Not exactly good for the old morale.
“I went to see Fields’ new place,” Landon said. “And yes, I took the long way.”
“It’s never even crossed my mind that you wouldn’t.” They couldn’t risk living a trail to where Fields had taken his daughter, Justin, and a few other Abnormals who needed a safe place to transform every few days.
“He’s got a nice set-up there. Not surprisingly, the security is great, but he wanted me to test it. A gated community can’t stop anyone halfway determined, but the house itself is impressive. He’s still planning on moving out of state though.”
“He told me the last time we spoke,” she said. “How are Justin and Alicia?” She hadn’t seen any of them since that night and she missed them, Justin especially. Seeing the pain in his eyes when she told him the truth about Alex had created both a permanent bond and a little pocket in her heart. A Justin-sized pocket was about all it could hold. She’d already given the rest away.
“It’s a good thing Fields got that long nap because, more than likely, it will never happen again. Not with teenagers around.” It had been touch and go with Fields for the first few days. Since the narcotic Alex injected him with was meant for Eden, their prize broodmare, it wasn’t lethal. But it was still a huge dose, drawn up for an Abnormal.
“I don’t know how Fields hasn’t killed one of them yet,” Landon said. “It probably helps that he’s got enough Velcro straps in the place to hold half of Fort Lauderdale down.
“Oh, and Fields remembered another one of the scientists’ names. Dr. Lou Bradford.” He took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out against the wall. “Dr. Bradford was not an easy guy to find.”
Hardly surprising. Eden didn’t have much hope in the list of names Fields had given them. As soon as the facility went down, every guard and scientist must have run for it. But some of them didn’t run fast enough. So far, all Landon had found was a lot of empty apartments and a few dead bodies.
“But…” Landon said. “I found him.”
Her hopes shot up…
“In the Everglades. With a hole in his head the size of a 9mm bullet. Not self-inflicted.”
…and then plummeted right back down.
“So, the case will probably be closed soon,” he grumbled. “Because obviously, he was shot in self-defense by an alligator.”
“It happens…in cartoons.” Yes, the death toll was mounting, but she couldn’t focus on that. Those guards knew what they were doing, what kind of people they were working for. The whole ‘we don’t kill people’ thing had either never been true or was yet another rule that had changed. It was a good thing they’d never claimed to not have people raped because then they’d have to admit they weren’t angels.
“With the gator-victim out”—he crossed the name off his list—“we have one more shot. Dr. Steve Harris. But he’s in really deep—I haven’t found anything on the guy. No house, no life. Just a name.”
All she wanted was someone who could tell her how to bring Mitch back. But somehow The Clinic was in complete darkness and everyone who worked for them did it blind. Because if they could see, they would see the truth. Fields did it to protect his daughter. Eden understood how love could make you do things you wouldn’t otherwise, but she doubted the rest of the employees could use that excuse.
“How can that many people avoid asking any questions for so long? No one wondered what they hell they were part of?”
“Responsibility is a funny thing. Something I learned a long time ago is: If you’re not ready to hear the answer, then don’t ask the question. Because once you know, you might have to do something about it.”
Eden nodded. They all either hadn’t asked the question or had asked the wrong one. And they each paid for it differently.
Landon wasn’t much closer to the truth about his girlfriend, Tara, but his career and his pride had been stripped away and replaced with danger. Fields’ daughter, Alicia, had been raped in the name of twisted science, and both of them were dealing with the aftermath of that truth. Justin was just a sixteen-year-old kid who believed The Clinic was trying to help him, and the wound caused by that deception would probably never heal. Because Carter closed his eyes to what he was doing to Eden and then what The Clinic was doing to him, he paid for it with his life.
Eden was no different, no wiser or savvier. She went back to them with no idea of what they really wanted. Thinking that if she played their game, Mitch would be okay. And look where that had gotten them—in a worse place than where they started.
They all should’ve made better choices. But all of that was in the past, so it didn’t matter. Only what was real, what was happening today, mattered. None of them were who they’d been a week ago, and change wasn’t always good.
Eden thought she heard someone yell and shushed Landon.
“What?” he asked, immediately palming his weapon and looking at the door.
“I heard something.”
They waited a moment, both listening intently.
“It must have been Hyde,” Landon said, putting his gun back in its holster.
“No, I don’t even notice that anymore.” She held her hand out to stop Landon from talking. After another minute, she relaxed. “It was probably just the voices in my head.”
Chapter III
Mitch’s back arched through the agony. It felt like he was being pulled out of quick sand…if quicksand had teeth.
He was proof that, yes, a tree would make a sound even when no one was in the forest. Because he’d screamed for what seemed like years. But he couldn’t do it anymore—there was nothing left inside him. He was hollowed out, unable to breathe, to think, to feel anything other than pain. So unlike the good old days when he could nap through Hyde’s turn with their body.
And then the pain stopped. So quickly, he didn’t trust it. The demons were probably just teasing him with a moment of relief while they geared up for something else. He waited, unmoving, knowing that when it hit, it would be even worse than before.
Any second now.
Or now.
Or— please, just let it be over.
When he dared open his eyes, he saw a dark ceiling. Then the bars. Then the mattress he was laying on. Soft. Hard cuffs on his wrists and ankles, but a soft mattress. And a fucking pillow—thin and cheap and the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Almost.
“Holy. Shit.” He laid there for a few more minutes, or maybe an hour, who knew? Time wasn’t something he could grasp any better than he could figure out if this was real or not. It felt real, looked real.
In fact, it looked just like that ugly-ass brothel Landon had taken them to years ago, back when Mitch was human. The last time he’d held Eden in his arms. Yeah, it had been years, hadn’t it? Had to have been years.
If this was even real.
After another chunk of time—minutes or hours or decades—Mitch decided there was a definite possibility that he wasn’t insane, this wasn’t a mirage, and this was the same shithole he remembered. The place they’d gone after The Clinic’s assholes broke into his house and Tasered the crap out of him.
He yanked against the cuffs, shaking as if he was still being Tasered. Not surprisingly, there was no way out. Because his karma sucked shit. He should’ve worked on that more before everything went to hell. Literally.
Give it up, asshole. You know what’s more pathetic than flopping around on your back, knowing you have zero chance of getting loose? Nothing. Nothing is more pathetic than that. He took a few deep breaths, giving himself a moment to contemplate which arm he should gnaw off first.
He would give anything to have his hands free. Except his cock. That he’d like to keep, just in case he was ever lucky enough to need it again. But his head was going to explode any minute, and all he wanted was to push against the pain. At least he was somewhere warm, somewhere different than where he’d been—an unknown place for an unknown amount of time.
There might even
be a chance he was alive. And if he was, hopefully it would continue. Of course, that was something that seemed to be out of his control lately. But his body and his mind were his own—no pain from Hyde, no physical reminders other than the headache.
Maybe the bastard threw our head into the wall a few dozen times. Yeah, that sounded about right. Sad. Because it was a perfectly good head. The stuff inside of it was shit, but the head itself was fine.
When he heard the door slam into the wall, he lifted his head. Fuck, that hurts. But it was so worth it. Because he saw her. His love. His life. His afterlife.
Oh shit. Maybe he really was dead. Sure it was still a shitload better than the last place he’d been, but how motherfucking ironic to be strapped down in hell too. With her image just across the room to torture him. Damn it, that was so poetic he wanted to kill someone. Again. He closed his eyes, because he was too much of a wuss to deal with it.
Open wide and take it, asshole. When he did, she was unlocking the cage door, staring at him. Her expression was unidentifiable, stoic, blank, but the tears running down her cheeks stung.
“Don’t cry, babe.”
She didn’t listen to him. In fact, she did just the opposite. More tears, redder eyes.
“Is this real?” he whispered.
She nodded but said nothing as she undid the cuffs binding his wrists and ankles.
Being free was great, but his muscles still weren’t happy...or unusable. As if he’d been in the same position for so long, they’d forgotten what they were for. The universe had a sick sense of humor—Congrats, you’re back! And free! But…you can’t move and there’s a good chance this is all just a mirage.
“Can you say something, please?” he asked. “So I know I’m not just imagining this? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I told Landon to kill me.”
“I…” She swallowed. “I didn’t let him.”
“Huh. I forgot how beautiful you are. But even that doesn’t excuse your crappy judgment.”
“Shut up.”
When she kissed him, he came to life. Because there was no way in hell the devil would allow him this. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her and never let go, never eat, never think, never live anything but her ever again. And if he could move, that’s exactly what he would’ve done.
Thankfully, she helped by throwing her leg over and straddling him, never letting her lips leave his. The moistness of her mouth, the fierceness of her kiss gave him strength to finally lift up his arms and wrap them around her. Perfect enough to pretend that the severe case of pins and needles in every part of his body was just the devil giving him a little acupuncture.
“God, I hope that’s really him,” Landon said from across the room.
“It is.” She pushed through Mitch’s weak hold, climbed off, and helped him sit up, her eyes lowered the entire time.
“Am I really here?” When Mitch let Hyde out of the gate, he assumed it would be for good. Or for evil, in sickness and in heath, i.e. forever. So it was probably normal he was having a little trouble figuring out what was happening. Or a lot of trouble figuring out what was happening.
“It seems so,” Landon said, grinning ear to ear like a prepubescent girl at a Boy Band concert. A prepubescent girl who had a goatee.
Mitch stood on shaky legs, still doubting this was real. But he’d take it any way he could—her arm around him, his best friend looking shocked and happy, no cuffs. Yeah, he’d take it. Not even heaven could be this nice. So until his flesh started peeling off or purple mushrooms danced through the door, he’d take it for reality and be content.
“I like the facial fuzz, cop. It covers a lot of your face.” He ungracefully staggered out of the cage, smiling. “So are you just going to stand there or come over here and give me some sugar?”
Landon grimaced and glanced at Eden.
“What? She’s not the jealous type,” Mitch said, nudging her side and then letting his hands wander wherever they may. “Are you?”
“It might not bother her, but the idea sure as shit is freaking me out.”
“It’s your turn.” Eden pushed Mitch into the cop’s arms. “But I get him right back.”
What started out as something for balance turned into a sincere-but-not-too-weird hug, kind of like Mitch imagined brothers would do. Made sense. Good comparison. Constant fighting, except when a bigger threat showed up. Then it was time to shut their mouths long enough to kick some ass. Which reminded him…
“Hey, asshole,” he whispered. “While I’m glad to see you, you were supposed to fry my ass with the Taser.” Not that he minded not being dead, but it was a risk he hadn’t wanted them to take. “I thought my directions were very clear on that. So what happened?”
The cop pulled back and then nodded towards Eden. “She did.”
“You’re going to let a girl push you around? Bros before—” Everything but her.
She smacked him on the arm.
“I was kidding, babe. It’s just part of the cop and my witty repartee.”
“Can we repartee from farther away?” Landon asked. “Because you stink, my friend.”
“Damn, I was hoping that was you.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Please tell me the bastard didn’t shit himself. Because if he did, I need you to strangle me to death and forget I was ever here.”
“You’re in luck,” Landon said, chuckling. “I have no idea how his metabolism works, but he doesn’t expel waste at all. He sweats—”
“Great news and let’s stop talking about it.” He tilted his head toward Eden. “I want her to keep thinking I’m as hot as you do.”
“Oh yeah, that. It lasted right up until I met you.” He turned to Eden. “Do you remember how much you gave him?”
“I wrote it down.”
“We should make up some of the same dose right away since we don’t know how long this one will keep him pretty.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
Landon groaned. “Now that he’s back, can we sedate him?”
Mitch practiced using different muscles while they discussed dosages and filled-in little snippets of information he should probably be paying attention to.
He still felt apart from what was happening, still afraid to believe it. He’d spent the last who-knew-how-long living inside a fairly horrific dream. Giving into Hyde gave Mitch one moment of pure relief, of overwhelming peace. And then the pain kicked in. Like he was being devoured by piranhas from the inside. Like they were hollowing him out, leaving only his skin. And his pain receptors, of course. Wouldn’t want to get rid of those. And it never stopped.
The pain could be handled. It wasn’t as much fun as having your fingernails yanked out and he’d sure like to avoid going through it again, but he could deal. His life had always been painful—from all directions.
But the most traumatic part was being able to see things and not understand them. Thinking it was reality but not believing it was real. A complete mindfuck—so emotionally draining, the physical pain affected him more.
It was almost like watching a movie from the electric chair. Sometimes it was a horror flick and other times it was a really fucking tragic drama, with tears and other girlie crap. He hated both kinds. Because he couldn’t stop himself from yelling at the characters when they made a lousy decision or didn’t see what was coming for them. And yelling was useless.
They never hear you. And even if they could, they’d never listen.
Now it was different, more like a waking dream. One he couldn’t quite get a handle on or trust. His memory of that other place was already fading though. Maybe his mind was finally getting something right—forget about the bad stuff ‘cause that shit isn’t healthy to keep around.
Things were fuzzy in this world too, blurred and out of focus. But every second brought more clarity. And Eden was here, so it was a whole lot better than death. He detested how disgustingly sappy he felt. Back off, idiot. You’re being clingy. She was going to regret giving him the dose that w
orked. But he couldn’t stop looking at her, touching her, just to make sure she was real and tangible and by his side.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked with a smile of her own.
“I don’t know where to begin.” He had a second chance. No matter what happened now, no matter what drugs he had to take, he’d do it. Because she was worth anything. Everything. And nothing would make him fuck this up. Including him.
“How about we start with food?” she asked. “Are you hungry?”
He thought about it. “Very. Need a shower too. And someone to scrub my back—someone who isn’t Landon. Sorry, man.”
“I’d do a lot for you, asshole, but I got my limits. And touching your naked body is at the top of my ‘Things I’ll Never Do’ list.”
Mitch turned to Eden. “Then can I count on you?”
“Touching your naked body is at the top of my ‘Things I’m Dying to Do’ list.”
“Excellent. Although I may not be up for much more than that. I feel like I just got back from a too-long vacation in hell. And it was nothing like you’d imagine—no heavy metal, cloven hoofs, or sulfur-scented morning breath.”
A look of concern passed over her face, her arms falling to her sides. “What do you remember?”
Shit. Downplay, man. Downplay. Because there was a good chance he was going back there, and he didn’t want her to have anything else to worry about. She already looked so damn fatigued. As if she’d felt everything he had.
“Completely different than anything I’ve ever felt before, but it wasn’t too bad.” He shrugged. “No picnics or barbecues.” Unless you counted the times it felt like he had a skewer up his ass and was on a spit being roasted alive. “But not too bad.”
“Anything else?”
“Just images. Feelings. But they didn’t quite touch me, if that makes sense. I was just an observer and felt…detached.” A simple explanation that meant nothing at all. What he’d felt was empty. Dark. Cold. Like he was falling down an endless hole with no ‘eat me/drink me’ signs, no red queens, and no white fucking rabbits. But he didn’t want to tell her that. Couldn’t tell her that.