by Amy Cross
"Where is he?" I ask, glancing over at Dr. Cole's desk and seeing that there's no sign of him.
"Who?" she asks.
"Where's Dr. Cole?"
"Did I say that Dr. Cole would be here?" she asks, pushing the door shut. "My, you're full of assumptions, aren't you? How do you know that I'm not the one who wants to perform a few little experiments? Maybe I want to push your buttons, Felix, and see what happens. After all, I've been watching Dr. Cole for so many years, it'd only be natural for me to have come up with a few ideas of my own. I'm quite inventive, you know, and I'm pretty sure I know which leads to plug into which machines."
"You're not allowed to perform experiments," I tell her. "You're just a nurse."
"Huh," she replies. "So I guess it'd be against the rules for me to start testing a few things out on you, huh?"
I nod.
"Weird," she adds. "I didn't think that werewolves were so keen on rules. I thought you were more hot-headed and passionate. Then again..." She steps closer, and this time she places a hand on my shoulder. "You're not really much of a werewolf, are you? You're not really much of anything at all."
"That's enough," a voice calls out.
Turning, I see to my relief that Dr. Cole has entered the room, carrying a box of sample trays from the storeroom. "I asked you to test the subject's state of arousal, Nurse Fletcher, not to terrify the poor thing."
"Sorry," she replies, taking a step back but still keeping her eyes fixed on me. "I guess I got a little carried away, that's all. The look of shock and fear in his eyes was just too delicious to resist."
"I'm sorry that you had to be disturbed tonight, Felix," Dr. Cole continues as he sets out the sample trays next to the main operating table. "The truth is, we've had an unexpected new arrival at the hospital today, and I've been forced to clear out my schedule for tomorrow in order to accommodate her. I postponed most of my other patients for a few days, but that wasn't possible with you." He smiles as he looks over at me. "It's essential that we keep working," he adds. "If we lose a day, we might as well start from the beginning again, and I'm sure you wouldn't want all our previous work to be wasted."
"I don't understand," I reply, as Nurse Fletcher leads me to the table and starts strapping me down. She smiles as she wraps the leather restraints around my wrists, and it's clear that she enjoys this part of the job. All the other nurses seem reticent when it comes to the crueler aspects of the experiments, but I get the feeling that Nurse Fletcher lives for this kind of thing.
"What exactly are you trying to find out with these tests, anyway?" she asks, causing me to wince as she tightens the straight around my waist tighter than ever. "You've worked on this wretched creature so much, surely you must be finished soon?"
"It's nothing you need to worry yourself about," Dr. Cole says as he starts to fill a syringe. "I doubt you'd understand. This is high science, and I see no need to bother you with the details. Suffice it to say that Felix playing a key role in a vital study, and if my theories are supported by the evidence I gather tonight, I'm confident that the future of the entire werewolf species will be changed forever." He comes closer, with the syringe in one hand and a swab in the other. "I'm sure the Lords of Sangreth would be proud to know that their children are in such good hands. Werewolves have loitered in the shadows for so long. Wouldn't you like to see you species rise again?"
"Please," I whimper. "Don't hurt me again."
"For God's sake," he replies, "can't you at least try to put on a brave face? I've never had a patient who falls apart so easily, Felix. It's really not very impressive, is it?" He slides the tip of the needle into my shoulder. "Do you think Nurse Fletcher is pretty?" he continues, leaning closer to me as he injects me with the latest serum. "I'm sure you do. Why not try to impress her? Why not try to show her that you're a real man, instead of cowering away like this and acting like a terrified little wimp? Have you got no self-respect, man?"
"What - " I start to say, before I feel the muscles in my shoulder start to contract. The pain is intense, and although I try to stay strong, I soon let out a gasp. "What are you doing to me?" I shout, struggling against the leather straps. "Why can't you just kill me? I can't take the pain!"
"You'll take whatever I give you," Dr. Cole replies. "I've got orders from downstairs to test your limits, Felix, but killing you would be a rather blunt way of getting to the truth, wouldn't it? Far better to push you slowly toward death and then roll you back a little way. I'm sure your body will fail one day, but for now I want to tear you in every direction and study the results." He pauses. "Once you're dead, Felix, you're of very little use to me. Even when I've completed the current program, I might as well keep pushing you until you break."
"I don't know why you even bother explaining these things to him," Nurse Fletcher says, coming over to stare down at my ravaged body. "He's just a werewolf. Everyone knows they don't really have much going on in their heads. They're just dumb creatures."
"That's not entirely accurate," Dr. Cole replies, still smiling at me. "Recent studies have suggested that some werewolves are actually quite clever. Roughly on the same level as chimpanzees."
"Go to hell!" I shout, tugging at the leather straps.
"Already there," he says, before turning and heading over to the monitoring equipment. "More or less, anyway. The beast is going to be fascinated by the results of this next test. That's if I let him know the results, of course. It's not as if he has an absolute right to know everything I do."
"Help!" I shout, hoping against hope that someone might hear me.
"A vampire would never scream and shout like this," Nurse Fletcher says, starting at me with an expression of absolute contempt. "A vampire would remain calm and quiet, and finally he'd accept his fate with dignity. Not like you. You're just another pathetic, mangy old werewolf." With that, she goes to join Dr. Cole.
"Help me!" I scream as the serum starts to wreck my entire body, forcing me into a series of violent spasms. "Someone help me! Please!" It's no use, though; as I continue to shout, I can hear Dr. Cole and Nurse Fletcher nearby, laughing at my pain. Finally, as I black out, the final thought in my head is simple and pure: I want the pain to stop. If death is the only way out of this place, then that's fine with me. Whatever happens, I don't want to wake up here. Not again.
Chapter Five
Abby Hart
"Whatever you're doing," I say, watching as Dronigan continues to pull long, silky-white threads from Madeleine's mouth, "just stop, okay? Please? We just want to get through the forest!"
Ignoring me, Dronigan continues to slowly pull at the threads. Madeleine has dropped to her knees now, with her mouth still wide open and her eyes staring at me with fear. I want to grab her and pull her away, but when I reach out and touch her, I feel a startling sense of cold rush into my fingers and I'm forced to step back; something tells me that this Dronigan guy isn't going to let go of Madeleine now that he's got her. I need to think of a better way to get her free, but one thing's for certain: there's no way I'm going to leave her here like this. Even if I wanted to run, every time I even think about turning and getting out of here, an icy sensation sweeps through my body and threatens to freeze me in place.
"You can't leave," Dronigan says suddenly, his voice quiet and hushed. He's staring down at Madeleine again, but I'm convinced he's talking to me. "I only need one, but she won't last forever. They never do."
"Let her go," I say firmly, hoping against hope that he might have mercy on her. "She didn't do anything to you. You're the one who was hitting us, remember? We're just trying to get home. If you're angry at someone, it can't be us!"
"So few people come into the forest these days," he continues, staring down at Madeleine's increasingly pained face as he continues to draw the threads out of her mouth; thick with dusty cobwebs, each thread seems to be so thin and fragile, yet sometimes they catch on Dronigan's fingers and get torn. "I suppose they've heard stories about me," he continues. "Fortunately, I've
found that if I wait long enough, there'll always be more people who try to break out of that building. I'm so glad I found this place. Otherwise, I don't know if I'd ever get any visitors."
"You're killing her," I reply, watching as Madeleine's face seems to get older and older.
"No," Dronigan replies, "I'm simply removing the threads of her youth. She won't die. Anyway, she stole them from others."
"Just tell me what you want and I'll get it for you," I continue, trying not to panic. I take a step back, but suddenly I feel as if my entire body is starting to freeze; instinctively, I step closer to Dronigan again, and the sensation passes. "Whatever it is, I'll find it for you, I promise, but please; you have to let her go!"
"Why do you care what happens to you?" he replies. "She's not your friend. She was leading you into a trap."
"No, she's -" I start to say, before realizing that he might be right. If Madeleine was planning to double-cross me, I guess that'd explain why she didn't just run off and leave me behind in the forest.
"She was paid to bring you out here," he continues. "I can feel the memory in her mind. A man told her to help you escape. He said that she was supposed to scare you so that you'd run back to the building, and that if she succeeded, she'd be granted her freedom. I suppose that plan didn't quite work out, did it? Still, that was her intention, in which case I find your loyalty to her to be most unusual. She cares only about herself. The needs of others are completely incidental to her plans."
"I don't..." Staring at Madeleine, I realize that I could, and maybe should, just turn and get out of here. If she was trying to set me up, then I don't owe her a damn thing, and I've got every right to save my own skin. I'm pretty sure that my father, if he was in the same situation, wouldn't think twice about just turning and walking away, but there's another part of me, a part that's nothing to do with Patrick, that knows I'd never be able to live with myself if I left Madeleine here. Besides, I'm worried that if I try to turn and run, I'll be frozen in place.
"You feel sorry for her," Dronigan replies, still drawing threads from Madeleine's mouth as her face starts to look older and older. "A noble sentiment, and one that comes from..." He pauses, and finally he turns to look at me; he frowns, and I can see that I've finally got his attention. "You're divided down the middle," he says after a moment, suddenly letting go of the threads and allowing Madeleine to slump down onto the forest floor, almost as if he's lost all interest in her. "I've never seen someone with your kind of mind before," he continues, taking a step toward me. "Two sides, at war with each other, and in the middle there's a place that neither of them can reach."
"I don't want to get into this right now," stepping back. "Whatever you want, please, just let us go. We don't have anything to give you!"
"Someone has hidden something inside your head," he continues, narrowing his black eyes a little more.
"You're not the first person who's said that," I reply darkly. "It's getting kinda old."
"Aren't you curious?"
"Insanely," I tell him, "but I don't really see what I can do about it. Some pretty powerful people have tried to crack the lock, but so far, nothing. I figure it'll get fixed eventually"
"I love puzzles," he says with a smile, tilting his head slightly. There's something strangely childish about him, as if beneath the dark surface, he takes great delight in the way he deals with people. "Let me solve you," he continues. "I can do it, you know. Even if I have to take you apart strand by strand and thread by thread, I can get into the darkest parts of your mind."
"No!" I say firmly, taking another step back. "I appreciate the interest, but I think I'll leave it alone for now, thanks. Whatever's in there, maybe it should just stay hidden. I mean, someone locked it away for a reason, right?"
"I would like to be there when it opens," he continues. "No-one ever hides anything unless it's important."
Looking over at Madeleine, I see that she's desperately trying to crawl away, but she seems to be too weak to make much progress. Dronigan has drained her youth away, and now she's just a little old woman, clawing at the forest floor as she tries to escape.
"We just want to get away from the asylum," I continue, turning back to face this Dronigan guy. "You can understand that, right?"
"She would never have let you leave," he replies.
"You're not exactly helping me on my way either," I point out.
"I ache," he says suddenly.
"That's..." I pause for a moment, trying to work out what I'm supposed to say next. There's something menacing about Dronigan, but at the same time, he seems to have a very vague and almost childlike stare, as if he doesn't entirely know what's happening. He takes another step toward me, but this time I hold my ground, determined not to say his name out loud. "Neither of us has ever hurt you," I continue eventually. "If Madeleine's planning to double-cross me, then that's something for me to worry about, but it's no reason for you to interfere."
"The threads of her youth are still on my hands," he says, holding the thin, cobweb-like pieces up for me to see. "Are you... Are you trying to tell me that I should not have done what I did?"
Before I can answer, Madeleine lets out a cry of pain. When I look over at her, I see that she's turned to face me. Her features are old and withered, as if all the youth has been sucked from her body and she's been completely transformed; she looks like an old woman now, almost unrecognizable as she tries to drag herself away from us.
"Can you reverse it?" I ask, watching as Dronigan tries to get the threads off his hands.
"Reverse what?" he replies absent-mindedly.
"What you did to her?"
"To who?"
Glancing over my shoulder, I realize I can still see the walls of the asylum in the distance. Sooner rather than later, someone's going to notice that I'm not in my cell, and I'd rather not be here when they send people out to find me.
"I ache so much," Dronigan continues. "In my belly. I don't understand what's wrong, but the sensation becomes worse and worse with each passing day, and I fear..." He pauses for a moment. "I feel empty inside."
"You look kinda empty too," I reply, pained by the sight of his thin face. It's as if the guy has no body fat at all; in fact, he reminds me of one of those warning posters about anorexia, since the skin seems to be clinging to his bones. "Do you want me to help you?" I continue. "Is that it? If I help you work out what's wrong with you, will you let us go?"
He ignores me; instead, he seems to be more interested in the threads that are still sticking to his hands.
"Hey," I add. "Over here. You listening?"
He looks at me, and for a moment it's as if he has no idea who I am.
"I can fix you," I continue, "but only if you let me help. You need to tell me what part of you aches, and then maybe we can see if we can change the situation. I mean, you don't want to spend your whole life wandering around in an empty forest, do you?"
He frowns.
"Wouldn't you like to go somewhere else?" I ask. "Maybe... Maybe you can even come with us. How about that? Instead of trying to keep us here, why don't you leave the forest with us?"
"Leave... the forest?"
"First you need to help my friend," I continue, even though I know that the word 'friend' probably isn't very appropriate in this context. "Help her, and then I'll help you. Is that a deal?"
He stares at me, and for a moment he almost seems to be considering my offer.
"I think," he says eventually, "that I'd rather just stay here." Without any warning, he reaches out and grabs my arm, holding me tight. "I think we should all stay here forever. Together."
Chapter Six
Felix
Even though the pain is over, I can still feel it echoing through my body. Something soft touches my bare shoulder. A hand. Someone is here with me, and as I open my eyes, I realize that I must have blacked out for a moment. I'm back in my cell, and a candle is burning in the corner. I'm too scared to move, too scared to even breathe, in case
the pain comes back; all I can do is sit here and wait as a hand spreads warm water down the side of my neck and then along to my upper arm.
"You're awake," she says softly. "That's quick."
Turning, I see that Nurse Silk is sitting behind me, gently sponging my back. She smiles, and in the candlelight her face looks strangely beautiful. In all my life, I've seen blood and pain and torture and a thousand horrific things, but never beauty. Not until this moment. I've heard about beauty, and I've read about it, but I've never seen it with my own eyes before. Not like this.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing," I reply, realizing that I was staring at her.
"Dr. Cole asked me to bring you back to your cell," she explains, dipping the sponge in a bucket of warm water before passing it gently across my back. "He said to clean you up, so I took the initiative. You had a lot of blood on your skin, and your muscles were tense and knotted. I thought..." She pauses, as if she's momentarily embarrassed. "Well, I just thought..." She pauses again. "I can stop if you like."
"No," I reply, surprising myself. "I mean, whatever you have to do." I glance back at her for a for moment longer before realizing that I'm making her feel uncomfortable, so I turn and look straight ahead. "What did they do to me this time?" I ask, as she continues to wash me. "I don't remember very much. I was in the office, and I was given some kind of injection, and then..." I try to work out what happened next, but there's a kind of fog in my mind.
