Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga #4)

by Karen Luellen

  Chapter 30 Arkdone’s Psychiatric Rehabilitation and Education

  “I was expecting twelve,” Senator Arkdone scowled at the paperwork detailing the shipment of metahumans. Dr. Bjorn stood resisting the urge to bite his nails, as was his self-mutilating habit. He would bite them and the surrounding skin so severely; he had bloody fingertips from it. It was painful, but that was the point.

  At work, the latex gloves he wore kept his blood to himself. He especially liked to add a sprinkle of salt into each glove before slipping his gnawed up fingers into them. No soothing cornstarch powder for him. He enjoyed the pain far too much. Where would be the fun in soothing his pain away?

  It was easy enough to keep his little habit from the other scientists. He knew he should fear Dr. Williams and his bloody, flesh dripping face, but he didn’t. He was more fascinated. He wished desperately to know the doctor’s secret. How could he possibly live so torn up and not have died of exposure to infection? Bjorn had studied Williams’ face with a medical eye and watched in awe at each new fissure as it ripped open through movement yet he never seemed ill. His teeth had fallen out and blood still pooled in the empty sockets. Bjorn had studied him carefully as he opened his mouth to sip his Earl Gray tea. He was in awe of his superior, though he had no idea how he survived.

  Senator Arkdone was a completely different beast. He was, by all standards, a very attractive man. His facial features were aristocratic, chiseled and majestic. His demeanor exuded command of all those in his presence. Like Dr. Williams, the Senator had a certain quality Bjorn admired greatly. He couldn’t quite put his finger on Arkdone’s draw, but both men had an elusive quality that made Bjorn’s skin prickle with vicious excitement…as if he were amongst death and destruction. Bjorn loved every minute of it.

  They had flown all night. His job was to keep the metas subdued for the flight. Upon arrival, four of the children were drooling on themselves and the remaining seven were dazed and unresponsive. Bjorn had enjoyed his job too much.

  They were wheeled one-by-one down the corridor by handlers. Each would be placed in their cell where their training would begin right away. They were given no food or water and would remain locked away in their empty rooms for seventy-two hours.

  “The twelfth meta wasn’t going to survive the flight let alone the first few days under…your handlers’ supervision,” Bjorn’s voice quivered.

  The Senator stared, unblinking, at the interesting doctor Williams sent with his newest candidates. He could smell the evil oozing from Bjorn’s pores. It was a delicious scent, and he found himself inhaling deeply to fill his lungs with it.

  Arkdone offered one simple nod of acceptance.

  “You have never been to my hospital, have you?”

  “No sir,” Bjorn’s bright black eyes sparkled behind his thick spectacles.

  Arkdone smiled widely and waved his arms aloft with a flourish. “I would very much like to show you around.”

  “I’m not sure I have enough time before the private jet is scheduled to leave.”

  “Oh, let it leave. You have all the time in the world.” The Senator’s statement was dripping with far more than hospitality.

  “Dr. Williams—”

  “Dr. Williams doesn’t hold any rank over me. On the contrary, he is working for me now.” Arkdone smiled handsomely.

  Bjorn stared at the man before him with an even deeper respect. “Lead the way, Senator,” he answered with a brow raised and a smile curling his thin lips.

  “That’s a good man.” Arkdone patted the boney doctor firmly on the back, causing Bjorn to stumble just a bit from the force. He walked with a limp anyway thanks to the clubfoot he was born with and was never given the proper care to correct his gait.

  The Senator pretended not to notice his limp as he began his tour. “I purchased the entire six-hundred bed former asylum for the ten-dollar cost of filing the proper paperwork with the state.”

  “Built in 1878, it was created with great architectural care and the state spared no expense in the building of the sprawling compound making it look more like a college campus than any previously known hospital for the mentally ill. The idea was to treat patients with morality and care in the hopes of rehabilitation rather than straps and chains to control them. The natural beauty of the peaceful lands around the hospital was thought to help quiet the sick minds.”

  Arkdone looked over at Bjorn with a wide, ironic smile before adding, “That was then. Now I use the desolate and decomposing buildings as my Monarch Programmer’s training facility.” He led the doctor down one of the brick-lined hallways, slowing his gait so the hobbling Bjorn could keep up.

  “It is really quite a brilliant system,” he continued. “With hundreds of candidates at different stages of training, those more advanced are responsible for the upkeep of the hospital’s crops on the east wing of the compound and the small farm on the west side.” He glanced at the beady-eyed doctor looking out one of the tall, windows. “It helps offset the cost of keeping everyone fed,” he laughed, “That is, when they are allowed to eat.”

  “The fresh candidates are really too busy with their initiation to be of any help around the compound until the end of their first year, depending on how malleable their minds are.”

  Senator Arkdone patted the doctor on the back again, although this time, Dr. Bjorn was sure he felt the points of clawed fingernails dig into his skin. He cringed and moved the way he was prodded without a word, sure he must have been mistaken.

  “I visit the trainers once a week to hear the reports on the candidates’ progress. The techniques used are quite extreme, Dr. Bjorn,” Arkdone said with a glint in his eye. “Some would say vile and sadistic.”

  Bjorn had to keep the smile from slipping further up his cheeks. Arkdone noticed his companion’s excitement, appreciated the effort to squelch it. Appearances were important, after all.

  “The idea is to force each candidate to experience horrific torture over extended periods. Usually three years was the norm, but some minds would split more quickly. Others took longer. After years of working and perfecting the techniques, I am confident in my three-year mark.” The Senator was walking with his hands clasped casually behind his back as though discussing the weather and not the torture of children. “Any candidate who broke well before or well after the three-year mark undoubtedly would have issues, and would need to become part of the training for the others.”

  Dr. Bjorn nodded in response. Inside his stomach was turning flips with interest.

  “May I ask why you’re telling me these, well…what I would assume are trade secrets?”

  “Why do you hope I’m telling you?”

  Dr. Bjorn wasn’t one to blush, but if he were, his face would be crimson now.

  “I am very interested in your work here, Senator. Maybe I could be of some small service as a resident doctor?”

  A wide smile tugged at the perfectly tanned corners of Senator Arkdone’s face.

  “I think your skill set would be a perfect fit for our work at the hospital.”

  Bjorn had to restrain himself from giggling like a little girl he was so excited at the idea of getting his gnawed, bloody hands dirty with the lovely atrocities that took place inside those walls.

  Chapter 31 Captain Ketchup

  “So let me get this straight. You remember everything.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before, Farrow.” Alik grinned mischievously.

  “I know we’ve talked about your photographic memory.”

  “Eidetic.”

  “You did what?”

  “No, I prefer the term ‘eidetic memory’ rather than photographic.”

  “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  “Since eidetic memory tends to happen only in some children with autism, scientists believe it has to do with cognitive processing. It just seems like a more accurate term when I think about remembering.”

  Alik leaned back in the orange plastic booth they’d chosen for its prox
imity to the door. Danny was curled up on his blue Sleeper Sleeve on the booth beside Alik. To help the little guy rest, Alik kept one large, warm hand on his back, rubbing just enough to keep him feeling safe.

  With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes. When he dropped his hand, Farrow was studying his face. “You look pale.”

  “Well, there hasn’t been a whole lot of time for tanning.”

  “I’m serious, Alik. Do you feel well?”

  Alik dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I’m a metahuman. I don’t get sick, unless you’ve shot me with a dart full of malaria?” He winked adorably so the immediate hurt that danced across Farrow’s face would disappear.

  Her cool hand reached over the table full of empty food baskets on his side and a soda on hers. She felt his forehead with her wrist.

  “You’re burning up, Alik!”

  “Are you saying I’m hot?” he grinned, but his head tipped back to completely rest against the wall behind him.

  “I’m saying you’re sick.” Farrow whipped out her cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Dr. Andrews? Alik’s sick. He’s pale and running a fever.”

  “You called my step-dad on me?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have him waiting at the front. Ten minutes, got it.” Farrow touched the screen ending the call.

  “Did you just call him your step-dad?”

  “He may as well be.” Alik shrugged sloppily.

  “Don’t let your mom hear you say that.”

  “You know, Farrow I’m really not feeling all that great.” Alik felt the room spin. He moved to lay his head down on the table in front of him and landed face first in a half-eaten pile of ketchup but didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes. Watch Danny for me, okay?”

  “Oh, Lord,” Farrow looked at the mess that was Alik Winter and resisted the urge to perform an epic face palm. Instead, she turned around and found a folded wheelchair tucked in the corner of the hospital’s modest cafeteria. She had it open and Alik sitting in it within seconds. He had come to just enough to help get himself from the booth into the chair. Once seated, his head fell forward, dripping ketchup glops onto his blue T-shirt. Farrow grabbed a handful of napkins and dipped them into Alik’s water glass to wet them sufficiently. Even with the ice cold wet naps cleaning globs of red goop off his face, he didn’t rouse.

  Now, how am I going to manage to hold a baby and wheel Captain Ketchup down the hall? She thought, trying to use humor with herself to stay calm.

  She sat in Alik’s spot and rubbed Danny’s back trying to wake him gently. It didn’t take much. One touch and the little boy was sitting upright clinging to his blue pillow and staring at her wide-eyed.

  “It’s okay Danny,” Farrow cooed softly.

  “Look, Alik doesn’t feel very well, and we need to get him home. Can you help me take care of him?”

  Danny’s eyes shifted from Farrow’s heart shaped face to look at Alik hunched over in the wheelchair beside her. That’s all he needed to see. He ducked under the table squirrel-like and popped out right at Alik’s feet. The first thing he did was carefully put his blue pillow in Alik’s lap.

  “Oh, that’s a great idea, Danny. Your Sleeper Sleeve will help Alik feel better faster. Good thinking.”

  Never having talked with a child as young as Danny, Farrow surprised herself with how comfortable she was with the little boy.

  But then, she thought, maybe it’s just Danny that brings out the maternal instinct in me. He is such a sweet little guy. She thought as she watched him try to climb in Alik’s lap. Knowing it would probably be better for him to walk beside the chair, but too taken by his act of tenderness, Farrow helped him up and positioned his arms and legs so he helped hold Alik in an upright position. Danny just clung to his big brother with worry etched in his smooth features.

  Farrow’s heart did that leaping thing in her chest again as she wheeled the two boys back down the corridor in which Alik and she had officially become a couple just an hour before.

  Focus on your task, soldier, she scolded the mistiness threatening her eyes.

  What if this wasn’t the start of his evolution? What if he was truly sick and only going to get worse until….

  Stop it! One step in front of the other, Farrow! She heard her internal voice command.

  Once she got to the sliding doors, it occurred to her that she could have been stopped and questioned. Farrow was thankful she didn’t have to wait long, as her eyes kept darting around worried she would be confronted as to why she was wheeling an obviously very sick guy around in a chair with a baby clinging to his unconscious body. As Dr. Andrews pulled up to the yellow curb, Farrow breathed a sigh of relief for his promptness.

  Evan jumped out of the passenger side first. His face seemed constantly in a state of worry and Farrow wondered for the first time if the kid ever had a childhood.

  Not that you had an ideal childhood yourself, Farrow, she pursed her lips in thought.

  But this kid, who was now helping Dr. Andrews load his huge brother into one of the back seats of the white minivan, should have had a normal childhood. After all, he was rescued by Dr. Winter and grew up on a ranch. Did he even know how to ride a bike?

  Farrow envied and worried for the Winter kids more than for herself in so many ways. They seemed the ones worth saving out of all their kind. Not for the first time, Farrow’s mind slipped into battle-tactic mode: Winter kids are more powerful and more valuable. I would lay down my life so they would survive. They are the only hope the humans and metas have of peaceful coexistence.

  Meg and Creed were there, too. Once Alik and Danny were situated inside the van, they jumped out. “Take care of my brother, Farrow,” Meg called to the girl with worried, wide eyes.

  A blush colored Farrow’s cheeks, the flush visible even in the streetlights compliments of the hospital parking lot.

  “He needs to hear your voice, so keep talking to him,” Meg advised, eyes locked on the female metahuman.

  Unable to speak, but realizing Meg would be able to read her emotions even more clearly than anything she could say, she nodded to Meg and leaned to whisper words of encouragement directly in Alik’s ear.

  The van pulled away leaving Meg and Creed to take over mom-duty.

  Chapter 32 Three Little Words

  “Is he going to be okay?” Creed asked.

  “I can still sense him, so my gut says ‘yes’.”

  “Is he going through his change?”

  “I hope so,” Meg nodded reassuringly.

  “I wonder what his evolved gift will be.”

  “Well, if it follows the same pattern as it did with me, where the evolved gift is literally an evolution of what he already is, it would likely have something to do with his perfect memory— either that or his strength. Oh, I suppose it could go in lots of directions from there.” Meg rubbed her eyes with both hands. She was exhausted.

  “I hope his transition goes smoothly.”

  “Me too.” Meg sighed. Her heart was heavy with worry. Alik couldn’t help when his metamorphosis would happen, but now was definitely not the most convenient time.

  “Let’s get upstairs and check on your mom,” Creed suggested.

  Meg nodded, her brows still furrowed with concern over all that was happening to her family.

  As they turned to walk into the hospital, Creed reached out to hold Meg’s small hand in his. The doors whooshed closed automatically behind them, and Meg leaned her head against Creed’s strong shoulder. Knowing he would stand beside her no matter what made all the difference in the world. She may be the oldest child, but at least now she didn’t feel alone in her responsibilities to protect her family.

  Later that evening, as Meg and Creed dozed on the sofa just outside Margo’s private room, Meg dreamed of being in battle. Huge lizard-like creatures and shadow demons surrounded her. She was fighting with every ounce of strength. Creed was there with
her. They fought back to back against the evil, depending on each other to defend their vulnerable sides from the enemy.

  Meg wasn’t letting one wisp of darkness pass her. Nothing was going to keep her from protecting him. She could feel Creed’s equal determination to protect her. They were a team and they fought as though they had practiced together for years, predicting each other’s next move. Meg would duck to swipe the legs out from under a lizard creature and Creed would strike his fist over her head to grab the winged shadow with his bare hand and rip it in two. Then he would hurl the pieces at the next attacker and Meg would roundhouse the nearest creature daring to touch them. In her dream, she felt surges of power pouring from her muscles, more than just refueling from Creed.

  Something else was there amplifying her gift. That’s when she looked up and saw Danny hovering overhead. He was barefoot, just as he liked to be and was wearing only the simple hospital gown he had on the night they found him weak and dying, strapped to the bed in the basement of that wretched Facility’s Research Hospital. He was watching intently, but hovered just out of reach of the attackers.

  Danny locked eyes with Meg, and in her dream she knew his voice. “Don’t be afraid, Meg. Keep your eyes and heart on what is good, and you’ll never be alone. I will not leave you.”

  Somehow his words soothed Meg and Creed, but enraged the lizard men and shadow demons.

  Meg woke with a start, her fists tight, ready for the next strategic punch.

  “Are you okay?” Creed’s voice was raspy with sleep.

  Meg held her head and tried to wake completely from the dream without forgetting it.

  “You and I were fighting bad guys in my dream.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Creed offered a sleepy smile as he reached over and rubbed Meg’s tense shoulders with his huge hands.

  “Mmm, wow. You’re hired,” Meg smiled despite the echoes of worry still pressing in her mind.

  “Creed?”

  “Humm?”