“Follow your nice young man, dear,” Mrs. Parrish said as Caleb made his way past the tanks. He turned his head, saw Juliet following behind him. Her shoulders rounded.
“Face forward.” Wells shoved him again, forcing him to pay attention to where he put his feet. Cables snaked across the tile floor, bound in places and tangled in others.
Lights flickered on as he stepped into the second room. The glass wall became a mirror, and he hesitated.
Four metal tables, five feet apart and bolted in place, gleamed as if recently cleaned. Over each one, a large maneuverable light fixture radiated light bright enough to pick out the tiny nicks and scratches on each table.
Jessie had already been laid out on one, her eyelids twitching frantically, breath shallow and fast. Tobias snapped restraints around her ankles and wrists, then jerked a head toward the next table. “Lock and load.”
Caleb staggered as Wells slammed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Lay down.”
He turned.
Juliet’s wide eyes met his. Mrs. Parrish pushed past her, seizing her wrist in one bony hand. With surprising strength, she jerked Juliet past the second table. “Let me be clear,” she said coolly. “The instant one of you acts up, the other one will feel it. Care for a demonstration?”
Juliet sat on the edge of the table.
Caleb followed suit, mind working furiously. Shit. Double shit. He couldn’t do anything without risking either of them. Jessie was still out, Juliet was terrified.
Wells unlocked his cuffs. “Hands at the sides,” he ordered. In the unforgiving operating light, the blood at his shirt looked obscene. He moved stiffly, but it didn’t show in the easy strength with which he maneuvered Caleb’s arms.
The buckles clinked as Wells bolted them in place.
Damn it to hell. Caleb’s hands were tied, metaphorically and otherwise.
Visibly shaking, Juliet kicked her feet onto the table and lay down, face turned resolutely to the ceiling. Her eyes looked sunken. Deeply shadowed. Her chin quivered as Mrs. Parrish locked her neatly into place.
She lasted all of a second. Her restraints rattled. “I can’t do this,” she said suddenly. “I can’t— Please. Don’t do this.”
“Why, Miss Carpenter,” Mrs. Parrish said, brandishing the filled syringe. “I haven’t even begun to do anything.”
Juliet squeezed her eyes shut, tears tracking silver down her temples.
Caleb jerked at his restraints. Wells’s fingers closed over his wrists, his eyes hard and focused. “Don’t test me,” he said flatly.
Think. He had to think.
Mrs. Parrish circled the tables, her shoes squeaking faintly. She smiled, a thin little thing, as she paused by Jessie. Leaning over, she peeled open one of Jessie’s eyes. Checked her pulse.
Drew two fingers across her chest, as if measuring a line. “Here,” she murmured. “Mr. Nelson.”
Blank-faced and silent, Tobias peeled Jessie’s T-shirt up to her chin, exposing her plain cotton bra.
Caleb lurched. “Don’t you touch her!” It echoed viciously, but Wells slammed his hands back against the table edge. Held him as Mrs. Parrish raised the syringe in one steady hand.
The needle winked, arcing through the air. It pierced Jessie’s flesh with a sick, sharp pop of sound, sank through her breast bone like it was nothing.
Caleb twisted, wrenching his body hard enough that the restraints creaked. He reeled as Wells slammed a fist into his temple, curving his arm over Caleb’s head and forcing him to lie still as the room spun.
Jessie bowed against the restraints, screaming. It cut off quickly, becoming gasps as Mrs. Parrish wrenched the syringe out. Tobias held her shoulders to the table while the woman examined her.
Caleb bared his teeth. “Jessie!”
“I’m fine!” she gasped. “I’m fine, stop fighting—Jesus, Christ.” Too shrill, but alive. Panting.
Less scared, he thought, than she should be. He closed his eyes, all at once giving up the fight. Wells cautiously let him go.
Juliet sobbed, and Caleb turned his head to see her shaking from head to toe. “Jules.”
“They’re everywhere,” she gasped. “Needles and tubes and the beeping—”
“Adrenaline should be enough to keep her lucid,” Mrs. Parrish said thoughtfully. “For the moment. Gentlemen, collect the samples.”
“Jules!” Caleb repeated insistently.
She turned her head, eyes opening. They glittered. Raw fear filled them. Spilled over in helpless tears. “They’re all screaming for me,” she whispered. “Begging me to help them— Oh, God, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he replied, then cursed as Wells grabbed his arm just over the elbow. A needle slid into his vein, a jabbing pain that only fed his anger. Between his teeth, he said roughly, “Hang in there a while longer, little rose. For me.”
Wells withdrew the needle, his features impassive.
Juliet’s lips curved into a faint smile, so sad—so fucking brave—that Caleb wanted to . . . to . . . Damn it, help her. Heal her.
Make it all go away.
Do something.
Wells unhooked the vial and dropped it into a case. Withdrawing another syringe, he moved to Juliet’s side.
Caleb locked gazes with her. Held it.
I love you.
He always had. “Stay strong,” he said firmly. “You can do this.”
Her eyelids flinched as the needle slid beneath her skin. Wells worked quickly, withdrawing a vial full of blood, bracing his thumb against the small puncture. He didn’t look at her.
Shaking, Juliet closed her eyes, her skin ashen.
Caleb glanced to his other side, watched as Mrs. Parrish dropped a third vial into a small case. Jessie said nothing, her mouth a thin line, her fists clenched in the restraints.
“Stay comfy,” Mrs. Parrish said, and beckoned the men out of the room.
Wells met his gaze as he passed. He held the door for the others, hesitated. Then, his lips quirking at one corner, he eased the door shut.
Caleb’s head dropped to the table. The thunk of bone and metal echoed.
Now what? Would they have to wait?
Wait for death, more likely.
To his left, Jessie stirred. “I can think of worse ways to wake up,” she said, her voice hoarse. “But not many. Jesus Christ. Juliet? Honey?”
Caleb shook his head as Juliet whimpered wordlessly. “She’s terrified,” he said. “She’s been having . . .” What? “Visions or something.”
“Damn it.” Her honey brown eyes hazy, Jessie twisted her shoulders, attempting to get a bead on the room. “We’re not totally helpless here. I got a pretty good view of this place while I was out. Cale, listen to me,” she continued urgently. “I saw everything that happened—”
His mouth twisted. “Silas—”
“Not now.” Jessie sucked in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know how long that shot of adrenaline will keep me up, so pay attention. We need out of here. They’re testing our blood for something.”
Caleb tugged at one wrist. “Yeah, but how—” The strap stretched. He froze.
Jessie did, too, turning her head to stare at his wrist. “Did that . . . ?”
Caleb twisted, clenched his fists and rotated it. It gave. Only slightly, but enough. “Well, son of a bitch.”
Jessie stiffened. “Be still.”
“Why—”
The look she shot him spoke louder than anything that could have come out of her mouth. He knew that look.
Caleb forced himself to relax, staring at the ceiling. Every sound Juliet made, every muffled whimper tore at his heart. Fueled his rage, locked tight under a seal he could feel fracturing with every second.
He had to get them out of here.
He had to trust them enough to do it.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jessie murmured, “They’ve tested the blood. Whatever they’re looking for, we all register.”
H
e frowned, gaze sliding to the mirror. The warped panels returned a shadowed reflection of them each, laid out like some kind of offering. He couldn’t see past the reflection, even worn as it was. If there was anyone there, he couldn’t tell.
He kept his voice down just in case. “Register,” he repeated. “As what?”
“Correct,” Jessie replied, but slowly. Already sluggish. “We all register as right. I don’t know what it means.” She shook her head slightly, her chuckle dry. “This thing . . . it plays like a movie, yanks me all over the place. I was . . . watching, the whole time I was out.”
All over the place. His frown deepened. “Your magic has been getting stronger, hasn’t it? Out of control.”
“Oh, yeah.” She flinched as Juliet hiccupped back her distress. “Juliet, please.”
Juliet laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just . . . I’ve been here, like—I feel the needles. They’re everywhere, they drill through bone and blood and—” Her voice rose, spiky and panicked. “They won’t let me go again!”
“Easy,” Caleb said, pitching his voice for calm. Soothing. “Easy, Jules. I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.”
She smiled. Barely anything more than a clenched jaw and peeled back lips, but even through her teeth, she was trying.
God damn the Church. “Jess, I have to tell you—”
“I know,” she said quickly, and dropped her voice. “Wait for it.”
The seconds ticked by, interminably slow. Aching with every manic breath Juliet took beside him, Caleb locked every muscle and forced himself to wait. Trust. He had to try.
Jessie had the advantage here. She could see.
Electricity hummed through the various cables and wires strung across the ceiling. The lights seared burning holes into his brain, but he counted slowly in his head. Counted each raw sound Juliet made and swore to turn it around on the Church that did this to her.
I see a mountain of corpses . . .
It welled in his head. His chest.
Boiled his blood.
Jessie stirred, lifting her head to stare at the mirror. Then, with a feral little grin, she jerked her head toward him. “Go.”
Caleb wrenched at the restraint. It stretched tight, popped free with a sudden clatter of nylon and metal, and fell away. He unbuckled the other one quickly, pulse hammering in his ears as he wrenched the straps free at his ankles.
Quickly, he rolled off, closed the divide, and unbuckled Juliet.
She sprang away from the operating table, rolled away from him so fast that she grabbed the last table for balance. Color filled her cheeks; Caleb hoped to hell it was anger. “Can you—”
“Get Jessie,” she said tightly.
There wasn’t time to argue. He darted across the room, unbuckled Jessie and slid his arms under her back and knees. She didn’t weigh nearly enough for his comfort. “Eat more,” he said flatly.
Jessie laughed, muffling it against his shoulder. “Yes, Mom.”
He helped her settle to her feet as Juliet carefully rounded the tables, her gaze averted. “How do we get out?”
“Follow me,” Caleb began, then frowned down at Jessie’s hand as it closed on his arm.
“Follow me,” she corrected, and tapped her head. “I’ve got the map.”
He hesitated.
Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “You just remember who’s older here,” she said archly, reaching for the door.
“But—”
“I know where they are, Cale.”
“God damn it.” Feeling as if the world balanced on a needle’s point, Caleb stepped aside. Juliet’s fingers slid into his, clenched tightly. Her palm was damp. Her pulse erratic.
He glanced down at her in surprise.
Her gaze remained averted. But she was so pale around the spotty color in her cheeks, her lips almost bloodless. So damned scared.
Caleb pulled her arm through his. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, and followed his sister out.
Chapter Twenty-One
They’d done things . . . Terrible things.
The ghosts didn’t have to move to follow her. She saw them filling every inch of the dark laboratory, the halls. Watching her, crowding her. They called out with soundless voices, staring at her with eyeless sockets empty of life. Of hope.
Juliet clung to Caleb’s arm, concentrating on obeying the small signals he gave her. She stopped when he tugged at her grip. Walked when he did, slowed as he pushed her behind him.
But in her head, machines beeped. Babies cried, heartrending wailing that filled her ears until they rang. And the children, the grown children, so silent and reserved. Pale as ghosts, unsmiling. Deathly serious.
Locked away. Like animals.
“Juliet,” Jessie hissed.
She jerked her gaze to the blond woman. Blinked rapidly.
“I need you to focus, honey,” Jessie whispered. She crouched beside the door that Juliet vaguely remembered led to the main chamber.
The same place they’d shot Silas.
“Oh, God,” she muttered, nausea blooming in her stomach.
Caleb eased into place behind her. His fingers settled at the curve of her waist, strong and steady. “Come on, Jules, focus. You’ll be home free in no time.” The warmth of his body soaked into her sweatshirt, her back. She leaned for just a breath, her eyes closing. Absorbed his strength the way she needed to cling to his heat.
His fingers tightened reflexively.
Never going to happen. Juliet swallowed hard and straightened, leaning away. “I’m listening.”
Caleb’s hand fell away.
Jessie nodded, though her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Silas is in there”—Juliet jerked—“so we’ll have to move fast. Run for the door, all right?”
“But he—”
“No buts,” Caleb said tightly. She glanced over her shoulder.
Saw the icy set to his features. The twisted line of his mouth. He knew.
He knew Silas was dead, and he wasn’t saying anything. “You can’t,” she began, and bit it off as his features hardened. Tightened to a mask of rigid obstinacy.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, shook her head hard enough to dislodge the memories colliding in her brain. The ghosts.
He didn’t give her time to argue. “Go.”
Jessie beckoned Juliet by, flattening her hand toward the floor in silent signal to stay low.
Juliet crouched, slid through the door frame and eased along the wall. Most of the lights still flickered, but at the far end, the bank of computers glowed vividly. The working screens flashed numbers, graphs, things Juliet couldn’t make out as Mrs. Parrish typed into the three-tiered keyboard.
Tobias braced one hand on the back of her chair, his eyes flickering almost white as they reflected the data he studied.
The shadows moved around them. Hungry, restless.
She scraped a hand across her eyes. It didn’t help.
“Go,” Jessie repeated, a low whisper.
Tearing her gaze away, Juliet followed the wall, staying to the shadows as much as she possibly could, holding her breath. She pulled every footstep, struggling to make no noise to alert them.
In the corner of her eye, she watched Jessie ease out of the doorframe and press herself against the same wall.
Juliet paused as Mrs. Parrish’s voice carried. “This makes no sense,” she said waspishly. “The Salem genome is present in all three, but only two of them should carry the amalgam.”
“He’s Jessica Leigh’s brother,” Tobias pointed out.
Jessie froze, half turning to stare toward the computers. The faintest edges of light cast her silhouette into rigid, shadowed lines.
“Which makes him related, fine,” Mrs. Parrish snapped. “That’s the Salem genome there. Look, both children and the donor carry it. The samples our agent brought back twelve years ago match exactly. But there’s no reason for his blood to be registering with the Lauderdale markers—here and here.” She touched severa
l points on the screen. “He was born after the escape. The donor was never exposed— Wait.”
Juliet stiffened, fingers rigid against the floor as Caleb stepped into the chamber.
Unlike the women, he didn’t crouch. He didn’t sidle.
He strode across the goddamned floor like he owned it. His features were set in lines hard enough to cut; fury blazed in his eyes, even shrouded in darkness as they were.
Oh, God. What was he doing?
Juliet opened her mouth, fear thick on her tongue, but Jessie flung out a hand wildly. Be still. She didn’t have to read minds to know the signal.
Juliet shrank back against the wall and raged silently.
What did he think he was doing? What did he think this was?
A game?
Wasn’t it always?
“Here,” Mrs. Parrish continued, her tone brightening as she tapped the glass. “It’s not a full set of alleles, almost like it’s been spliced. Could it be?” She adjusted her spectacles. “Is it adapting— No, impossible. The donor would have to have conceived with someone else carrying the markers, wouldn’t she?”
“You killed my mother.”
Mrs. Parrish stood so fast, the chair recoiled into Tobias’s legs. He didn’t flinch, rounding to meet Caleb head on.
The woman raised a hand, halting him mid-step. “Wait, Mr. Nelson.” She dropped her chin, studying Caleb over her frameless lenses. “If you mean Jessica Leigh’s genetic donor—”
“I mean,” Caleb growled, fists clenched so tightly even Juliet could see them white-knuckled and shaking, “you killed our mother.”
Mrs. Parrish sighed. “Fine. Call her what you wish. She wasn’t supposed to die, if it’s any consolation.”
Jessie’s face paled in the dark as Caleb’s laughter cracked violently. “This.” He flung out a hand. “All of this. You can’t possibly think you could hide it forever.”
So many voices.
“And who would come searching, Mr. Leigh?” she asked, her expression pinched into what Juliet assumed was pleasant. “With the three of you here, the donor—excuse me,” she amended as Caleb took a step forward, “your mother dead, all traces of GeneCorp concealed, and the rest of the wayward subjects dying slowly—”
All Things Wicked Page 24