13. Simon
I hurt.
That’s the first thought that forms through the fog of my thoughts as I emerge from unconsciousness. My entire body feels as though it’s been used as a punching bag by a super heavyweight MMA contender, before being tossed off the side of the Grand Canyon and hitting every rock and spur on the way down. It also feels like my smashed remains were then used as a speed bump in a driver training facility for Mack trucks. My nails and teeth ache, and even my hair feels bruised.
I open my eyes expecting to be strapped down on one of O’Hare’s torture benches, coated in blood and gore just like when I first arrived, but instead I’m back in my cell, slumped on the mattress of my cot. I can’t sense anyone else nearby, but the soft hum of distant voices breaks the silence surrounding me, and I lurch upright to investigate.
Hang on, bathroom first.
There’s a massive blank in my memory, the last thing I remember being this morning when the guards came and pumped us full of tranquilizers. At least, I think it was this morning. I have no concept of the amount of time that’s passed since then, and I won’t find any answers standing in front of the toilet with my thumb up my ass. Metaphorically, of course.
I finish emptying my bladder, and as I’m washing my hands I stare at my reflection. There’s a tightness around my eyes and a wariness in my gaze that wasn’t there this morning, but I can’t pinpoint an event that would have caused it. My mind is a blank. I gently probe the darkness, trying to pry something loose, some thread that I can follow to clarity, but there’s nothing there. Just missing chunks of memory and Tálstrom, quiet and stalwart in his endeavors to keep me in the dark. It’s a dance we’ve performed before, him and me, where he’s taken over and blocked me from knowing what has happened. He’s not perturbed in the slightest, so I let the issue of my memory loss go for the time being. If it’s not a concern for Tál, then I’m not going to let it eat at me. I’ve got enough problems already without adding to the pile.
I follow the sound of voices out of the rooms assigned to our little party of misfits and down the corridor into the large common area the guards dragged us through a week ago. There are fewer shifters around at the moment, maybe half a dozen, and I’m relieved when I spot Quin sitting on a cushion near a wall talking to guy around our age. I approach them slowly, not wanting to startle anyone or appear as a threat. The atmosphere of this place would have anyone on high alert and a shifter’s animal on the brink of a change, so I do my best to stay calm and at ease. Tál helps by dialing down his anger and dominance, and the shift in ambiance from tense to relaxed is subtle, but evident.
“Simon, you’re finally back. I got lonely and decided to make some new friends.”
Quin turns to me as I reach him and his new friend, and although he welcomes me back happily, his smile is strained. Something’s wrong.
“Quin, what’s happened? Where are the others?”
Nick and Luc are noticeably absent, and my hackles rise at the dread weighing down my gut.
“They haven’t come back yet,” Quin responds carefully. He’s eyeing me like I’m a bomb about to explode, or a wild animal preparing to attack. With the way my protective instincts are going haywire, he’s not far off the mark. It’s only Tál’s steadying presence inside me which prevents me from mounting an ill-advised rescue attempt, no matter how suicidal it would become.
He knows something, the sneaky fucker, and he’s deliberately shielding me from discovering what’s going on. It only makes my apprehension grow.
Quin swiftly changes the subject, introducing me to the new shifter. His name is Shane, and he’s a quokka. What is it with the Australian shifters in here? Doesn’t that country have enough dangerous and deadly wildlife who call it home, without evil scientists finding the need to fuck around with their shifter populations to create even more?
My unease grows the longer Nick and Luc remain missing, and Quin eventually gives up trying to get me to talk with Shane, and with a brief apology, hauls me back to our quarters.
Once we’re back inside, Quin closes the door and forcibly shoves me into the nearest bean bag, then drags another over and flops into it.
“I know it’s hard, especially with how long you were all gone, but if you keep this up it’ll drive you insane.”
I steadfastly ignore Quin and try to get up, but he kicks my feet from under me and I slam back into the squishy seat.
“Simon, I’m fucking serious. You can’t keep dwelling on whatever is going on. Nobody is going to blame you for not single-handedly putting a stop to the cruelty that the guards and other personnel here delight in, nor are they going to hold you accountable for any so-called ‘punishments’ inflicted on other captives to try to keep you in line. The only ones spouting that bullshit are the ones that truly are responsible, and they’re so full of shit that when they speak, they smell like a water treatment plant.”
I finally look at Quin, the earnestness in his eyes breaking through the self-castigatory thoughts running rampant through my mind.
“But I’m supposed to protect them. They’ve got a fated mate bond, and I know O’Hare is going to do his best to destroy it. I know what that feels like, and I didn’t even suffer the worst of it all because I was the one that broke it.”
Desperation bleeds into my voice, a sense of urgency surging through me at the mere thought of the suffering Nick or Luc could be experiencing right now.
“When Sila forgave me, I swore to myself I’d work to be worthy of her forgiveness. It’s taken me a long time to accept it, and when I woke up here and saw Luc lying on that table, and heard what O’Hare had planned, Ivowed that I would die to protect his and Nick’s bond. I can’t… I can’t let O’Hare destroy those two, and that’s what he’ll do. He’ll destroy them from the inside out. He’ll shatter their minds and their animals, and it will kill them. Don’t you understand? HE’S GOING TO FUCKING KILL THEM!”
Quin lunges for me, tackling me back into my bean bag, and I struggle against his grip as he wraps his arms around me, his embrace one of comfort and commiseration.
“You don’t think I’m fully aware of what that man is capable of?” Quin hisses in my ear, his voice thick with emotion.
“For years, I’ve had to watch as O’Hare dragged my friends away, only to return them haunted and tortured with memories that belong in a horror movie. For years, Simon. All in the name of science!” Quin spits out the last word like a bitter aftertaste.
“We can only do so much to protect the other shifters held here, and that’s okay. What’s more important is protecting those we’ve left behind on the outside. We can’t let my parents, O’Hare, or any other the other reprobates affiliated with Vieux Sang get their filthy, greedy mitts on them.”
Quin continues to hold me, adjusting his position so that we’re both snuggled together. He rocks me gently back and forth, the motion slowly soothing my anguish and calming my heart.
“I never told anybody where I lived when I was free. When they caught me, it was just down the road from one of the Shifter Council offices in Memphis. But I hadn’t been living in Tennessee, or even Arkansas or Mississippi. I was in Louisiana. Okay, it was close to the border with Mississippi, but they didn’t know that.”
I still, sensing the information Quin is about to impart is more than just him trying to distract me from Nick and Luc’s current predicament.
“I’d been living in the wild for a couple of months and had made it to a large tract of land between the Mississippi and Red Rivers. I was hunting down a wild hog in my tiger form when hunters tagged me. They’d been after the same hog, and I was lucky that when they hit me, they didn’t kill me. So, they called a local wildlife sanctuary that dealt with larger predators, and I kept my tiger form right up until they got me to the sanctuary and tried to operate. I shifted and surprised the shit out of the owner.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Most people who saw a wild animal not native to the area automatically assumed it was a shifter, rather than an actual wild animal outside of their normal habitat. For the people who found Quin to assume he was a tiger and not an injured shifter? What the fuck do they have out there in Louisiana to make that the standard response?
“Luckily, the owner happened to be a shifter themselves and well acquainted with the Felidae genus, so they were happy to patch me up and not call the local police. I guess they also didn’t tell the Shifter Council, which I’m not sure is a good thing or not. If they had, I might have been caught even earlier, or I might have been able to speak to someone who was interested in shutting Vieux Sang down. I guess I’ll never really know for sure. Anyway”—Quin shuffles around a little more—“I ended up living with them at their sanctuary, helping with the wildcats, wolves, and coyotes. The animals could feel I had the bigger, badder beast, and it helped to keep things calm. I’ve never breathed a word about Josiah, his granddaughter Isobel, or their extended family, never mentioned their sanctuary. They took me in, cared for me, helped me heal and protected me. I won’t betray their kindness and acceptance by putting them on my parents’ radar. I can only imagine what they’d do to them, simply to punish me.”
I get it. While I know that O’Hare and the directors of Vieux Sang are aware of Sila and Jaxon, they don’t have easy access to them. I don’t even know if they’re aware of the bonds I have with Sila, Aodhán, and the others. I know O’Hare would love to get his hands on my friends, especially Jaxon, but I refuse to put them in a position that would leave them vulnerable to the evils of this organization.
I smile grimly at the secret I’ve kept from everyone, even Cyril. O’Hare will never succeed in manipulating my bonds, not against my will. When Odette tore my bonds apart and transformed me into an Altered shifter, something else happened as well.
While it took me some time to learn how to shield my bonds, I can now do it so thoroughly and seamlessly that nothing can get through without my say so. But the real surprise is how easily I can manipulate them. I can open links between others, share thoughts, feelings, and even memories or current experiences. I can even do it across a vast distance. It’s part of why I’ve mostly shut them all down. I’ve kept my end open enough for the others to know I’m still alive, but only if they search for it. Otherwise, they feel nothing from me. None of the pain, none of the anger, nothing. Truth be told, I could probably blow my bonds wide open, let Cyril and Sila see everything, hear everything, and light up my location like a beacon, but I don’t want to pull that trigger until I’ve got more information. I don’t just want to escape this facility. No. I want to blow it wide open, expose every single sadistic monster inside it, and cut off every escape route. I don’t want even one person to slip through my fingers only to come back and pick up tormenting shifters later. I want all of us captives to be able to learn to live freely once more without the threat of Vieux Sang looming over our shoulders. So, I’ll wait.
I just hope I’m not dooming us all to death and damnation in the meantime.