Chapter Fourteen – Wren
Chapter Fourteen
Wren
Present Time
I stand at the makeshift workstation while Garrett Blanc positions himself behind me, watching.
The room is cramped and dim, barely large enough for the equipment laid out before me.
I inventory what I have to work with: basic burners, beakers, graduated cylinders, pH meters, and thermometers. They’re functional but nothing fancy.
This is a test, and I need to pass it. I push everything else from my mind and focus on the work.
I start with the base chemical compounds, measuring precisely with the graduated cylinder.
Crimson Haze requires exact proportions or the whole batch becomes useless, or worse, lethal.
I set up the heating apparatus and adjust the temperature dial, watching the numbers climb.
When it hits the right degree, I add the first compounds and watch them mix, the liquid shifting from clear to pale amber.
I test the pH carefully, making small adjustments until the reading is exactly where it needs to be.
Behind me, Garrett lights a cigarette.
The mundane part takes twenty minutes. Now comes the dangerous part.
I turn my attention to the supernatural ingredients sitting on the workstation – basilisk venom and vampire blood.
These require extra care. The basilisk venom sits in a lead-lined vial which is thick and amber-colored.
Even through the glass, I can feel the heat radiating from it.
I use tongs to handle the container. This stuff can burn through skin in seconds.
I add the venom drop by drop, watching the solution react. It hisses and bubbles violently, and the color shifts from amber to deep crimson. The temperature spikes, and I adjust the heat, bringing it back down. Too hot, and the venom breaks down, too cool, and it won’t bond properly.
Garrett lights another cigarette. The smoke is getting thicker. I try to ignore it, but it’s getting difficult. Thanks to his nasty habit, it stinks in here.
Next comes the vampire blood. I retrieve it from the small, refrigerated unit, noting how dark it is, almost black and thicker than human blood.
This has to be added at a precise temperature, or it will coagulate and ruin everything.
I watch the thermometer carefully, waiting for the mixture to cool to the exact degree I need.
When it hits the mark, I add the blood slowly while stirring.
The mixture lightens and takes on a luminescent quality, glowing faintly in the beaker and pulsing with an inner light.
Garrett is watching me. I can feel his eyes on my back and on my hands, studying every movement I make.
Inside my head, Zeth growls low and dangerous.
“I’d love to gouge his eyes out.”
The thought sends warmth through my chest. He’s so protective he can’t stand the idea of another man looking at me. I force myself not to smile and keep working.
I bring the temperature back up gradually for the final bonding phase.
The glow intensifies, then fades as the compounds fully integrate.
I perform one last pH test, make a tiny adjustment, and finally remove the beaker from heat.
The liquid is thick and syrupy now, and of a deep crimson color.
I transfer it to a sterile container and place it in the refrigerator to chill and stabilize.
The whole process took an hour. My eyes are watering from the smoke.
Garrett’s gone through at least six cigarettes, lighting each new one from the dying embers of the last. The small room is suffocating.
I can barely breathe, and I know Zeth is struggling too.
He doesn’t complain, but I feel his discomfort and distaste.
I check the watch they also provided while we wait for the mixture to chill. There’s nowhere to sit, so I stand near the workstation.
Garrett continues smoking and watching me.
The golem and the undead guard remain at the exit, blocking any chance of escape.
I use the time to observe details I’ll need for my report later: the layout of the space, the positions of the guards, the scar cutting through Garrett’s left cheek, and the way his eyes never leave me.
When enough time has passed, I retrieve the container from the refrigerator.
The Crimson Haze is perfect now, thick and luminescent.
I use a sterile syringe to fill six small vials, each one no bigger than a medicine bottle.
I seal them carefully and line them up on the workstation, then step back and remove my gloves.
Garrett approaches and studies them. His expression shifts to disappointment.
“That’s it? Six vials? I expected more.”
“It’s a small batch but high quality. I don’t half-ass my work.
” I cross my arms over my chest, taking a position of confidence.
“The formula is concentrated, more potent than standard Crimson Haze. I’d rather take the time and produce a superior product than rush and make garbage. You should test it before you judge.”
Garrett raises an eyebrow, studying my face for signs of deception or nervousness. I hold his gaze. After a long moment, he gestures to the golem.
“Try it.”
The golem approaches, and there’s eagerness in the way he moves.
I can tell from his body language he’s a user and desperate for a hit.
Garrett hands him one of the vials, and the golem doesn’t hesitate.
He uncaps it and drinks the contents in one swallow, then squeezes his eyes shut. His massive body goes rigid.
I watch, my heart pounding, hoping my formula worked the way it should.
Twenty seconds pass, and the golem’s eyes snap open. A grin spreads across his face.
“Strongest shit I’ve ever had,” he declares. “This is incredible.”
I turn to Garrett and allow myself a small, smug smile.
“Told you.”
Garrett claps his hands.
“You passed the test. Congratulations.”
But before I can respond, he snaps his fingers at both guards.
They move quickly, grab my arms and yank them behind my back.
I try to pull away, but they’re too strong.
The golem produces zip ties and secures my wrists, and the plastic cuts into my skin again.
Honestly, when will this end? I’m not a fan of how they treat me.
Of course, they pull the bag over my head, and I roll my eyes in the darkness.
I feel Zeth stir inside me, ready to pour his strength into my limbs and help me get free, but I send him a clear order.
“No. Stand down. We need to play along.”
With a growl, he settles down. But the instructions were for him, not for me. I need to at least pretend like I’m standing my ground.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “I passed your test. I want the job. There’s no point in treating me like a prisoner. I understand the precaution when you first grabbed me, but this is unnecessary now. I proved myself.”
Garrett’s voice comes through the fabric, close to my ear.
“Calm down. I’ll personally take care of you. Nothing will happen to the Kyzers’ new star chemist. But this is a precaution until you truly prove yourself. We can’t be too careful.”
The guards grab me roughly and half-drag me out of the warehouse. I stumble on uneven ground. The van door slides open and I’m pushed inside. I hit the metal floor hard, landing awkwardly on my shoulder. The door slams shut and the engine starts.
My heart races, panic rising in my chest. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
I thought I’d be brought to a lab, yes, but not like this.
I thought I’d have some freedom, some control.
Everything feels wrong and dangerous. I can’t see anything, my hands are bound, and I’m being taken somewhere unknown. A second location.
Zeth’s voice whispers in my head:
“You’re okay. You did good. It doesn’t matter what they do. You’re safe with me. I will take care of you.”
I focus on his voice. My breathing slows, and the panic eases slightly. I’m still terrified, but I’m not drowning in it anymore. The bag over my head is awful, but I can manage.
The van takes turns, and I try to track them but lose count. Time feels distorted. Finally, the vehicle slows down and stops.
The door opens, and rough hands grab my arms, pulling me to my feet and pushing me toward the opening. I step down but can’t see the ground, so I stumble forward and start to fall.
I feel Zeth take control of my feet. He catches my balance and stabilizes me, keeping me upright and walking straight. I let him. I’m not alone, I’m not helpless. I have backup literally inside my body.
I think about Captain Holt insisting on the bodyguard, and I realize he was right. I needed this. The idea of a symbiote bodyguard was brilliant. I was stupid to resist it initially.
Zeth hears my thoughts.
“I’m glad, too. I will let nothing happen to you.”
I believe him.
I’m dragged forward, guided by hands on my arms. I feel the transition from outside to inside as the temperature changes and the air shifts.
Footsteps echo, suggesting a large space, and a door closes behind us.
I’m walked across what feels like a hall, then I’m pushed into an elevator.
It descends – down, down, down. I think I count three levels, but I can’t be sure. We’re going deep underground.
The doors open, and I’m pulled out into what sounds like a narrow corridor. Our footsteps echo on concrete, then metal steps, going down further. I navigate them carefully with Zeth’s help. The air down here is stale and humid.
Finally, we stop. Someone pulls the bag off my head roughly and light blinds me. I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting. The golem cuts the zip ties, and my hands are free. I rub my wrists and look around.
I’m in a massive underground laboratory that looks like a legitimate bunker – concrete walls, reinforced doors, a high ceiling with industrial lighting. This is much larger and better equipped than the warehouse space. It’s a professional operation and a serious setup.