He'd tasted peace with her. Somehow, she was the key. To be denied her ... ?
Christ, what did he even want from her? Having never been satisfied in this area of his life, he had no idea what he needed. No target to aim for.
All he knew was that he wanted more of Regin. More time with her, more contact ...
More.
He'd waited his entire life for this, comprehended with perfect clarity that he'd waited for her. I can't go back to an existence like before. Grim. Soulless. Strain. I won't. He'd eat a bullet first.
Which meant he had to make a choice. He either accepted Regin as his, while accepting her nature and what she was.
Or he ended himself.
He exhaled a long breath as he admitted the truth to himself--he didn't see her as he did the rest. No longer. The Neo hunt had only crystallized what he'd already wrestled with.
When Declan looked at her, he didn't think of her as some vile detrus; he thought of her as ... his.
He could accept her. He gazed down at the scars covering his body. Regin would never accept him.
You've come full circle now, Dekko. How ironic.
Hating those marks so bitterly, he threw back his head and bellowed with misery, slamming his fist into the tile. Want her so fuckin' much.
The pain in his hand felt welcome. So he did it again and again till the tile cracked and shards piled around his feet.
He raised his face to the spray. Take her, escape this place. He could make her love him. Somehow. He'd had better odds. But then he'd come back from worse ones, too.
Turn his back on his duty? On Webb, the only friend he had in the world?
Slow down... just think this over. Tonight, after he completed the interrogation, he would go running, giving himself a chance to contemplate everything. He'd cover the entire island if he had to, but he would make a decision.
He dried himself, then dressed in his fatigues, boots, and pullover. Last came the hated gloves. They were too tight today, especially over his bloodied right hand.
Everything felt confining, as if his skin itched. He loosened the strap on his watch. Ten minutes till six.
He stormed from the room, nearly leveling Vincente on his way out. As Declan strode down the corridor, the man followed.
"Magister Chase, I've been knocking and calling for hours."
"Not now." He spied Webb waiting at the door of the interrogation room.
"This is urgent--"
"Right on time, as usual, son," Webb said, before immediately dismissing Vincente. "That will be all."
The guard left with a cryptic glance at Declan.
"We've heard good things about your hunt," Webb continued. "A pristine job, and back early, too."
Declan had always soaked up the man's praise. Now guilt surfaced. I'm thinking of betraying him? The man who'd given him a home, a job, purpose. "Thank you, sir."
"We have high hopes for Slaine's questioning. Don't let me down."
"No, sir."
Webb slapped him on the back.
As Declan entered the interrogation room, he was struck anew by the massive size of the creature, by its vampire fangs and demon horns. No, Regin didn't look like a monster or a murderer, but this large male did.
"Why have you taken me?" the demon demanded in thickly accented English, renewing his efforts to get free.
"All in good time, Slaine." Declan felt sweat beading his upper lip. Christ, that hit was still roiling in him, and he hadn't eaten all day. His hands shook. Would Slaine notice?
Dixon entered then, ready to collect samples from the demon.
"His blood's been drawn," Declan told her. "The second your lab's done, you'll destroy it." If a mortal drank that blood ...
"But his orders--"
"Destroy it!"
She nodded, but she wouldn't look him in the eyes. Paranoia flared again.
Once Dixon collected the vials and left, Slaine said, "What do you want with me?"
"There's much interest in you. In your genesis. Today, you're going to tell me all about it. And tomorrow, my physicians will examine you, to see what makes you faster, stronger."
"So you can make more like me?"
"So we can make sure your kind is never miscreated again."
"Maybe you should just ... cry?" Natalya said as she sat on the edge of Regin's bunk.
Regin lay on her side, curled up as much as the ghastly wound allow. Under her shirt, pasty skin had swelled up around an angry line of seeping staples. Her skin was dim all over. "Leave me alone," she said in a deadened tone. With effort, she turned to her other side away from the fey.
Ignore the metal wire holding your ribs together, ignore the staples in your skin.
Natalya was undeterred, actually beginning to stroke her hair. "Crying can be therapeutic. Or so I'm told. Never have done it myself. But I do know the pain will fade soon."
Regin wasn't afflicted only with physical pain--though that had been worse than any she'd ever known; humiliation seethed inside her as well. For her entire adult life, she'd been a creature with which one didn't fuck. Now she was defeated, and at the hands of a man who should've defended her.
How the demons and vampires in the ward had gloated!
"Did they put every part back under the hood, Valkyrie?"
"Nice piercings."
"Surgical steel's your color."
Both allies and enemies had witnessed her at her lowest. Even the ones who hadn't seen her still knew how intensely she'd reacted. As Natalya had told her, "You were like a nuclear reactor. Your lightning and thunder shook the building."
Regin had yearned to be strong, had been resolved. Which was why her reactions had stunned her. After a thousand years of knowing herself, suddenly she'd been altered.
In that operating room, she'd behaved in ways she'd never anticipated. Like a stranger might. Not like a stalwart Valkyrie would.
"Chase promised me I would beg," Regin muttered. "He was ... right." A Valkyrie, begging mortals for mercy. Shame scalded her.
"The magister was there?"
"He ordered it but didn't have the stones to show. Fegley was there smirking. Dixon, of course." Regin would never forget the doctor's eyes behind those freakish glasses--studious and calm as she'd probed and sawed. There was no hate, no patent sense of righteousness.
Because Dixon truly believed Regin was no more than an animal to be utilized in the pursuit of science.
In the background, her fellow surgeons had carried on a casual conversation as Regin had screamed in agony. ...
When she shuddered, Natalya laid her hand on Regin's shoulder. "There's one thing that'll make you feel better--and strike fear in the hearts of your enemies once more."
This demeaning ordeal wasn't merely an ego check. Anytime a Lorean was perceived as weak, others called open season. If Regin ever did escape this place, she'd be endangered from this defeat. "And what would that be?"
"A trophy. Taken from Chase's body and carried on your person. Like a fashion accessory. I'm going to own a memento from Volos before I die."
Despite her pain, Regin grew curious. "What did he do to you?"
"He tortured me for a couple of years, mainly as court entertainment. Then I was largely forgotten in his vile dungeon for about six years. Until his nephew visited."
"The one you killed."
"Correct." In a faraway voice, Natalya said, "Every night in that cell, I sat plotting revenge. With every rat I caught and ate raw for sustenance, with every lash of a barbed whip, I only grew harder, losing myself in fantasies of killing Volos." Black veins forked out across her irises. "And before I destroy him, I'm going to tell him to send his nephew my regards. I can see it playing out so clearly in my mind."
"We've got to escape this place first. And I'm not feeling particularly bullish about our odds right now."
"You're feeling downtrodden because you've been dwelling on what Chase has done to you. Instead you should think about what he'll soon surrender to
you. Come, Regin, tell me. How would you kill him?"
Regin gritted her teeth and sat up. "A sword stroke from his gullet down to his balls. It'd be just deep enough to kill him, but not outright. There'd be enough time for realization and horror to set in. Naturally."
"Naturally. And Fegley?"
"Cut off the tool's tool. Then nick his femoral artery."
"For Dixon?"
Regin was liking this game. "I'd force her to swallow razor blades. Let them slice her body open from the inside."
"Now you're talking! That notorious Valkyrie pride is surfacing--I can see it. Think of it, Regin. Retribution is within reach for both of us. Let's make a pact to help each other get our revenge."
"I'm in." Regin swiped her sleeve over her eyes. "Hey, Natalya?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really glad we had this talk."
THIRTY
Hours later, Declan conceded defeat with Slaine. But only temporarily. Though the demon despised Carrow the witch for luring him into the Order's clutches, Slaine still wanted her, even believed she was his mate.
I'll use that. Threaten the life of a male's woman, and he would do anything, say anything.
Pitiable, he told himself, even as he feared what he'd do if someone had a blade at Regin's throat.
Out in the corridor, he again noticed that Dixon wouldn't meet his eyes, even turned to avoid him. Farther along, he came upon a smirking Fegley, rapping his nightstick against his palm.
Vincente was nowhere to be found, though he'd obviously needed to talk to him. Disquiet settled over Declan as he strode to his quarters.
Back at his console, he pulled up Regin's cell. She was curled up on the bottom bunk, her back to the camera. Her fey cell mate was pacing.
A knock sounded at his door. After a short pause, Webb entered. "Better luck next time with Slaine, son." His tone was odd, his expression almost ... guilty.
Now Webb was acting strange? Gotta cut back on the medicine. Paranoia had him by the throat.
"I need to take the vampire's ring off-island for more study," Webb said. "And transfer a prisoner as well. Unfortunately, I must leave tonight before the storm hits."
Declan was only half-listening, keeping the monitor in the corner of his vision. Was Regin's skin dim? "The ring's in my safe."
"I've collected it already."
"Which prisoner are you transferring?"
Just as Webb said, "The one you're no doubt watching," Regin turned on the bed--revealing a line of staples below the hem of her shirt.
Vivisection.
The room spun. "What ... the Valkyrie was ..."
"Examined? Yes, while you were resting today. I'd hoped to have her shipped out before you finished with the demon." Then he exhaled. "You and those monitors. Never could hide anything from you. Well, not much, anyway."
Declan shot to his feet. "No. She wasn't scheduled," he said slowly. "Some other creature was."
"I decided to have her examined before her transfer."
Sagging against the console, Declan rewound the feed of the O/R to this morning. Regin had just awakened strapped to the operating table.
He could do nothing but watch in horror, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, his mind threatening to break once and for all.
This had been done by Declan's order hundreds of times before, but he'd never truly understood. ...
As they'd begun slicing her skin open--without anesthesia--she'd shrieked, her body twisting in the restraints. Tears had leaked from her stunned eyes. Again and again, thunder had boomed, shaking the camera.
She'd felt everything.
When they'd cracked open her rib cage, Declan clutched the edge of the console, crushing the wood to splinters. Never had he felt so sickened. Not even the night his entire family had been murdered.
Once Regin had grown insensible, just before speech became impossible, she'd begged Chase to stop it.
And Fegley had told her, "Who do you think ordered this done to you? You didn't think that he'd retaliate against you?"
That lying son of a bitch! I will bash his skull!
With a roar of fury, Declan turned to Webb. "Why the fuck would you do this? Why?" he bellowed, not recognizing his own voice. She cried for me to save her. ...
In a faltering tone, Webb answered, "Now, just calm yourself."
He fears me. He should.
"This is one of thousands of examinations. Why would you care about a detrus who sought to kill you?"
No, she stopped me before I could kiss her.
"She's got you bewitched. Tonight I'm moving her from the island, so you can throw off this spell. I'll fix it, just like I fixed the last one." Webb ran his hand over his face, looking much older than his years. "Then you can return to life as you knew it. To a life of purpose and service."
Declan felt a murderous rage, and confusion following on the heels of it. Because he wanted to kill the man he'd looked upon as a father.
"You want to harm me right now, don't you, son? After all I've done for you? Can't you see that this is an enchantment?"
It wasn't. Unless Regin got to me when I was just a boy. He'd been waiting all his life ... "Answer me! Why would you do this to her?"
"We have to uncover their weaknesses. The Valkyrie could prove more dangerous to the Order than any other faction. Hell, that glowing one wants you dead even now. Play the feed where she talks to her witch friend."
Though he could imagine what she'd said, Declan did. As the guards dragged her past the witch's cell, Regin's skin had been ashen, her legs trailing limply. He could see the grisly staples climbing above the collar of her shirt and down her flat belly.
Bile rose in his throat.
"Carrow ... is that y-you?" She'd coughed blood. "Can't s-see."
Carrow leapt to the glass. "I'm here!"
"Kill him, witch! Curse Chase. He ordered this. He is Aidan the Fierce. T-tell my sisters."
Declan shoved his fist against his mouth.
Regin had been right to trick him, had been smart to do everything in her power to escape. What should I have done? Calmly awaited my torture? She'd known this was in store for her.
And I didn't protect her.
"Son?" Webb began backing away--because, Declan dimly realized, he was stalking closer.
"I understand what you must be feeling." Webb stumbled up to the next level of Declan's room. "But this is manageable. Maybe it's time for you to know what you're battling, so you can comprehend why you feel this unnatural pull to her."
"What are you talking about?"
"Son, you're ... you're a berserker."
"You bloody knew. For how long?"
"We knew you were different from the beginning. You killed two Neoptera with a bat when you were just seventeen years old. Dixon only recently put it all together after she studied the immortal berserker. Though you're still mortal, you share key markers with him."
Might have been swinging, but I've still gone down. Declan was of their world. "But if you knew I was different ..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "It was you who sent Dixon to help me camouflage my symptoms."
When Webb didn't deny it, Declan said, "Did you tell her to keep me high, so you could control me, so I'd continue to be a good little soldier?"
"It's not like that, son. She suggested an ... enhanced medical regimen, and I agreed. You seemed more satisfied."
"Even though you saw what I went through to get clean the first time! Why not tell me, and let me figure out how to deal with it?"
"I was protecting you. You already had more obstacles to overcome than any other man I've ever known. I thought this knowledge would break you."
It might have, before Regin. Declan's brows drew together. Their kind-- He stopped himself. No, my kind have one mate.
All his life, he'd wondered what he yearned for, obsessing over it every minute of the day, sickened with the need to find it. He'd nearly lost his mind. Declan flexed the hand he'd used to punch the tile in his shower
earlier.
At last, he could stop wondering. Regin was ... his. To possess, to protect. He swung a lowering glance at Webb. The man before him had hurt Declan's woman. Had removed her from his reach, possibly forever. "You had to suspect that the Valkyrie is mine. Still you did this to her?"
"Now, wait just a minute! You told me that you'd beaten your obsession. I believe you called her a detrus whore. How was I to read your mind?"
"Bullshite! Then why hide this from me? Why send me off the island? I wasn't supposed to be back for days!"
"The Valkyrie are a real threat. That subject is the key to developing a weapon to fight them--a device that disrupts a Valkyrie's energy supply. There's potential, but we need to test it on her again."
"That subject?" Declan lunged forward, his hand shooting out to wrap around Webb's throat. "That subject is my woman!" How Regin cried for me ...
Webb's eyes went wide with fear. He tried to talk, but Declan tightened his grip.
I loved this man like a father?
Suddenly the power surged, the lights wavering. My bloody installation doesn't have power surges.
Webb's radio sounded: "Commander, our security nets are picking up some strange interference. We thought it was more of the Valkyrie's lightning, but this is different. ..."
More of her lightning. The bolts that Regin had given off with each mutilation. And I slept through it all, high in my room while Dixon cut on her.
By this man's order. Punish him. He squeezed harder.
The radio blared again: "Commander Webb? Something is approaching."
Declan felt that ominous pressure strengthening, as if the air had grown leaden. But his mind was bent on slaughtering this man. "She's mine. You don't touch what's mine. You will not take her from here. I'll protect her with my life."
Regin hadn't been separating Declan from his purpose. She is my purpose.
"Commander, we need an authorization from you or Magister Chase to go to code red--"
"RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!" some being shrieked, a sound as he'd never heard.
Lothaire's words about the gold band flashed in Declan's mind: "She's coming. She's going to want it back." He'd described an unimaginable evil descending upon them. ...
This new threat diverted some of Declan's rage. Webb might just make it out of this office alive.
With the last of his control, Declan eased his grip. The man staggered back, wheezing in breath and rubbing his neck.
Declan called in the code, then said to Webb, "Get out of my sight. Take the helicopter and leave here. Now. Before I finish what I started."