A tear slipped from the corner of Kat’s eye and slid down her face, leaving a cold trail behind. She had never heard that kind of passion in her father’s voice, at least not directed toward her.
He went on without noticing the tear, that maniacal gleam back in his eye. A couple of hairs had fallen across his forehead, so unlike his usual kempt self. “Death is the ultimate power, even over matter. All things succumb to it and there is no cure. If I could unravel the power of death, I could unlock the mystery of matter and control it. But then your mother died and I—” His voice cracked. The elation from moments ago bled away and he dropped his head.
The electricity pulsating around the strange metal cylinder crackled and an arc jumped before the contraption resumed its normal mode. The green lights flickered within the lanterns set up along the laboratory and the tubes that hung from the ceiling swung as if a hand had brushed past them.
Her father looked up and swept the errant hairs back in place. He straightened his lab coat and turned. “I put away my secret project and concentrated on expanding the Tower.” He walked over to the electric cylinder and turned a knob at the bottom, his back toward Kat. “War broke out with Austrium, and I was commissioned to use my expertise to help with the war effort. I went back to studying death, drawing from every bit of research I could find.”
And all the while you left me to be raised by Ms. Stuart. Kat stared up at the tubes hanging from the ceiling. Another tear slipped down her cheek.
“I had limited success, but my subjects always succumbed eventually. And the corpses did no better.”
What? Kat twisted her head and stared at her father. “You used corpses?”
Dr. Bloodmayne turned around. “The World City council gave me permission to dig up remains from the common lots in St. Lucias. Only those recently dead proved useful. The closer to the time of death, the better. Eventually it seemed a better choice to find those on the brink of death and use them instead.”
Kat stared at him. “You—you killed people?”
“Kathryn, Kathryn.” He shook his head as if he were scolding her for taking a lollipop without permission. “They were already dying. There wasn’t anything I, or any other scientist, could have done to save them. I didn’t kill them, I merely used their last moments of life to further science for the benefit of all people.”
She recoiled, her hands and feet straining against the metal bands. She was wrong. She wasn’t the monster. Her father was.
Dr. Bloodmayne walked over to the table nearest the one she lay on and picked up the disembodied hand as if he were picking up a teacup. “Even then, I could not release the power I knew existed around death, even when employing some of the pagan rituals of old.”
Kat pulled at the metal bands until the skin around her wrists was raw and scraped. Was this his plan for her? Was he going to kill her? His own daughter?
“But what if I was wrong?” He spun around and returned to Kat’s side, his face alight with eagerness.
Kat shrank beneath his gaze. The monster inside her stirred again.
“I have been thinking about you, and recent events. I believe you can do what I’ve been trying to accomplish for the last thirty years. You can control matter. And I don’t think that came about from death, but from another source of power: from life. Somehow, during my initial experiments years ago, what I tried to accomplish through my own body I instead inadvertently passed on to you.” He shook his head, amazed. “You were born this way.”
The fire grew inside her chest. As she stared up into her father’s eyes, she wanted to give in, unleash the fire and burn away the laboratory and all the darkness it contained. Even now she could feel the tingle across her fingers and the power pounding through her veins. A smile crept across her face. Oh yes, she would burn it until nothing remained.
But would she be able to stop with the laboratory? Or would she burn everything, the whole Tower— the whole city?
Kat licked her lips. What was this power doing to her? Every time the power erupted, it felt like it was consuming her very soul. Was there a point where it would consume all of her? Would any part of her remain? Or would she become a living husk, void of her being, with power that could destroy the world?
Her father had no idea what he had done to her.
“So what say you, Kathryn?” He bent over her, a smile across his lips. “Will you join me in uncovering the greatest scientific discovery of our time? Together, father and daughter, embarking on the journey of a lifetime.”
Kat blinked. “You mean as your apprentice?”
“Yes, yes. And more. Do you understand what we could achieve together? We could stop the war and save lives. Working together to better mankind. The Bloodmayne legacy.”
She stared up at her father. Everything she had ever wanted he was handing to her now. A relationship. An opportunity to work side by side. A chance to win his approval. Perhaps even his love.
She pictured them in one of the laboratories downstairs, side by side, comparing notes. Sharing excitement after a particularly difficult experiment. Photographed together in the Herald for all of World City to see.
Everything she had dreamed.
Her heart beat faster. And with it the monster surged forward.
Kat clamped down on the feeling and closed her eyes. She breathed through her nose and let her dream shrivel up and die. The dark fire inside her chest burned down to a low glow.
No, she would never help her father create other people like her. There was a reason such power had been locked away. Maybe God himself had locked it away. This power . . . it burned away the soul. It had to die, even if that meant it died with her.
She opened her eyes. “No.” The word slipped quietly from her lips.
Her father grew still. His mouth tightened and his face lost all emotion except for the fire that burned in his eyes. “You realize I will not let an opportunity like this slip away. Either we work together, or I work alone. But I will find what I am looking for, no matter the cost.”
His threat hung in the air like a guillotine’s blade.
Kat breathed through her nose and looked him straight in the eye. “You mustn’t do this, Father. It is not what you think. I do not control this power; it controls me. And I’m afraid if it is triggered again, I will not be able to stop it.”
His nostrils flared. “Then that is your choice?”
“I won’t help you.” Beads of sweat formed along her upper lip and forehead. “And I implore you not to pursue this, for the good of all people.” Her limbs shook and the dark fire stirred again. Stay in control, just a little bit longer.
The vein along his neck pulsed. “Science would never expand if we didn’t take risks. Something I had hoped you would have learned during your time at the Tower Academy. Well then, Kathryn, if that’s your choice . . .”
She closed her eyes and nodded, her body shivering from exposure and fatigue.
“Then I will leave you here. Some men will arrive shortly to begin the process.”
Her eyes shot open. “Th—the process?”
But her father never answered. Instead, he disappeared into the shadows. A moment later, a bright light appeared in the form of a doorway. His silhouette stood inside the doorway, then the door closed, leaving her in the dark with only the strange green lights.
She stared up at the tubes and metal rods, and her teeth began to chatter. By “process” did her father mean experiments? Or would he go right to dissection?
Kat bit down the scream inside her throat and clenched her hands. Black spots converged across her vision.
God. Her mind fumbled for words. If you are real and could possibly care about a person like me, please rescue me. Please save me from this place!
32
Stephen stood on the street corner across from the Tower and stared up at the top floors. It was
midmorning and World City bustled with life. Carriages rode by, people walked along the street, and scientists made their way between the Tower and the outlying buildings, hurrying to their next experiment or task, or whatever it was they did.
He pulled on the bit of hair below his lip. He was right about one thing: no guards, at least not on the outside. There would probably be some kind of security person inside, but he had his bounty hunter badge ready.
Stephen dropped his hand and headed across the street during a pause in traffic. The air, usually smog-filled, was fairly clear for World City this morning. The sky above was a light blue with feather-like clouds. The air was warm, but not warm enough that his duster looked out of place.
He walked along the iron fence that marked off the grassy area in front of the Tower and headed along the western side toward one of the smaller entrances. The Tower Academy stood to the north of the main building, the place where he caught his first glimpse of Kat over two years ago. So much had happened during those two years. At the time he had pictured a future with Vanessa, more promotions within the World City police, and a couple of children.
Instead he had become a reclusive bounty hunter with feelings for a woman he wasn’t quite sure was human. And then he had gone and betrayed her.
He ran a hand across his face. Tainted. That’s what he was. Tainted by his wounded past. And now Kat was paying the price. “Not if I can help it,” he said under his breath.
Halfway down the main part of the building, a woman dressed in a simple gray skirt, suit coat, and a wide-brimmed hat exited a small door. She glanced his way, lifted her nose, and headed in the opposite direction.
Apparently the lady didn’t think too highly of a man dressed more rogue than gentleman. He was used to it. Strange that Kat never seemed to view him that way. Was that because she lived in a world where men and women worked together and were not bound to the hierarchy that held most of the World City? Or was there more?
Stephen pushed the speculative thoughts aside. Time enough for that later. He moved toward the door the woman had left moments before. Besides, if there had been more between him and Kat, it was gone now. He had burned that bridge when he left her at the Tower last night. His belly knotted up at the memory. His only hope now was to get her safely away.
A church bell tolled in the distance, signaling nine o’clock in the morning. He picked up his pace. Robert had telegraphed that he would be in the area with his airship shortly after nine. Where they would meet up, he still wasn’t sure. It would all depend on what happened inside the Tower.
Just beyond the door stood a desk in the hallway, blocking entry into the rest of the Tower. A man dressed in navy blue pants and vest stood behind the desk. He gave Stephen a tired look. “Can I help you?”
Stephen pulled his badge from his pocket. “Fugitive Recovery Agent Stephen Grey. I’m here to see about a fugitive brought in last night.”
At the name “Stephen Grey” the man straightened and dropped his arms to his side. “Stephen Grey! I—I don’t know about any fugitive here at the Tower.”
Stephen glanced down the hall. “Do you mind if I check upstairs?”
“I don’t know about—”
“I won’t take long. And it’s a matter of urgency.”
The guard seemed to debate the matter, then nodded. “Go ahead, Mr. Grey.”
Stephen gave him a curt nod. “I appreciate your consideration in this matter. And please keep my visit secret. You understand, right?”
The guard nodded again.
Stephen headed down the hall, his boots slapping the tile as he went. The entry doors on either end of the long hallway allowed natural light into the corridor. Interior doors lined the hall, all of them shut. As he walked by, he caught snippets of muffled conversations. Near the middle of the hall, two staircases opened up, one on either side, with a window on each level.
Stephen paused and looked at both stairways. They were identical. He went with the right one. If nothing else, it was closer to the direction he was heading, to the actual tower itself.
He went up eight flights of stairs, only passing two scientists on his way, each one ignoring him. On the eighth floor, he headed down the hall toward the tower. He passed by more rooms, these ones with the doors open. One room was lined with shelves of books, two looked like offices, one was filled with workstations covered with glass beakers and burners, and one with just tables. At the end of the hall, there was another staircase beside a large window that overlooked the front of the building. A sign hung by the stairway: “Private Tower labs. No Trespassing.”
Now came the hard part.
Stephen started up the stairs. Depending on how many people worked up here, he might not have much time to find Kat, if she actually was in this part of the Tower.
She is. I know she is.
Stephen reached the ninth floor. Another window overlooked the front of the Tower. From this high up he could see the rooftops of World City and the rounded glass dome of the Capitol building, where the World City council resided.
He was about to continue upward when a smell wafted beneath his nose. He gagged and turned around, reaching for his handkerchief. A door stood nearby, one of several down the narrow hall. Taking a step closer, he removed the handkerchief from his nose and mouth and sniffed. What the blazes is that? Like a combination of spices and rotting meat. What were they experimenting on up here?
This seemed as good as place as any to start his search for Kat. Just as he reached for the doorknob, a man pulled the door open.
Stephen registered two things: green light in the room beyond and red blotches splattered across the man’s lab coat and clean-shaven face. Too late to turn back. He would just have to improvise.
The man stepped away from the door, which clicked shut behind him. He frowned. “I’m sorry, this floor is restricted. I have to ask you to turn around and head back downstairs.”
The red blotches across the man’s lab coat looked like blood. Bile filled his throat and his stomach clenched. Stay calm. Smoothing his features, Stephen pulled his badge from his pocket. “Stephen Grey, Fugitive Recovery Agent, here to see about a fugitive brought in last night.”
There was a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes. He spun around and drew a key from his pocket.
Stephen’s hand went for his gun—
No. Killing would complicate things.
He closed the gap between them and brought his arm around the man’s neck. Nestling the man’s throat between his bicep and forearm, Stephen squeezed.
The man reached back, but Stephen already had a grip on the bicep of his free arm and, using his other hand, pressed the man’s head into the crook of his elbow.
One . . . two . . . three . . .
The scientist went limp and Stephen loosened his hold, bringing the man to the floor. Pulling the man’s arms from the sleeves of his lab coat, Stephen used the sleeves to bind the man inside his garment. He knotted the sleeves twice, then used the ties from the man’s shoes to bind his feet together.
The man groaned.
Stephen looked up and around, then at the door. The key was still in the hole. He would just have to haul the man inside the room and dump him in a corner.
Stephen stood and turned the key, then pushed the door open. Dim green light filled the long, narrow room. A row of metal tables occupied the middle, about ten in all, most covered with odd-colored stains. It was the last one that caught his eye. Something—or someone—lay across the top. A metal cylinder sparked with electricity nearby, and strange tubes swung from the ceiling.
He gagged as a wave of rotting meat and spice breached his nose.
The scientist at his feet began to awaken.
Stephen pulled the man into the lab and dumped him against the wall. He shut the door and glanced around. A thin towel with dark splotches on it hung on a hook
near the door.
His prisoner’s eyes fluttered.
Gritting his teeth, Stephen grabbed the rag and stuffed it in the man’s mouth and tied it behind his head. There, that should keep him still for a while.
Stephen stood and wiped his face, then wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know a lot about the Tower or labs or science, but this didn’t look like the rooms he had passed downstairs. More like a meat locker, minus the carcasses hanging from the ceiling.
Something moved at the end of the room.
Stephen stared at the form on the last table, the dim green light bathing the figure in a sickly color. It looked . . . human.
Kat’s story came screaming back into his mind: about her father’s private laboratories and the humans laid out on metal tables. Most of them dead.
And Jerod had said the Tower was involved in grave robberies, a secret they were so desperate to keep that they shot him.
This had to be one of those labs. And that body at the end of the room . . .
Stephen stepped back and grabbed the wall behind him, a wave of dizziness washing over his body. Cold sweat trickled down his back, and two black spots appeared across his eyes.
He almost turned and went for the door. In all his time in the bounty hunting business, never had he encountered such a dark and evil place. Even the mob bosses of World City had a certain civility about them compared with this.
The body moved.
Stephen sucked in his breath and slowly pushed away from the wall. No, it couldn’t be.
But deep down, he knew it was.
33
Stephen started across the room. Maybe he was mistaken. God, please. Don’t let that be . . .
He swallowed. Minutes. He only had minutes. With each step, his vision cleared. Though he breathed through his mouth, he could still taste the smell of blood and decay in the room.
Pools of dark liquid lay on some of the metal tables. He passed them by without a second glance. The metal cylinder let off another electrical current. Electricity sparked around the surface, then the contraption settled back into its dark, pulsating state.
Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1) Page 22
