Secret Unleashed sm-6

by Sierra Dean

  What did he want from me? Did he want to open the hood to see how the gears worked before sending me on my merry way? It was unlikely.

  I suspected once he got bored of timing my healing process, he was just going to dismantle me entirely. And I couldn’t fight back. Between the minimal amount of blood I was being given—barely enough to recover what was being lost in the surgery—and all the healing my body was forced to do over and over, I didn’t stand a chance. I couldn’t best him in a fight.

  I might be able to land a few blows, but he had a full staff with him as far as I could tell, and he only spent time alone with me when I was weak or incapacitated.

  He was smart, and had obviously perfected a system to keep supernatural beings from getting the best of him.

  But for what?

  Science?

  Was he trying to create a real Dungeons & Dragons monster guide, some sort of ultimate physiological compendium of how we beasties ticked?

  If that was the case, I could respect how rare a specimen I was for him. I didn’t empathize, because the guy wanted to filet me, but I kind of saw how I might appear to him. A white whale of sorts.

  But how…how did he know about me?

  The pocket of people who knew what I was had grown over the past couple of years, but they were all people I trusted, people I’d relied on. If one of them had spilled the beans on my condition, it had been under duress.

  Unless it hadn’t been a friend at all.

  Two people who knew what I was wanted me dead.

  My mother had known from day one, and she’d abandoned me because of it. She’d worked closely with Alexandre Peyton in an effort to overtake the city, and though I don’t think she’d ever told him what I was, she hadn’t hidden what she was.

  Peyton had spent years alone with only his thoughts, and in that time I was willing to bet he’d thought about me an awful lot. Enough for him to realize a girl with a werewolf mother who was half-vampire had to be hiding something.

  They both hated me, but my mother wanted to see me die in front of her eyes. I knew that because I wouldn’t be satisfied with her death unless it was by my hands, and she and I were cut from the same cloth in a lot of ways.

  So this torture? This starvation and pain?

  This was all Peyton.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I paced the cell in a tight circle, glad to have use of my legs for however long the blood allowed it. I wanted to run—my body craved the adrenaline—but I wouldn’t get a chance to run any time soon.

  The longer I thought about my captivity and the way in which I was being treated, the more certain I became Peyton was responsible. Like my mother I’d thought he would prefer to kill me in person, but he was pragmatic too. He was a smart, cunning vampire, and if he hadn’t gone rogue, he would have risen far in the council ranks.

  He had what it took to be in my seat, if he hadn’t been bat shit crazy.

  A man as smart as him would know how hard it would be to get to me once he was free. I was pretty sure he’d tried through Grendel, and it had almost worked. But this was sheer genius.

  I wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. He’d have had to know I was coming to California, which meant he still had friends within the council. My trip hadn’t been a secret from the other vampires, but he’d have needed someone inside in order to find out.

  So he had a mole. We’d suspected it, but now I knew for sure.

  Would he have come to California himself, wanting to be present for my capture and to witness what The Doctor was doing to me? Or was he hiding somewhere else, anywhere in the world, watching footage sent to him?

  I slapped the wall with my palm, the gritty surface stinging my skin. The last thing I needed right now was another wound to heal, as my aching chest could attest.

  How was I going to get out of this?

  It would be one thing if they were trying to get me to share secrets, but this was experimentation, plain and simple. The Doctor wanted to know how I worked, the same way a mechanic sought to understand a car engine. Without any information to offer him, he was only going to take me out of the cell when he wanted to poke around inside me.

  There had to be something, some way I could have him release me from the room without being bound, and convince him I needed my full strength.

  I looked at my hand pressed flat against the wall. My brittle, cracked nails seemed to be telling me something, and I didn’t think that something was You need a manicure.

  You must be stupid, my wolf told me, piping up for the first time since we’d gotten here.

  My wolf.

  My wolf.

  She was right. If the answer had been any more obvious, it would have smacked me in the face. The Doctor was fascinated with me because he knew I was half-vampire/half-werewolf. He’d never seen or studied a creature like me in his life.

  If he truly was a man of science, wouldn’t he want to see what I could do?

  I cleared the room in an excited bound, pounding the door with my fists. “I want to see him,” I shouted, my throat stinging from the screaming I’d abused it with throughout the evening. “I need to see The Doctor.”

  I kept right on shouting and pounding, doing everything short of swearing up a storm. Shocking myself half to death was a last resort, but if it came down to it, they’d come in and stop me before I did permanent damage to myself.

  I yelled until a speaker I couldn’t see announced, “Step back from the door.”

  I did as I was told, scurrying into a far corner and raising both hands in a gesture of submission. I didn’t want to project any menace. The only way this plan was going to work was if I made him trust me. Maybe not as a person would trust a friend, but perhaps as a lab scientist might trust a rat not to bite him.

  The door sighed open with a rush of warm air, and one of the male nurses came in, leaving it slightly ajar.

  Run, my wolf urged. Knock him down and run.

  She didn’t seem to understand escape wasn’t an option. Running wasn’t going to happen. Walking was hard enough. I ignored her, but didn’t overlook how happy I was to have her back. I’d need her soon.

  “What do you want?” the nurse asked impatiently.

  “I want to see The Doctor.”

  “You don’t dictate that sort of thing. Haven’t you figured that out yet? You’re not a guest, you don’t get to make requests.”

  “He’s going to want to see me.”

  The nurse sighed, rolling his eyes. He’d heard this before. I had to wonder how many others had been in this room before me, and all the different ways they’d attempted to woo these people into letting them go. If I’d had my full strength, I would have tried to enthrall the nurse, I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  He was accustomed to that dog-and-pony show, though, because he wasn’t looking me right in the eyes. Some people who knew how the thrall worked would focus on my forehead so it at least appeared like they were meeting my gaze. This guy was fixated on my chin. If his gaze had dropped any lower, I’d be convinced he was staring at my tits, but I doubted he saw me as a sexual object.

  Hard to be attracted to someone when they were bound to end up like a biology class frog. Once you’d seen someone’s literal guts, it had to be difficult to think of them as a hot commodity. I wasn’t offended. I didn’t plan to use my feminine wiles to get out of here.

  “He’s seen everything he needs to see from you today.”

  “He’s going to want to see this,” I insisted.

  The man turned to go, and I panicked. This plan only worked if I was going to get out of the room, and to do that I needed to convince this guy I wasn’t talking out my ass.

  “Wait. He’s a scientist right? You all are. I mean, this isn’t a hospital, so we’re in some kind of lab. Right?”

  He didn’t say anything, but he did stop his attempt to leave.

  “I get it,” I said, trying to sound calm. “My grandmother, she’s a scientist. Studied genetics and biolo
gy. She taught me to respect science, to look for an explanation. I understand why you guys are doing this. I’m different. I defy logic, and you want to make me make sense, right?”

  The nurse stared at me, and a variety of expressions battled for supremacy over his face. He looked conflicted and angry but also confused and a little sad. I’d read somewhere making yourself human to those who might want to kill you would at least give them pause. If they stopped thinking of you as an object—or in my case a monster—and started relating to you on a human level, you had a better chance.

  “My name is Secret,” I told him. “I live in New York City. I have a boyfriend and a family. I have friends and a job.” This had been the wrong tactic. He appeared disgusted, either with himself for listening or me for trying something so obvious. I backpedaled. “I know none of it matters. I know you guys just see me as a mystery you can solve by taking me apart. But I can do things.”

  That got him back to me. “Do things? What kind of things?”

  In the condition I was in I could perform such astonishing feats as walking, talking and breathing, but he didn’t need to know how limited my current range was.

  “I have abilities.”

  “Show me.” He crossed his arms and stared at my chin.

  What I wouldn’t have given right then to be Eugenia. She hit the hybrid jackpot compared to me, by inheriting Grandmere’s witchy skills and our mother’s lycanthropy. I didn’t know if there was a precedent for were-witches, but she could have given this guy a hell of a display with her glowy-handed mojo.

  “Only him.”

  “Bullshit,” the nurse scoffed. “You can’t do anything.”

  His dismissal rankled me, and for the first time I got decidedly sick of being treated like pond scum on a microscope slide. This guy was nothing, he was a human and he was not going to stop me from getting what I wanted.

  “I am a werewolf queen,” I snarled. “I am the head of the vampire Tribunal. I am the great-granddaughter of the scariest witch I’ve ever known, and I have beheaded a fuc…frigging demon. You listen to me, you pathetic approximation of Darwinism. I want to speak to The Doctor. I will only speak to The Doctor. I don’t care how much power you think you have, because when you leave this room you are just a man. You are a man with a family and friends, and since you’ve chosen not to respect that fact about me, I won’t respect it about you. Your life is disposable to me. You are nothing. And if you think I don’t have a way to show my people your face, you are sorely mistaken.” I glared at him, never moving or making my threat physical, but putting every ounce of my formidability behind it. I wanted to swear at him, but my words would lose a lot of oomph if I was writhing around on the floor by his feet. In my head I was adding a lot of fucks though.

  “You don’t scare me,” I continued. “You can’t intimidate me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead. But I am afraid of him. And I’m asking you to get him for me. So stop jerking off and get me The Doctor.”

  “No,” he replied evenly, before walking out and leaving me alone again, all out of plans, with no bluster left.

  Several hours later the door opened, and this time it was The Doctor himself. He’d changed out of the scrubs I’d last seen him in and was wearing a simple dress shirt tucked into gray pants. He wore horn-rimmed glasses I hadn’t noticed before, and his tie was loosened at the neck.

  “I understand you wish to speak with me.”

  “So glad you got the message.”

  “A bit dramatic, perhaps, telling poor Geoffrey his number was up. I think you might have done better with kindness.”

  “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar…that old saying?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Where’s your chair?” I asked.

  “I have no plans to stay. We can dispense with all the formal chitchat, I think.”

  “Yeah, we’re old friends now, aren’t we?”

  “Geoffrey said you claimed to be able to do things. He said you would only show these things to me, though. I have spent much of my evening assuming this was a lie and once you had me here you would kill me and escape.”

  The man had a gift for calling a spade a spade.

  “If you thought so, why did you come?” I had been sitting on the floor but got to my feet, wanting to see how he’d react. He didn’t flinch, barely seemed to register my movement at all. He also didn’t balk at looking me right in the eyes, which was unnerving.

  “You intrigue me, Ms. McQueen. I have seen many incredible creatures in my time. Things you couldn’t imagine.”

  I snorted. My imagination had plenty of fodder to fuel it for a good long time. I was willing to bet The Doctor here had never been to a fae realm or had pixies give him the stink eye. If he wanted to trade notes on all the crazy things we’d seen, I was willing to bet I’d come out on top.

  He’d be a clear winner if it came down to which of us had taken apart the highest number of mythological creatures, though.

  “You scoff?”

  “I don’t think you give my imagination enough credit.”

  At that he smiled. “No, perhaps not. But you asked me why I came here, if I believed it was your intention to kill me. First, I have a very good understanding of your healing capabilities now. I know how much strength you get from feeding, and I’m quite certain I’m in no danger from you physically.” He gave an apologetic shrug, as if I might have found his assessment offensive.

  “So you came because I can’t beat you up?”

  “In part. I must admit, though, I thought on it for a long time. But what Geoffrey said piqued my curiosity. He suggested you might have gifts unlike any I’ve ever seen, and how can a man of science turn down such an invitation?”

  That was the response I’d hoped for.

  “I’ll show you, but there are conditions.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from a smart girl like you.”

  “I want out of this room.”

  “Go on.”

  “And I want you to tell me what happened to Holden Chancery.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather see him, instead?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “He’s alive?” I asked, my voice trembling. I’d wanted to stay cool and pulled together, showing no sign of emotion, but when I’d asked The Doctor to tell me about Holden, a large part of me was expecting to see a corpse. Or worse still, a pile of ashes.

  “We’ve had this discussion, you and I. A vampire is not a living thing. That’s what makes you so special. You’re one of them, yet your heart…”

  When he said heart, I recoiled, my body shuddering violently. I turned away from him, momentarily wishing the wall would open up and swallow me whole. All from one word.

  If he noticed my Pavlovian response, it didn’t slow him down any because he went on to say, “Your heart beats. It’s such an amazing thing. You are a true marvel.”

  The way he looked at me bordered on adoration. I couldn’t make sense of this man. He cut me open and wiggled his bare hands around inside me, stealing bits of my organs for God only knew what purpose, and yet he could still gawk at me like I was a beautiful sight.

  “I want to see him,” I said.

  “I know exactly what you want, and I intend to deliver. But I’ve never let anyone out before, you understand.”

  “You’ve never had anyone like me here before.”

  He laughed, and it was deep and warm, the kind of laugh a good man should have. This was not a good man. This guy was a modern-day Josef Mengele as far as I was concerned. I didn’t lightly go about comparing people to Nazi doctors with a penchant for human experimentation, but it seemed apt in his case. Regardless of what kind of monster he was, I was willing to do whatever it took to appease him if it meant getting out of this cell.

  I thought I could withstand anything, but the last week had proven just how finely drawn my limits were. I wanted to leave here and go home. I wanted to sit on a couch wedged in the middle of Desmond a
nd Holden and never, ever choose between them, and I wanted to see Keaty and Cedes. I wanted to hear my grandmere’s voice and see Eugenia over video chat. I wanted to ask for a thousand things, but right now I would only ask for two.

  “I want to see him.”

  “You look frightful. Let’s take care of that first, then we can discuss a plan.” He tapped on the door, and it was opened from the outside, only this time no one closed it right away. He stepped into the hall and turned back to me. “Are you coming?”

  He glowed like an angel framed in the fluorescent lights from the hallway. I took a step closer and hesitated. It was a trap, it had to be a trap. There was no way this plan could work so easily.

  My gaze drifted to the drain on the floor, recalling how I’d woken next to it coated in my own blood. I remembered every awful moment spent in these four walls, and I suddenly didn’t care if it was a trap. If it meant getting out of here, I’d leave without so much as a backwards glance.

  He crooked his fingers at me, and like a shy puppy I crept forward until I reached the threshold.

  “In case you’re wondering why I’m being generous and allowing you to come on your own, I have a trigger for that collar around your neck, and I can make it do things far worse than a simple shock.”

  Most of the genius aspect of my plan wilted with those words. I couldn’t get free and run for it. If he really did have a remote for this stupid collar, he’d be able to blow my head off.

  I needed to get the remote or kill him.

  I knew which option I preferred.

  The Doctor offered me his elbow like he was walking me into our senior prom. The thought of touching him made me almost physically ill, but I bit back the sudden urge to vomit and slid my hand around his arm. My fingers were trembling so badly it was impossible the shaking would go unnoticed, but he didn’t say anything.

  Chances were good he enjoyed me fear. My fear of him meant he was in control, meant he maintained the upper hand. I couldn’t pretend not to be terrified of him, and I lacked the energy to repress my reactions. Let him know I was afraid, and it might work in my favor as far as making him trust me.