by Skye Malone
I pulled back again, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. He tugged a covering from one side of the small, plastic discs and then pressed the discs to my chest, where they stayed.
Numbers appeared on the screen. The lines became zigzags.
I swallowed, looking from him to the machine and back. “What do you want?”
His mouth tightened thoughtfully while he scrutinized me. “Blood first, I think. Good to have a baseline for comparison later.”
My heart started pounding harder as he turned to the tray and picked up a syringe. “I said, what do you want?”
He looked up at me, his eyes the picture of innocence. “To study you,” he replied as though it was obvious.
I flinched as he jabbed the needle into the inside of my elbow. My blood started to fill the syringe.
“Oh,” he commented, his attention on my arm. “I should mention that you’d probably do well to refrain from charming me with that little magical ability of yours. For one thing, I have absolutely no intention of letting this opportunity pass me by, so I doubt your magic will do much. For another, my associates are watching us on closed circuit cameras,” he nodded to a tiny black device above the door, “and we have an agreement that, if any of us tries to let you escape, we’ll be killed on the spot and so will you.” He glanced to me. “Security measures, you understand. None of us want to live as a mindless slave.”
Harman withdrew the needle and pressed a bundle of white gauze to the place where it’d been. With his free hand, he set the syringe down on the tray and then took up a roll of tape.
“I can’t tell you how intrigued I was when I learned the Kowalskis had a dehaian with them,” he continued while he adhered the gauze to my arm. “Setting aside how you even managed to travel this far – although I do want to discuss that later and a clear explanation would be best, so please be thinking about it – I’ve been waiting for years to have a dehaian brought to me. But it never worked. They found so few, and when they did, they just couldn’t restrain themselves.” He shook his head, his attention on the syringe he was labeling. “It’s those pesky instincts, you see. They’re so driven by them. Like animals, really. They simply can’t keep themselves from what they were made for. And so few try. It’s rather sad, if you think about it. Or, at least, it is for what I need.”
He returned the labeled syringe to the tray and drew a breath. “But in any case, now we finally have–”
A knock on the door cut him off. His brow furrowing, he glanced back and then crossed the room.
“I asked not to be disturbed,” he said as he tugged open the door.
“And we thought we’d have the scale-skin you promised us by now,” came the response.
Harman stumbled back as a large man pushed past him. Built like a weightlifter and nearly as huge as Earl, the man scanned me up and down with disgust curling his lip. Four enormous guys with dark buzz cuts followed him, each of them like younger – but only slightly smaller – versions of the man who was obviously their father. More muscles than should have been possible covered their arms and chests, the latter of which were readily visible under t-shirts tight enough to have been painted on.
The four guys started right for me.
I tensed, my heart pounding at what damn near looked like hunger in their eyes.
They had to be the ones who’d been chasing Chloe and me. Noah’s family. The math was there, and I couldn’t believe five other behemoth freaks happened to be looking for a dehaian to kill too.
I pulled at the restraints, cursing internally at the thick metal and the way it had yet to give.
“Hey, hey now,” Harman protested, hurrying in front of them. “You don’t have any right to interrupt me like this.”
The biggest of the four pushed past him with a snarl.
“You offered us a dehaian in exchange for leaving the girl alone,” their father retorted. “That gives us all the right we need.”
“I offered you a dehaian after I was done with him,” Harman corrected, still trying to stay in front of the others. “You greliarans haven’t been able to provide me with a research subject in all these years, Richard. You have to give me time with this one now.”
Glowing cracks spread through the guy’s face as he came closer. My hands yanked harder at the restraints and adrenaline pushed the spikes out of my forearms.
“Wyatt!” the man snapped.
The guy stopped.
“Amazing!” Harman cried. He spun toward his briefcase.
I didn’t take my eyes from Wyatt. Growling under his breath, he stared at me and twitched as though barely keeping himself from lunging.
Harman grabbed something and then hurried toward me.
Silver flashed at the corner of my eye. I pulled my gaze from Wyatt just in time to see Harman clamp one of my spikes with the device in his hand.
Startled, I tried to pull my arm away and draw the spikes back in. Harman gritted his teeth, fighting me. His other hand came up, holding something that looked like scissors, only the blades were curved.
And quickly, he cut the spike off.
I cried out in pain as my other spikes retreated, the skin sealing over where they’d been. Gasping, I doubled over while my nerves screamed. It felt like he’d cut off a finger. Like he’d sliced straight through bone. All my other senses shrank down on that one spot of agony on my forearm, blocking out everything else.
A hand grabbed my neck, shoving me back upright, while another took my arm, crushing down on the place where the spike had been.
I choked. My eyes opened to see Wyatt’s face inches from mine.
“Wyatt!” his father barked.
There wasn’t anything sane in the guy’s eyes. Nothing human in the least. He gave no sign of hearing anyone as he stared at me and clenched his hand tighter on my arm, drinking in the sight of my pain.
“Stop him!” Harman protested. “Richard, if your kind want our help at all anymore, you can’t let him kill my dehaian!”
Richard appeared behind Wyatt. Expressionless, he slammed his fist into his son’s side.
Wyatt flinched, his grip on me loosening.
“Drop it,” his father snapped.
Growling, Wyatt held me for another heartbeat, and then thrust me backward into the metal sheet. Releasing my throat, he turned and stalked back toward his brothers.
Coughing, I watched him and his father equally. Richard studied me, his lip twitching with the same hunger as his son and his eyes just this side of rational. With a disgusted noise, he looked to Harman.
“The deal stands,” Richard snarled. “We stay on the coast and bring you one of the scale-skins if we can. You landwalkers use the clout of the people you have in the legal system to our advantage. You try to change that now, there might just be an accident we couldn’t save you from.”
Harman swallowed, his hands gripping something beneath the edge of the table as if hanging on for dear life. “I only need him for a few hours. After that, he’s all yours.”
Richard’s gaze twitched from the little man to me. “A few hours,” he agreed. “And he better be alive for us then.”
Without another word, he motioned to his sons and then headed for the door.
“Now!” Richard barked when they didn’t move.
Still watching me over their shoulders, the guys filed out of the room after him.
The door closed.
Harman let out a breath. He released whatever he’d been hanging onto, and looked back to me.
“Well,” he said as though attempting to calm down. He fidgeted with the placement of a jar of water atop the table. My stomach twisted at the sight of the spike from my arm immersed within. “Let’s see what else we can learn, shall we? After all, we only have a short time.”
He came over. Taking up another syringe from the tray, this one filled with a blue liquid, he regarded it in the light.
I tugged at the restraints, desperately tryi
ng to break the locks holding them closed.
“Now just stay still.” He turned to me and lifted the needle toward my arm. “This might hurt.”
Chapter Fifteen
Noah
On the edge of the motel bed, I sat watching Chloe. She’d been delirious since before we’d arrived, gasping and shaking like she’d run for miles and mumbling things I couldn’t understand, and a few minutes ago, she’d finally passed out. Her tears had stopped a short while before that, exhaustion or something else dragging her down till she couldn’t cry anymore.
But she was still in pain. So much pain. Even unconscious, she twitched and moaned like she was trying to escape something.
And it only seemed to be getting worse.
“How do we stop this?” I asked, glancing up at Ellie.
Standing across the tiny room with her hands pressed to the faded wallpaper behind her, the girl shook her head. She hadn’t taken her eyes from Chloe since we’d reached this little motel on the edge of Oak Falls. “I don’t know. They… they tried to make her a landwalker, and–”
“I know that,” I said, struggling to keep the edge from my voice. “What can we do to stop it?”
She shook her head again.
Grimacing, I looked back down at Chloe. Sweat plastered her auburn hair to her cheeks and every few moments, she’d flinch like something was hurting her. On the other side of the bed, Baylie sat, a bucket of ice water on the nightstand next to her and a cold rag in her hand. Over and over, she dabbed the cloth to Chloe’s forehead, looking like she was trying not to cry as well.
I took Chloe’s hand in mine. I wanted to kill the man who’d done this, Ellie’s grandfather or not. I wanted to make him pay for thinking he could just experiment on anyone, let alone a girl who’d already been through so much.
And as for Chloe’s parents…
I drew a breath as I felt my skin start to change. That wasn’t helpful right now, no matter how good it would feel to let my greliaran side out. To go back there and give them a damn good reason for being afraid of me, and for never coming near Chloe again.
The colors started growing brighter and sharper as my eyes changed too. I closed them fast, my fingers tightening around Chloe’s hand. I wouldn’t be like that. I wasn’t like that.
And I needed to focus here right now.
“Noah?”
I opened my eyes at Baylie’s voice, looking from her to Chloe to make sure nothing had gotten worse – and noting gratefully that the world appeared its same dull self again.
“You remember after the boat capsized a few weeks ago?” Baylie asked. “What happened when we got home?”
I paused, thinking back.
“She collapsed, remember? We were freezing, but Chloe was all sweaty-looking and then she–”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“What if this is like that? I mean, she’d never been in the ocean before, right? And she’s…”
Baylie seemed to struggle to say the word. She glanced to Chloe worriedly.
I followed her gaze. This was about a hundred times what’d happened that day, if not more. But it did look sort of similar.
She’d been changing then. She hadn’t known it, none of us had, but now that I looked back, I could see the signs. The way she’d just been floating under the water when I grabbed her, not struggling or trying to swim at all. The way she’d been so quiet and shaken afterward.
Of course, the ocean had just gone mad and attacked the boat – something I still couldn’t figure out – but the point remained the same.
I wondered if she’d been breathing under there. I wondered what she must have seen.
“So what’re you thinking?” I asked Baylie, pushing the memory away.
“I don’t know. That’s when this started, though, right? Or close to. And she was probably becoming one of them when that happened, and then she got better after it so… I don’t know. Maybe this is like that, but in reverse. So if we try to push her back toward being one of them…”
She gave a helpless shrug.
“That could kill her!” Ellie protested. “Please, you can’t risk–”
“This is killing her,” Baylie countered heatedly.
“But she could get better if we just let the treatment work its way out of her system.”
I looked back at Chloe. She seemed paler now. She hadn’t stopped sweating, and something told me it’d probably be bad if she did. Like her system had given up. Or she’d run out of ability to fight this.
“Changing into dehaians kills these half-and-half kids, right?” I asked Ellie. “That’s what you called them?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, but Chloe survived that. She’s not like them anymore. So what if Baylie’s right? What if this is pushing her back toward what kills them, rather than fixing anything? And if we can get her to change toward her dehaian side again, maybe it’ll stop this.”
“How are you going to do that?” Ellie asked. “We’re a thousand miles from the ocean.”
I didn’t answer, returning my gaze to Chloe. We couldn’t make saltwater here. Replicating the ocean wasn’t exactly as easy as dumping rock salt into a bathtub.
But maybe she didn’t need that. Maybe all she needed was a push. Something that felt like it, even a little bit. There were all sorts of things in regular water – chlorine, other chemicals – but it was also the middle of the night in a small, Midwestern town.
We didn’t have a lot of options.
And she was looking sicker by the minute.
I turned back to Baylie, my brow rising desperately. “Her parents were afraid of her coming near water at all, right?”
Baylie nodded.
“Okay, then let’s try that.”
I jerked my chin toward the bathroom door. Dropping the rag, Baylie hurried toward it while I stood and scooped Chloe into my arms.
She was limp enough to be dead.
Trying to ignore the thought, I started after Baylie.
“You could kill her,” Ellie begged. “Please, she’s the only–”
“Help us or shut up,” Baylie snapped from the doorway. Without waiting to see if her words had an effect, she spun back to the bathroom.
Hefting Chloe higher in my arms, I followed her.
The stench of cleaning solution and age filled the tight space, and the fluorescent light overhead buzzed like a demented bee in my ears. Water roared from the tap as Baylie twisted the handle all the way around, and I could hear pipes creaking in the walls. Ignoring all of it, Baylie yanked up on the lever below the faucet, sealing the drain.
Seconds ticked by while the tub began to fill.
“She’s our best hope,” Ellie said in a small voice.
I glanced back.
Clinging to the side of the door, she remained outside the bathroom, watching us from behind the partial cover of the wall.
“If any of the stories are true,” she continued as if pleading for us to understand. “We need her to live. We all do.”
My brow furrowed.
“Tub’s ready,” Baylie said behind me.
I pulled my gaze from Ellie and turned to the bathtub. Drawing a breath, I adjusted Chloe in my arms and then bent carefully, lowering her into the water till it covered everything but her head.
Nothing happened.
Air left me. I’d really hoped it’d be that simple. Just water, any water, and she’d be alright.
Not taking her eyes from Chloe, Baylie reached over and turned off the faucet.
The water stilled. Slumped against the side of the tub, Chloe didn’t move.
My brow twitched down. She wasn’t moving at all. She wasn’t even shaking anymore.
A shiver ran over my skin and for a second, I couldn’t do anything but stare at her. My heart climbed my throat as carefully, I slid a hand from under her and reached for the side of her neck.
Baylie made a choked noise as sh
e realized what I was doing.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to feel for her pulse.
A moment crept by.
Her vein quivered beneath my fingertips, so weak I could barely feel it move.
A breath left me.
“I-is she…” Baylie asked tremulously.
“No,” I answered. “No, she’s–”
Baylie’s gasp cut me off.
I looked from her to Chloe and then froze.
A faint, iridescent sheen was creeping along Chloe’s legs. There weren’t any scales. Nothing of the tail or fin that I’d seen that day she first changed. Just the palest trace of color, dancing in and out of existence like ghostly northern lights inside her skin.
But it was something.
I glanced to Baylie.
She tugged her attention from Chloe to look at me. “Good idea,” she breathed.
“You too.”
Nodding distantly, she dropped her gaze back to Chloe and the shimmer still twisting through her skin.
I turned to Ellie.
Gripping the side of the door, she was staring at Chloe.
“What did you mean, she’s your best hope?” I asked.
She didn’t respond.
“Ellie.”
The girl blinked, but didn’t look at me. “O-old legends. She just…” Ellie exhaled, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Is she really going to be alright?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
I glanced back to Baylie, whose face tightened.
A cell phone buzzed in the next room.
I tensed, while Baylie just grimaced at the sound, her reluctance to leave Chloe obvious.
“I’ll get that,” Ellie offered quickly. She pushed away from the wall and retreated to the motel room.
“Sandra or Chloe’s parents?” Baylie commented, as if taking bets on who it’d be.
I didn’t answer. I’d figured her parents would’ve called us thirty seconds after we left. For that matter, I’d figured they would have had the cops and the FBI chasing us by now.
