Chapter 9
9
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
April 22, Year 1, Emergence Era
The lab feels less safe now. There’s too much going on, too many factions. The Saints, the vampires, even the CDC—I feel like I’m at odds with everyone when all I wanted to do, all I’ve ever wanted to do, is end this fucking plague and save lives. Now that Gage is gone, that’s one less layer of protection. And with the way Valen’s been acting, I don’t know if I can count on him to help me or hurt me.
“ S till skulking about?” Gorsky peeks his head into my room. “You’ve been in here for days. I heard you had quite the run-in with Master.” He looks me up and down.
“Get out.” I yank my blankets up to my chin.
He rolls his eyes. “Not my type. Get over yourself.”
“Why are you even here? Just go away.” I’ve been isolating myself. Ever since Valen … I don’t want to think about it. I clench my eyes shut against the memory of his fangs in my throat. It’s been a rough week. And then my period was particularly painful —especially after Melody added that bit about being able to smell my blood. A chill rolls down my spine.
“The master finally fed from you, then?” he asks it airily, but I can feel the anticipation in his tone. He runs a hand over his close-cropped hair.
“Is that why you’re here?” I turn away from him, my gaze on the stone window. “Just go away.”
“Melody is quite good at draining blood. I’m sure you didn’t feel a thing. I never complain, of course. Unlike you, I know my place. I’m here to serve.”
“What are you on about?” I refuse to look at him.
“She’s gentle. That’s all I’m saying. I barely feel the stick when she takes from me. Master likes his blood fresh, and I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Melody draws your blood for Valen?” I’m confused enough that I meet his gaze again. “He doesn’t bite you?”
His lips press into a thin line as his halfway-friendly mask drops. A glare replaces it. “He drank from you directly?” It’s more an accusation than a question.
Unbidden, my fingers ghost along my neck.
His nostrils flare, an explosive rage roaring out of him. “You fucking slut!”
“What?” I drop my hand beneath the blanket and pull my knees in tight.
“He drank from you? He touched you?” Spittle flies from his lips.
“I don’t know what?—”
“Shut up!” he yells.
I flinch back, my heart thumping a warning against my ribs. Gorsky has never struck me as particularly reasonable, but right now he looks deranged. He looks like he wants to rip my throat out himself.
“He’s mine,” he hisses. “I am his first blood consort. I provide for him. You’re only here until he gets whatever information from you he needs. After that, he’ll gut you and leave you for dead.”
“You’ve made that clear.” I keep my voice steady despite my very real fear he might try to hurt me. Then again, he hasn’t crossed my threshold. Not since Valen told him my room is off limits. “You can go now.”
Seething, he stares at me for long, tense moments. “Don’t let me catch you outside this fucking room, bitch.”
“I don’t think Valen would like you threatening his prize human.” I don’t know where this bit of bravado has come from, but I indulge it.
His face turns even redder, his fingernails digging into the doorframe. “You’re dead.”
“I’ve been dead for a long time.” I return his glare. “This is nothing.”
Murder in his eyes, he finally backs away and disappears down the hall. With shaking legs, I hurry to the door and slam it shut. For the hundredth time, I wish there was a lock, some way to ensure he—and anyone else—can’t get in. But there’s nothing, and the furniture is far beyond my ability to move on my own. I can’t bar the door. I can only hope Valen’s command that Gorsky stay out will be enough.
“Psycho.” I let out a shuddering breath and crawl back beneath the covers. Gorsky is acting like a jealous lover more than ever. But he raises a good point—why doesn’t Valen drink from him directly? And why did he drink from me ? I’d much prefer a clinical setting where Melody takes my blood. Hell, I’m a decent stick. I’ll do it myself. This is so messed up . I’m literally debating the best way to let Valen victimize me.
I groan and consider simply staying in this room for the rest of the day/week/whatever. I won’t.
This inverted castle beneath the ground doesn’t have any answers for me. It doesn’t even have a way out—at least not one I’ve found. But I’m going to keep looking. Not Valen, not Gorsky, no one can keep me from trying to escape. I refuse to give up. I refuse to believe there’s nothing I can do.
Hesitating on the stairs, I lean over the rail and peer down into the darkened levels below. There are no lights to tell me how deep it is, no way of knowing where the stairs go, how many circles of hell beneath me.
I stare at the landing two flights down, the same floor where I was taken to Whitbine. That’s where I need to go. Steeling myself, I hurry down the steps, past the floor where Valen caught me. Down, down, down until I’m pressed against the wall, cold sweat on my brow, fear rising in my heart like the incoming tide.
Whitbine isn’t here, I remind myself. I would know if he were. Melody would’ve come to get me. Right? Panic sets in, the world caving in around me. I can’t catch my breath. My head pounds right along with my heart. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t … I clutch the wall and climb a step. My legs go weak, spots invading the edges of my vision. Whitbine is in the darkness waiting for me. He’s going to tear me apart to get his answers, ripping everything out as he goes. His fangs in my flesh, his fingers digging through my gray matter. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I sink to the floor.
“What have we here, little rabbit?” Valen’s silky voice wraps around me as he grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.
“Don’t!” I try to yank away from his touch, but I get nowhere.
A vicious slash mars his face, the edges of it puckered and oozing with some sort of gunk. He surveys me with cold calculation. “Pale today.”
“Leave me alone.”
“And let you break your neck on the stairs? I’m not that easy to escape.” He gives me a thin smile that doesn’t begin to reach his eyes.
“I’ll go back to my room.” I shy away from him.
His grip doesn’t change. “No. I don’t need you plotting and scheming the rest of the day away.”
I look more closely at his wound. The cut has almost severed his nose in two across the bridge. “What happened?”
“I tripped. Quite clumsy of me.” He gives me a smirk and pulls me down two steps.
“No.” I freeze. “I won’t?—”
“This way.” He ignores my protest and pulls me across the landing and away from the corridor where Melody led me before.
The décor here is stark, the walls inlaid with the red tile, all of it in dragon motifs. I don’t even realize there’s a door ahead of us until Valen shoves a key into a nigh-invisible hole and pushes through it. It makes sense. The piano level is two above us, and there’s a door in a similar spot. I add notes to my mental map as he leads me through another series of rooms, each of them stuffy and filled with treasures. My heart stutter steps when I realize one of the chambers is lined with armor and weapons.
“Getting ideas, little rabbit?” His smug tone is like a bucket of cold water. He isn’t worried about me grabbing one of the swords or spears, not when he could break my neck with a movement quicker than my eye can follow. “You want me dead?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer quickly, almost as if compelled. I’m not.
“Maybe you’ll get your chance one day.” He stops and pulls another door, this one sliding to the left and revealing an accordion grate.
My eyes go wide. “An elevator?”
“Always so observant, little rabbit. It’s truly your greatest gift. How did you ever manage to get captured with such a sharp, incisive intellect?” His acid tone is underlain with amusement. He slides the grate back and pulls me into the carriage.
I’m afraid to ask anything else, afraid to give him any reason not to show me more.
“Plotting your big escape?” He closes the grate and slides a lever at the back of the elevator.
When we begin moving upward, I hold my breath. Up. Up .
I feel his eyes on me. I don’t care. He can stare all he wants. I’m memorizing every second of this, every moment, every change in the black walls of the elevator shaft, every stutter of the cables.
When we come to a stop, I sway on my feet.
With a quick pull he opens the grate, then moves forward into the darkness beyond. I can’t see anything. No light, no way through.
I almost call his name. Almost. Instead, I step hesitantly forward. “Where—” I gasp as light explodes in front of me.
Flinching back, I slap a hand across my eyes. But I also feel a breeze, fresh air against my skin. My eyes water. I can’t be sure if it’s from the light or the relief. Outside. I’m outside .
“Come, little rabbit.” Valen’s voice brushes past me. “But be wary of the snare.”
I walk forward, unable to see where I’m going, but moving toward the light. A moth. One who longs to be burned. When the sun touches my face, I breathe in deeply. It’s warm, the air slightly damp as if just after a rain.
The ground is soft beneath my feet, my simple slip-on shoes sinking into the turf a little.
Squinting, I look down to find tufts of grass. Bright green and alive. Saturated with color. A tear drops, falling straight to the ground as I step forward again and again.
My vision finally comes back, and I realize it’s a cloudy day. The sky overhead is a sullen gray, the sun hidden in billowing clouds that threaten rain.
It’s the most beautiful day I can remember.
Valen stands with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him.
We’re in a garden, one that hasn’t been tended in quite some time. Roses grow wildly in beds overcome with weeds. The grass shoots up in clumps and patches interspersed with bits of muddy terrain. A fountain is farther along, no water running through it, though a dragon’s head sits atop it, its eyes grown over with moss. Far beyond the garden, a line of trees blocks out any view of the world except the top of a ridge in the distance, the cusp of it swathed in low clouds.
The wind, though, is crisper, possibly promising cooler weather. Is summer already over? How long have I been trapped underground? The trees are still green, though some of them are turning golden at the edges. I’ve lost time. So much of it.
Where am I? I don’t recognize anything here. Only sky and earth. And I’m grateful for it. I step forward, weaving around the mud puddles despite being almost overcome with the desire to splash in them. Everything is so open, so wide and free it’s almost oddly oppressive. The sky goes on forever. So different from where I’ve been for the past months.
“This is …” I spin, my eyes on the sky. “This is wonderful.”
“Don’t mistake this for kindness, little rabbit.” Valen turns his head slightly, giving me his sharp profile. “I need you healthy for the time being.”
“I would never make that mistake.” I stop and breathe in deeply, savoring everything the wind has to offer. Then I stride past him, dodging around a tangle of vines that have taken over what used to be some sort of arbor. Withered flower blooms hang from it, all of them drooping under their own weight. “Where are we?” It’s hard to believe an entire structure is just beneath us. Nothing up here gives any indication of it, except for this ill-kempt garden. “How has no one noticed the castle?”
“When Gregor had it constructed, this was nothing but a field in a fledgling country that he didn’t believe would last more than a decade, if that. And, of course, anyone who labored on it was silenced shortly after its completion.”
Gregor’s had his clawed hand on Washington’s pulse since its inception, yet we never knew about him. Or am I being na?ve? Did the government know the vampires existed? “So we’re close to DC?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, his eyes on me as I wander from area to area.
“I suppose not.” My pants snag on a rose thorn, and I stop to disentangle myself. “I’m not sure why a vampire would need a garden, though.” A memory hits me, or perhaps more of a realization. It almost bowls me over with the force of it. “You can withstand the sun.” I turn to him, my eyes going wide. “You’re the only vampire who can. How do I know that?”
“We worked together before all this. You know that.” He says it with a bored exasperation. “Whitbine seems to have scrambled what brains you had left. Now you don’t remember a damn thing, which then leads to endless inane questions from you. Quite the vicious cycle.”
I cross my arms over my chest. Talking about Whitbine is a sure way to spoil this tiny moment of freedom.
“Go.” He jerks his chin toward the fountain. “Don’t worry.” His gaze darkens. “I won’t let you get far.”
I swallow hard, then trudge away from him. Having him at my back feels like the height of foolishness, but I keep going. I slip in a particularly muddy patch of grass but right myself and hurry until I reach the silent fountain. The basin is filled with what must be rainwater. Green algae clogs the surface and the depths, and tiny tadpoles wiggle their way through the muck. A frog jumps into the upper basin, splashing a little as it disappears.
When I glance over my shoulder, Valen is gone. Even though I can’t see him, I know he’s watching me. I can feel his attention. It’s almost like a touch, like a firm grip on my shoulder or a collar around my throat.
This place must’ve been beautiful once. A long, long time ago. The wind blows in a small gust, making waves along the surface of the murky water. It’s beautiful in its own way. A microcosm. A world of cells and bacteria, organisms and fungi. I used to be part of a world like that, studying it. Now I’m interred underground as it all falls apart.
I look to the sky again, my thoughts wandering. Outside this crumbling garden, the world is still there. But what does it look like now? How many more lives have we lost to the plague? How many cities have the vampires razed in their impossible quest to kill every last one of us?
Rising, I intend to make the most of my time outside. I keep going, moving past the brambles and wildly branching roses and into rows of orchard trees. Rotten apples litter the ground, their scent perfuming the air with sweetness and hints of decay. I breathe it in, my feet moving faster as I search for any lingering fruit on the branches. Emerging from the trees, I stop to catch my breath. Out of shape is an understatement, but I relish the burn in my side. This pain is worth it. I accept it with arms wide open, my face upturned to the murky sky.
Lingering among the trees, I spend long moments just looking at the greenery, taking in all the colors and sounds I’ve missed. Birds and bugs, bright greens and subdued browns. No harsh gold, nothing gilded, nothing false. Just nature. It heals the smallest of fractures inside me, though the larger ruptures remain.
Movement in the grass catches my attention, and I stand and step toward it. Out from a clump of crabgrass shoots a rabbit, its brown fur perfect camouflage amid the leaves and brambles. It disappears into a bush at the edge of the garden. Beside it is a statue of a kneeling woman.
I pull my sweater more tightly around me, the wind picking up again as I walk over to the statue, bending down slightly to avoid some low-hanging tree limbs. Her hair has streaks of lichen in the crevices, but her face is smooth and unmarred. She’s looking up, her gaze on something above the horizon, her expression calm but also somehow sad.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?”
I jump and whirl. Valen lingers at the edge of the tree branches, his marred face shadowed by the dying light.
“Who is she?”
“Come, it’s time to go.” He holds out his hand. “You’ve had enough fresh air to continue surviving.”
I want to argue, to say anything if it means more time outdoors. But I know there’s no point. Valen has already made clear this little trip isn’t for me, not really.
With one more look at the statue, I turn and walk away, ignoring Valen’s offered hand.
“You wound me, little rabbit.” He matches my pace with ease.
I glance at the injury across his cheek. “Not me, sadly.”
He only gives a smirk in response.
“You should have that looked at.”
“Worried for me?” he taunts.
“You know what? Never mind. I hope it rots your entire head off your body.”
His smirk becomes a half smile, his eyes flashing as he leads me into the elevator. “Not possible, though you have such a way with words. By the way, what part of the Hippocratic Oath is that sentiment?”
“Pretty sure that only applies to people,” I snap back as the elevator begins its descent back into hell. “You’re a monster.”
“Fair point.” He invades my space, stepping toward me as I back away. “Are you saying you wouldn’t help me if I asked?”
My back hits the elevator wall as I stare up at him. He’s too close. I’m trapped.
“I—” My voice creaks to a halt as he leans closer, his lips ghosting against my ear.
“Please help me, little rabbit,” he whispers.
“Stop.” I shove at him.
He doesn’t move, not even the slightest sway of his body. He’s as much stone as the statue in the garden. “Maybe that’s where you went wrong. How you got captured like the foolish little rabbit you are. You were probably helping when you should’ve run. Instead of saving your own life, instead of being smart. But that’s who you are, isn’t it? Hopeful and optimistic all the way to your grave. You and all the rest of your kind.” His voice turns even more bitter, the force of it like a blow. “Will you still think there’s going to be a tomorrow when the dirt is piling on your coffin?”
“Get off me!” I scream.
Slowly, he backs away, his eyes eating me up as the elevator slows to a stop. As soon as he opens the grate, I tear past him, dashing through the hallways. Pausing for only a fraction of a second to grab a knife from one of the tables in the weapons and armor room. I start running again and conceal it in my waistband as best I can as I find the way to the staircase. When I make it to my floor, I hurtle toward my room, then skid to a stop when I see him leaning against my door, the picture of nonchalance.
Heart pounding, body aching from the exertion, I put one hand against the wall and drag in ragged breaths. If he takes the knife from me, I might cry.
His eyes narrow on me, his gaze scanning up and down my body in an unnerving way. There’s no way he can see the knife. It’s small and concealed, tucked between my underwear and my hip. When he snaps his focus to my face again, I could swear there’s the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Whitbine will be here tomorrow. Prepare yourself.” With that, he strides past me.
Hatred, pure and raw, bubbles in my heart. I can’t do anything about it. I shove it down, swallowing it like a child taking its medicine, and return to my room.
Collapsing on my bed, I let myself feel the aches, the small pains that run through me. But I also let myself remember. The smell of the grass, the wind, the feel of stone and dirt and sunlight. There’s a way out. I can get back to that elevator, back to the surface.
A slow smile creeps across my lips, and I hide it away, burying my face in my pillows as I mentally retrace my steps all the way to the edge of the garden. To freedom.