Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  Her heart sank, but she forced herself to remain hopeful. “Thanks,” she said, then slid back into the Camaro and closed the door.

  “What are you going to do?” Lola asked. “If you don’t want to be alone, come hang out with me and Ryan tonight.”

  Mel shook her head. “I’m good. I have a bag to pack. I have a feeling Harrison and I are heading to Tallahassee.”

  Chapter 2

  The House of Archer, Bower, Georgia

  Thursday, 6:06 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  RODNEY PLACED SALINE drops into their test subject’s bloodshot eye. When the muscles around the man’s eyes twitched involuntarily, the tape holding open his eyelids loosened. He tore another piece of tape off the roll and adhered it to the man’s lashes for added reinforcement, then stepped away in order to give the man full view of the television screen.

  Adeline had scoured the Internet, searching for DVDs that showed nothing but violence. What she’d had shipped to the House of Archer had been shocking and horrific. War footage, videos of genocide, homicide, suicide. His stomach had turned when he’d viewed only a small portion of one of the DVDs. Seeing the beheading of a pregnant woman should have that effect on anyone. But this test subject, along with the other homeless man Adeline had found, hadn’t even flinched.

  As the video recording played, Rodney checked the man’s blood pressure and heart rate, avoided even glancing at the TV and tried his damnedest to ignore the seductively swaying words coming from their digital voice recorder. Adeline had spent hours creating recordings that were meant to encourage their subjects to hang on to the primitive and feral emotions her drug had created. He had to hand it to Adeline. The hallucinogen she’d developed was genius. One dose had knocked the hope and empathy out of the test subjects. Two had filled them with an uncontrollable amount of hatred. Three had been like sending pure evil into their veins.

  This subject was well into the second day of their clinical trial. During the past forty hours he’d been given a steady stream of the A-Line drug without a moment of respite. One side effect they’d discovered had been their subjects’ inability to sleep. A-Line worked as a stimulant, similar to an amphetamine, as well as an appetite suppressant. Also, like recreational amphetamines, A-Line caused the psychosis Adeline had said it would, but only for a short period. As if their bodies and minds had accepted the reality the drug had created, the test subjects had remained frighteningly lucid even as they’d spoken of murder and torture. But he and Adeline weren’t creating a drug to counteract A-Line users, they were trying to stop psychopaths before they murdered.

  Once they proved their drug worked, parents who caught their young children torturing animals could possibly stop a serial killer in the making. Had such a drug existed years ago and had been administered to Hitler, millions of Jews wouldn’t have been murdered. When Rodney considered such infamous serial killers as Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer or John Wayne Gacy, he wondered what would have become of them had they been helped before they’d hurt.

  He wondered what would have become of the college girl and his cousin if Adeline hadn’t murdered them.

  Rodney finished checking the test subject’s vitals, then noted that the man’s heart rate had increased considerably. He glanced to the TV, tasted bile when he witnessed the gory act taking place, then turned away and listened to Adeline’s recorded voice.

  “Imagine splitting her ribcage open with your bare hands. Feel the warmth of her blood coating your skin. God, you want to taste it, but you want to hold her beating heart in your hands first.”

  The man groaned as if sexually satisfied. Rodney looked to the man’s groin and quickly noted in his journal that the test subject had developed an erection.

  “My God,” Rodney muttered. “You’re a sick man, aren’t you?”

  Although tempted to rip the duct tape from the subject’s mouth and hear his response, he refrained. He and Adeline had agreed to both be present when talking to their lab rats. Two sets of eyes and ears were better than one, and this experiment was too important to leave any, even the minutest, doubt in either of their minds. Especially when they’d stopped administering A-Line, which they’d already done to their other test subject.

  The first man to receive A-Line had told them his name was Troy. If he’d been lying, neither he nor Adeline had cared. His identity hadn’t been important to them, but his mind and what they could do to it, had been. Good God had they messed with his head. Between the constant stream of videos, Adeline’s recordings and days of A-Line, they’d broken Troy. They’d scrambled his brain and had left him with nothing but thoughts of violence and antipathy—especially toward women. When they’d removed the duct tape from Troy, the first thing he’d told Adeline was that he planned to gut her while he raped her.

  He’d had the urge to put the man down like the rabid dog Troy had become. But Adeline had laughed because Troy hadn’t had a dose of A-Line in two days, and had been given a placebo in its place. Which meant they’d succeeded.

  They’d taken a normal man and had turned him into a psychopath. Tomorrow would be the day they placed Troy on Rodney’s anti-psychotic drug. Once the drug had been administered, in theory, it would take the subject over the rainbow and into a happy place where violence and utter hatred wasn’t necessarily nonexistent, but it was deadened to the point that killing a spider would—again, in theory—provoke thought.

  “Hungry or thirsty?” Rodney asked his subject, who went by the name Noah.

  Noah made no sound and kept his focus on the screen.

  He patted the man on the shoulder. “You keep watching. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” He left the bedroom that had once belonged to his parents, closed the door, then set his watch to remind him to check on Noah and administer the saline drops. A muffled noise came from the room at the end of the hall that housed their other test subject, Troy. He paused at the top of the steps before heading downstairs to have dinner with Adeline, and stared at the closed bedroom door.

  “Adeline?” he called. She shouldn’t be with Troy, not without him. Once they’d realized Troy had a strange, sick fixation for women, they’d both agreed that Adeline would not see Troy without Rodney’s presence. But Adeline was as unpredictable as their test subjects. Plus, she’d promised him meatloaf for dinner. He sniffed the air, searching for the aroma. Nothing.

  “Adeline,” he shouted.

  A heavy thud from the guest room sent a shiver up his spine. He rushed for the door and turned the glass doorknob. Locked. Panicking, he pounded against the wood. “Adeline!” He threw his weight against the door. Once. Twice. It splintered, then gave. “Oh, God,” he gasped, then rushed forward, knocking Troy to the hardwood floor.

  Adeline fell with them, Troy’s hands still clutching her throat, her blouse torn, breasts bared. Rage slammed into him. He couldn’t see straight. Blood rushed to his head, muffling Adeline’s choking gasps.

  Rodney rolled off Troy, then punched him in the kidney. The man arched back, but held a firm grip around Adeline’s throat. When he hit him again, Troy barely flinched, kept one hand on Adeline, and swung his arm behind him, backhanding Rodney in the jaw.

  He fell on his rear and immediately focused on Adeline, on the blood trickling from her nose and mouth, the way her eyes bulged and watered. She slid her gaze toward his and mouthed, “Kill him.”

  “Let him try. I’m going to force him to watch me rape you.” Troy laughed. “Wait ’til he sees how I’m gonna kill you.”

  The other man’s mocking laughter and threats stoked Rodney’s rage. He scrambled to his feet and searched the room for a weapon. Finding nothing, he unbuckled his belt, pulled it free, then rushed toward Troy. He wrapped the leather around the man’s throat and made like a cowboy breaking in a bucking bronco. He straddled Troy’s back and used his body weight to pull back on the belt.

  Troy and Adeline gasped and wheezed in unison until Troy released her throat and clawed behind him. Rodney ducked and weaved to avo
id the other man’s groping hands, then using the belt and all his might, he drove Troy off Adeline.

  Troy’s head bounced off the floor when they fell in a heap. Rodney let go of the leather straps, gripped the man by the hair, then slammed his head into the floor again and again. When Troy stopped moving, Rodney dropped the man’s head and leaned back on his heels. Shaking, breathing hard, he registered Adeline’s coughing and wheezing. He glanced to her, saw that the bastard had not only ripped her blouse and bra, but her pants, too.

  No one but him had ever touched her body. No one else ever would.

  Rodney looked to Troy. Noticed the rise and fall of his chest, and the blood pooling beneath his head. For a split second, disappointment gave him a quick stab in the gut, but he shoved it away. Troy had been his and Adeline’s creation. They’d taken a normal man and had made him a monster. What had just happened had been their fault.

  “What are you waiting for?” Adeline asked, her voice raw, hoarse. “Kill him.”

  If he hadn’t come to his senses, he would have. He would have kept slamming Troy’s head into the floor until he’d crushed the man’s skull and his scrambled brain had spilled onto the hardwood.

  “I’m not murdering the monster we created.”

  She pushed herself upright, but didn’t bother to cover her breasts. “Look what he did to me. Your drug didn’t work, and until it does, this could happen again.”

  He stilled. “My drug didn’t work? What are you talking about? He was on the placebo, not…you went behind my back and gave it to him?” Damn it. She had no right. The drug was his conception and he’d wanted to be there during each step.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was too excited to wait. So while you were finishing up with Noah, I thought I’d check on him. He went crazy, somehow got loose and…” She touched her throat. “At least we know your drug doesn’t work.”

  “Wrong. What we don’t know is if A-Line was completely out of his system.”

  She stared at Troy. “You’re right. But we still can’t keep this one, or let him free. If he ended up on the streets, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried raping and murdering women.”

  He hated that she was right, and that she could act so damned nonchalant about it. For him, the guilt, the knowing he’d harmed other innocents in the name of science, would eat him alive.

  “Even if we let him live, he’ll probably die anyway. The trauma to his head could cause hemorrhaging, bleeding on the brain or—”

  “I know all that,” he shouted. “I told you this was a mistake from the beginning.” He stood, then paced. “What we’re doing is morally wrong.”

  “Screw your morals. Don’t start acting as if you didn’t know the risks we were facing.” Adeline rose and stepped in front of him. “Look what he did to me,” she said, her cheeks flushed as she stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t care that we made him. I care that he tried to rape and kill me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Obviously, you’re more concerned about your conscience than me.”

  He grabbed her arms. “You know damned well that’s not true. My God, Adeline. I wanted to kill the man with my bare hands for touching you. I almost did, and I’m ashamed to admit that a part of me still wants him dead. But the sensible, rational side of me knows that putting our test subject out of his misery isn’t a mercy kill, but murder.”

  Her eyes softened. “You’re a good man. You’re not like me, and I don’t ever want you to be.” She let out a deep breath. “I’ll kill him.”

  He gave her a slight shake. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “What’s the difference? It’s not like I haven’t killed before.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I won’t allow it. We’re trying to find a way to stop the urge, not encourage it.”

  She sobbed against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Rod. I hoped it would never come to this. I don’t want you to have to make the choice of who lives and who dies.”

  He leaned back and touched her chin. “You know I’d die for you.”

  She sniffed and nodded. “Then I’d die because I couldn’t be without you.”

  God, he loved her so much. Their bond was so special, so strong, he doubted even death could keep them apart. But her sickness could. If Adeline murdered again and was caught this time, prison would separate them for life. So would the death penalty.

  He cupped her cheek. “I don’t ever want that to happen,” he said. “You’re right. I knew exactly what I agreed to when we decided to conduct our testing. I knew the risks to our subjects, but had been foolish to not consider what could happen to you.” He dropped his gaze to the marks along her throat and breasts. Something inside him snapped. Unexpected fury clawed its way to the surface demanding vengeance. “I’d not only die for you, but I’d kill for you.”

  What if Troy survived? What if he was worse off once his head healed? He walked to the closet, opened it, then pulled a pillow from the shelf.

  “What are you doing?” Adeline asked, shock in her tone.

  “Protecting you.”

  Rodney kneeled next to Troy. He stared at the man’s battered face, at the blood haloing his head. He glanced to the man’s hands, remembered how they’d looked wrapped around Adeline’s throat. With a grunt, Rodney slammed the pillow against Troy’s face, freed the fury piercing his moral compass and scraping it raw…and smothered the man who’d dared to touch Adeline.

  Denver, Colorado

  Thursday, 4:31 p.m. Mountain Daylight Saving Time

  Liam Forrester flushed the toilet. He moved in front of the mirror and turned on the faucet. After he’d splashed cold water on his face, then toweled off, he stared at his reflection and hated what he saw. Desperation, fear…guilt.

  A horn sounded from outside. He shoved away from the counter, grabbed his backpack from the floor, then left the bathroom. As he walked down the hallway, the family photos hanging on the walls slowed his steps. He stopped and stared at one that had been taken twenty years ago. He’d been ten, his sister, Kiera, twelve, their parents in their late thirties. They all looked happy, and had been. He turned away and continued down the hall. He couldn’t think about those days—they were long gone, just like his mom and dad. A car accident, they’d been told. But he knew otherwise, which was why he had to distance himself from his sister before they came for her, too.

  When the horn beeped again, he rushed to the door, then opened it. His buddy, Mitch, waved to him from the backseat of the taxi. Liam raised a finger, indicating he needed another minute, then glanced around his sister’s house one last time. The guilt intensified. Kiera would worry and wonder where he’d gone, but it was best she didn’t know. He didn’t want them to use her against him, which was why he’d asked William to stay behind and keep an eye on her. William would know what to do if they tried to use her to find him. Liam prayed to God that wouldn’t happen, and that he would get to them first.

  Maybe he should leave Kiera a note, let her know she was being protected. That he was doing everything in his power to stop them.

  No. The less she knew, the better off she was.

  Nostalgia wrapped around his heart as he pictured Kiera’s smile. He loved her and never wanted to be the reason that smile was snuffed from existence. Determined to make sure that never happened, he hefted the backpack over his shoulder, then left the house.

  William whistled from the hedges near the driveway. Liam quickly approached him. “Heard anything?” he asked.

  William shook his head. “Nothing you ’aven’t,” the Brit said.

  “Either Mitch or I will contact you. If it’s anyone else—”

  William smiled. “I know the drill, mate. I’ll get y’r sister to the safe ’ouse.”

  “Thanks, man. I know I can count on your badass.”

  The cabbie laid into the horn. William looked over Liam’s shoulder. “Impatient son of a bitch,” Liam said, taking a step back. “This will be over soon.”

  Wil
liam gave him a two-finger salute. “God willing.”

  Liam turned, then rushed for the taxi. When he climbed into the backseat, he told the cabbie to take them to the Greyhound station, then glanced to Mitch. “Ready?” he mouthed, not wanting the cabbie to hear him.

  Mitch opened his jacket slightly, displaying a gun and knife. “As ever.”

  Both anxious and nervous, Liam leaned into the cracked upholstery. After years of running, of being in a constant state of paranoia, he finally had the means and muscle to stop the government from unleashing mind-bending drugs into America’s water supply. Now all he needed was proof. He slid his gaze to the six-foot-six, dark-skinned mercenary. With Mitch’s team, he would obtain it and expose the bastards.

  When the cabbie pulled into the bus depot, Liam paid the man, then exited the car. Mitch met him on the sidewalk. “Split up. I have my ticket, go buy yours. I’m going to case the area and make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll see you on the bus. Separate seats.”

  Liam nodded, then tossed his backpack over his shoulders and walked toward the ticket counter. Mitch was just as paranoid as him—which suited Liam just fine. Better to be paranoid than dead.

  When he reached the counter, the cashier greeted him with a smile. “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “I need a one way ticket to Miami, Florida.” After she told him the price, he paid in cash, then asked, “How many stops will the bus make and where?” Mitch probably had all the information, but Liam wanted to make sure he was prepared for anything. Especially if something happened to Mitch.

  “Let me pull up the information on my system,” she said, tapping at the computer keyboard. “Okay, the trip will take two days and three and a half hours. It looks like you’ll be making two transfer stops. One in St. Louis, Missouri, and Atlanta, Georgia. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  He shook his head and thanked the woman. As he made his way onto the bus, he spotted Mitch, already seated a few rows behind Liam’s assigned seat. He gave Mitch a slight nod, then sat. Minutes later, his cell phone vibrated, signaling a text message. He glanced to the screen and read the message from Mitch.