Maybe I could sneak off and help her.
Steam spouts out from the top of the kettle, so I start to fill my mug with hot water.
Sneak off? How the hell am I supposed to do that? Tell Michael that I need to take a piss? Ask him if it’s okay that I pop down to the—
“Careful with that,” Michael says from over my shoulder.
In fright, I spill the hot water, wincing as my hand is scorched red.
“Sorry, Sean,” he says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” I dry my skin with a tea towel, repressing the searing pain. “I was miles away.”
“Looks nasty.”
I walk over to the sink and run my hand under the cold tap. “I’ll be fine.”
Erin appears beside me. “That’s gonna leave a blister. I’ll get you some antiseptic cream.”
“There’s no need. I’m a fast healer.”
Michael hands me a sheet of kitchen roll. “Not too fast, I hope—otherwise I’ll have to arrest you.”
“What do you...mean?” I stammer, my chest and stomach compressing with nerves. He’s on to me. He knows about Freya.
“It was a joke, Sean?” he replies with a grin. “I was implying that you were a Hemovore.” He looks at Erin. “Not a very good joke, apparently.”
I snort, but it’s painfully forced. “Sorry, sir.”
Michael ruffles my hair. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you burn something else. I want to show you both something.”
I swallow the stress like a shard of glass, and follow him out of the room.
He leads us down the corridor, and through a door. “There’s someone very special I want you to meet,” Michael says, enthused.
We’re in a lab with hospital monitors flashing and beeping, and at the centre is an operating table.
There’s a vampire, wearing an orange boiler-suit, strapped to it.
The half-breed snarls and tugs at his restraints as Michael approaches him. “Well, say hello, Ben.”
Inside, I start to panic. The florescent bulb above me feels hotter, brighter, than usual. Like I’m in a police station, being interrogated, with a blinding light pushed in my face.
Relax, Sean. Stay focused. Nothing’s changed. He’s just another vampire in a lab. That’s all.
What about Freya?
Where is she?
“Never thought I’d see this bastard again,” Michael says, leering over the operating table, a glaze of disgust in his eyes. “But here you are. Where you belong.”
“Is it true what Sean said?” Erin asks. “Is he really the first vampire?”
“It would seem so,” Michael replies. “But we need to run some more tests, find out his age, then we’ll have a better idea.” He picks up a stun-gun baton from the metal worktop, and then rams it into the side of Ben’s neck.
I recoil as Ben shrieks, his body convulsing, his face wrinkled with agony.
“Don’t feel too bad for him, Sean. This little prick threw me out of a two-storey window. Almost paralysed me.”
Once the effects of the stun-gun fade, Ben’s eyes light up with rage. He lifts his head off the table, snapping his fangs at Michael, but he’s out of reach. His body twisting and squirming, he tries to rip through the straps, the table shaking, shifting slightly from the floor.
“You need to calm down, Ben,” Michael says, parading the baton over Ben’s head. “Unless you want another dose.”
Michael’s threat does nothing to settle Ben’s fury, the table vibrating even more.
Shaking his head, he hands me the baton. “Give him another hit, Sean. Show him who’s boss. We’ve got to keep them in line.”
Pulse racing, sweat running down my face, I hold the baton with two clammy hands. I don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard.
You’ve got to!
“Come on, Sean,” Michael says. “One quick jolt to the neck.”
My hands are shaking like the first time I fired a gun.
Relax, Sean. You can do this.
“Just because we know his name,” Michael continues, “doesn’t make him any less of a virus.”
“I think he’s had enough,” I say under my breath, eyes lowering to the floor.
Michael chuckles. “This is for his own good. They’re like children. They need discipline.”
I float the baton above Ben’s chest.
“That’s it. Don’t think of him as Freya’s brother,” Michael continues. “He’s just a vampire. No different to the ones who murdered your parents. Remember, Sean?”
I’m launched back to that night again. A night that, no matter how much time passes, how many vampires I take out, will haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Come on, Sean,” Erin whispers, her voice a little shaky. “Just do it.”
Even through Ben’s crazed howls, I still hear the hinges of my bedroom door cracking, the weight of all those vampires pushing against it. Fingers worming their way inside. The door crushing my ribs.
Michael saving my life.
I have to do this.
Pushing the baton against his bare chest, I fire off a jolt of electricity, sending Ben’s body into another spasm.
I pretend the agonising cries are just in my head.
Not from Ben.
Not from Freya’s brother.
Michael pats me hard on the back, the weight of his heavy hand throwing me forward. “Good lad. And don’t worry about him. They heal fast.” He grabs my wrist, peering down at the white blister on the back of my hand. “Not like you. Or any of us.” He releases my arm. “But maybe one day we will heal like them. No more cancer. Spinal injuries. Dementia. That’s why we need to learn everything we can from them. Take everything that’s special from them. But they’ve got to know who’s in charge, Sean. They’ve got to know that this is our world. They’re just immigrants. Illegal immigrants.”
I nod, and then hand him the baton. “You’re right. I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I know how hard this must have been for you. Shooting a nest of dangerous animals is one thing, but hurting someone close to you is a whole different game.”
“I’m not close to him,” I say, trying not to look at Ben’s deep, piercing glare. “It’s just...”
Michael puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know, Sean. You’ve been through a lot. And no one would blame you for being loyal to Freya. After all, you’ve known her all your life.” He steps away from me, and then leans against the operating table, unfazed by Ben’s thrashing behind him. “But, as you know, loyalty is very important to me, too.”
I cry out in agony as a shunt of electricity surges through my back.
My joints and muscles lock tight as I drop to my knees, my chest hitting the floor. Body convulsing, vision blurred, I look up at Erin as she holds up a baton.
What the hell is going on?
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
How could she do this?
“I trusted you, Sean,” Michael says. “But you shouldn’t have let Freya run off.”
“I...didn’t,” I splutter, my mind racing; a mess of confusion and questions. “I swear. She...punched me.”
Michael walks over to me, standing next to Erin. “Oh, I know she punched you. And I know it must have been a shock bumping into her at the farm—especially after just shooting that woman in the chest.” He shakes his head. “But it still doesn’t explain how Freya managed to get inside The Facility, now does it?”
My voice is frozen again, struggling to process what’s happening.
The walls are shrinking around me.
Everything in tunnel-vision.
I try to stand, but Erin jabs me with the baton, sending a second electric shock through me. The force causes my head to fly back, slamming into the floor.
Disoriented, eyes barely open, I feel myself being hauled up by my armpits. Over my shoulder, I see Nick behind me, dragging my limp body towards the door, the soles of my boots sc
raping across the tiles.
“Please, Michael!” I mumble as I reach the corridor. “Don’t do this!”
“Sorry, Sean,” he says, his tone ice-cold, “but it’s already done.”
Part IX
FREYA LAWSON
24
A sharp sting wakes me.
The bearded man is standing over me, holding a scalpel. There’s blood dripping from its end. A three-inch cut running down my right forearm. Disoriented, I try to retract my arm, but it’s stuck.
Panic sets in when I realise that I’m lying on an operating table, my limbs restrained with thick, leather straps. I tug on them, but they’re rigid, almost cutting off my circulation. I try to kick out, but the ones around my ankles are even tighter. Bucking my hips is useless because the table is fixed to the floor.
He stares at the bleeding wound, a frown of concentration on his forehead.
Breathing heavily, cold dread slithering over me, I focus on the blade.
Is he gonna kill me?
Slice my throat?
Thirty-seconds pass. His eyes are still locked on the cut.
What the hell is he doing?
After a minute, he drops the scalpel on a steel tray, and then jots something down on a clipboard. “I’m sorry about that, Miss Lawson,” he says with a calm, gravelly voice. “I was hoping the anaesthetic would have lasted longer.” There’s a small grin hiding behind his scruffy beard. “You’re a tough girl. Most of my patients are out cold for at least a couple of hours.”
Petrified and nauseous, I quickly examine my surroundings. I’m in another lab. Computer monitors resting along a steel worktop. A drip-stand next to me. And what looks like a heart-rate monitor behind me. There are no windows. Just one door. “Where’s my brother?” I ask, battling not to cry.
“Ben? He’s fine. Absolutely fine. Try not to worry yourself. You’re going to see him in no time.” He’s lying. Maybe he’s already dead. The man sits on a stool next to me, and then wraps my arm up with a bandage. “But first, let me introduce myself. I’m Doctor Moore, head of genetics here at The Facility. And I need you to answer a few questions.”
“Let me go. Please.”
“Do you know of any other siblings you might have?” he asks, completely ignoring me.
I want to scream at him, tell him to go to Hell. But what would be the point? If he wanted to, he could stab me to death with the scalpel, or leave me tied to this table to rot. Just answer his questions. “No. Just Ben.”
He writes again. “How much do you know about your mother’s past? Did Nia have any other relationships before Tony?”
“Her name was not Nia,” I reply, almost snapping. “It’s Jane.”
Doctor Moore looks up at me, a hint of pity behind his thick glasses. “I know it’s hard to accept, Miss Lawson, but your mother had a lot of secrets tucked away.”
“What secrets?”
“Your mother really was Nia Stone. She changed her name before you were born.”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you.” Shut up, Freya. Just play along. He’s gonna kill you. “Why would she change her name?”
“To protect herself. And you.”
“Why me? I don’t need protecting.”
Doctor Moore smiles. “Everyone needs protection. Even someone as extraordinary as you.”
“What are you talking about? I’m nothing.” I start to thrash wildly on the table, desperate to break the straps. “Now let me see my brother!”
“What did she say about your father?”
I don’t respond because this is all bullshit. He’s just a manipulative, murdering bastard like Michael. Why should I believe a word he says? My mother was just a nurse. She didn’t keep secrets from me. I would’ve found out by now. I’m not an idiot.
“Did she mention he was a soldier?” he asks.
“Yeah. So, what?”
Doctor Moore scribes something down on his clipboard. “I knew your father. He was a very gifted solider. And your mother—God rest her soul—was the love of his life.”
“And you monsters killed her!”
“What happened to her was a tragedy,” he says, his voice filled with remorse. “And never should have happened. But I’m a scientist—not a soldier. And I’m not one of Michael’s officers, either. My job is to figure out how to fix this virus. Try to put everything back together.”
“I don’t care! Now get me out of these straps—or I swear to God I’ll break every last bone in your body!”
What are you doing, Freya? He has a knife! Shut the hell up!
Doctor Moore doesn’t react, just writes something else on his clipboard. “Have you ever met your grandparents?”
“What has any of this got to do with fixing the virus?”
“Let me guess,” Doctor Moore continues, “you’ve never met any of your grandparents? From your mother’s—or father’s side.”
“Look, even if my mother did change her name—so, what? That doesn’t prove anything. Lots of people do it. For all I know my father was a cruel prick. She might have changed her name to get away from him.”
“When was the last time you were sick?”
“You people are nuts!” I snap.
“Have you ever been sick?”
I pull on the strap with every ounce of strength I have. “What the hell are these stupid questions?”
Doctor Moore sighs, his patience clearly running thin. “Miss Lawson—the quicker you answer my questions, the sooner you can see your brother.”
I search my mind for a nasty cold, or a stomach bug, but I come up empty. Surely there must be something. Chickenpox? No, Mum lied about me having Chickenpox. “Fine. I’ve never been sick. Happy?”
His face lights up with intrigue. “What about other injuries besides cuts to the skin?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, broken bones, fractures. Can you heal like them?”
“Heal like who?”
Smiling, he rests the clipboard on his lap. “Like your brother, of course.”
“Oh, my God. You think I’m a bloody vampire?” I let out a short chortle of disbelief. “Do I look like a vampire to you?”
“Maybe not,” I hear a deep, familiar voice say. Michael Matthias is standing in the doorway, his wide shoulders almost brushing against each side of the frame. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not one of them.”
My entire body, from head to toe, begins to compress with rage, dwarfing my senses, clouding my rational mind.
I want to strangle him.
Beat him senseless with just my bare knuckles.
Smash that monitor over his head.
I keep pulling. Thrashing. The table begins to move.
“See, doc,” Michael says, examining Doctor Moore’s clipboard. “I told you she was strong.”
“I’m not a vampire, you moron! Now let me go!”
“Please, Miss Lawson,” Doctor Moore says, his voice calm, collected. “He’s telling the truth. You’re as strong as an ox. Your brother is the first vampire. And you’ve never been sick. Doesn’t that seem like a huge coincidence to you?”
“No!” I snap. “It doesn’t prove anything. Vampires get sick.”
Michael shakes his head. “No, Freya. They don’t.”
I snort. “Shows how much you idiots know. My brother has been sick. Just after he was born. How do you explain that?”
Michael and Doctor Moore glance at each other, intrigue stamped across their faces.
Michael purses his lips. “How sick?”
“Very sick. He almost died.”
For some bizarre reason, Doctor Moore begins to glow with excitement, and then he writes something down.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask. “What the hell are you so happy about?”
Michael walks over to me. “We’re not happy, Freya. We’re just relieved. Now we know how the virus spread.”
“What does Ben getting sick have to do with anything?”
; “Well, Freya,” Michael replies, “there’s actually a lot you don’t know about this disease. For starters, your brother is not the first Hemovore.”
“If he’s not the first, then why is he so important to you? Revenge for pushing you through my bathroom window?” I fake laugh. “Did it hurt?”
Michael chuckles. “Revenge? Do you really think I’ve got time for something that petty?”
“Then what is it then?”
He glances briefly at Doctor Moore. “Because your father started all this mess.”
“What?” I blurt out, the very idea almost laughable. “How is that even possible?”
“Because it’s true,” Michael says, conviction in his voice. “Your father and I grew up in Bridgeside. Same school. Same military unit. Four years front-line. Two years Iraq. That’s when he took a bullet for me.” He points to his lower back. “Right here. Missed his spine by a gnat’s wing. But his injuries left him with chronic back pain. The poor bastard spent over a year in hospital—while I got promoted to General. And then, to make matters worse, he got hooked on painkillers. Pete was a mess. Such a mess. Physically and emotionally.” He gestures to Doctor Moore. “That’s when I introduced him to this man. Back then, he was head of the genetics program, working on a new type of performance drug.” He grins. “The funny thing was, science always bored me at school. I think I ditched almost every class.”
Discreetly, I carry on trying to worm my sweaty wrists free from the straps. Just keep spewing out your lies, you prick. See how chatty you are with a scalpel across your neck.
“But Pete became obsessed with Doctor Moore’s treatment,” Michael continues. “He wanted to be stronger than any soldier. And faster. He wanted to heal quicker. Like your brother. Like all Hemovores.”
“Let me guess,” I say with a mocking tone. “You made a vampire? In a lab?”
He snorts. “A vampire would have been a lot easier to handle.”
The skin on my right wrist is scorched from the strap, but it’s almost out. I’m almost free.
“The first treatments were positive,” Michael continues. “His back pain vanished. His strength increased. Even his eyesight improved. But then something changed. The nausea started. Then the migraines. And the mood swings.”
Blue Skin (Book 3): Blue Skin Page 6