Chapter Three. Ember #6
For the next eleven hours, we rotate shifts.
I study it, recording notes, and Perla remains alongside me, taking vitals and keeping it hydrated.
Gus and Jaq head back to the main lab and attend to our regular workload.
Aside from my secret work, I’m still the lead scientist for House of Cross …
for now. If anyone wanted to investigate, they would appear like employees engaging in overtime that I signed off on.
We do have a couple of irons in the fire though, so it’s a good thing our schedule isn’t exactly nine to five.
Right now, I’m perfecting a new drug called HEA for them.
It was almost there and ready to roll out.
The first batch had tested well with local fiends.
But I wasn’t satisfied. The high hit like cocaine, with none of the crashing-out side effects.
Plus, it was intended to be an aphrodisiac.
A dopamine agonist increased sexual arousal, making it the perfect party drug for its intended target customer—the wealthy, young party crowd.
Right now, Asad has enough Glass Slipper supply for the next month. And besides that initial test batch, none of HEA. But I’m not unreasonable. I’m willing to sell the formulas for both to him.
For a price.
“Ember.”
I lift my head from the microscope and slide I was hunched over, and Perla waves me over to where she’s standing next to subject one. Immediately, I turn and head toward them. Moments later, the lab door hisses open and Perla and Gus enter.
“Subject one. Test group. After eleven hours and”—I glance down at the timer on my tablet I started after the dispensing of the drug—“thirteen minutes, the subject is heavily perspiring. There’s rigidity of the muscles in his extremities.
Teeth are clenched. Acceleration of breathing.
” Another ten minutes pass. “Subject one is seizing, foaming at the mouth. Blood is leaking from the corners of his eyes and his ears. Subject is choking on his tongue.”
None of us move to perform any lifesaving measures.
Cries and screams of horrors fill the lab from the other subjects in the cages as they witness this one die an agonizing, bloody death. Probably because they’re scared this will soon be their immediate future.
That’s fair.
“Time of death 8:22 a.m.” I call it, jotting the information down in my tablet. “It’s been a long night. You three go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”
Perla stretches, yawns. “I’m not going to argue with you. See you guys later.”
She returns her tablet to the cabinet and exits the lab, Jaq behind her.
Gus starts to release the brace and straps from the body.
“I’ll take care of the body, Ember. You don’t have to wait on me,” he says.
“You sure?”
He nods, walking over to another cabinet and grabbing a long black bag. Dropping it on the floor in front of the chair, he tosses me a smile.
“Of course I am. I got this. See you tomorrow.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
I leave him to the disposal. Hell, he enjoys it, and who am I to deprive him of his little thrills. Besides, he’s damn good at it. Not one trace has been found of the bodies yet.
Heading back to the door, I tap in the code to stop the audio and visual recording, then exit the lab.
Instead of taking the elevator up several floors to the main lobby, I hop on it and ride it one floor down to the lower-level floor opening right next to the parking lot.
Minutes later, I exit HoC property and ease into the early LA streets.
With the traffic clotting the streets this time of morning, it takes me nearly an hour to pull my Aston Martin DB11 up to the gate of the former private compound converted into a four-unit luxury apartment building instead of the usual thirty minutes.
Four acres of lush, beautiful gardens surround the property, granting privacy and the illusion of a quiet, peaceful oasis on the west side of Los Angeles.
I should be exhausted given I’ve been up a little over twenty-four hours.
But I’m wired, a kinetic energy racing through me.
It’s hard to believe that this time yesterday, I was preparing to put my father in the ground.
Almost like it happened to someone else, not me.
Because if it happened to me, I should feel more than indifference and a hard knot of anger lodged between my ribs.
Yeah, let me get off thoughts of Marcus before I end up ramming this car into the garage bay wall.
Minutes later, I key in the code to the gorgeous atrium-style foyer with its high ceiling and marble flooring and climb the stairs to the second level.
Though I occupy one of the two apartments on that floor, I own the entire complex.
The other three units are empty of tenants because I value my space and I only like about four people.
And I don’t like anyone enough to have them living with or near me.
An hour later, I emerge from my bedroom, freshly showered, dressed in a black sports bra and leggings, with a yoga mat under my arm.
When I stopped taking my medication to cope with IED, I integrated yoga and meditation into my daily schedule.
And blunts. My therapist recommended it as a relaxation technique to release endorphins and lower stress.
I created my own special blend of marijuana that relaxed me even more.
Believe me, I’m surprised as much as anyone that it works, and that I actually enjoy it. The yoga, not the weed—
My mat drops to the living room floor as my body stiffens.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”