Chapter Twenty

 

 

 

MAKING AS LITTLE NOISE as possible, Alec hoisted himself onto the scaffolding, climbing until he clung to the poles beside an illuminated castle window where the traitorous silhouette of Commodore Drummond loomed over that of Roideach’s.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Roideach said. “I assumed‌—‌”

“You take unwarranted risks and continue to pander to CEAP,” the commodore interrupted. The glaziers had yet to fully repair the rotten lead of the window and numerous glass panes were missing. Enough so that Alec was able to catch their words. “First the incident with the blood thickener, now this.”

“I was only following your orders, sir, attempting to prepare a highly trained Naval officer to receive the tentacle attachment, so that you might spare your people.”

Alec had never heard Lord Roideach so deferential and obsequious. He leaned closer, curious about the power Isa’s uncle, a Navy officer, held over a gentleman.

“But it didn’t work. Fool that you are, you chose a BURR team member and look where that’s led us. A death. An investigation. Hell, I had to dispose of a difficult board member to save your arse. The next thing I know, the BURR team is dropping out of the air beside my submersible.” The commodore’s hand sliced through the air. “Now this.”

Alec ground his teeth together. That explained much. Davis, lured by the promise of an ability to dive deeper and longer, had willingly submitted to treatment. Except the experimental blood thickener had killed him, a fact Roideach had attempted to conceal. No wonder the lord had avoided Alec, opposing his access to an Ichor machine. A situation Commodore Drummond had resolved by poisoning a board member, permanently ending any investigation.

His nostrils flared, and he grabbed the weapon at his hip. Too many lives treated as no more than the inconvenient price of scientific progress. Designated a Queen’s agent, did he have to right to terminate them both now? Or was he limited to those lightweight TTX darts his brother had pushed upon him? He loosened his grip. Tempting though it might be, he had no concrete proof, and Logan would want to interrogate them both.

“Your technician is a fool,” the commodore growled. “Snatching a Finn woman directly from the Fifth Ward of the Glaister Institute? Miss Russel knew the patient was attached to Captain McCullough, a man who worked in your laboratory. He’s a BURR team member, for aether’s sake. She might as well have scattered bread crumbs the whole way here. The man is a threat. If CEAP discovers my people, our entire operation is at risk.”

“Miss Russel was attempting to manage the situation. Your niece was on death’s doorstep‌—‌”

“And should have been left there!” Isa’s uncle threw his hands in the air. “She’s of no further use to us. She’s nothing but trouble, and her death would have solved many problems.”

A faint scream echoed through the night, and ice shot down his spine.

Isa.

Alec would bet his life on it.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s in the tank now. Her blood tested positive for factor Q, and the boy is overseeing the attachment procedure as we speak.”

Shit. He needed to find Isa, now, while they argued. Bringing a superior officer and a gentleman to justice would have to wait. Gripping the crumbling stone of the castle wall, he stepped off the scaffolding, moving in the direction of the sound, angling his head, listening for another cry.

Commodore Drummond cursed. “I trusted you. You promised not to draw the attention of CEAP to me or mine. In return, I agreed to leave the child with you.”

“Please, sir,” he begged. “I’ll make this right.”

Hand by hand, foot by foot, Alec climbed over the stones. The faint sound of a child trying to hush Isa met his ears, even as her uncle pronounced a death sentence.

“No more mistakes. There’s not a chance she’ll cooperate. Glean what information you can, then see her terminated. Transport our operations to the sea cave. Be certain you sever all links.”

Roideach’s reply was lost to the howl of the wind that whipped past him as he rounded a corner, steadily moving toward a lower window‌—‌barred, of course‌—‌from which a faint glow emanated.

“Hold still,” a boy pleaded. “It needs to grip your leg just so, or it won’t work.”

“Please.” Isa’s voice was tearful but, thankfully, both conscious and coherent. “Don’t do this.”

Alec channeled all the anger‌—‌fear and betrayal‌—‌into reaching her. Grabbing the iron that proposed to bar him from her, he yanked. Metal groaned, then the bolt that held it to the stone crumbled. The iron had turned to brittle rust. He yanked and tugged and twisted, throwing each iron bar to the ground below.

“Get it off! Get it off!”

Alec lowered himself through the window, dropping silently to the floor, taking aim with his weapon.

Isa floated‌—‌naked‌—‌in an enormous, glass aquarium. Blood tinted the water pink. Wrists bound, she thrashed, twisting her torso back and forth as she kicked. A boy stood upon a platform holding a long, wooden dowel that he used to direct the movements of two tentacles. One curled and undulated about Isa’s thigh, tapping on her skin. The other explored her shoulder and neck.

But the tentacles were not connected to a body of any kind. Rather to a machine. A contraption with a panel of knobs and switches and dials and gauges. Tubes and wires ran from the device seamlessly fusing and merging with the wet, gleaming flesh of two octopus arms. Arms that plunged into the water, reaching for Isa.

“Drop it,” Alec commanded as he stepped forward. The only thing that stayed his hand was the child’s age. He was only six, perhaps seven years. He could not hurt a child. Would not. Though the boy need not know that.

The boy’s mouth fell open, and the stick clattered to the ground. “Father!” he yelled, leaping to the floor and running away.

Alec climbed the metal ladder attached to the platform. Holstering his weapon, he tugged his dive knife free and sliced through the writhing, soft flesh and tough wire of one tentacle. The other tentacle thrashed, yanking Isa beneath the water’s surface. With a vicious strike he cut it free from the machine. Opalescent fluids pulsed forward from the severed ends of the tentacles, but the monstrous things fell limp. He cut the ropes that bound Isa’s wrists, then ripped away the goggles and a harness strapped to her head.

“Alec?” she gasped through a tangle of wet, dripping hair as she reached for him.

“It’s me.” Relief washed over him. Thank aether she was alive and relatively unharmed. He lifted her onto the platform, quickly taking stock of the puncture wounds to her thigh. Blood seeped, but slowly. He didn’t think any blood vessels had been compromised. He ran his palm over the raw gash in her calf. Good. No sign of infection, amoeba or otherwise.

“A long and miserable story,” she said.

Overhead, shouts erupted. Time was running out.

“We need to go.” He wrapped a blanket about her body, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the window. Tying a rope to the tank’s ladder, he threw the loose end out the window. “It’s a bit of a drop. Wrap your arms around my neck. Hold tight.”

She complied, and he lowered them to the ground. Eyes wide, she looked up at him for direction while blood seeped from her legs in tiny rivulets. Wrapping his arm about her waist, Alec was about to steer her toward the trees where the clockwork horses waited when dirt kicked up at their feet and a loud crack tore through the air.

“Stop right there, Dr. McCullough!”

Alec swung Isa around behind him, lifting his rifle to his shoulder as he turned to face a very determined woman pointing a rifle in his direction.

Standing on the rubble of what was once the castle’s curtain wall, stood one Miss Russel looking not at all like a victim, but rather like a mad scientist attempting to stop the theft of her creation.

They’d never make the horses. He fired a dart into Miss Russel’s shoulder, and perhaps felt a bit too much satisfaction when she crumpled onto the stones. Enough so that he almost missed the rising shadow of Commodore Drummond behind her. Isa gasped as recognition took hold, as Alec used a second dart to drop her uncle before he could take aim.

Another weapon fired. The gardener had recovered from the effects of the TTX dart and taken a defensible position behind a pile of rubble. Alec didn’t dare risk the few seconds it would take them to cross the open clearing into the woods.

“This way.”

He slung the gun about his shoulder and grabbed Isa’s hand, steadying her shaky legs as she stumbled down the rocky slope toward the loch, splashing into the water. He inflated the neutral buoyancy float on his wet bag, setting it to suspend the equipment four to five feet below the water’s surface then tethered it to his hip. The metal brace about his knee might suffer, but it could be replaced.

“Across the loch is the most direct and safe route. Given your rough treatment, I have to ask. Is it too cold? Too far?”

Another shot rang out in the dark.

“Not in the slightest,” she answered, throwing aside the wool blanket and wading into the water. “I want nothing more than to swim away from this nightmare.”

Ignoring as best he could the glorious sight of her naked form standing waist-deep in the moonlight, Alec pointed across the loch, to the faint glimmer of lamplit windows. “Aim for that small village. Stay close to the surface, close to me.”

Isa nodded, and Alec stared in amazement as she inhaled deeply, closed her nose‌—‌closed‌—‌then dove into the water and disappeared beneath its surface.