by Naomi Martin
As I near him, Sherman reaches out and grabs my upper arm, wrenching me toward the door with a sneer on his face.
“Hurry the fuck up, Snow White,” he growls. “I’m tired of waitin’ on your ass.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Dr. Fry wants to see you.”
Great. The woman who thinks I should be destroyed wants a little face time with me. As the door opens, Sherman gives me a hard shove in the small of my back, sending me stumbling forward. I manage to stay on my feet and straighten up, walking with a little dignity. I know the way by now, so I walk down the corridors in silence ahead of Sherman. I can feel him close behind me, though. His presence is looming, and he breathes really loud through his mouth. Which is pretty gross, if you ask me.
“How’d you do it?” he asks. “How’d you murder Clint?”
“I was in my cell, Captain Sherman,” I reply in a monotone voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Lying little bitch.”
He shoves me again and sends me sprawling forward. I can’t keep myself upright this time and land on my belly. I’m on my feet again in a heartbeat, lifting my chin in defiance as I walk on, acting as if nothing happened and he hadn’t just shoved me to the ground.
“How’d you fucking do it?” he repeats, so I give him the same answer as before in the same bland tone of voice.
“I was in my cell, Captain Sherman. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he hisses. “You’re a murderer.”
I round on him so quickly that it startles him. Sherman takes a couple of stumbling steps backward, nearly falling flat on his ass. He looks at me, his face red, huffing and puffing. I laugh and shake my head at him.
“What a pussy,” I say. “And I may be a murderer, but you’re a murderer, a bully, and a rapist. You are a disgusting piece of shit, and you’re pathetic as hell.”
Without waiting for him to reply, I turn and walk on toward Fry’s office. I don’t need him to escort me. For the moment, I’m playing good soldier, more or less doing what I’m told. I’m doing what I need to do to allay suspicion and keep from drawing unwanted attention. I need to be doing everything I can to take eyes off me right now, not attract them.
I stop before the door to Fry’s examination room, waiting for Sherman to catch up. He does and swipes his ID badge, opening the door. Then he shoves me in the back again, desperately trying to reassert his dominance as if he hadn’t just jumped and squealed like a six-year-old girl who saw a snake.
I chuckle to myself as I step inside and see Fry standing at the computer mounted to her standing desk. She looks over when I come in and gives me a frown. I find myself suddenly wishing that Keene was here. As reprehensible as he is, he does serve as a check on Fry’s worst impulses, and his goal is to keep people like me alive. At least, until he figures out how to harness our powers to make himself immortal. Fry’s only purpose is to find the swiftest, most efficient way to kill us all.
The door closes behind me and I see Sherman leaning against the wall. It sends a ripple of fear through me, because he’s normally not in her office for these sessions. And the way he’s looking at me worries me.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Fry?” I ask. “Are we testing today?”
She slides her glasses off the end of her nose and lets them dangle from a chain that hangs down to the top of her breasts. She looks at me closely, giving me an up and down with a sour expression on her face.
“No, there will be no testing today,” she says.
“Then may I ask what I’m doing here?”
“You can shut up,” she snaps. “And get in the chair.”
“If there’s no testing, then why—”
“Captain, if you would please?” Fry cuts me off.
Sherman is across the room in the blink of an eye. He grabs me roughly and shoves me down into the chair. As I struggle with him, squirming and writhing to get out of the seat, he slaps me hard across the face. It rocks my head back and has me literally seeing stars bursting behind my eyes. It immediately takes the fight out of me and Sherman is able to shackle me to the chair.
When I come back to myself, my mouth is filled with the coppery taste of my blood. My rage flares up and my first instinct is to lash out. I draw my power into me as I glare at the man but, remembering Elliot’s words, I take a deep breath and push it down. I can’t afford to show them what I can do. I have to keep my eyes on the bigger picture. And that bigger picture is getting the fuck out of here.
Hurting or even killing Sherman might feel good right now, but in the long run, it will be detrimental. Perhaps even fatal, since it would give Fry the justification she needs to kill me. I’m balancing on a razor’s edge, caught between wanting, even needing vengeance, and keeping my cool and focusing on my ultimate goal—life with my boys beyond these walls.
“Are we calm now?” Fry chirps, sounding amused.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“I want to know how you circumvented the collar and killed that boy,” Fry states. “And you’re going to tell me.”
“I’d tell you if I had any idea what you were talking about,” I fire back. “I was in my cell; I had nothing to do with Clint’s death.”
“I think we both know that’s bullshit,” Fry says. “Captain Sherman is certain of it, in fact.”
I chuckle. “Captain Sherman is certain the Earth is flat,” I say. “I don’t credit that man with an overabundance of intellect.”
I see Fry stifle a laugh and turn away, but Sherman’s face darkens and my crack earns me another smack across the face that leaves my ears ringing. My head sways on my neck like I’m a fucking bobblehead and I feel a rivulet of blood spill out of my mouth and dribble down my chin.
When Fry faces me again, her face is stone once more. She leans down over me and fastens a clip to the pointer finger on my left hand. Then, she attaches another to the pointer finger of my right hand before turning back to a machine that’s covered in blinking lights and dials.
“Lie detector?” I ask hopefully.
“You wish. No, with a flip of this switch right here,” she says, pointing to a red toggle switch, “I can shoot electrical current through your body. It’s a more intense form of the electric chair and believe me when I say it will be painful.”
“No need to be ugly,” I say. “Not that you can help it, but still—”
Fry flips the switch and my back immediately arches off the chair. The shackles hold me fast as it feels like every single cell in my body has caught fire. Lightning bolts shoot through me, and I cry out in agony. Fry turns it off and I slump back against the chair, my breathing ragged and labored.
“How did that feel?” she asks.
“Pleasant,” I gasp. “Like a warm summer breeze.”
Fry purses her lips and, as her hand hovers near the toggle, I grit my teeth, waiting for the blast of pain.
“Tell me,” Fry says. “How did you circumvent the collar? How did you kill that boy?”
“I didn’t.”
Another blast of electrical current tears through me and I cry out. I swear I can smell the odor of burning hair and cooking meat. On and on we go like this for what feels like hours, but when I glance at the clock, I see that only twenty minutes have passed. My entire body is limp, and I feel worn out. The pain continues to crackle along my skin and I’m having trouble breathing.
“This is getting boring,” Fry says. “Tell me how you killed that boy, or I will give you another blast of electricity that will singe every hair off your body.”
I try to draw in a bit of my power, just enough to heal myself and mute the pain that’s gripping me, but I come up empty. I can’t touch my power right now. I’m just too wrung out and too wracked by pain. My power is just out of my reach.
“I didn’t kill him,” I gasp. “I don’t know why you don’t believe me.”
“Because you’re a whore and a liar,” Sherm
an says.
I give him a tired, lopsided grin. “You’re just mad that I don’t want your tiny little needle dick.”
He delivers a vicious backhand and I see the blood spray out of my mouth. Working in my favor, though, is that I’m already in so much pain, while I can taste the blood that’s filling my mouth, I don’t even feel the blow. Apparently, there really is a limit to how much pain one person can endure. Thankfully, my mind is still working—that’s something, I guess.
Fry leans down, her face mere inches from mine. “Tell me what I want to know. Tell me how you circumvented the collar,” she hisses. “Tell me how you killed that boy.”
“Or what?” I groan.
“Or I will let Captain Sherman finish what he started in that supply room,” she says simply.
“And you think letting him rape me will get you the information you want?”
She shrugs. “I’ll get the information I want one way or another. But seeing Captain Sherman break you might be amusing,” she says. “Also, I think after he has a go at you, you might be more willing to talk, if only to make it stop. Because I’m going to let him have you as many times as he wants.”
“You’re an evil bitch,” I sneer. “And I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Be that as it may, tell me how you killed the boy,” she says. “How did you circumvent the collar?”
“I didn’t.”
A grin pulls a corner of her mouth up and she stands again, looking over at Sherman. She gives him a shrug then walks to a chair on the other side of the room and drops down into it, crossing her legs and sitting primly.
“Captain, do as you will,” Fry says.
Sherman gives me a lascivious smile and unbuckles his utility belt, dropping it to the ground. It hits with a hard thump and he quickly unbuttons his pants as he steps over to me. I struggle against the bonds holding me, but my efforts are weak. I’m drained; there’s not much fight left in me. I’ve got snarky comments, but that’s about it. I can’t stop Sherman from doing what he wants any more than I can fly to the moon right now.
As he crosses the room, glowering at me with lust in his eyes, the door to the room suddenly opens. Dr. Keene walks in, his face red and angry, and I’ve never been more relieved to see a person in my entire life.
“Captain,” Keene growls. “Buckle your pants and get out of this room immediately.”
Sherman glances over at Fry but Keene rounds on him, the expression on his face darkening even more. The man looks ready to burst a blood vessel.
“Don’t look at her,” he snaps. “This is my facility, Captain. And I have given you a direct order. Get out of here this minute or you will regret it.”
Fry gives him a subtle nod and Sherman looks at me again, a light of disappointment in his eyes, and I can tell he had been looking forward to this. A weak, raspy laugh escapes my throat.
“Don’t worry, Sherman, you can go fuck one of your groupies in the prison,” I croak. “They seem to appreciate your needle dick.”
“Shut your mouth, girl,” Keene snaps at me then turns to Fry. “What is the meaning of this, Carol?”
Sherman gathers up his things and shuffles out of the room, burning holes through me with his eyes as he goes. The door slides shut behind him, leaving me alone in the room with the two doctors—one who wants to kill me, the other who wants to dissect me to see what makes me tick.
“I wasn’t going to let him actually do it, Vincent,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “It was a psychological tactic.”
“To what end?”
“I want to know how she used her power to kill that boy,” Fry says.
“And why do you assume she did?” Keene asks.
“Well, Captain Sherman—”
“Captain Sherman? You relied on that Neanderthal as proof that this girl had anything to do with that boy’s death?”
“He has the pulse of the prison, Vincent. Far more so than you or I,” she explains. “And most of the animals in there believe she did it.”
“You are overlooking the fact that not only does Sherman have a vested interest in being allowed to have this girl,” he starts, “but that the boy who was killed had a key to the cells in his pocket. Where do you think he got that, Carol?”
Fry looks away, her expression tight and angry. This whole episode has nothing to do with Clint. This was simply a matter of Fry wanting to see me humiliated and degraded. Perhaps even killed. Probably killed. I can see in her eyes that she’s afraid of me, afraid that I will be able to make good on my threat to kill her—just as I killed Clint.
“I am tired of having to restrain you,” Keene says. “I’m tired of walking in to find situations like this playing out. You are the monster you accuse these people of being.”
“And what about you, Vincent?” Fry snaps back. “Let’s not pretend that your motives are pure or that you actually care for these beasts.”
“You are done here,” Keene says, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “You and Sherman are both going to be reassigned. I will not have you allowing a piece of filth like Sherman to do what I just saw him doing.”
“Vincent, don’t you dare do this,” Fry warns. “You will live to regret it. The work I’m doing—”
“The work you’re doing is done. At least, it is here,” Keene says. “Pack your things and get yourself ready to ship out.”
Fry glowers at him for a moment before getting to her feet and leaving the room. Keene turns to me and unlocks all of my shackles. He helps me out of the chair and escorts me back to the prison, dumping me unceremoniously in my cell. He looks down at me.
“Don’t think I stopped what was about to happen because I care for you. Carol was very right about that,” he says. “I did it because you still have some value to me and my work. But when that value runs out, so does your usefulness to me.”
“You give me such warm fuzzies, Doc,” I tell him.
Without another word, he turns on his heels and leaves me alone in my cell.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gray
“Can you draw your power to heal yourself?” I ask.
Raven shakes her head and grimaces as a spasm of pain grips her body.
“Fuck,” I growl.
I saw Keene practically drag her into her cell and came on the run. And finding her like this, bruised and bloodied, so weak that she can barely lift her head off the pillow, has me scared for her. I’m no doctor, but she looks like she’s on death’s door. She’s probably not, but they did a real number on her. And the fact that she can’t draw her power, even with her added strength, is even more worrying.
“Can you help her?” I ask without turning around.
I can smell Zane hovering in the doorway behind me, looking on. His scent tells me that he too is worried, but when I turn and look at him, his face is cool and composed. He looks like a man without a care in the world.
“You’re getting better at using your senses, bear boy.”
“Great,” I snap. “Can you help her or not? If you can, help. If you can’t, fuck off already.”
“Your temperament still needs some work.”
On the bed in front of me, Raven lets out a raspy noise that kind of sounds like laughter before it breaks down into a series of wet, hacking coughs. I turn to Zane and glare at him.
“Well?” I demand.
“I thought you didn’t want my blood—how did you put it again?—oh, yes, tainting or sullying her.”
A low growl passes my lips. He’s being an insufferable asshole and I’m in the mood to tear somebody to pieces. He’ll do.
“Stop being an asshole or we’re gonna have problems,” I growl. “Can you help her or not?”
“Of course I can,” he replies.
“Fine. Do it.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He glides across the room and stands beside the bed. I get out of his way and step back, watching Zane sit down in the chair I’ve just vacated.
He looks down at Raven and I can see the concern in his face as he gently strokes her hair.
“Do you want me to do this?” he asks quietly.
“Yes,” Raven croaks, her voice hoarse and raspy. “It hurts.”
Zane produces the razor blade as if conjuring it out of thin air. He cuts a line along his wrist and when he presses it to Raven’s mouth, she grips his arm and starts to suck. Rivulets of his blood spill down her chin as she drinks deeply, and I do my best to keep from getting sick. Zane pulls his arm away and strokes her face with the backs of his knuckles, favoring her with a beatific smile.
“That’s enough, Raven,” he says. “You don’t want too much. Now, just lay back and wait for a moment.”
As she does, Zane grabs a cloth and wets it in her sink, then returns and wipes the blood off her chin, cleaning her up as best as he can. And, while I watch, the bruises on Raven’s face lighten and then disappear. Her groans turn into giddy laughter and she sits up on the bed, moving lightly and clearly without pain. I let out a long breath of relief.
“That is amazing,” she says. “You should bottle that shit and sell it.”
Zane laughs softly. “Be careful. You’re going to feel strangely for a little bit—”
“I feel great, Zane,” she says. “I don’t know that I’ve ever felt better. I feel like a whole new woman.”
“That’s the high you get from my blood,” he chuckles. “It can make you feel giddy.”
“It makes me feel something.” She giggles and leaps off the bed.
Raven runs to the door and peeks out. Then, she slams it shut and turns back to us, and I swear to God she looks totally cracked out. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed, and she has a smile that’s half-crazed.
“Where’s Elliot?” she asks, suddenly speaking really fast.
I lean back against the wall and watch her, trying to not to laugh at how silly she’s acting. Vampire blood is obviously an incredible drug.
“He’s researching something,” he says. “He had a thought about the collars and is trying to find some books to figure it out.”
She nods quickly. “That’s fine. You two will do just fine.”
