Theta Waves Box Set: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3) (Theta Waves Trilogy)

by Thea Atkinson

  She was shoved forward and marched to the epicenter of the room. Marty nodded to a comrade near the door who pressed a button in what looked like an electrical panel. The floor beneath her foot trembled then moved upward, forcing her to jump backwards to avoid falling.

  What clicked into place looked very much like an elevator shaft. Marty pressed the only button on the panel and the doors slid sideways in their grooves, effectively cutting off half of the room. Deciding she would meet the rest of this ordeal with dignity, Theda lifted her chin and stepped inside. Marty pushed in beside her and the doors slid closed, hurtling the shaft downward.

  Theda expected the doors to open into a suitably luxurious basement, but it took forever to drop and when the doors opened, it was to concrete and steel. A long corridor lit by LED lights installed into the concrete walls stretched on for half the size of a football field before she could even see it break into a branch. Obviously, this had been one of the first places the Beast had fed with power after the Apocalypse. A bunker, she realized. Probably set in place long before the god came.

  Marty pushed her into the corridor.

  "You don't need to shove," she said over her shoulder. "I'm a willing captive, remember?" Just the reminder that she had chosen this seemed to bolster her strength. She wasn't quite so exhausted anymore. At least that's what she told herself as she faltered forward for the long hike down the unbroken corridor.

  She was already winded. Her breath came in tiny wheezes. "How many floors?" she asked. She could feel the wooden handle digging into her back beneath her shirt.

  "None of your beeswax."

  "Okay. You don't have to be so huffy."

  He made a sort of grunting noise, which encouraged her. "More than one, though, right?"

  "What does it matter to you? You won't see any of it."

  "You really think He will just kill me right there without any pomp and ceremony?" She faked a chuckle. "What kind of show would there be in that?"

  "You'll see," Marty said.

  She tried to make her voice sound brave when she answered that, but she found her tone was a little less convincing than she'd hoped. "I guess I will."

  They'd reached the fork in the corridor and at first she wondered how he knew which way to go when there were no signs to indicate what was what. Then she realized he'd probably been here before. He gripped her by the elbow and pulled her to the right.

  "What's down there?" She pointed in the other direction.

  "You'll either see, or you won't."

  "You're an awful drag, Marty," she said. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

  She thought she heard him snort. "I've heard it once or twice."

  "Well, some things do bear repeating." She looked back over her shoulder, hoping to see how far they had advanced, to see how far the other side of the fork went. When she did, she realized the other end of the fork was lined with soldiers spaced about ten feet apart. Doors. Rooms, probably. They were guarding something. Maybe even the other three generals. She and Caine had discussed the possibility that the Beast was keeping them out of sight while he reprogrammed Ezekiel back into being the good little soldier. They were obviously not dead like the Beast wanted them to believe. They couldn't be. Not if they had some mark of protection that sealed them in safety.

  Marty caught her looking over her shoulder and wrenched her attention back to where he thought it should be. "Eyes ahead."

  "Why? What's back there?"

  "Like I said: you'll either see, or you won't."

  It was a damnably long corridor, and Theda was beginning to think there would be no end when it abruptly turned right again. This new shift in direction opened up the entire area into one large expanse with a barrier of glass stretching across it. The other side of the glass buzzed like a hornet's nest. Theda might have thought she was in a respectable business's reception area if it weren't for the soldiers milling about. Somewhere within, she knew the Beast waited.

  "Where do I get my lanyard?" she asked. "I have a feeling I don't have the proper security clearance." She wanted them to think she wasn't afraid, and she couldn't be sure herself if the weakness in her knees was fear or exhaustion. There was just so much a girl could take.

  Marty buzzed himself in. At first, no one paid any attention to him, and then a soldier Theda recognized as one of the half-dozen who had stormed her room back at the den, scrambling the spitters in every direction, extracted himself from a group of men he'd been talking to.

  "That's her," he said, pointing. "You should have seen what she did to Kat."

  There was a short hum in the group that Theda took to be admiration. She wanted to tell them that Kat had done whatever damage she'd suffered to herself, but Marty marched her past them toward the back wall. A woman dressed in a pinstripe skirt and delicate lavender blouse sat at a desk flipping through a worn fashion magazine. Theda almost laughed out loud. Almost. She found she didn't have the energy.

  "He's expecting me," Marty said.

  "Indeed He is." The woman gave Theda a cold, assessing stare. "You can leave her in there." She reached beneath her desk and in seconds the wall behind her slid into itself, revealing the luxurious apartment Theda had expected.

  "What are you waiting for?" Marty pushed at the small of her back, making her stumble into the room.

  Theda spun to face him and discovered the door was already closing, leaving her alone in the apartment. She turned to take it all in. The walls were painted a stately burgundy with ornate cream-colored moldings. There were several recesses in the ceiling, and when Theda stood beneath one of them, she realized it arched above her in a dome. The murals painted on them could have been done by Michelangelo, they were so stunning. If she didn't know exactly who resided here, she would have found a deep appreciation for the person's artistic eye. As it was, she took the paintings in with a jaded gaze, imagining how the Beast might have won himself the favor of such an artist.

  She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto one of the sofas she saw scattered about the room in small, obvious conversation areas. She even tried to perch on the edge of one but discovered she couldn't sit still. Her feet kept tapping, her hands roaming the leather as though they preferred to smooth out something in her own skin. When she realized she was thinking about Cain's poor burned body, she flew to her feet and began pacing. Twice, she had to adjust her pants when she felt the wooden handle of the ice pick jamming into her spine. This was a stupid plan. Surely the Beast would have henchmen about him. Surely at some point they would check her for weapons. Even if she did look as though she'd been squeezed through a pasta roller, security would never be this lax or the Beast that arrogant.

  She certainly felt like she'd been squeezed through a pasta roller. It took everything she had not to run for the door and scream to be let go--until the door opened, and the Beast entered. His crystalline blue gaze drilled into her and she realized that running would be a problem.

  Her legs finally gave out and she collapsed.

  Chapter 20

  She wished she could have passed out when she struck the floor, saving her from meeting the icy gaze. No such luck. She was perfectly aware of the slate tiles beneath her palms. She could even hear her own sigh of resignation as she stared at her fingers splayed out in front of her.

  "I see you didn't take the smear," were the words he spoke to her, and they sounded disappointed, as though he hadn't expected to see her at all.

  Theda couldn't help the small lurch of her stomach as she thought of the godspit smear the Beast had thrown into the isolation chamber with her when he'd locked her in it. Was it just a day ago? It felt longer than that.

  "I gave it to a friend."

  "Well, I'm sure he's enjoying it still," the Beast said, and the leather tip of his shoes came within her eyesight. She elected not to look up at him.

  She gave a brief thought to Ami who had been shot by Cain after Theda had given him the smear to save him from further torture at the Red General's hands. Th
e woman had a strange affection for Ami, and they'd played Kat with that knowledge, using him to force her to let down her guard.

  It hadn't gone down for long, though; Cain's burnt carcass and Theda's broken ribs were evidence of just how long the woman could be made to feel vulnerable.

  "I doubt he's still enjoying it," she said. "He's probably pretty pissed at me."

  "I'm disappointed," he said. "I was hoping you would try it out for me. Give me your expert assessment of it."

  "In the tired words of the 90s, been there; done that."

  "Oh, but you haven't," he said. "The smear I gave you is a new variant. Much stronger. At least so they tell me." She had the feeling he was examining his nails. "I've never tried the stuff, myself."

  "Bully for you," she said. "But you're missing a Hell of a ride." She tried finally to find her feet and suffered the same horrible feeling of impotence as she had when she'd first discovered Ezekiel had signed her into the sanatorium in the hopes of keeping her safe. She'd had to dry out in that Hellhole with a religion-hater for a nurse and orderly. She'd managed to find her feet, then. She could do so again.

  She tottered as she stood, but when she reached out to find the back of the sofa, she felt more steady. She swallowed and turned to face him. As always, he was perfectly manicured. Heart-stoppingly handsome with his black hair swept back in a pomaded tousle. No lines around his eyes to betray his age. Almost too good to look at and believe he could be just a mortal man. Of course, he wasn't. That was the joke of it all.

  She found that if she leaned against the sofa, she not only felt steadier, she felt more resilient. Broken ribs? A mere nuisance. She just wouldn't inhale too deeply. She took a shallow breath and studied the faces of the men who had entered behind him. Marty stood several paces behind the Beast along with five others, arms to their sides, side holsters close enough to their fingers that she didn't doubt they would be on her and electrocuting her in seconds flat if she tried anything violent. She tried to ignore the threat and focused on the Beast's nose instead. She could keep her chin up that way.

  "You really should give godspit a whirl just once."

  He gave her a smile of feigned regret. "Not a good idea. The new dosage is pretty strong. Your friend – if you're indeed telling the truth and you have a friend at all – will no doubt wake to some pretty horrific withdrawals."

  She wouldn't think of Ami that way. She couldn't. If she so much as let herself think of anything else, she wasn't sure how this would turn out. Instead of replying, she forced herself to shrug even though the sudden movement made her side hurt. He must have noticed her wincing.

  "You've had a run-in," he said.

  "Yeah. With your feral cat."

  He nodded. A pomaded lock of hair fell alongside his temple. "So I heard." He spread his arm, palm open, over the sofa's seat. "Why don't you sit down?"

  "And discuss things as though you weren't planning to murder me?"

  "I must say I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." He looked her over in displeasure and she guessed he wasn't happy with how battered Kat had left her.

  She sank into the cushions and hoped he'd take the seat across from her; she didn't have it in her to stare him down from a two-foot perch.

  "I'm guessing you didn't expect to see me so..." she struggled for the right words and found them just as he spoke.

  "Unpresentable."

  She grinned, pleased she'd read him right.

  "Your stray enjoys tormenting a girl just a little too much." She had to be careful how much information she gave him. While she'd been able to read Kat for a few moments back in the room as the woman was torturing them both, she was willing to bet the Beast didn't know how much she had learned from the experience.

  "Apparently so. And now she's put me in a bit of a pickle."

  She laughed at that. Imagine, the Beast using such a word as pickle.

  "You think it's funny?"

  "Well, it is pretty priceless."

  "Marty tells me you wanted to see me. Why didn't you run?"

  "To where?"

  He smiled, a greased movement that reminded her of Vaseline. "Good point." He sighed, and placing his hands on his knees, made to get up. She imagined he had signaled to his henchmen to take her away, put her somewhere until she was presentable enough to display on the Promo. Theda couldn't have that.

  "After Ezekiel's vision, I was a wreck," she said. "Scared and miserable."

  "You weren't scared and miserable before?" His amiable expression warred with the sarcastic tone.

  "Well, there's something really horrible about finding out you were an evil bastard."

  She looked pointedly at him, expecting him to hear the insult in the words. Ezekiel's vision had brought her intimately close to a lifetime when witch hunts made little communities seethe with terror. In Trier, an entire town had suffered as she tortured with glee all those accused by Archbishop Herr Schönenberg. Such was the breadth of the suffering that all but a dozen people died of torture and execution. Sasha, the owner of the spitters' den, had reconstructed the torture chamber for his favorite customer, Councilman Prusser, and she'd ended up drawing strength from the room instead of the expected terror.

  She wanted the Beast to flinch at her words. He merely shifted in his chair as though he understood her intent and didn't want to give her any satisfaction. At least he didn't get up. Now she just needed to keep him there.

  "But that lifetime also gave me courage," she said. "I would never have expected it, but it did."

  "Did it, now?" his brow quirked and she nodded, not caring that his tone was patronizing, only that he stayed seated.

  "Sasha's little chamber of horrors did that for me. Remember that?"

  "How could I forget? It was the first time we met."

  She nodded. "Did you know I gave him a vision? Not just Ezekiel – I know you know about that. But Councilman Prusser? His was a nasty incarnation, but connected to mine just like Ezekiel's was. Funny. I had no idea about that until I relived it with him."

  "You don't say." He crossed one leg over the other. "I thought you were awfully sassy for a girl who had just almost died. I would have thought you'd have been grateful to me for saving you."

  She laughed, feeling the irony of that incarnation bubbling like water on a hard boil. "Had I not known that lifetime, that familiarity with torture, I might not have been brave enough to face you."

  "I'm so glad you found it useful."

  "Oh, I did."

  He nodded indulgently. "I aim to please."

  "Why do you think that was the incarnation I saw? Each time. The witch hunts?"

  He shrugged. "So many of the fallen retain enough of their divinity that they hold certain powers. Humankind sees what they want to see. What they don't understand, they label as evil. It has its uses."

  "You lie."

  "Call it a quirk." He waggled his finger and one of the henchmen--Marty, she figured--moved forward. "Take her to a cell until she's more presentable."

  Theda jumped to her feet, holding up a hand. "But I haven't told you the best part."

  The Beast stilled his finger and the footsteps halted behind her. "Do indulge me."

  "I haven't told you who I am."

  "And who is that, little religion-monger?"

  "You didn't make it easy for me to figure it out." She had him now; she knew it. He actually let impatience cross his face.

  "And what do you think you are, little girl?"

  What, not who. A slip? Most definitely. Theda thought about it for a moment, letting her memory trail to an image of Ezekiel's green-eyed gaze as he'd refused to escape with her. "We're fallen," he'd said. We: the plural pronoun. She dared meet the Beast's gaze. He didn't deserve her honesty just yet.

  "I'll tell you what," she said, spreading her hands before him, wrists extended. "I'll slit my wrists for you right here and bleed out in front of you. Save you the trouble of killing me."

  "Such a gift."

 
"Not a gift. A bargain. All you have to do is free Ami and Bridget."

  He paused, seeming to be thinking. "You were supposed to enlighten me." It was an impatient prod, and she knew it.

  "Bridget, then."

  If it weren't for his index finger tapping the arm of the chair, Theda would never have been able to gauge his reaction. As it was, she knew he wouldn't answer.

  "Bridget," she said. "I know she's alive. I know she was in the den. You can have one of your henchmen deliver her here. Just promise. I know you'll keep your word."

  "That's preposterous. Why would I give in at all when I already have you?"

  "Bring in the videographers, then. I'll do it for the Promo. You can call it Religion-Monger Number One Surrenders."

  "Not just yet. You need to look better than that."

  "Clean me up; put makeup over the cuts and bruises, blur me out."

  He swallowed. Theda watched his Adam's apple sink down his throat and rise again. That was when she knew she was right. He didn't plan to kill her. He hadn't planned to kill her since he'd first seen her.

  "Do I take that as a no?" she asked. "Is it because you can't kill me? Is it because I can't die?" She leaned forward, studying every minute movement in his face, watching for a flicker of something besides the stony façade.

  "You can't kill me, can you? Oh, I'm hurt, sure. Hurt plenty. You can see how battered and bruised I am from Kat's careful attention, but I'm still alive and kicking. It's odd to think that a small girl like me can take such repetitive pounding and manage to survive at all."

  He shrugged. "I just assumed you were a nuisance that wouldn't go away."

  "That's not it, and you know it."

  "Then what is it?" Not a question just snapped out like a wad of bubblegum because she knew He knew the answer already.