Chapter 16 The Countdown
THE COUNTDOWN
BAZ
One hour was left when we pulled up to the airport. I started chanting the minutes in my head as they decreased during parking and shuttling. Didn’t even have time to be curious about the bus that was taking us to the entrance.
“Don’t make me kill you,” I begged Bree as we stumbled off the little bus.
She grabbed my hand and walked me into the airport.
Fifty minutes became forty, then thirty as I was pulled through counters, customer service, and security.
It was a baffling event. Nemo looked as shocked as I was by the crowds, the lines, and the man waving a wand down his body.
The airport was crowded beyond what I thought was possible.
How and why would so many people gather in one tightly packed asylum?
Bree dragged me because how could I do anything but gape?
Her fingers tangled with my gloved ones as I was reeled into the crowd.
The shock of it kept me from putting up any fight at all.
Not that a fight would matter against fast vampires and a powerful werewolf.
Bodies were everywhere, so close I could smell their individual scents blending into a collection of terrible and lovely things.
The unpleasant sourness of body odor and sweat, to the alluring hug of perfumes—powdery, floral, and warm.
And heat—I could feel the increase in temperature inside the mass of people. No one was as warm as me, though.
Dumbfounded. There was no better description of me.
Never in my entire life had I been in a crowd besides the meager collection of bodies that gathered for fights and food at Verfallen.
Even then, those people dispersed like bugs exposed to light—scampering frantically for safety at the sight of me.
No one did that here. They swelled around my body—a sea of exposed skin without any fear of touch. For the briefest moment, the sense of being an individual faded, and instead I was part of a whole; part of a community of strangers who made up this place called an airport.
My head spun; it was dizzying to lose track of oneself, feel as if we were one organism instead of me versus them.
Fuck, what was I going to do? I was barely managing to avoid touching anyone, but I needed a plan. How many minutes were left now? I patted the vials in my pocket.
“I need the bathroom,” I said, pulling on Bree’s hand.
“There’s a bathroom on the plane.”
“I need to go now and … clean up too,” I said softly, feigning shyness.
Although it was true that the van hadn’t provided much of a thorough clean-up solution after the mess Nemo left me, that wasn’t really the reason why I needed some privacy.
However, I thought it was probably a decent manipulation tactic.
“Let him go,” Nemo nearly growled. Mentally, I patted myself on the back.
Sometimes they treated me with kid gloves.
Who cared Nemo fucked me? It was just sex.
Well, at least that’s what I told myself.
He was looking at me right now in a weird way.
Somehow both puffing his chest out and gooey in the eyes.
Shit, it was definitely more than sex. We were in love, weren’t we? How inconvenient. Why did no one tell me this earlier? Assholes. What next, get Orson pregnant? No, that was all too much to think about right now.
It was just sex, I told myself again. Bottoming. Letting someone else take control, letting someone inside. Physically, not metaphorically! Shit, where was the bathroom?
We moved towards the edge of the hall, glancing up at the signs on the wall until one finally pointed to the toilets.
“Quickly, boardings already started.” When I gave Bree a confused look, she searched for more words.
“People are already getting on the plane. They won’t wait for us if we’re late.
” Oh no, wouldn’t that be tragic? I turned towards the bright bathroom entrance.
It was a glowing white cave. When no one else moved to follow me, I looked at them curiously.
“There’s only one way in and out,” Orson said. “You can’t run.”
“Run? I would never. Just shocked that someone didn’t want to hold my dick while I pissed.
” That was the truth at least. I wasn’t planning to run.
I had something else I was desperate to do.
My eyes slid to Nemo, making sure he wasn’t suspicious.
He scanned the crowd, distracted by all the bustling people around us.
Undoubtedly, making sure none were Supra.
I checked my watch as I walked into the bathroom. Twenty-seven minutes. I swallowed thickly.
At the sinks stood a spotless man in unwrinkled clothes.
I got the impression the button-up would stand on its own, even without him wearing it.
His hair was gray, and there were wrinkles around his eyes, in lines across his forehead, and around his mouth.
As I approached, I noticed the skin on his hands looked thin and loose.
People aged. I knew that. There had been others at the asylum that showed it. Even Orson looked older than us. But I’d never seen someone like this. It was fascinating.
In theory, I understood that humans lived shorter lives.
However, I couldn’t help but feel that this man was ancient beyond comprehension.
My family, phoenix, they aged extremely slowly once they hit adulthood.
My sister Hazel would look the same in a hundred years.
After two hundred years, she might show slight signs of aging.
If a phoenix ever managed to look like this man, I’d assume they were a million-year-old god.
I didn’t know how I’d age. Hell, I wasn’t even sure of my age.
I knew I wasn’t immortal, that was all. Basilisks were not creatures anyone understood well, since we were killed at birth whenever possible.
Growing up with that knowledge and in a family of immortals, I always felt fleeting.
I’d never anticipated being around for long.
I approached the man. “I need to use a phone. Can you help me?” I looked over my shoulder, making sure no one else had followed me in. The man hesitated.
“Please,” I added. It wasn’t hard to sound desperate. The old man reluctantly pulled something from his pocket, pressed it with his fingers, and handed it to me. I looked down at the thin device in my hand. Numbers were on the screen. A modern cell phone.
“I just need a minute,” I said, slipping into a stall.
I dug my hands into my pockets and pulled out the vials.
One fell to the ground and shattered. Little pieces of glass spread over the tile and grout.
The one left in my palm had a phone number printed on it.
Damien D'Bolique’s number. The man behind the asylum.
The leader of Supra Group. The person desperate to get me for no good reason.
I knew this man didn’t want to cure me. He wanted a weapon. It had been Zero’s final warning to us. What that would mean, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps I’d end up living the life my sister had—an assassin desperately loyal to his abusive master.
In actuality, I was unlikely to see daylight again. A monster chained in a basement, poked and prodded until it bled liquid death.
But I’d choose to suffer if it meant saving them.
Dread pooled in my empty stomach as I typed in the number. It rang. I looked at my watch. Twenty-five minutes. Was it already too late? I had to believe it wasn’t. My throat got tight as more rings went on.
Maybe I should hang up. Try to run on my own. Hide somewhere where the others couldn’t find me.
The ringing stopped as someone picked up. I held my breath.
“Hello, Basil Fury.” The voice was smooth, and the words flowed together rhythmically. There was a slight nasal quality from an old accent that had been washed away, but a faint stain lingered. All my thoughts stopped, and my heart pounded in my chest.
“You need my help?” He asked.
“I—” Knocking on the stall door caused me to jerk.
“I need my phone back.” The old man sounded urgent.
“Where are you, Basil?” Damien’s words were relaxed, polite. I cupped my hand around the phone.
“Is this Damien D'Bolique?” I whispered.
“It is.” He paused. “I know you’re worried, but I can help you.”
“There’s not much time left.” My words were the opposite of his. Packed anxiously together.
“Where are you?” Such a simple question, and he asked it with such calm, as if to assure me with his tone that everything would be okay if I just gave up. Let him have me. I thought back to the last pages in the journal I’d read and closed my eyes.
“Promise me you’ll let them go. You can have me, but only if you let them go.”
“Who?” He asked.
“The ones I’m with. You know who. My … friends.”
“Ah,” he said, an entertained lilt telling me he knew exactly who I meant.
Knew they weren’t really my friends, but more than that.
How much did this man know? We’d been monitored for years, some of us our whole lives.
Did he know it all? There was a chance that all the moments I thought were only ours were recorded on video to be watched by strangers.
“You can have me, but only if you let them go free and unharmed.”
“And if I let them go, you will not fight me or try to escape?” He asked. A pathetic laugh rushed from my mouth. The only thing worse for my partners than Supra was me.
“No, I won’t try to escape.”
“Then, Mister Fury, you have my word. I will let your friends go free and unharmed. Where are you?” His calm voice didn’t fool me.
He was desperate to get me. Just like he’d been desperate for that damn coat his mate had.
Shit, I had to stop thinking about that.
Had to stop wondering what the fuck he did.
What I did know was that Damien had sent a small private force after us, injected me with serum, planned this whole elaborate thing, and now he kept asking over and over—unable to help himself even if he knew it gave him away.
“Basil, where are you?” Where are you, where are you, where are you. The desperation made me itch.
Answering him would be the end of everything I had—love, freedom, you name it. I felt the weight of that settle across my shoulders. It was really happening. I was breaking up with them.
They’d be better off. I’d only hurt them. Maybe if they’d been given the choice, they’d have forgotten me just like my sister did. A little magic and poof—free from the basilisk. All memory wiped clean.
As it was, they were going to throw a fit. Put on a good show. But deep down, I bet they’d be relieved. And honestly, I really hoped that was the case.
The man knocked on the stall again. “I need the phone now,” he barked.
The pounding was angry and persistent. Reaching out, I settled my gloved hand on the door.
A moment later, the knocking stopped. I heard his body collapse to the floor.
He didn’t even scream. I pulled my hand back with a defeated sigh.
“I’m at the international airport,” I said.
Damien sighed. “Thank you, Basil.” I barely heard his words after that. He assured me they'd get there before time ran out, that the others would be unharmed, and suggested I separate from them. One word brought me back fully to the conversation.
“Bise.”
Chills spread over my arms. “What?”
“Bye for now.”
Levi had just said that word to me a few days ago. A shifter. A weird one who'd been trapped in his animal form, unable to shift.
Levi said he didn't know French but he knew that exact phrase as if he'd heard it a thousand times. He even said it just like Damien.
“Basil?” Damien asked. I hung up without responding.
Levi had died just a few feet away from the asylum fence and then dumped on the side of the road alone. Hundreds of years trapped and forgotten in a dirty tank behind locked doors. And the last thing I’d read in Damien’s journal had been “he gave me the coat.”
I was Damien’s focus, Levi had said. No, he was his mate.