Theo dragged his gaze to the right as a tall, broadly built man appeared. He too was dressed in white scrubs and was pushing a trolley upon which was an open case which held ten syringes, all neatly lined up and containing a clear colored liquid.
His thick, salt and pepper hair fell in messy waves around his face and hung to the nape of his neck. His eyes were a piercing pale, ice blue, a startling contrast to the deep gold of his skin. Unlike the automatons standing guard either side of the chair, this new man had a slightly weathered face and deep uneven tan, almost like he was used to being outdoors.
Theo looker closer and saw anger and frustration in his blue eyes; this man didn’t look as if he wanted to be there anymore than Theo did.
‘May I introduce Professor Nate Morgan; he’ll be conducting this little experiment today.’
‘Yeah?’ Theo replied flatly, ‘well you can both go screw yourselves.’
Faraday’s mouth twitched.
‘Really Theodore,’ he admonished insincerely, ‘you should show a little more gratitude. We went to a lot of trouble to find you the best. Neuropsychopharmacologists don’t just grow on trees you know.’
Theo glanced over to the tall guy who was frowning angrily. His hands were rough, and his fingers covered with callouses. That, and his weather-beaten tan, said this was a guy used to working with his hands outdoors. He certainly didn’t look like a professor of anything let alone a Neuropsycho…. whatever.
His eyes wandered up the inside of his exposed forearm revealing a large ugly patch of tough, hardened skin. It was some kind of scar, a burn maybe, although it looked more like he’d scrubbed off several layers of skin with sandpaper.
Theo’s gaze finally landed on Nate’s neck where there was a livid red burn in the shape of an Egyptian ankh with a cross of equal lengths behind it. It looked pretty fresh and painful as hell.
Faraday followed Theo’s gaze to the brand on Nate’s neck.
‘The brand of a traitor, you see Nate thought he could leave our little family,’ Faraday spoke smoothly as his gaze flickered to the scar on his arm. ‘He seemed to be under the mistaken impression that we wouldn’t find him on that little crap piece of island off the coast of Maine, hiding out on his little fishing boat, but he was wrong. You’ll learn just as he did that you can’t run from the Veritas and you can’t hide. There is nowhere we won’t find you.’
Faraday glanced up at Nate and nodded. Nate glowered at him hatefully and with a muttered curse he slid one of the syringes from the case.
‘For what’s it’s worth, I’m sorry man,’ he slid the needle into Theo’s neck and slowly pushed the plunger, watching as the liquid drained sluggishly into Theo’s blood stream.
Theo bucked in the chair, hissing as the liquid burned a path through his veins like wildfire. Colors burst in front of his eyes and everything suddenly seemed too sharp, too loud. His head was pounding relentlessly, beating out a tattoo inside his skull until it felt like it was going to crack like an egg.
‘Stop fighting it,’ Nate’s soothing voice broke through the kaleidoscope of colors and shapes swamping his vision. ‘It’ll hurt more if you fight it, just ride it out man, ride it out.’
‘What’s happening?’ Faraday watched Theo curiously.
‘He’s fighting it,’ Nate peeled open one of Theo’s eyelids, watching as his eyes rolled back and forth. ‘I need my equipment in here to monitor him correctly.’
Faraday nodded to one of the men standing beside the chair and he disappeared silently from the room, reappearing a short while later pushing a large trolley covered with a laptop, various machines and lengths of colorful wires attached to electrodes.
Another smaller table was wheeled next to Theo. All that was on it was a stack of blank, loose papers and a pen. Very carefully one of the techs placed the pen in Theo’s hand, wrapping his fingers around it and setting his hand on top of the blank sheets with the nib touching the page.
Faraday turned to Nate as he carefully placed pads and sensors on Theo’s scalp, arms and upper chest.
‘Well? Why’s nothing happening?’ he demanded.
Nate tapped away at the keys, scanning through graphs and charts which seemed to make no sense to anyone else.
‘You need to take the magic armbands off,’ he skimmed his gaze toward Faraday as he nodded in the direction of Theo’s arm. ‘Whatever it’s stopping those tattoos doing, it’s also blocking any other abilities he has. You want him to tune into channel prophecy? Lose the cuffs.’
Faraday pursed his lips, considering.
‘Is he fully sedated?’
‘Right now, dude doesn’t even know his own name,’ Nate replied evenly. ‘Trust me, he ain’t fighting his way out of nowhere.’
‘Fine,’ Faraday replied blandly, ‘on your head be it.’
He watched as one of the techs removed the three demon cuffs from Theo’s arm. Almost instantly he started writing. His head was still firmly pinned in place by the leather restraints and his eyes rolled back and forth wildly. He wasn’t even looking at the paper but the writing which appeared was set out in neat, legible rows in the same ancient language his mother had used.
‘I knew it,’ Faraday hissed triumphantly as he turned to Nate ‘Monitor him closely and let me know your progress.’ He looked up at the two men in white scrubs. ‘You,’ he nodded to the one whose lip had already begun to swell from colliding with Theo’s skull, ‘stay here and watch them. Make sure those cuffs are back in place before he regains consciousness. You,’ he turned to the other, ‘come with me.’
Nate watched as Faraday left the room. Ignoring the man standing guard by the chair he watched Theo closely, monitoring his vital signs and brain functions.
Minutes bled into hours, as they watched. Theo wrote endlessly, pages and pages of the eccentric symbols, looping writing and odd illustrations. Several hours in, another dose of serum and two pen changes, and Theo began to slow down. The writing which had been fluid and almost frantic was now little more than a blurred line on the page. His eyes which had been rolling wildly were now concealed beneath heavy drooping eyelids.
‘Give him another dose,’ the tech ordered.
‘No,’ Nate looked up, his eyes burning dangerously.
‘Faraday wants the prophecy completed.’
‘I don’t care if he wants tea with the Queen of England,’ Nate replied, ‘this man won’t be any good to you if he’s dead. What he needs is rest and food.’
The other man stalked over and grabbed Nate, yanking him from the stool he’d been sitting on in front of the monitors.
‘I said,’ he growled, ‘give him another dose.’
Nate grabbed the hand that was gripping his shirt and snapped his wrist back painfully as he jabbed a syringe into the guy’s neck and held it there, buried in his skin, his finger poised on the plunger.
‘And I said no,’ he replied quietly, his eyes burning. ‘Do you know what I have here, minion?’ he asked. ‘I have an empty syringe planted in your jugular vein, filled with air. Now unless you want to be the unfortunate recipient of a venous air embolism, which I can assure you will result in either a fatal heart attack or respiratory failure, I suggest you fuck off. I don’t take orders from your kind. You think you’re better than me because you’re part of a murderous secret society? Trust me, you’re only one step up from a red shirt. You’re expendable and right now I’m more useful to them than you are. Now, get the fuck out of here before I kill you just for the hell of it.’
He released the man and shoved him back, watching as he stumbled and glared at him with venomous eyes. His lips peeled back, as he took a step back toward Nate.
‘Be very selective about your next decision,’ Nate warned. ‘I know a hundred ways to kill you and make it look like natural causes, but then again, I doubt they’d give a shit if I just snapped your neck. So, you got a choice, you leaving this room on your feet, or in a box?’
He stared at Nate, his lips twisting as he looked away. P
icking up the cuffs he snapped them sharply back onto Theo’s arm before storming from the room.
Nate rubbed his face tiredly.
‘I’m too old for this shit,’ he grumbled. ‘I need a fucking smoke.’
‘Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean a cigarette?’ Theo’s croaky voice rasped.
Nate looked down at Theo, who was watching him through heavy eyes, his face lined with exhaustion and his words slurred.
‘You’re awake then?’
‘If you call this awake,’ Theo whispered. ‘Why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck?’
‘Because you have my friend,’ Nate sat down on the stool next to him, ‘a great big pharmaceutical one.’
‘What was that stuff you gave me?’ he breathed heavily.
‘A cocktail, one of my own special blends. It’s like mainlining stardust. You’ll see some crazy shit man.’
He pressed his fingertips to Theo’s wrist, glancing at his watch to take his pulse, before peeling back his eyelids one by one to check his pupils.
‘If I let you loose, you gonna take a swing at me?’ Nate asked in amusement as Theo’s eyes fluttered closed again. ‘Guess not,’ he shook his head.
While Theo dozed, he took his time, unhooking all the sensors and shutting down his monitors before unbuckling the restraints.
‘Come on,’ he shook Theo awake gently, ‘you need a bed and a solid ten hours.’
He slung Theo’s arm across his shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Theo barely had the strength to put one foot in front of the other as Nate half dragged, half carried his large frame across the room.
Barely conscious Theo almost didn’t register the wall which had been a solid sheet of unbreakable glass and now, curiously, had an archway leading into another well-lit glass cube, this one devoid of anything but a large sleeping cot, a blanket and a pillow.
Nate dropped him down on the bed and picked up his feet tucking them under the coarse blanket.
‘Get some sleep man,’ he shook his head in resignation, ’tomorrow’s gonna be a rough one.’
But Theo didn’t hear him, he’d already sunk down into an exhausted darkness.
8
Theo stood gazing out across the fields, his hands resting on a low, roughly hewn wooden fence which ran along the boundary lines of the land. The air was warm and filled with the unmistakable scent of the dying days of summer. The light breeze rippled and danced along his skin, tugging at his hair as he looked up into the cloudless sky.
He recognized the land, every tree, twig and blade of long yellow grass bowing slightly as the warm air rippled through it. Instinctively he knew harvest was coming and the days were growing shorter; there was always so much work to be done.
He glanced down at himself and frowned. His feet were bare, and he wore loose pants and a short sleeved white tunic, not his usual clothes at all. For the barest hint of a moment he thought he could recall being someplace else, but as quickly as the thought occurred to him it flitted away, like an elusive firefly on the approaching evening air.
He turned away from the fence and his view into the fields, to be met with row upon row of neatly kept trees. It was an apple orchard. Before he could question why, his feet began to move and he found himself wandering contentedly along the dusty paths between the trees, which were heavily laden with deep red succulent apples.
That wasn’t right he thought to himself. They shouldn’t be red; they should be a warm golden green with a rosy pink blush. He blinked and found the apples were now blushing, ripe golden apples. He didn’t question the sudden inexplicable change but simply kept on walking.
After a moment he came across a tree that was unlike the others. The fruit was too small and sallow looking, the leaves were shriveled at the edges and a sickly white lichen spread along the trunk spearing out into the branches.
Theo’s gaze drew down to find a hunched figure kneeling with his back to him. Although his head was covered with a hat and his face shielded by shadow, he seemed somehow familiar and something in Theo’s gut said he should know this man.
As he puzzled over the strange feeling of familiarity, he watched the man press his hand into the dirt between the roots of the tree.
‘It’s a disease, it’s spreading quickly,’ the man’s low voice rumbled. ‘I need to find the root of the rot and treat it before we lose the whole tree and the sickness spreads to the others surrounding it.’
The man turned his head and gazed up at Theo, his mouth curving into a soft smile. Theo gasped quietly as he found himself staring into a face almost identical to his own. It was as if a doorway in his mind swung wide open and the memories came rushing through like a white-water torrent.
‘James?’ Theo whispered, his eyes wide as the other man rose slowly and took a step closer. Theo’s heart pounded heavily, his stomach churning with a maelstrom of emotions as he reached out without thinking and grabbed the other man, wrapping his arms around him and embracing him tightly.
‘Son,’ James smiled softly, as he hugged Theo back.
Theo held on; it felt like a lifetime ago that he and Olivia had been trapped in 17th century Salem. It was there that he’d discovered the truth about his parentage and learned that James Wilkinson had been his biological father, not Mathias Beckett, the brutal drunk he’d been raised by.
He’d treasured the memory of those days he’d spent with his real father. It had been a gift, not only to discover the truth after so many years but to have been given a chance to get to know the man he had come from. It was bittersweet that their reunion had been so brief.
‘Father?’ Theo pulled back to look into James’s eyes, ‘what are you doing here? What am I doing here?’
James smiled kindly and stepped back.
‘Son,’ he replied gently, ‘I think you already know the answer.’
Theo’s forehead creased slightly and just like the moment James had turned around and the memories of his time in Salem with Olivia came flooding back, this time it was the box he was being kept prisoner in that came into sharp relief with a startling clarity.
‘They’re drugging me again, aren’t they?’ he stared into James’s understanding eyes. ‘This isn’t real is it?’ his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You’re not real, are you?’
James’s gaze filled with sympathy.
‘I exist in here,’ he reached out with his forefinger and tapped Theo’s forehead lightly, ‘and I’m grateful for that. You carry me with you, the memory of me anyway. It was cruel we had so little time together but my love for you, you’ve carried with you. You’re seeing me now because a part of you, needs that comfort.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Theo shook his head.
‘Do you not?’ James’s brow rose questioningly, and he slung his arm companionably around Theo’s broad shoulders as they began to walk. ‘Look around, this is the landscape of your subconscious, you’re the one driving this wagon. If we’re here, it’s because you’re trying to figure something out.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t answer that for you,’ James grinned. ‘As I said, you’re the one in charge here. It’s up to you to put the pieces together. So, ask yourself, why here? You could have gone anywhere. Why did your subconscious bring you here, to the orchard… to me?’
Theo continued to walk beside his father, his mind churning over his words.
‘I was happy here.’
They stopped walking as Theo turned to James and found him smiling encouragingly.
‘I was happy here,’ Theo repeated as he realized the truth in his words. ‘I found out Tempy was still alive, I found you, found out you were my father and not Matthias.’ Theo turned to looked at James’s farmhouse which was now visible through the trees. ‘I asked Olivia to marry me here,’ he murmured, lost for a moment in the memory of Olivia in his arms. ‘Despite everything else that happened, I felt loved, I was truly happy here.’
‘Yes,’ James nodded, ‘exactly. This for you is a p
lace of love and security. Now ask yourself, out there, in the real world, you’re not happy, are you?’
‘Well I’ve been kidnapped and am being experimented on with mind altering drugs by a psychotic secret organization, so no… not really happy,’ Theo replied dryly.
‘Understandable,’ James chuckled, ‘but that’s not what I meant. You forget Theo, I’m in here,’ he tapped his finger against Theo’s temple once again. ‘You can’t lie to me. This isn’t about Faraday, or the Veritas, you haven’t been happy for a long time.’
Theo turned his face away from that penetrating gaze that saw far too much, his cheeks colored with shame.
‘I love my wife.’ Theo spoke quietly.
‘I know you do,’ James nodded.
‘I love my children.’
‘I know you do,’ James replied gently but firmly, ‘but this isn’t about them, it’s about you. Something is very wrong Theo; I think you’ve known for a long time. You need to face up to it.’
Theo turned back to James, his eyes dark and his mouth tightening into a thin line, almost as if he were trying to stop the confession from escaping.
‘The visions,’ he admitted slowly.
‘The visions,’ James nodded in agreement. ‘It’s time you stopped avoiding them and deal with it.’
‘I don’t know how,’ Theo frowned.
‘Fortunately for you I know someone who can help, and she’s waited a long time.’ James’s gaze locked on someone standing behind Theo.
Theo drew in a sharp breath; he didn’t need James to tell him who he would find if he turned around. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he could hear it ringing in his ears. His mouth was dry, and his stomach clenched painfully. He was almost afraid to turn around in case he was wrong.
‘Theo,’ a soft sweet melodic voice echoed behind him.
He closed his eyes as the memories washed over him. Slowly he turned around and his heart slammed into his throat.
Necropolis Page 10
