They never are. This isn’t a jail, kiddies. Any security is for your own good. We all care about you. We all want you to be comfortable. We know you won’t be happy—yet—but that is our goal, someday.”

  I made gagging noises.

  He grinned. “Exactly. Prepare to be treated like a rebellious twelve-year-old.”

  There were stairs right outside my door. Behind us, the hall stretched for at least twenty meters, flanked by a half-dozen doors.

  “My room’s the third down from yours. Just in case you were interested. Did I mention they don’t lock the doors?”

  “I believe you did.”

  He grinned. “Good. And we don’t have roommates.”

  “Duly noted.”

  I looked at those bedroom doors. Who else was here? I wanted to ask, but part of me was afraid of the answer. Was anyone still with the St. Clouds? Had anyone . . . not made it? At any other time, those questions would have been the first words out of my mouth, but I was feeling . . . not myself. Still off from the drugs, I guess. Dazed and bruised, physically and emotionally.

  As we walked down the steps, voices downstairs broke the hush. I strained to hear familiar ones, but they all sounded like adults and no one I knew.

  We passed at least a half-dozen people, a few obviously security, a couple who looked like medical personnel, and some who might have been house staff. Some stopped what they were doing, as if expecting Rafe to introduce us.

  “Kitchen’s through there,” he said, gesturing down a hall. “We’ve got free run of it. There’s a list on the fridge where yo
u can add anything you want. Meals are cooked and we eat”—he motioned right past someone—“in the dining room there.”

  He continued on, giving me the tour as if no one else was there. Treating them like furniture. It worked for me.

  Finally, he led me down another flight of stairs. “All the rec stuff is down here. An indoor gym for bad weather. Home theater. Game room.” He glanced over as we reached the bottom step. “Yeah, it’s like they consulted a stack of teen life magazines, trying to build the ultimate hangout.”

  “Ignoring the fact that our idea of playtime involves kayaks, rock-climbing, dirt bikes . . .”

  “Exactly.” He opened the first door. “Here’s the game room, complete with every console known to man, plus a prototype of a new kinetic one, just for us, ’cause we’re so special.”

  “Special enough to get internet access on those consoles?”

  “Not a chance.”

  TWENTY

  WE WALKED INSIDE. AS we did, I stopped short. There was a girl sitting at a table across the room. She was bent over a piece of paper and seemed to be writing.

  Rafe tugged me forward. “Maya, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

  The girl at the table turned. When she did, I smiled.

  “Annie.” I started forward, then shot a glance back at Rafe. “I believe we’ve met.”

  “Not exactly,” Annie said, and her voice was different, lower. Her smile was different, too. Not the exuberant grin I remembered, but something more tentative, almost shy.

  She stood and came toward me. Not flying at me, arms wide, the way she usually did, but just walking, her steps as tentative as her smile. I looked at the table and saw what she’d been doing. Drawing.

  I glanced at Rafe. He grinned and nodded, his face glowing again.

  “They’ve . . .” I began, struggling for the words.

  “Fixed me,” Annie said. “For very brief periods so far. But it’s a start.” She walked over and hugged me, and even if it wasn’t her usual rib-crushing embrace, it was still a real hug, tight and sincere.

  “So you . . . remember everything?” I said.

  She waved us to the sofa and patted the spot beside her. I took it, and Rafe perched on the arm, still grinning.

  “There are bits and pieces I don’t remember, probably when I shifted. The rest is . . . odd. Like I was watching myself.” She shook her head. “No, watching someone that looked like me and felt a bit like me, but wasn’t, not really. It was like being . . .” She blushed. “Like being high unexpectedly. Which wouldn’t be a new experience for me. When you’re trying to break in as an artist, you can’t always be sure that the wine is just wine. I felt high and happy and carefree, but inside, part of me was banging at the walls to get out. To come down. To be myself.”

  “And now you are.”

  “For short periods. They’ll continue with the doses and they expect I should be back to myself in a few months.” She paused. “Rafe tells me you’ve shifted.”

  “I have.”

  “No . . . problems?”

  I tried not to think about what Nast said. “Not yet. But I feel a lot better knowing there’s a cure. They worked fast finding it.”

  “Not really,” Rafe said. “They already knew there were possible side effects. They had something ready in case this happened. Untested but—” He shrugged. “Obviously working.”

  Annie clasped my hands. “I’m glad you’re okay, Maya. I know you don’t want to be here, but I’m glad you’re safe, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you. Really know you.” She smiled at Rafe. “You’ve made my brother happier than I’ve seen him in a very long time.”

  Rafe rolled his eyes, but he still hadn’t completely wiped the smile from his face. I knew I wasn’t the only reason he was happy. This was what he wanted—to help Annie. It was why he’d come to Salmon Creek. The reason for everything he’d done since he arrived.

  “And with that, I’m going to take my leave and let you two catch up,” Annie said as she stood. “I’m sure Rafael doesn’t want his big sister around for that.”

  “You don’t have to—” I began.

  “My time’s running out,” she said. “I only get about twenty good minutes every treatment.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said. “You were fine before—”

  “I appreciate you saying that, Maya. I really do. I remember how kind you were to me. But if you’re going to get to know the real me, I’d rather . . .” She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I’d rather stick to that. With you and with Rafe. We’ll get our twenty minutes a few times a day, and that’s it for now.”

  “Believe me, I’ve argued,” Rafe muttered. “But she’s almost as stubborn as you.”

  As Annie walked by, she reached out and ruffled his hair, as I’d seen her do before, but gentler now, only laughing when he grumbled, then patting his shoulder, waving to me and leaving us alone.

  Rafe waited until Annie closed the door behind her, then he slid onto the couch beside me. “So, any ideas how we should spend our time alone?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to. I wanted to just grab him and kiss him and forget everything else. That’s how it used to be. See Rafe; forget the rest of the world. But now that world was thundering in my head, with those photos of Daniel front and center.

  I turned away, trying to make it look casual, teasing even. But I needed that moment to clear my mind. Worrying about Daniel wouldn’t help. I wanted to forget. Just for a minute. When I was ready, I glanced back at him and smiled. “I might have a few ideas. You?”

  He grinned. “Maybe.”

  I inched closer. “I bet I can guess yours.”

  “I bet you can.”

  “Does it involve . . . ?” I crossed the gap and leaned toward him. “This?” I thrust a game controller up between us. “I play a mean game of Mario Kart.”

  He laughed and pushed the controller aside. “I’m sure you do. However, that’s not quite what I had in mind.”

  I waited until he bent for a kiss, then jumped up and grabbed a handful of cases from the coffee table.

  “Call of Duty?” I said, lifting one.

  He stood and stepped toward me. “No.”

  I backed up. “Left 4 Dead?”

  Another step forward. “No.”

  I continued moving back, waggling the cases in front of me. “So you don’t want to play games?”

  “Mmm, never said that. Just not those. I prefer something more . . . physical.”

  “Got it!” I shoved a case forward. “Wii Fit.”

  He laughed and plucked it from my hand. We did another two-step—me back, him forward, his gaze on mine, his grin sending heat rushing through me.

  “Do you like chasing?” I said.

  His grin sparked. “You know I do.”

  “Wrestling?”

  “Definitely.”

  I held up Grand Theft Auto and WWE. He lunged. I dodged, dropping the games and racing across the room. He gave chase and I felt his fingers brush the back of my shirt. I veered and vaulted over the sofa. He tried to do an end-run around it, but I quick-stepped the other way, then back again when he reversed course.

  We paced along our sides of the couch a few times. Then he sprinted. I raced around the other side. He lunged over the back, fingers grabbing my shirt and yanking me to him when I tried to run.

  “Gotcha,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and let him pull me close. When we were almost touching, he relaxed his grip. I broke away. He managed to snag my leg with his foot. I stumbled. He caught my arm and redirected my fall, and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the couch, with Rafe over me, my arms around his neck.

  “You are remarkably good at that,” I said.

  “It’s all instinct.”

  “Uh-huh.” I smiled and pulled him down into a kiss.

  We were still down there, a few minutes later, when a voice over our heads said, “Jesus. I know you guys have been separated for an entire
forty-eight hours. But really?”

  I looked up to see Sam—Samantha Russo—standing there, arms crossed, looking remarkably like the teacher who’d caught Rafe and me making out behind the school. A crutch was propped under one arm.

  “Yes,” said another voice. “Get a room. Please.”

  When I looked at Hayley, Sam said, “Don’t suggest that or he will. And Maya’s too gaga to resist.”

  Rafe shot her the finger, but it was a cheerful gesture, as if even she couldn’t spoil his mood. I got up and gave Hayley a hug. It was awkward—we’ve never been friends—and she seemed surprised, but not displeased. Sam just scowled, arms crossing tighter, as if I might try the same thing on her. I didn’t.

  “So you’re both okay?” I said. “You look okay.”

  Sam shrugged. “We’re good.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘good,’” Hayley said. “We’re lab rats in a secured facility under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

  Sam shrugged again. “They haven’t hurt us. They’ve helped Annie. They’ve fixed up my leg. It’s not so bad, really.”

  “Not so bad?” I said. “We—”

  Rafe caught my hand and squeezed. “We’re having a difference of opinion that I’m sure we’ll get into later. For now, let’s just take a breather and get caught up.”

  Hayley nodded. “What’s happening with Corey and Daniel? They’re okay, right? Still running? Still safe?”

  The room seemed to freeze. My breath jammed in my throat and I could hear my blood pounding.

  Rafe led me back to the sofa. “They’re okay, but that’s something Maya needs to talk about. If everyone can just—”

  “Maya?” Sam said. “I know you can be insufferably bossy, and I never thought I’d say this, but can you please take back the reins of leadership here? Your loser boyfriend—”

  “Sam!” Hayley hissed.

  Rafe only rolled his eyes. “As you can tell, Sam and I have not miraculously become BFFs in the last couple of days. I’m sure Maya will have lots of ideas and plans, Samantha. But she just got here and—”

  “Hey,” said a quiet voice from the doorway.

  I turned. There stood Nicole. For a moment I thought I was seeing things. Hoped I was seeing things.