I’m pacing like a caged beast alongside my bed. My fists tremble at my sides as my thoughts hit me like ramrods, one after another. They slam against me, then skitter away to hide from the shadows that have suddenly decided to revisit me.
Damn you, Azrael!
I press the palms of my hands into my eyes and push as if to put a plug to the mental flood.
My thoughts mix, compound, then boil down to one crucial question.
Do they know?
Did they capture Aydan as an Eklyptor? Or did they capture him as a Symbiot?
The logical answer rears its head, but I shut it away.
Neither option is good, but the last one could mean his death.
What do I do? What do I do?!
More than once I begin to walk out of the barracks just to turn back around. If they know he’s a Symbiot and my own experience is any indication, they will take him to Elliot’s office. The bastard will want to talk to him, not to mention Luke and Tauro. He’ll want to state his superiority. He’ll want to gloat in their faces.
But I can’t go there. I don’t have access to his floor—not through regular means, not through any means, really. Before, I would have used the air ducts to reach them, but after I popped out of one of them and nearly blew Elliot’s head off, he had them secured, reinforced with steel grates that would take a giant to pry off.
Okay, okay … think, think!
Where would they take them after Elliot’s office? Dr. Sting’s basement? That’s where they took me, to a near-fatal date with pain. I try to convince myself that there is no reason to have them tortured, but my damn logic tells me otherwise.
I keep trying to shut away my most terrifying, rational thought, but it’s no use. It has made itself comfortable, mocking my optimistic emotions.
They know Aydan is a Symbiot.
They have to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. They brought Luke and his second in command. And then, they also brought Aydan, someone supposed to be of no consequence.
I sit at the edge of my bed, facing the wall. I bite the collar of my jacket, trying to control my ragged breaths.
Lyra! She has to help me get him out of here! James should know, too.
I hop on the computer and quickly type up a message. After I hit send, I sit there, feeling as useful and abstract as a handful of zeroes and ones traveling down a wire. I hope someone is listening.
What now?
My only sensible alternative it to sit here and wait for Lyra to get back. If I try to do something without knowing exactly what’s going on, I might make things worse for Aydan. So I wait, chewing my nails until my fingertips hurt. I’m near a nervous breakdown when Lamia marches into the barracks, snarling my name before she even walks through the door.
“So you are here!” she says with a mixture of annoyance and relief. “I was sort of hoping you’d be gone, and I’d be given the chance to hunt you down.”
I stand, pushing my desk chair out of the way. My chest fills with defiance. I’m not in the mood for submissiveness. Lamia does a double-take. Her steps get shorter and slower, and it’s this caution of her that makes me realize my act is more important than ever. Too many things depend on it, and Aydan has just been added to the list.
“No need. No need. I’m right here.” My stomach churns with disgust, but I tell myself her day is coming.
Lamia looks as disgusted as I feel. Who knew I could act so slimy? “You are summoned,” she says, her earlier hesitation forgotten.
“Who needs me? Why? Why?”
“Elliot. The hell if I know why, but I have a feeling it ain’t good.” Her snake eyes glint. “I think you’re about to get what you deserve.”
I try to look scared which is not hard to do—not when ending up in Dr. Sting’s chair again suddenly seems like a possibility.
Lamia stops at the foot of Lyra’s bed and puts and hand on her holstered automatic. “Move it!” she says, gesturing with her head for me to walk ahead.
For a moment, I consider fighting her, but I’m unarmed and in the depths of Elliot’s lair, I have a feeling I wouldn’t get very far, even if I manage to be faster than Lamia’s whiplash tail.
I move away from the desk, step into the middle aisle and walk toward the door. Lamia shoves me unnecessarily, making me stagger. I swallow my rage and lace my finger over my stomach. I want to swing at her so bad that this restricting action is the only thing keeping me from throwing caution to the wind.
A moment later, we’re on the tenth floor in front of Elliot’s office. Lamia knocks. Lyra opens the door. Her green eyes lock with mine, and I don’t like what I see in them. Not at all. I shiver. Lyra steps aside to let me through.
“Not you,” she tells Lamia and closes the door in her face.
The scene inside the office sends my heart into a wild pounding.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.
There can be no good reason for being asked to join this group.
The first thing I register is Aydan kneeling in the middle of the office, his feet bare, his body tightly wound with what looks like several lengths of insulated wire. There’s a red streak of blood smeared across his cheek. His head remains down, his gaze on the floor. I want to run to him, wipe the blood off his face, but I can’t. Not if I’m to hold on to the slim possibility of protecting him.
I tear my gaze away from him and let it fall on Luke. He’s standing behind Aydan, his blue eyes intent on mine, their inhuman iridescence doing nothing to hide his distress. His lips tremble, and I think there’s a warning he wants to offer. But he remains silent.
Tauro stands next to him, tall and proud. His flat, black eyes give no indications as to where his focus is. But his expression is unmistakable. He is not happy.
Casually reclining on his desk, Elliot stands, arms crossed over his chest. An extremely amused expression has replaced his stick-up-the-ass normal one.
The twin dwarfs stand to his side, facing Aydan, their squat, muscular bodies resembling huge wine barrels. Their matching beards curl down to their stomachs, almost draping over the rifles they hold at the ready. Lyra joins them and stands at attention like a good little soldier. God, sometimes I hate her, and this is one of those times.
“My dear Azrael,” Elliot drolls, pushing away from the desk. He pulls on the cuffs of his shirt and straightens his jacket, an affectation that I’ve come to despise. He wears the most expensive clothes money can buy, but his stuck-up ass never seems comfortable in them.
I imagine a syringe with his name on it.
Damn it, pay attention! He called you Azrael. Not Marci.
I repeat that several times until it sinks in and my heart marginally slows its frantic beating. This is fubar, but less so if he still thinks I’m an Eklyptor.
“Come in, come in.” He gestures for me to step away from the closed door.
I take three steps forward, then stop.
“I’m starting to get the impression you will never cease to amaze me.”
My teeth clench. My gaze darts to Aydan, then to Luke. Which one told Elliot to call me here? I don’t guess I really need to ask. Only one of them is a coward. Hatred toward Luke churns in my gut. And to think I actually worried about him. Idiot!
Elliot cocks his head to the side, probably expecting my usual chattiness. I give him nothing.
“How come you never mentioned you knew Luke Hailstone?” Elliot asks, his unnatural golden eyes shining with malice as he points a finger at the blond boy with the face of an angel.
“Uh …”
Think fast, Marci. Think!
“Hailstone?!” I exclaim. “ Hailstone?! Did you say Luke Hailstone?! He ain’t no Hailstone. He’s trying to fool ya. He’s Luke Smith.”
Elliot’s eyebrows go up. He looks over at Luke in question.
“Her … host always thought my last name was Smith,” Luke says, giving me a strange look since he doesn’t know about my crazy act.
“I see.” Elliot nods, satisfied with the explanation.
Azrael would have had no reason to tell Elliot about any of my family members or friends, so this is quite acceptable. My thoughts race, thinking of more excuses, trying to stay ahead. I’ve dodged not only a bullet but a missile. This is far from over, though.
I sneer at the coward, fear writhing in my gut. Why is he being so helpful? What has he told them? My knees feel so weak I have to shuffle restlessly not to give myself away.
“I have to admit this is the most convoluted story I’ve ever heard.”
Convoluted story? My heart goes back to sledgehammer intensity. My hatred for Luke redoubles, and I want to march toward him, wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him. He’s told Elliot about our origin. How could he?! To think I was glad Lyra didn’t kill him.
Elliot walks to the terrarium where he keeps his huge scorpion. He bends at the waist to look at his hideous pet through the glass. A warm light glows on the arachnid’s ebony exoskeleton. Noticing the presence of his master, it does a skittering, sideways dance, its huge pincers opening and closing, its stinger curled above its body.
“Tom Hailstone was a very ingenious chap but, with this, he truly outdid himself.” Elliot drops a few live crickets into the terrarium. The scorpion lunges forward, its stinger striking without mercy. The cricket jumps, trying to get away, but it’s caught in mid-air by one of the large pincers.
Everyone stares at the spectacle in morbid fascination. Elliot smiles fondly, his golden eyes creasing with contentment. I feel cold inside, no more than one of those crickets in the hands of a monster. My gaze flashes to Aydan. He’s looking at me for the first time. Dry blood is crusted over his right cheek. Worry lines mark his forehead. Yet, something in his eyes gives me strength.
I’m here with you, his gaze seems to say.
It should be little relief—considering he’s tied up and doesn’t seem able to use his powers—but his presence does comfort me. At least I’m not alone, and he isn’t either. We have each other.
Elliot pulls a sanitary wipe from a canister and carefully cleans his fingers. He throws the used wipe in a garbage can to the side, then absently rubs his hands together. “A new species,” he says, slowly, rolling the words in his mouth.
My throat closes up and I’m glad for it, because I’d be screaming at the top of my lungs otherwise. It feels as if my voice would be so loud and shrill that Luke’s head would explode, dispersing bits of his beautiful face all over the office—exactly what he deserves.
He’s betrayed me. Yet again.
Yes, I gave away his location, but at least I gave him a fighting chance. He could have escaped Whitehouse’s attack, if not for the fact that he’s a useless coward. That’s also why he’s sold me out now. He couldn’t stand to suffer this alone. He had to pull me down with him. Misery loves company. If this is how he treats those he cares about, I’d hate to see what he does to the rest.
I don’t want to imagine what Elliot will make out of this information, and how he’d want to exploit it. It can’t be anything good.
He walks back to his desk, looks down at Aydan. Elliot’s face twists in surprised disgust, as if he’d forgotten Aydan was there and he’s just rediscovered the helplessly bound boy.
“You,” Elliot points at one of the twin dwarfs, “take this Fender down to Dr. Sting. I don’t want to see him anymore. Hopefully, he’ll turn out to be as useful as our dear Azrael after a visit to our skillful doctor.”
No! I take a step forward. I can’t let him take Aydan to that cruel monster. The torture will be too much for him. The pain will weaken him and then … I can’t lose him. I can’t. If Aydan succumbs to his agent, he may be lost forever; he may not be able to come back the way I did. I can’t let that happen.
Both Lyra and Aydan cast warning glances in my direction. I freeze, eyes pleading. We have to do something. Aydan’s gaze remains stern. I swallow and force myself to unclench my fists.
The twin hoists Aydan to his feet.
“Oh, one more thing,” Elliot adds, “send Lamia in to take your place.”
The dwarf nods as he pushes Aydan toward the door. Aydan staggers and, without thinking, I reach out and help him regain his balance. His dark eyes give me a pointed look. He shrugs out of my grasp. I let my stupid hands fall to the side and avoid eye contact with Elliot and the dwarf. If I don’t, they’ll see my worry, my desperation and fear for Aydan.
Just get out of here in one piece, Marci. Then you can help him.
The door opens and closes. A moment later it opens again and Lamia strolls in, throwing Lyra a contemptuous look. She takes a guarding post next to Elliot.
The room seems to shrink around me, the walls moving closer together, pushing us into a tighter circle.
Aydan is gone, and every face in the room seems to leer in my direction. Even the scorpion appears nearer, its jaws snapping hungrily. Lyra is still here, but why doesn’t her presence seem to matter anymore?
Aydan.
He’s the only one who matters.
My eyes wander toward the door as if they could transmit a message. Hang on. I’ll get out of here in one piece, then I’ll come for you. Promise.