Instead of answering, the girl put a finger to her lips, nodded down the hall, then backed away from her door.
A slight squeak of shoes on linoleum caught her ear. After a minute, a nurse wearing a white uniform stopped in front of Raven’s door, two heavily muscular orderlies trailing behind her.
“Step away from the door.” The nurse barked the order, glancing impatiently at her watch.
For a fraction of a heartbeat, Raven debated disobeying, then did as she was told. It was the quickest way to find out where she was and what they did with Durant.
Gears ground and screeched as the lock disengaged.
The door creaked open, and she half expected the goons to lunge forward and drag her out.
But nothing happened.
“The doctor is ready to see you. Follow me.” The nurse turned with another squeak of her shoes, unconcerned that she presented Raven with her unguarded back…that was if Raven ignored the two hulking goons who stood on either side of the door like overgrown bookends on steroids.
Raven took a hesitant step closer, studying the goons.
They were human, but there was no way they were candy stripers. They were the muscle, their military training clear in their rigid stance. Igor and Quasimodo stood waiting, ready to drag her between them if she didn’t obey, and appeared to relish the prospect of manhandling her.
Repugnance radiated from them as they raked her with their eyes. They were paranormal-haters, no doubt having fought in the war, and pissed off that they could no longer kill the creatures without facing swift punishment.
Raven guessed they heard how she took out their small army and thought they could teach her a lesson. Not wanting to start off on a bad foot, she darted out the door and scurried to catch up with the nurse’s brisk pace.
The sense of someone watching crept over her, a chill snaking up her legs, as if something living and breathing lurked in the walls.
Whatever lingered was ravenous.
She found herself hurrying forward, but, still weak and woozy, she stumbled over the warped floors. “What is this building?”
“It was an old monastery, then became a sanatorium where the rich would send their sick relatives.” The nurse gave her a smile, her coffee-stained teeth showing a twisted pleasure in her topic. “It was later renovated to be an asylum where crazy people like you were sent to die.”
The nurse said no more, and Raven didn’t ask. Whatever they had planned for her, they didn’t expect her to survive it. They came upon a glass and metal wall that bisected the hallway, a scanner unit attached to the door, and Raven began to understand what type of renovations had been done.
Security.
They were in the middle of nowhere. If anyone escaped into the wilderness, they would perish.
One would think it would be enough.
The nurse swiped the keycard that hung from the lanyard around her neck. After a second, the door buzzed, and the industrial locks clicked, the sound very much like a vault opening. The same locking system appeared on a few other doors they passed, and she couldn’t help being curious about what they concealed.
They traveled down three levels, bypassing two floors identical to her own. Shadows danced in the hallways, solidifying until they began to take the shape of people.
Ghosts.
She blinked, hoping that her mind was just playing tricks on her, that Casper had been a one-time exception, but she feared that her powers were indeed changing. There were dozens of them in various smoky shades. They didn’t appear strong enough to reach out to her, but she knew from experience the more energy she consumed, the more solid they would become.
Ghosts normally weren’t dangerous. Most people weren’t even aware of them, but if anyone interrupted them—like, say, disrupted the electrical grid that gave them shape—they could turn violent.
Raven doubted she had attracted them to this middle-of-nowhere place, which meant they had all probably died here.
This wasn’t an asylum. It was a place where people with any hint of paranormal abilities had been sent to die, so as not to further embarrass or endanger their families. Witches were not popular in the past, often burned at the stake or drowned. Once a family’s name was tainted, their fortunes took a turn for the worse.
Few of the apparitions seemed to be aware of their surroundings, the majority of them just an echo of the past. Raven lowered her head, not acknowledging the ghosts, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The last thing she needed was for the doctors to find out about her other abilities.
The shabbiness of the top floors vanished on the ground level. The area was grander, cleaner, with priceless paintings gracing the walls. When they passed a large assembly room, a chill snaked down her spine when she caught a glimpse of the other residents.
There were about a dozen of them. Some sat unmoving in wheelchairs, staring blankly out a window that stretched nearly the whole length of the room, while others wore straitjackets, rocking frantically back and forth, back and forth.
She thought they were humans at first, until the muttering of one caught her ear. It was a spell. Horror washed through her as understanding dawned. They were witches…or they were at one time. Whatever magic they once wielded had now been destroyed.
When most witches used all their magic, they aged rapidly and died a rather painful death, wasting away in a matter of days. She could see the symptoms in a few of the patients. The others were weaker. Instead of dying, they burned out their minds, their brains not wired to sustain the use of so much magic.
Raven had landed in a lab of sorts, but not the one she expected.
They put her in an asylum for witches.
No doubt, once she served her use, she would be relegated to that room, or cast aside in some grave…if she was lucky. Some believed a witches’ magic resided in their bones, so they ground them down and sold the powder as protection.
Raven shuddered at the thought of her remains being worn and paraded about around someone’s neck, never to rest in the afterlife.
Chapter Thirteen
When Raven moved too slowly, a violent shove in the middle of her back sent her stumbling forward to avoid being pitched face-first to the floor.
The nurse finally stopped before a set of ornate wooden doors. She glanced back to see that Raven had lagged behind. She harrumphed, narrowing her eyes in annoyance, then gave two sharp raps on the door.
“Enter.” The male voice that replied was melodious, deep and smooth, inviting you to relax and listen.
“Dr. Percy, your next patient is here.” The nurse opened the door, then turned and stepped aside, allowing Raven a glimpse of the room. One second was all she got before one of the goons shoved her again, practically launching her over the entryway. She skidded to a stop just inside the door. The nurse crept up next to her and hissed in her ear. “Sit in the chair and don’t speak unless directed.”
Raven refused to obey like some weak underling, knowing she would undoubtedly pay for her defiance later.
The two men took up stances on either side of the door and crossed their arms, staring at the wall straight ahead. Their muscles bulged, their white shirts molded to their bodies as the poor fabric strained to contain them, neither man bothering to disguise their military affiliation.
The nurse grabbed the doorknob, then shut the door with a sharp snap, the ominous click echoing in the room.
Ignoring the man seated at the desk, Raven did a quick survey of the office.
Security looked minimal. The widows were unbarred, leaving a clear view of the beautifully manicured garden that lay beyond. She could easily overpower the doctor and escape.
She would willingly risk miles of wilderness rather than being stuck here, dying a little more each day, before ultimately being slaughtered like some animal.
One thing prevented her from testing her theory—she refused to leave without knowing where they’d taken Durant. She barely resisted the urge to leap across the desk and d
emand answers.
The doctor appeared absorbed in his work…or purposely made her wait, the little prick no doubt enjoying his power play.
A huge desk dominated the room, two lush leather chairs stationed in front, while leather-bound books lined the wall behind the monstrosity. Multiple diplomas were framed and on display, while a disturbing five-foot painting of Dante’s Inferno decorated the opposite wall, the creepy image of tortured sinners no doubt pulled right from the doctor’s disturbed mind.
The man continued to write his report, his spine perfectly erect, seated in his leather chair like a king on his throne—the self-important, pompous ass. She used the time to study him.
His sharply clipped beard held a hint of gray, making him appear affable. He had dark, thinning hair, glasses, his body heathy and fit. He exuded calm, competence, and power. A leader. When he peered up at her over the top of his glasses, she added ruthless and utterly devoid of compassion.
His eyes narrowed when he saw that she wasn’t cowed, but studying him in turn. “What’s your name?”
Raven tipped her head. “If I tell you, will you tell me where you took my friends?”
His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned back in his chair. He absently tapped his pen, betraying his annoyance. “They are safe…for now. Whether they remain that way depends on how well everyone follows the rules.”
They had Durant.
That meant he was alive…at least for now.
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs, and she tightened her hands on the back of the chair to keep from going for the man’s throat. Killing him would not lead her to Durant or Rylan. She had to bide her time.
His mouth twisted slightly, obviously pleased to know he had the upper hand…at least for now. He pointed his pen toward the manacles on her wrists. “You will find your powers won’t work here.”
He thought she was a witch.
Raven wanted to laugh at the absurdity. If he had any kind of extra senses, he would know just how wrong he was. She rubbed her wrists, more in annoyance than any pain, wanting to rip the shackles off, but couldn’t risk tipping her hand. When she looked down, the tiny symbols stamped on the outside of the metal were glowing slightly, no doubt picking up the electricity she automatically collected wherever she went.
Raven took a calming breath. The curse placed on the metal didn’t hinder her abilities. If he thought the shackles would protect him and stop her powers, he was mistaken.
“What do you want?”
“We’ll start with your name.”
She debated lying, but decided not to risk pissing him off until she discovered more. “Raven.”
He smirked, gloating, believing he’d gotten his way, enjoying forcing his will on those weaker than him. The prick. “The reports of the raid on the cave indicate that you worked a lot of magic…almost too much.”
Raven stiffened, suddenly suspicious of his casual tone. He was digging for something. If he knew the truth, they would have taken her to the labs immediately and started their tests, where blood and tissue samples would be the least of her worries.
“Not many witches associate with animals…unless they are your familiars.”
Excitement shimmered in his eyes, and Raven suddenly knew how stay alive…make herself indispensable. She lied through her teeth. “Yes.”
It was the only way to ensure she would be reunited with Durant. They would want to test her magic, see how powerful she could become with a shifter familiar at her beck and call. With Durant by her side, they could locate Rylan a lot sooner, then get the hell out of there…but not before these people were made to pay for the suffering they had inflicted over the years.
But her plan had serious risks. The longer they stayed, the more dangerous it would be. Scientists had a habit of opening people up so they could see what made them tick. They wanted a way to give humans power, duplicate what witches and shifters could do without all the nasty side effects of being a filthy, subpar, paranormal.
If she wanted to maintain the charade, she needed to keep the dragon tightly under wraps.
Her skin prickled painfully, like thousands of spiders with razor-sharp legs were scrambling over her, searching for an opening to get inside.
A sharp pain jabbed Raven through the skull. She grabbed her head, glancing over her shoulder, surprised to see no one stood behind her holding a bloody bat, ready to bash her on the head again. It was only when she saw the calm, controlled expression on the doctor’s face that she realized he was trying to probe her mind, even if he had to crack her skull open to do it. There was nothing natural or subtle about his ability.
Through blurry eyes, she saw him twist a ring on his finger. The blood-red stone glowed from within, shimmering slightly in the light, tiny specks swirling in the stone as the spell inside was activated.
The charm was so strong it gave him the ability to scan her thoughts.
A chill sank under her skin at the phenomenal amount of power required to cast such a spell…creating that ring would have cost a witch her soul.
She could easily overcome the spell by turning up the voltage under her skin and block him from accessing her mind, but she hesitated. If she didn’t allow him pass her shields, he would know she wasn’t who she was pretending to be.
A slight downturn of his lips, the way his brows bunched, spoke of his impatience.
Going against her better judgment, Raven lowered her shield slightly, wanting to avert suspicion, doing her best to feed him the information he wanted—proof of her connection to a familiar.
His presence spread like a plague in her head, leaving behind a gooey residue that no type of scrubbing would clean. He withdrew as abruptly as he had slammed into her, leaving a searing pain behind to mark his passage.
She took pleasure in the way his hands trembled slightly, how sweat dampened his hairline, the strain of working the spell leaving its own mark on him.
Nothing came without a price.
“I guess a familiar would explain your boost in power.” The silver ring slowly tarnished, the stone now completely leached of color. He sat back and linked his fingers over his paunchy gut. “I can use a power like that here.”
“And in return?” She was under no impression that she had a choice.
He got down to business. “Prove yourself useful, and you will find I can be a generous employer.”
Or an even harsher prison master if the malicious gleam in his eyes was any indication.
A sharp knock interrupted their staredown, and the tension shattered. “Enter.”
A young woman open the door, and Raven recognized her as the resident in the cell across from hers. The girl stopped a foot inside the door, her focus on her feet, her hands behind her back, her posture both submissive and obedient.
Frankenstein gave a nod of approval. “This is Josie. She will be your trainer, and teach you the rules.” To make sure that he got his point across, the doctor pinned her with his pale green eyes. “Should you fail or disobey, I’ll assume she didn’t instruct you properly, and you will both be punished. Understood?”
Raven nodded, not planning to go anywhere until she found her people and shut this place down for good.
“Very well.” He began to organize his desk, waving them off. “You’re dismissed.”
Raven followed Josie meekly out the door. When she opened her mouth to speak, Josie gave a quick, small shake of her head, and Raven became conscious of Igor and Quasimodo following closely behind as the foursome headed toward the back of the mansion.
The farther they traveled into the building, the shabbier the interior. The rugs were stained and threadbare, while the curtains were nothing more than moth-eaten rags. Stone dust was everywhere, the building deteriorating, as if it couldn’t contain the horror anymore.
Josie led them down a narrow, single-file staircase to the basement. The security lights were dim, covered by filthy glass, the area more of a tunnel than a room. Bare pipes ticked and pinged overhea
d, a steady drip of water leaving puddles on the floor, the lack of ventilation filling the concrete space with steam.
The tunnels were suffused with the smell of dirt and sour sweat. Despair tainted the air and with every breath, it tried to crawl into her lungs and set up residence.
They traveled at least fifty feet before reaching the end of the tunnel. An old, rickety elevator shaft that looked like it hadn’t been used in a hundred years stood waiting for them in all its dilapidated glory. Josie pulled up the gate and entered the wobbly contraption without hesitation. When Raven didn’t follow fast enough, Igor placed his meaty hand on her shoulder and shoved. She stumbled forward, only her quick reflexes keeping her on her feet instead of taking a header into the concrete wall.
Quasimodo snorted, and both men smirked, but neither followed them into the shaft. Which was just as well, since she wasn’t sure the rusted metal box could hold their combined weight without plummeting them to their deaths.
When Josie reached out to help, Raven jerked away, afraid what a simple touch might reveal. Josie stiffened at the rebuff, then pulled down the gate, locking the elevator, and pressed the only button available.
The machine rattled so loudly, Raven expected parts to start raining down on them. Instead, they dropped a few lurching inches at a time, the metal cables squealing like they were being tortured while they were lowered into the pits of Hell. With every foot they traveled, Raven felt the weight of more and more layers of rock press all around her.
The connection to her pack thinned even further, though it had to be a figment of her imagination. Only death would sever the cords that bound her pack together. Her skin prickled with unease as the tiny box lurched lower and lower, the ball of dread in her gut knotting tighter and tighter, until she was struggling to get enough air into her lungs. It took everything in her not to rip apart the metal cage holding her captive and crawl back up to the surface.
There would be no tracking her this far below the earth.
Even if she could unleash every ounce of her power, the impenetrable rock surrounding her would block any attempts to contact her pack.
Electric Night (A Raven Investigations Novel Book 5) Page 14
