4. Simon
Tál surrenders our body back to me, the change slower this time. My bones and joints pop and crack as my body reshapes itself into a more human form. My fur, mane, and tail all draw in first, with my fangs and claws retracting last. Even then, they don’t fully disappear, and I bare my teeth and waggle my weapon-tipped fingers at the monsters torturing the shifters on the tables.
I’d meant what I’d said to Tál as the drugs dragged him back under. I will protect the two shifters in this room and their bonds with my very life. That these scientists have somehow managed to chemically induce a fated mate bond doesn’t matter to me. No, the very fact that I had such a gift and then heedlessly discarded it, bringing down an avalanche of consequences I’d never expected means that I will give my all to help protect and preserve the same bonds in others.
Maybe one day I’ll be able to find someone who will accept me despite my past, and I’ll have a chance to bond to a mate of my own. But I’m not about to hold my breath for that miracle to occur.
O”Hare eyes me warily from the other side of the room, his gaze darting from me to the body on the floor, over to the bleeding assistant being tended to by other staff, and then back to me again.
“What’s the matter, Doc? Afraid your little sleepy juice isn’t working as it’s supposed to? Oh dear, how on earth did I burn through it so quickly?”
I stretch my arms out, a malevolent smile growing across my face, exposing my lengthened canines. I snap my teeth at one of the staff who edges too close to the other two shifters for my liking, and they flinch away.
“You know, it’s a shame that you didn’t want my lion to play for a little longer. Can you imagine how melodious the sound of agonized screams and the echoes of people choking on their own blood would be in this room? With the acoustics bouncing off the tiled walls and floor, it’s the perfect sound chamber.”
I tap my clawed fingers against the tile floor where I’m still crouched and then stand, ignoring the stares roving over my naked body. I square my shoulders and turn to fully face Doctor O”Hare, a threatening growl rattling in my chest and rolling around the room.
“I don’t know who the fuck y’all think you are, but I’m pretty sure that whatever you’re doing here isn’t something that most decent shifters and humans would approve of. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if the Shifter Council had any idea of what you are doing here, you’d be number one on their hit list.”
O”Hare smirks at me, crossing his arms across his chest in a clear attempt to look unaffected. Fucker doesn’t realize I can almost taste the fear roiling off him. I tense my muscles, readying my body to launch at the arrogant bastard and tear his face off with my bare hands, but movement at the door stills me.
About a dozen guards armed with batons, cattle prods, and dart guns swarm into the room and line the walls, all of them glaring at me with violent intent.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about what people think about our facility here. Nobody knows where you are, and honestly, knowing what I do about you and your past behavior, Simon Gatto, do you think anyone will even care?”
A chill runs down my spine as he sneers my name.
“The cretins running the Shifter Council have no clue about our work, nor our latest success.” He waves his hand toward the two shifters strapped to the tables, then turns to look down his nose at the redhead.
“You may as well take these two back to their rooms. Our momentum regarding the serum and its effects has stalled thanks to Simon here, but no matter. Now that Simon is conscious, he can answer some of my questions. How he does so is up to him.”
A flurry of activity surrounds the other two shifters as they’re transferred to gurneys and wheeled out of the room, nobody bothering to patch them up or stimulate their healing. My stomach plunges with dread as O”Hare takes an injection gun from one of the lingering assistants and points it at me, the cadmium yellow contents warning me that whatever the liquid is, I won’t like it.
“Now, from my observations, the impacts of this substance on a body are quite… unpleasant. It can induce nausea and vomiting, as well as bloody, loose, and watery stools. Hallucinations, both visual and aural, are common side effects, and some of the more repellent ones include seizures, internal hemorrhaging, and even death. Let’s hope that this first step in cleansing you won’t, in fact, kill you.”
He pulls the trigger, and the dart strikes me in the upper thigh, its contents quick acting, bringing me to my knees within moments. As I blink hazily up at O”Hare, a memory from my time at Reficio flits through my mind:
Jaxon is hunched over in his chair, his skin pale and stark, with dark shadows circling around his eyes. He looks so tired, as though he bears the weight of the world on his shoulders. Even the silver of his hair is dull and lifeless. His mate, Thom, clasps Jax’s hands tightly in his own, lending him both physical and emotional support.
He looks like we all feel—like his entire world has been turned on its head, and that the monsters stalking us from the darkness of our nightmares are not only real, but seemingly invulnerable.
Aodhán sits opposite Jax in his own chair, staring at the dragon, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. His voice is low and guttural, almost unrecognizable as he speaks.
“Let me guess, every morning began with you being told, ‘nous nettoierons,’ am I right? We will clean. They were trying to cleanse us of our impurities.”
Jaxon’s responding laugh is bleak and bitter, his words chilling me to my core.
“Oh, yeah. That was exactly how each day began. And when I was strapped down and brutalized in whatever manner they thought best that day, that’s the only thing they’d say to me. ‘Nous nettoierons, lizard boy.’ To this day I fucking hate anything French-sounding.”
“Nous nettoierons,” I whisper, horror suffusing my body as I realize exactly who has me in their clutches.
“Oh, so you’ve heard of us, then? How wonderful. It will make setting out my expectations that much easier for me if you already understand just how dire the consequences will be for you should you rebel or be anything other than obedient.”
Liquid fire burns through me as O”Hare stabs the needle into my neck and then pulls the trigger. I’m drowning in agony, glad that my bonds are silent, as I collapse onto the floor, O”Hare’s chuckled words the last thing I hear.
“Welcome to L’appel du Vieux Sang, Simon. I doubt very much that you’ll enjoy your stay.”
***
I’m cold. So very cold. I can’t feel my arms or legs, but my torso burns. It feels as though someone has opened me up, dumped a load of kindling in my body, doused it with gasoline, and then set it alight.
I try to open my eyes, but it’s difficult. They seem to be crusted shut, and since I can’t feel my arms to move them, I can’t pry my lids open. My mouth is stretched open, and something is wedged between my jaws preventing me from closing it. Something warm and wet spatters onto my face, the liquid softening whatever is gluing my eyes shut enough that I manage to open them.
I wish I hadn’t.
Red clouds my vision as my blood drips into my eyes from where it spurts from my chest. There is a mirror set up above me, and in it I can see every last thing O”Hare and his goons are up to. The parts of me that aren’t spread open or coated in blood are covered with electrodes and monitors that are subsequently attached to beeping, whirring, and squealing machines. It’s enough to drive me insane.
One of the figures moves in the mirror. It’s O”Hare. He reaches inside me and cuts out a slice of something, dropping whatever it is that he cut onto a tray beside him.
FUCK! Is that my liver?
“Is there any change in his brain activity?” O’Hare asks the room, and a figure standing near the monitors responds.
“His brain seems to be registering some pain, but not what we expected. Perhaps the formula has affected his nervous system? Other wave patterns indicate that his links to his bond mates are still dormant.”
O”Hare growls in frustration, then spins around and grabs a syringe full of clear liquid off the tray where pieces of my insides are sitting in stainless steel dishes. He plunges it directly into my heart, pressing down on the plunger and sending ice through my veins. My arms and legs tingle, then throb, before pain ricochets through every single nerve ending in my body. Even my hair screams with agony.
“Let’s see if this changes anything. Reach out to our contact monitoring his broken bonds, tell them to watch for any illness or impairments to their abilities.” O’Hare orders.
A bellow of tormented fury lodges in my throat, the obstruction in my mouth gagging me, muffling any cries or protests I might make. I can barely sense Tálstrom, that opaque barrier from my initial drugging back in force. I reach for my bonds to my friends and family only to find them shielded and barely discernible, and for a moment all I can feel is relief.
Until the pain bombards where they’re hidden.
I recall the conversation I overheard in the parking lot in Sacramento, and piece it together with the information that both Jax and Aodhán imparted back at Reficio. The possible outcome chills my blood. O”Hare seems to want my bonds to Cyril, Aodhán, Sila, and the others open, and I’d rather die than subject them to the torture I’m having to endure. Especially Aodhán. He’s already escaped this evil once, like fuck am I going to drag him back to this place via our bond.
I’ll have to keep my bonds smothered completely until I’m out of here and can purge whatever poison O’Hare directs toward my bonds from my body.
“Ah, good, you’re awake. Now, as I understand it, you have a rather large number of broken bonds, and yet you didn’t succumb to their loss. Did you know”—O”Hare leans over me, his eyes crinkling in a smile behind the Perspex shield of his mask as he sheds light on my newest nightmare— “that we have machines that can both detect and monitor bonds? And not just intact ones, but ones that have been broken. You, Simon”—he beams behind his mask again—“have so many shattered bonds, including a fated mate bond. I foresee you and I spending a lot of time together in the future as I study them. It will hurt. I don’t care.”
O”Hare steps away from me, gesturing to another to take his place. This minion glares down at me, and with a suppressed growl injects yet another lurid cocktail into my bloodstream. This one lights up my bonds, but what Vieux Sang doesn’t realize is that I’ve spent years learning how to mask and shield my bond mates from my emotions and pain. I’ve had to. I feel a moment of triumph as I reinforce the protections on them all, knowing that all their experiments on me are doomed to fail, before being smothered in a roiling cloud of excruciating torment.
I fall into darkness.