The Deadliest Institution Collection

by Holly Copella

He stared at her a moment as if attempting to figure out what she meant. He then realized what she’d witnessed.

  “Yeah, busy,” Brant scoffed. “Busy eluding some trashy woman.”

  “Paula,” she informed him. “She attempted to seduce you, because she knew you were my boss and wanted to piss me off.”

  Brant hesitated a moment then glanced at her. “Why would you be pissed off by that?” he asked.

  Devon stared at him and realized she didn’t have a good answer. “Well,” she fumbled. “You know; because you’re my boss, and it would be awkward.”

  He returned to his zombie hand and nodded. “Yeah, I guess it would.” Brant then considered something else. “Pretty sad that the only offer I’d had in months was part of a revenge scheme.”

  “I’m sorry,” Devon suddenly announced while turning toward him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Obviously, Paula could never hope to attract someone like you if you weren’t totally wasted.”

  Brant cast a glance at her and laughed. “It’s okay,” he remarked. “You don’t have to spare my feelings but thanks anyway. I’ll survive.”

  Their eyes briefly met. Devon couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. It was true; he was a handsome man by any standards. The lights flickered and went out. Devon gasped with surprise and looked around the excessively dark room. Since there were no windows, it was nearly pitch black.

  “Guess that’s lunch,” Brant announced with a sigh. “Don’t move. There’s a flashlight somewhere around here.”

  She heard his chair roll across the floor as he had so many times before. A loud crash followed.

  “Brant?”

  “That works better when I can actually see,” he groaned, obviously in some pain. A small light brightened the area surrounding him. “It’s not much, but it’ll be bright enough to get us up the stairs to the kitchen. I have some kerosene lamps.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Devon and Brant sat at the small kitchen table while laughing over several glasses of wine as the storm raged outside. They’d already had too much to drink, although neither seemed to notice or care. The kerosene lamp did an excellent job of lighting most of the kitchen even if neither could see straight. Devon had never seen the sky look so black before, and the rain poured down like a waterfall outside the window. Despite calling it a lunch break, with the power out, it was more of a permanent break. It didn’t seem as if they would be getting any work done, so they were in no hurry and possibly in no condition to return to the dungeon.

  Brant refilled each of their glasses despite that they were both feeling a little too good already. Devon was enjoying their executive lunch and her mildly drunken state. She was having a good time talking with Brant, especially after the wine loosened him enough to speak his mind. Unfortunately, the wine also loosened her enough to entertain misguided thoughts regarding her handsome boss.

  “There’s always a party with Ross around, I’m afraid,” Devon informed Brant while giggling.

  “I’ve enjoyed working with him,” Brant replied honestly. “Try working in a lab some time. What a bunch of stiffs. Everyone is so serious.”

  “I couldn’t even imagine. I suppose I’ve been exposed to Ross for too long,” Devon remarked then carefully considered her next question, but large quantities of wine allowed her to ask it anyway. “Tyler doesn’t really have much of a sense of humor, does he?”

  He chuckled at the question, finding it amusing. “Tyler is a businessman. He’s only in it for the money,” Brant announced then sighed. “I suppose that’s why he makes a good partner. Someone has to run operations and deal with the public. I’m not exactly comfortable socializing with investor types. Or any type for that matter.”

  “Neither am I, but you don’t have much choice in this town,” Devon replied while sipping her wine. “Everyone pretty much knows everyone else’s business. You have to know who your allies are.”

  “I don’t think I have many of those,” Brant informed her. “I’ve only ever been accepted among other scientists. We talk the same language, I suppose.”

  “I grew up around cowboys. You can just imagine the language I’ve learned,” she teased and giggled. It was at that moment she realized she’d had too much to drink and attempted to sound less giddy. “After the incident last month, my father insisted if I wanted to work, I had to find a job in town away from horses and cattle.” She made a face. “Honestly, he’d prefer it if I just got married and played mommy to his grandchildren. He doesn’t really care for the idea of me working in the real world.”

  “Guess we have something in common then,” he informed her. “I wasn’t able to express myself growing up. My ­father molded me into his little protégé. This museum represents an entire fortune spent on a dream to find out who I really am. So far, it’s been the best time of my life. Whether it turns into something I can make a living doing is another story.”

  “Judging by your work, you’re a true artist, Brant,” she informed him. “It takes a lot of passion and commitment to be an artist.”

  Brant smirked and looked away. “I must be the exception,” he remarked timidly. “Passion has never been my strong point.”

  Devon placed her hand on his forcing him to look back at her as she stared into his eyes.

  “I disagree.”

  Brant gently cupped her hand and caressed it. She couldn’t deny his touch sent a tingling sensation through her body. Or was that just the wine? He pulled his hand away, smiled with some embarrassment, and replaced the cork to the third bottle of wine.

  “I think you’ve had too much wine,” he remarked then chuckled while muttering, “Me too.”

  She was actually enjoying her moderately drunk condition. Devon leaned back in her chair and smiled warmly while studying the handsome man. Brant was, without a doubt, the smartest man she’d ever known, and it was quite the turn-on. Her thoughts were actually starting to scare her. They heard a loud crack of thunder and simultaneously jumped. Devon was jolted back to reality and attempted to push any lustful thoughts from her mind. Both looked out the kitchen window.

  “It doesn’t appear as if we’ll accomplish much this afternoon,” he announced with a defeated sigh. “You may as well leave early, although I hate the thought of sending you out in this storm.”

  “I’ll wait it out,” she replied. She couldn’t admit she was having too much fun drinking with her boss. “Martin is at work, so I don’t have a ride anyway.”

  “I’d give you a ride, but my car is at my house next door,” he announced then chuckled. “I fear we’d both drown before we reached it.”

  She laughed at the comment and smiled in response. “I’m sure we can find something to do until the power comes back on,” Devon boldly announced then immediately realized what she said and how he might take it the wrong way.

  He eyed her a moment in silence, almost confirming that he’d taken it the wrong way. His eyes then lit up at the thoughts racing through his mind.

  “Raid the wardrobe closet, dress like pirates, and have pretend sword fights?” he suggested almost without hesitation then grinned teasingly.

  It took a moment for his words to register. Devon was slightly stunned by the mischievous comment. Even though she knew he meant it to sound like a joke, she actually wondered if he was being serious. She fidgeted slightly and leaned forward in her chair, nearly collapsing on the table, and met his gaze.

  “I have a confession to make,” Devon announced while hiding her devious, drunken smile. “I’ve tried on half the clothes in that wardrobe closet already.”

  Brant stared at her a moment with a stunned expression then chuckled. “Me too.” His look then turned serious despite his buzzed state. “Not the dresses, of course. I don’t have the legs for them.”

  Devon suddenly burst out laughing and placed her hand on his lower arm while nearly falling across the table.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Devon and Brant laughed while she clung to his arm
as they headed down the stone dungeon steps into the basement. Brant carried a battery-operated lantern while Devon clutched a large flashlight. They decided to take the longer route rather than the kitchen shortcut to the workshop. In their drunken condition, they had the strange desire to explore the displays in the dark in an attempt to scare themselves silly.

  “Ross can never know about this,” Brant warned her with a stern look while partially holding her up. “He screws around enough when he thinks I’m not watching. He can’t know I actually condone this sort of bad behavior.”

  She laughed almost uncontrollably, giddy from too much wine. “Trust me; I’m not telling Ross you and I played plundering pirates during a power outage.” Her eyes widened dramatically as her look turned serious. “He’s been trying to get me into those shackles in the torture chamber for days. I swear; he’s hell-bent on playing out some depraved sexual fantasy in that torture chamber.”

  Brant chuckled, humored by the confession. “I suppose I’m a hopeless romantic,” he announced while grinning. “Mine involves the altar in the church scene.”

  He suddenly stopped on the steps, apparently realizing he’d spoken aloud. Devon also stopped and looked at him with surprise. His eyes widened as he stared at her.

  “I am so sorry,” he practically gasped. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud. That was so inappropriate.”

  As she stared into his eyes, she was almost speechless. “That’s my fantasy too,” she gasped enthusiastically as she fell against him, knocking him against the wall.

  Devon stared into his eyes while grinning uncontrollably at the sexual fantasies racing through her mind. She groaned softly as her free hand traveled his chest.

  “That would be so much fun,” she announced with her mouth close to his.

  Brant stared into her eyes unable to speak as their mouths practically touched. He was slightly stunned while she barely controlled her grin.

  “So, uh, you want to do that instead of the plundering pirate thing?” he announced timidly almost unable to get the words out and allowed his lips to brush past hers.

  Devon turned enthusiastic and practically crawled up his body. “Yes, let’s do that instead.”

  He held her hand to his chest to keep it from caressing him then brushed his lips past hers. She shut her eyes and groaned in anticipation of his kiss.

  Brant drew a deep breath and resisted kissing her. “I think you had too much to drink,” he gently insisted.

  Her eyes opened, and she immediately met his gaze while maintaining her grin. “I’m fine,” she giggled.

  “You know,” he announced and affectionately caressed her hand. “The full effect will be lost without the candles and the backlight from the stained glass window.” He gently cleared his throat. “Why don’t we do the pirate thing first and save the other thing for when the power is restored?”

  She stared at him a moment, considered the comment, and then nodded. “You’re probably right.” Devon moved away from him and headed down the stone steps as if the entire conversation had been forgotten already.

  Brant groaned softly, ran his fingers through his hair, and followed with less enthusiasm. “Chivalry sucks,” he muttered.

  As they neared the bottom, they heard what sounded like running water and looked at each other with confusion. Both hurried down the rest of the stairs and saw a foot of water covering the basement floor. Brant and Devon stood at the bottom of the steps and stared at the flooded basement.

  “I don’t believe this!”

  Brant stepped into the water, hurried along the water covered walkway, and entered the first display. Devon hurried behind him and saw Dr. Frankenstein’s lab under a foot of water. The sets were already saturated.

  “It’s ruined,” he cried out. “All that work straight to hell!”

  Devon remained silent while standing in the water a few feet behind him. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to comfort him. She did find it a little surprising that the water was practically clear enough to see the floor. She somehow thought the water would be murky. Of course, she doubted Brant would care to hear that at the moment.

  “This can’t be happening!” Brant announced as he turned in the water to face Devon with a look of defeat on his face.

  “We’ll call someone to pump out the basement,” she gently informed him while attempting to clear her head. “It may be okay. I’m sure we can fix it.”

  “Nice try,” he announced with a groan. “I’d better cut the circuit, just in case the power comes back on.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Wouldn’t want to be electrocuted.”

  Brant trudged through the water and headed past the displays on his lengthy journey to the workshop. Devon looked around, gasped softly, and hurried after him. As they entered the graveyard display, Devon and Brant watched wax zombies float face first in the water past them. Both stopped, unable to take their eyes off the worst affected display since there had been a lot of activity located on the ground. Brant stared at the zombies and headstones floating in a layer of fake moss.

  “Lovely,” he scoffed showing no emotion. “I’m ruined.”

  The wax zombies gently floated around the room with their tattered clothing drifting behind them. A female zombie bumped into their legs. Devon looked at the blonde zombie face down in the water and noted the alluring red dress. She didn’t remember a zombie wearing a dress like that. She pulled away from Brant and turned the wax woman over. Devon stared at Jamie Smyth floating in the water, her dead eyes staring back. Devon then saw the bruises on her neck and the gruesome, excessively clean stab wounds to her chest and abdomen. She then realized that Jamie had been murdered! Devon let out a shrill scream and jumped backward into Brant.

  “Oh, my God,” Devon cried out unable to take her eyes off the dead woman. “Jamie!”

  Jamie’s corpse once more bumped against her legs, causing Devon to scream again. Brant gathered Devon in his arms and physically pulled her away from the floating dead woman while staring with his own look of horror. He turned, forcing her through the water back toward the steps. They crashed into a floating wax zombie and fell together into the water. Devon splashed in the foot deep water attempting to get her feet under her. She stared at the male zombie and screamed hysterically while pushing it away even though it was just wax. Brant pulled her to her feet and hurried her from the display.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Brant stood in the museum kitchen with the phone to his ear while nodding at what the person on the other end was saying. Devon had her arms folded across her soaked body and trembled from the chill and her shock. She purposely stood only inches away from Brant, hoping she’d feel secure, but it wasn’t working.

  “Thank you, Deputy Havens,” he responded then hung up the phone and turned toward Devon. “The police are on their way.”

  Devon continued to shiver while staring at him with fear in her eyes. “She was murdered, wasn’t she?” she asked with a quiver in her voice, although she already knew the answer by the gruesomeness of her injuries.

  Each time she shut her eyes, she could see the deep stab wounds in Jamie’s chest and torso, the blood washed away from soaking in the water. Brant gently pulled her into his arms and attempted to comfort her. She immediately clung to him despite their wet bodies.

  “The police can handle it,” he announced in a comforting tone while gently rubbing her shoulders, which was possibly his own coping mechanism. “You’ll be more comfortable next door at my house. You can change into some dry clothes.”

  She mechanically nodded without moving from his arms. He attempted to pull away, but she didn’t release him. Brant hesitated then resumed holding her.

  §

  There was a fire burning in the living room fireplace within Brant’s house, which gave off enough light to brighten the entire room. The home was older, but it contained beautifully detailed woodwork and a large, marble fireplace. Brant, already changed into dry clothes, kneeled befo
re the fireplace while poking the fire to keep it burning. Devon approached from the hallway wearing one of Brant’s shirts and a pair of his shorts. She continued to rub her chilled arms as she approached the fireplace. She kneeled beside him and shivered. Brant glanced at her as she stared at the fire and didn’t look away. He set the poker aside and touched her shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she whispered and stared without emotion at the flames.

  Brant moved back a few feet, removed a tea mug from the coffee table, and extended it to her.

  “Drink this,” he announced reassuringly. “You’ll feel better.”

  Devon moved closer to him, accepted the mug, and sipped the contents. She immediately made a face from the warmed alcohol mixed with cider. Brant sat on the floor and rested against the sofa. Devon immediately moved across the floor and sat surprisingly close to him. Brant uncertainly placed his arm around her shoulder and held her against him. She set her cup on the table and clung to him with her head to his chest. She didn’t care that he was her boss or that she barely knew him; she just wanted him to hold her. He circled his arms around her and held her close, perhaps for his own security as well as hers. Through the pouring rain just outside the large, bay window, they could see the red and blue flashing lights of the approaching police vehicle. He affectionately kissed the top of her head.

  “I’ll deal with the unpleasantness next door,” he gently informed her. “You just stay here. If they want to talk to you, I’ll bring them over.”

  Devon didn’t want to release him, but she knew someone had to greet the police at the museum. She wasn’t sure how long he was gone before she moved to the sofa, collected into a small ball, and shivered with the tea mug in her hand.

  §

  Nearly two hours later, Sheriff Carter stood by the fireplace in Brant’s home while writing on his notepad in chilling silence. Devon and Brant now sat on the sofa huddled together while the sheriff questioned them. Devon appeared completely relaxed now and possibly drunk after drinking the entire contents of her mug as well as Brant’s that he’d left behind when he went next door. Brant remained tense regarding the sheriff’s line of questioning while Devon clung to him happily clueless.