“Wait a minute, Nat—” He ran into an impenetrable wall, then a painful jolt threw him back three feet onto his butt.
Natalie whirled around, frowning as he swore. He rose and advanced slowly toward the gaping maw of a doorway, hands outstretched. He flinched at the small spark that bit at his fingertips. He curled his hands into fists and tried to beat at the invisible barrier, only to be repelled across the trail again, the sides of his hands burning. This time he swore long and loud.
Natalie grimaced and tentatively reached out, waving her arm through the opening. Nothing happened. “There’s an ownership claim...?”
He folded his arms as he approached the doorway, halting just short of getting fried again. He frowned. “Yes, but it’s boosted. Damn thing is frying me every time I try to breach it.”
Natalie aimed her flashlight at the lock mechanism on the inside wall. She shrugged. “It looks pretty standard to me. No wires. An old-style pulley system. My guess is circa World War Two. Still, who owns this place now? There are no records in the system for it.”
“Well, just because it’s not in the Reform database doesn’t mean a title doesn’t exist,” Lucien stated.
“But the barrier’s got a kick to it. I’ve never seen that before.”
“Damn witches,” Lucien muttered as he glanced up at the frame of the opening. This wasn’t chemical, and it only worked on him, a vampire. A witch had to be responsible. Blast it.
“Oh, I have to meet this witch,” Natalie commented in admiration. “This spelled barrier reacts to force. The more you apply, the greater the kickback. Very clever.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, I’m so happy this has intrigued you.” He jerked his thumb. “Okay, let’s go. We’ll go find who owns the title and seek permission.”
Natalie frowned. “Hey, it’s only you that has a problem getting in there, not me.” She backed up a little into the darkened corridor, her light flicking from side to side. “No, I’m allowed access.”
His eyes narrowed and a shady trail of disquiet rose at her words. “You can’t go in there,” he told her, surprised she’d even consider it.
Natalie gave him a look over her shoulder that he roughly interpreted as “whatever.” She walked a little further inside and his disquiet gave way to concern.
“Natalie, come back.”
She turned to face him, an eyebrow arched in challenge. “Are you saying you’re prepared to walk away? We’re talking about your sister, Lucien. If this place is spelled against vampires, do you seriously believe that if we can track down the owner—and I do mean if—that they’d actually consider allowing you access to something that is specifically protected against you?” She shook her head. “It could take weeks, maybe even months, trying to obtain the proper permissions. Or,” she said, raising both arms to indicate the dark cavity around her, “I could take a peek here and now.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not safe.”
She laughed. “What makes you think that? You saw the lock. This place hasn’t been opened in decades. Apart from the average creepy crawly, what could possibly be down here that could hurt me?”
“Come back, Natalie,” he ordered. “I mean it. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“Why, Lucien, you’re beginning to sound like one of those witches you so love. All moods and portents. Don’t worry. Think of this like an expedition. I’m an old hand at those.”
“Get back here.”
“No. We have the opportunity to find out more about what happened all those years ago and if they have something here that can help your sister, I’m going in.”
“I can’t keep you safe,” he protested.
She halted then sighed. “You never could, Lucien.”
That frank statement hit him with more of a jolt than any witch’s barrier spell could deliver. He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to protect her, damn it. She turned and proceeded into the dark corridor that was wide enough to fit a pickup, her flashlight sweeping from side to side.
“I forbid it, Natalie,” he yelled after her, his hands on his hips.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not the boss of me,” she sang back over her shoulder. She halted, grimacing. “Wow, that sounded so juvenile—yet so right.” She smiled broadly, gave him a cute little wave and turned a corner in the corridor, humming to herself as she went.
“Natalie!” he roared. He watched as the beam from the flashlight slowly dimmed, hearing what sounded suspiciously like the work chant of the seven dwarfs’ movie she’d once demanded he sit through.
“Damn it!” he kicked at one of the fallen branches, watching as it sailed off into the distance. How the hell could he keep her safe if she refused his protection? He’d never felt so damn helpless.
Chapter 11
“This place is amazing,” Natalie said softly as she swung the flashlight beam across the corridor. “And creepy,” she admitted. The corridor stretched on in a gentle decline. The air was cool, but not as chilly as the night air outside. Her shoes made slight scuffing noises along the concrete. Concrete floor, walls and ceiling. She felt like she was walking through a tomb. And quiet... Her fingers rose to play with the silver lariat around her neck. Too quiet. Not even the scurry of little legs disturbed the silence.
Grace Perkins grimaced. “I haven’t been here for a while. It’s all so different now. Dark.”
“You’ll need to show me where to go,” Natalie told the ghost, ducking under a fluorescent light that hung in the corridor, one of its cords frayed and worn through. She’d already tried a light switch, but whatever power had been hooked up to this facility had long since been disconnected.
“This is the main corridor. The trail we came up is overgrown, but it used to be a track you could drive up.”
Natalie’s eyebrows rose. Wow. It had been difficult to follow it in the moonlight, so wild and overgrown as it was. If Grace hadn’t been beside her, guiding her, she and Lucien would never have found it. She glanced behind her. After all of his threats, the danger he presented, the risks he’d forced her to take, she should be happy he was stuck outside. Oddly, though, she found she missed his presence.
They turned another bend and Natalie gave a low whistle as she stepped into a huge, dark cavern. She aimed the beam around the area, but found it shed only a dim light on the walls, so far away were they. “This place is massive,” she gasped.
“It was built during the Second World War, just before the first atomic bomb was dropped. It was intended to be a military base of operations, in case things escalated.” Grace explained.
Natalie frowned. “But if it was military, then the former government would own title. Those vamp barriers only work on private title.”
“The land was purchased a few decades after the war ended,” Grace supplied. “One of the wealthier families in the district. I don’t know who owns it now, though.”
The flashlight beam illuminated a dark shape and Natalie stepped closer. “Good grief, it’s an old Jeep.” She’d never seen one outside of a museum.
“There are a lot of antiques in here,” Grace murmured. “Come on, the medical center is this way.”
Natalie followed her toward one of the corridors branching off from the main chamber. It was so damn silent. They stepped through a gate that hung askew on its hinges. It was the first of many.
Natalie frowned. “What happened here?”
Grace shook her head as she stepped through another damaged gate. “I don’t know. This isn’t how I remember it.”
Natalie swept her light over a wall and froze, her eyes widening. She slowly moved the light back, trying to find what had caught her eye. A chill crept over her arms as the beam highlighted claw marks in the concrete, deep and bloodied. “Oh, my God.”
Grace looked around, her face anx
ious. “I don’t feel so good, Natalie. Something isn’t right.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “As a ghost, it goes against the rules for you to get spooked.” She turned back, but something moved out of the corner of her eye and she whirled around, the flashlight beam flickering with her unsteady movement.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Grace whirled, peering into the darkness.
“I thought I saw something.” Natalie hesitated, but the light only illuminated more corridor, more doorways with damaged doors. They stepped through one and into what looked like an antechamber of sorts, with a desk and some screens. Three doors hung open, revealing three corridors. The doors were thick, constructed of steel and in varying states of disrepair. Claw marks were visible in the steel. Natalie grimaced at the dark shadows on the floor. “Is that—?”
“Blood. Yes.”
Natalie gulped then nodded. “Good to know.”
“Security checkpoint,” Grace informed her. “From here you have the clinicians’ offices,” she said, gesturing to one hallway, “the patients’ cells—”
“Cells? Like, prisoners?”
Grace gave her a dry look. “This place wasn’t a vacation for those monsters, Natalie.”
Natalie nodded. Of course. God, it sounded so wrong, so...harsh.
“And the operating rooms are down that one.”
Natalie stared at that doorway and shuddered. This place really was beginning to creep her out. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like for those imprisoned here. Her grip tightened on the flashlight when she realized she could have easily qualified as one of those “freaks of nature” to be observed and experimented on.
“This is all levels of wrong,” she muttered.
She was trying to gauge which hall to enter when another dark shadow moved. She turned, squinting in the darkness. She shone her light in that direction. Nothing save more marks on the wall—God, was that a bullet hole? What the hell had happened here? Otherwise, nothing moved.
“What is it?” Grace asked.
“I thought I saw something again.” She shook her head. “My imagination is running away with me. Let’s go take a look at the med staff offices. There might still be some information in there.” Her heart started to beat just a little faster as she chose the hall that lead to the clinicians’ offices.
“Dr. Morton’s rooms are down here,” Grace stated.
Natalie nodded. Great. The man was fast becoming quite the sicko in her mind.
* * *
Lucien strode along the barrier, halted at the end, turned, and strode along the barrier. Damn it. He glanced at his watch. Forty minutes. She’d been in there for forty minutes. Alone. What if something happened to her? What if the roof caved in? God knows, the place was decrepit. What if she fell down a hole? What if she was bitten by a snake? Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the right time of year for snakes, but still—anything could befall her, and he was stuck outside, cooling his damn heels.
He surveyed the dark cavity. “Damn witches.” He strode along the invisible perimeter. What was he thinking? He should have left her at the car. He stopped. No. He should have left her back at the roost. No. He shook his head. He should have left her back at Westamoor, where she was safe and secure among friends.
Well, except for Enzo. He paused by a birch tree and gazed out over the valley. The town of Devil’s Leap was about three-quarters of the way up the mountain. They’d passed some natural waterfalls on the way up. It had been quite pretty, and now, in the late evening, the town sat in a sleepy golden glow. It was quite picturesque, for a freaky, murderous little town. His hand fisted on the trunk of the tree.
There was something off about this whole place. And Natalie was by herself, unprotected and alone. He didn’t like it. He wanted to make sure she was safe. God, he’d never felt so damn helpless.
A twig napped in the wilderness and Lucien froze. That wasn’t a bird. Probably wasn’t a deer, either. He peered into the darkness, his eyes narrowing as he discerned shape from shadow. His lips tightened. Great. Three figures were slowly climbing the mountain toward him. From this distance he couldn’t tell whether they were human, vampire or shifter. All he knew was that from the way they were trying to creep up on him, they weren’t friendly.
* * *
Natalie stepped inside the dark office, not for the first time wishing she could switch on a light.
“I think I’ll go,” Grace said, glancing around. She seemed quite skittish.
“I don’t know where,” Natalie commented dryly. “I’m carrying your journal in my pack.” She strode over to the desk and trained the light over the surface. Papers had been left in disarray, but they were mainly supply orders, prescriptions and medical journals. She moved to a filing cabinet and tried to open a drawer. The darn thing was locked.
She slid the machete out of the sheath and slid it into the gap between drawer and case, using it as leverage. She tapped it forcefully with her fist and the drawer shuddered open under protest. She grinned as she slipped the blade back into its sheath. Such a versatile tool.
She drew the drawer open further and eyed the documents inside. Old-fashioned manila folders, with papers. “So many papers. Didn’t you guys know how to use a computer?”
“Yes, but a computer could be hacked. This way you actually have to physically get your hands on the documents, and this place was well-protected.” Grace rubbed her arms. “This place is really cold.”
Natalie glanced at her briefly. “Since when do ghosts feel the temperature?” If they did, then Terry would have worn a shirt years ago. She smiled at the thought.
Grace shrugged, but said nothing.
Natalie withdrew a folder and propped it on top of the drawer, raising her flashlight beam to read the contents. Her smile slowly died. Good Lord. She took out more folders and dropped them on the desk, flicking them open. It was difficult to turn the pages with her gloves, so she quickly removed them and shoved them in her jeans’ pockets.
“He’s called them test subjects. No names. Holy crap,” she breathed as she read the medical report on Test Subject #139. Did that mean the one hundred and thirty-ninth prisoner? Holy friggin’ hell. This guy—he’d been put through hell. He was listed as a male lycan, seventeen years old. Seventeen.
“‘This one appears to have a high pain threshold,’” she read aloud. “‘It is unclear whether that is due to his limited age or the purity of his bloodline, whether his father’s alpha status offers greater strength, and therefore a better grade of protection against pain.’” Her eyes widened. “You captured a scion?” A prime’s children were scions and held an elevated status in the new Reform society. There was an unspoken level of protection on scions. Mess with a scion and you were basically declaring war with that pack, colony or coven.
Grace nodded. “More than one. Lycan. Vampire. We even managed to catch a cougar, once.” She grimaced. “That one was particularly vicious. The primes were harder to capture.”
Natalie turned back to the report. “‘The subject displays advanced healing qualities. Cuts and grazes close up quite quickly, but bones take a little longer to...knit.’” She swallowed. “You broke their bones?”
Grace sighed. “I told you, I didn’t necessarily agree with everything they did here.”
Natalie turned the page. She sagged against the desk when she read the next entry. “‘It appears that although these creatures display miraculous healing powers, they cannot regrow limbs. Open wounds will close, but fatality is confirmed with decapitation.’” Tears filled her eyes. “You tortured him. He was a kid.”
Grace frowned. “Let me see that.” Natalie slid the folder toward the police chief, who read it silently, shaking her head. “I knew about some of the experiments, but this...” She lifted her gaze. “Number one-thirty-nin
e. A scion...” She closed her eyes. “Matt Anderson. Damn it.”
“What?”
“The Anderson family came looking for Matt. I didn’t know he was a werewolf. I thought he was human. I asked Doc about him.”
“Let me guess, the good doctor lied to you?” She didn’t hide the contempt in her voice.
“I swear, Natalie, I had no idea. There is no way I would allow this kind of treatment to a teen. God, I have—had—a teenage son and daughter. Doc knew the children were out of bounds.”
“Well, he conveniently ignored that restriction.” She turned back to the pile of folders, angry at the police chief, at this damned Dr. Jekyll, at this town for what they’d done to those who weren’t like them.
“Natal—”
“Save it,” she interrupted Grace. “Let’s just see if there is anything they used here that can save a vampire against the lycan toxin.” She quickly skimmed through the notes, her lips tightening as she read the horror stories. They’d placed shifters in the same cells as vampires, just to see what would happen. They’d placed shifters that knowingly had a natural aversion to each other—like a bobcat and a werewolf or a bear and a cougar—together in cells. Damn. This was just plain sick.
She opened another drawer, quickly flicking through folders. She shook her head. More of the same. She crossed to another filing cabinet, forced the lock and started going through its contents. She shivered a little. Grace was right—it was getting quite chilly in here.
She sighed as she reached the doctor’s “defense” reports. Dr. Morton had kept copious notes on his victims—she refused to call them patients—and he’d prepared some documentation for what he’d referred to as “The Executive.”
“This is more like it,” she breathed. The effects of verbena on vampires, of wolfsbane on the lycans, oleander on the cat shifters...her eyebrows rose. Black nightshade was poisonous to all shifters, but silverleaf nightshade was poisonous to all breeds, including humans. She flipped through the reports, dating back several years. Good God, he’d done this for so long. She kept flicking through the pages.
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