Wylde (Xi Force Book 3)

by S. C. Mitchell

  The spider shot one of his sticky web strands at Dove, striking her upper thigh. She screamed, her eyes wide, as the strand struck with a splat. Then she was pulled from her feet, striking the floor hard before being dragged across the tiles.

  Wylde tightened his grip on the bars of his cage door, pulling with everything he had. How dare they treat her like this? How fucking dare they?

  The creature began wrapping Dove in its web, restricting first her hands and arms, then her ankles. “Take your seat, Lennie. We’re almost ready.”

  Randy . . . Leonov strutted toward the good chair.

  Dove struggled against the restrictions as giant spider thing picked her up and unceremoniously dumped her in the other chair.

  The death chair.

  Then it changed back to its normal form. “Now we’re ready to begin.”

  Chapter 13

  The drain on Dove’s strength started the instant she landed on the cushioned chair. Some kind of energy field surrounded her and the seat. Her vigor ebbed, as if being sucked into the vibrations that rattled beneath her.

  “Poor little Dove.” Dr. Wylde secured a strap across her waist, trapping her in the chair, not that she had the strength to roll off.

  “Why are you doing this?” Her voice sounded weak and far away. A rush of wind filled her ears.

  “Great power demands sacrifice.” He trailed sweaty fingers down the side of her face. It was anything but comforting. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.

  “We’ve run out of test subjects in the basement. The locals have learned to fear us, and have all moved away. The timing on this could not have been worse for you. You’re all we have left to sacrifice. I am truly sorry.”

  John rattled the bars on his cage across the room. “What about me, bastard? Let her go! Use me!”

  Dr. Wylde’s brow furled. “Shut up, animal. This procedure requires a human sacrifice.”

  Sacrifice? Is that what she was now?

  Lethargy had her mind drifting. Her muscles turned to jelly under the constant vibration from the chair. The rushing in her ears eased to a gentle hum. She floated in a surreal world. Ochre clouds drifted across purple skies. Water flowed up the side of a mountainous cliff-face like a reverse waterfall, Dali-like clocks melted, warped, and stretched. Who used clocks anymore?

  She saw all this without ever leaving the room, as if the surreal was painted over the real.

  She was still in Dr. Wylde’s laboratory, still bound to the chair, yet she was also floating above it all. She spun in the air and could see her body below, bound in webs and strapped to the chair.

  El Brujo, the Xi Force sorcerer, once told her about astral projection, where he could let his spirit leave his body. Was this what it was like? Was her spirit moving up? Moving on?

  She envisioned herself on the other side of the room, and she was suddenly where John was imprisoned. Naked, toned, tanned. God, he looked good. What would it feel like to run her hands over all that taught muscle?

  He shouldn’t be caged. He was a beautiful animal. A beautiful man. He should be running free. Like that wolf in the cage next to his.

  Like the wolf and yet not.

  John, at times, believed himself a true wolf, yet there was so much human in him. He was truly both man and wolf. He’d confessed he was uncomfortable with the concept of mating with the female wolves of his pack, and they were working on a solution. Would he be just as uncomfortable mating with a human woman? With her?

  Now that’s a concept I could wrap my mind around.

  Hell, if she ever got back inside her body, that was a concept she could wrap her arms around.

  ~ ~ ~

  He had to do something. They were killing her.

  Dove’s body lay limp on the death chair across the room, but her chest still rose and fell. She was breathing. He needed to keep her that way.

  His best friend, at times his only friend. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

  “Whoa, pheromone alert, dude? That bitch in the chair means something to you, doesn’t she?” Piotr’s comment pulled his attention.

  Wylde’s hackles rose. “She’s not a bitch. She’s my friend.”

  “Hey, hey. Didn’t mean that in the bad way. I like bitches. At least I think I do. Haven’t met any really. But on TV, man, they look nice. Is that the way human bitches look to you?”

  TV. “Piotr, give me your remote.”

  Tail wagging, Piotr fetched the boxy contraption and dropped it at Wylde’s feet.

  Yeah, it had some weight. If thrown it could do a bit of damage.

  “Animal Planet is on channel thirty-two. I’m just saying.” Piotr looked back at the television.

  Stepping to the front of his cage, Wylde hefted the remote, judging its weight and the distance it would have to fly. Arm through the bars, he launched the unit at the machine across the room.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dove was still in the lab, yet she was beyond. Beyond the walls, free of reality. Here she saw the world as particles, atoms in constant motion, the world on the quantum level. With ethereal fingers, she found she could play with a primordial soup of chemical reactions and affect molecules she’d never been able to see before.

  All this existed in and around the world she knew. Like an aura, enhancing every little thing, and offering unlimited possibilities for change.

  You do not belong here. The voice reverberated in her mind. Clear as spring water, and cold as the grave.

  Where is here? Could she talk to whoever it was?

  The concept is beyond your limited capacity. A human soul cannot exist here. You must leave.

  Believe me, if I knew how to leave, I would. It would be nice to get back into her body somehow.

  Motion by John’s cage drew her attention. A black, boxy object flew across the room. She tracked its trajectory, analyzed its content and makeup. Electronics, plastics, metals.

  Then time stopped. All motion in the chamber came to a halt. The object hung in the air at the apex of its arc.

  What do you see?

  As an attack, the weapon was all wrong, and it would miss its target. A more slender missile would be better. Something like a spear or arrow. She visualized the concept and the object changed. Metal became shaft, plastic became fins, and at the tip she fashioned an explosive charge from the electronics.

  How was she doing all this?

  You have a creative mind. You would do well here. Unfortunately, you cannot survive on this plane of existence.

  Yeah, she got that. Already her soul was beginning to dissipate, diffuse into the essence of wherever she was. On the chair, her heart beat slowed. She was dying. Going back to the cosmic goo from which all creation was spawned.

  Ah, a higher perception. There is hope for humans yet.

  But no hope for her. Who are you?

  My concept is also beyond you, mortal. I am a crafter, a builder of worlds, a creator.

  Kind of sounded like Wylde’s author. Maybe he’d been right all this time.

  ~ ~ ~

  He was so off target. The remote was going to miss the machine. And Wylde didn’t have anything else available to throw. “No, stop this.”

  He pulled with all his might on the bars of his cage. He had to get to Dove. Save her. What kind of fucking superhero was he?

  This isn’t fair. You set me up to fail.

  “Johnny, how’d you do that, dude?” Piotr’s barked exclamation drew Wylde’s gaze back to his missile.

  It was now a sleek arrow, heading straight for the heart of the machine across the room. As it hit, an explosion tore the top off the equipment in a rain of sparks. Clouds of dark smoke billowed out.

  On the chair beside the ruined equipment bank, Dove coughed.

 
She was alive.

  ~ ~ ~

  In the midst of the explosion, Dove returned to her body. Awareness of the sticky webs and the leather strap that bound her to the chair, had her chafing for freedom.

  She coughed as a ripple of energy surged through her and her heartbeat intensified. She was alive again, and she’d brought something back from wherever she’d been. Knowledge, insight, power. It filled her, encased her, protected her. Like a fire burning inside.

  Fire?

  Flame suddenly flickered around her, burning the webs and the leather strap, smoldering in the cushion on the chair beneath her. Rolling black smoke tickled her nostrils, but the heat never touched her.

  “Noooo!” Leonov’s howl filled the chamber.

  As Dove broke free of her confinements, Leonov also rose from his chair, his body an orange glow of pulsing energy. Thick scales rippled over his body as it grew, splitting the seams of his clothing.

  Increasing the density of the air under her, Dove floated up toward the ceiling of the chamber, watching, waiting, feeling the malignant presence of something burning inside Leonov.

  His gaze sought her out. “You dare bring the Creator here?”

  Not Leonov’s voice. Way too loud, and about twelve octaves too deep in tone, it filled the chamber.

  And she knew him, knew the force that imbued him.

  The Destructor, destroyer of all things. Rot, rust, and withering age. Her enemy throughout time.

  No not her enemy. The enemy of the Creator within her.

  “After eons in confinement, we meet once again.” The words leapt from her mouth, reverberating in the air around her, though she did not say them.

  Her fisted hands glowed with power, and beams of energy shot from them toward the grotesque monstrosity Leonov had become.

  Orange, glowing scales covered the creature’s bulky body. Down its back, a fungus like, green strip ran from its reptilian head to the long, spiked tail that had sprouted from Leonov’s ass.

  Kind of dinosaur-like, a little King Kongish, with hints of the Fantastic Four’s Thing thrown in. In essence, one pug-ugly pile of—

  “What’s happening to me?” Leonov’s voice quavered, as the beams struck, and forced him to the floor.

  “Nothing you don’t deserve, bastard.” That one came from her. So, she was still somewhat in control.

  Still, that presence within filled her with power. She looked inward, deconstructing the whole into its separate parts.

  You brought a piece of me back with you.

  That being, the Creator. Part of it was inside her? And it wanted to kick the ass of whatever Leonov had become.

  Good. So did she.

  The creature regained its feet and fired orange beams of energy from its eyes.

  Dove concentrated the air particles in front of her, trying to block the beam, but some energy slipped through to strike her, throwing her back. Concrete block shattered and crumbled as she made an impression of her body in the wall.

  Ouch. That hurt.

  Fire raged in her belly, she pushed herself off the wall, gliding back into the air, advancing toward her foe, her nemesis since the dawn of time. Hands weaving an intricate design in the air, she brought into being the ultimate vessel of containment and torture. The Destructor would regret its actions and pay for its many indiscretions over the ages.

  The glow about the Destructor intensified. The creature was going to attack once again.

  Then a white light filled the center of the room. Intense, blinding, as a bold voice reverberated in the chamber. “Stop. This cannot be.”

  The building shook to its foundations. Concrete crumbled around them sending dust clouds into the air of the chamber. A circle of ceiling, some ten feet across, disintegrated, opening the room to the sky overhead.

  There, above the building, entities of pure white light hovered in a golden beam of energy that filled the night sky with illumination.

  Dove couldn’t move, suddenly frozen in place. On the other side of the room, the creature also seemed paralyzed, its aura dimming.

  Again, that powerful, alien voice filled the room. “Since the dawn of time you have been separated. You cannot be on the same plane of existence. Leave this world before you destroy it.”

  Destroy? She didn’t want to destroy. She wanted to build, create.

  “Yes, you want to tinker with what is. We understand. The result is the same. You must leave. This is not your world. Return to the realm we created for you.”

  The part of Dove, that was not Dove, understood. It withdrew, diminished. Across the room the creature began to morph back into Leonov.

  From the light in the center of the room, a beam of illumination shown on Dr. Wylde.

  “Beware, mortal, you play with power beyond your ken. The universe is watching you.”

  Then the light extinguished, the beings were gone.

  The last vestiges of the Creator left her suddenly. There one moment, gone the next. Her strength ebbed. The room spun, and she struggled to stay conscious.

  Her new powers were draining. Flight denied, she dropped to the floor.

  Her gaze swept across the room to the cages. “John.”

  With the last of her energy, she analyzed the cell’s construction, found the key points, and loosened every screw and bolt in the barred enclosures.

  Then her body relented to the call of unconsciousness.

  Chapter 14

  His hands still gripping the bars of the door, Wylde felt the cage come apart around him. Steel crashed to the concrete floor. He dropped the bars he’d been holding, free once again.

  But free to do what?

  “You did it man. That was awesome. You’re one bad-ass superhero.” Piotr advanced over the remains of his cage, tail wagging briskly.

  “That wasn’t me.” But who?

  Dove lay on the other side of the room motionless. Leonov had morphed back to his human form. Naked, eyes glazing, he slumped to the floor. Wylde’s father stood wide-eyed. Stunned, quite possibly for the first time in his life.

  And Lance?

  Wylde sniffed. Yup, the old guy had shat himself.

  With a loud crack, the building shifted. The place was coming apart. Whatever the hell had happened must have rocked the complex to its foundations.

  “We gotta get out of here. Come on, Piotr.” Wylde scampered toward Dove.

  “Right behind you, dude.”

  Dove was pale, but breathing. No time to examine her further, Wylde gathered her into his arms and sprinted out into the hallway just as another quake rumbled through the building. An alarm started howling somewhere below.

  Bounding toward the stairway, Wylde dodged crumbling pieces of the ceiling, using his body to shield Dove as best he could. A light fixture overhead exploded, raining glass shards that cut into his back and arms as he hunched over.

  “You okay, Piotr?” He’d been close on Wylde’s heels.

  “Yeah. Some of us know how to dodge. Are you sure you’re a wolf?”

  They achieved the ground floor of the complex as another wave shook the building. Cracks rippled up the walls around him. Hurried footsteps, screams, and cries for help echoed to him down the corridors, but he encountered no one as he pressed toward the exit. The building was coming down around them. They had to get out.

  He shifted right to avoid a falling chunk of concrete.

  Piotr howled in pain, then added. “I’m fine, I think.”

  “Who’s the wolf now?” Wylde couldn’t resist the jab.

  “Where’re we going, Johnny?” Piotr panted, as he raced up beside Wylde.

  “As far away from here as we can get before we drop from exhaustion.” There really wasn’t time for any kind of plan. They needed t
o get out before the building buried them, then use the confusion to escape the compound, get as far away from the Red Guard as they could.

  A serious rumble drove Wylde to his knees, then the floor evaporated beneath them, tumbling them into the basement level.

  “That is unless the author has other ideas.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Dove woke in dank darkness. Strong arms held her, and something furry was curled up against her side.

  Where was she?

  The last thing she remembered, the piece of the Creator had been leaving her, the room had been spinning.

  It was gone. The power that had filled her, protected her. Yet the knowledge, at least some of it, remained in her mind. Like a picture she couldn’t unsee.

  Her hand glided through the fur of the animal lying next to her, and she could see in her mind’s eye the atoms that made up the pelt. She recognized, on the molecular level, that this was the wolf that had been in that cage in Dr. Wylde’s lab.

  She took a deep breath, pulling in the essence of the arms wrapped around her.

  John. It could be no one else.

  He slept, but held her tight against his chest. She ran her finger over the taught muscle of his biceps, the skin so warm, his presence so reassuring.

  Where were they? Why was it so dark?

  Her mind quested beyond the shell of her body. Concepts she was only now beginning to grasp. A sixth sense she’d never experienced before, but now seemed so obvious, so intuitive.

  It was close here, a small pocket of open space in a dense mound of debris. Concrete rubble, twisted iron bars, a broken wooden beam. She couldn’t sense beyond that, not like she’d been able to when the Creator was with her. This was something new for her. Seeing without her eyes. Sensing her surroundings.