12. A Little Cup Of Blood
TWELVE
A LITTLE CUP OF BLOOD
Jack
“ A gent Baxter wants you in the mess hall this morning.”
“Hold on … I thought it wasn’t safe for me in the mess hall,” I protested. Agent Dean just stabbed me with yet another dose of drugs. I gritted my teeth at its icy slide through my veins.
“This is a quadruple dose, so we think you’ll be okay,” Dean said brusquely. “Baxter will be here in five to brief you.”
“I don’t think extra drugs are gonna keep those dudes in the mess hall from wanting to pulverize me,” I muttered, rubbing at my throbbing forehead.
It had barely been half an hour since I’d woken up from the drug-induced fog they’d put me in when I almost lost it at Michael. I didn’t even know how long I’d been unconscious. But my body tingled … and my gums ached … and my fingers itched to sprout claws.
Whatever they’d knocked me out with, clearly it hadn’t done much to prevent the urge to shift.
I waited for the drugs to filter through my system. Slowly—slower than ever before—the tingling, the aching, began to subside.
Dean watched me intently.
“You look normal,” she said with a tight smile and a nod. But her eyes stayed wary as the door buzzed, and I looked up to see Baxter enter.
Shit.
My jacket. The one with the letter. I wasn’t wearing it anymore.
“Sleep well, Jack?” Baxter asked, stopping just inside the door and crossing his arms over his chest. I tried not to seem frantic as I scanned the room. There wasn’t much to look over. My pallet bed, the sink, and the toilet were the only things in the room. But there was no sign of the black Operation-issue jacket.
Fuck.
“It’s easy to sleep well when you’re drugged to the eyeballs,” I replied, hoping I sounded grouchy and not panicked. If Baxter found that letter … I mean, I had no idea what was in it, hadn’t even decided if I wanted to find out. But whatever it was, I didn’t want him to get his creepy little hands on it.
Baxter let out a chuckle. I used the moment to do another scan of the room. Definitely no jacket.
“So … the mess hall, hey?” I said, leaning back against my shitty pillow, letting one hand casually drop down in the gap between my pallet and the wall. Maybe it had fallen down there?
Of course it hadn’t. I was grasping at straws, and I knew it.
Head in the game, Jack. Baxter wants something from you. Don’t let him see that you’re freaking out. Don’t give him leverage.
“The mess hall, indeed,” Baxter agreed. “If Asbj?rn wants us to acclimate the Taiga hybrids into the wider community, then we need to start making progress on that front. After all, if they’re to be a part of this coup against Fortis, they will need to understand the wider world.”
Baxter’s voice sounded thoughtful, but there was something else underneath the words …
He’s lying about something. Do not trust, the monster insisted.
I don’t plan to.
“And I’m guessing this is another of your little tasks for me?” I asked, keeping my voice bored. I needed to know how many more of them there would be before he let me out of here.
He doesn’t plan to let you go.
The monster’s whispered warning clenched at my gut, dragging out the suspicion I’d been pushing so deep I could ignore it.
I needed that jacket. I needed that letter. Because if anything was going to give Baxter a reason to keep me here, it was a secret letter from my dead father. A letter that contained fuck knows what.
I pushed aside the worries, shrugging with what I hoped looked like nonchalance. “So, what’s the plan?”
Baxter sniffed. I was learning to hate when he did that.
“You, as one of them, but with a different … upbringing … are uniquely suited to determining which of them have the right demeanor to attempt a next step in the acclimation process.”
“Which will be?” I asked. Baxter watched me with a cruel glint in his eyes.
“Not something you need to concern yourself with,” he said, his words clipped. “For now, we’re focusing on this first step. I need to make a move to reassure Asbj?rn that we’re taking the alliance seriously for now.”
I stifled a snort. Was this all a show to keep Asbj?rn and his allies from turning on Baxter? But why? If he hated Fortis as much as he seemed to, why didn’t Baxter want to use every tool at his disposal to destroy him?
There was no way Baxter was going to answer my questions. And if I asked them, if I seemed suspicious, I was giving him another reason to hold me here.
He won’t need a reason to hold you , the monster snarled. He will just do it.
I ignored it, thinking fast.
“Will I be needed for this next step, whatever it is?” I asked.
Baxter chuckled. “So eager to get your tasks complete and get back to Blaire. Well, you show me how well you … perform today, and I might have more to tell you afterward.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “So … you want me to work out who of the freaks out there will be able to learn how to live like a human the quickest?”
Baxter nodded, pinching his chin.
“Well, you’d better get me a deck of cards.”
I shuffled the deck again; a deft flick of my fingers against the cards. And again. And again. Anything to break the pulsing silence in the cavernous room.
It was like there was an invisible line surrounding the table the Dean had stuck me at. And then a no man’s land of another row of tables around that.
They were curious. But not about the deck of cards. It was a ravenous sort of curiosity … with an undertone of raw violence.
I was quietly shitting myself. And shuffling my cards.
I shuffled. They stared daggers at me as they ate their lunch.
I shuffled some more. They murderously glared at me as they sipped at their drinks.
Pfft! As they gulped greedily at their blood shakes, more like it. I could smell the blood … tangy, mouth-watering.
Fuck.
Aside from the occasional, not quite accidental piercing of my own lip, I’d gone without blood since Ellis had blood-let for me back in the Vault, and I’d guzzled it all down like a can of fucking Coke.
The slurping sounds as hybrids in the mess hall finished their cups echoed too loud in my ears.
I shuffled again, glancing around at the faces that watched me with barely contained animosity. My heart kicked against my ribcage when I realized I was looking for a flash of red-brown hair in the crowd.
I sniffed once. Twice. No black tea and springtime.
She’s not here , the monster grumbled.
Who fucking cares?
I shuffled the cards again. They stared. I sniffed, biting back my scowl that I still couldn’t smell her.
I shouldn’t care … but I did.
And that just pissed me off even more.
Focus , I told myself, shuffling again, feeling like an utter fucking idiot as I did. But Baxter had been clear. Sit and wait for them to come to me. That was their first test. Showing interest in something foreign to them.
I’d had to stifle the urge to punch the stupid, smug asshole in the face when he told me that none of his hybrids had ever seen a deck of cards before.
What sort of shit did they do around here in their spare time? Did they ever get spare time? Did they learn to read and write? Did they have to suffer through math the way I had?
Dean approached, braving the dead zone between me and the rest of them. She was carrying a cup, and I didn’t need to inhale to know exactly what was inside it.
“You probably should drink, Jack,” she murmured, placing the cup down on the table beside the deck of cards. I stared at it, disgust and … longing … warring in me.
Dean nudged it closer. “It might make them see you as one of them instead of one of us,” she whispered. I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Because the teeth, and the claws, and the fucking hair that sprouts out of my skin … that’s not enough to be one of them?” I asked darkly.
Dean actually fucking smiled at me. “Unfortunately, you’re on enough meds to be unable to provide them with that level of demonstration right now. So a little cup of blood is going to have to suffice.”
I wanted to growl at her. But I also felt my jaw aching at the scent coming from that cup.
Drink , the monster snarled.
Blood. It had been too long. Maybe that was why this cup smelled particularly mouthwatering.
I snatched it up and took a long pull, glaring at Dean. When the coppery liquid hit my tongue, it was all I could do to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.
Ellis’s blood hadn’t tasted like this.
I sucked harder, pulling that taste into me in long, starving swallows. It was better than a fresh Cinnabon.
Better than an orgasm.
Shit.
With an effort that felt impossible, I released the straw.
“This isn’t … is this human blood?” I hissed at Dean, who was already walking away.
Her wide eyes looked far too innocent for my liking.
“We don’t serve human blood in here. Each hybrid is on a donation schedule. You’re probably drinking one of your compatriots over there.” She gestured towards the growing number of hybrids, pretending they weren’t avidly watching my exchange with Dean.
“That’s just fucked up,” I muttered.
Dean shrugged and sauntered off to resume her watch from the far corner of the room.
And then it hit me like a freight train. Why that blood had smelled so tasty … and a little bit familiar.
Why it had tasted like sex and sin … and homecoming.
Fuck.
It was her blood.
The monster howled with laughter inside my skull.
I’ve never wanted to claw my own brain out before … guess there’s a first time for everything , I snapped silently.
It would be a shame to die a virgin, wouldn’t it? Especially when she’s right here, in this very building …
I scowled, pushing the delicious blood to the far side of the table. I was not going to drink another fucking sip.
Thrusting aside the images that suddenly wanted to bash their way to the front of my skull, I picked up my deck of cards. I stared at the red pattern on their backs as I shuffled mindlessly. I wasn’t going to look up again. If one of them approached, let them be the one to break the silence.
Baxter was fucking with me. This was a complete waste of time. And the more I sat there, shuffling like a fool, the larger that half-drunk cup of blood loomed in the corner of my eye.
I wasn’t going to drink any more of it. I wasn’t.
As much to distract me from the cup as to give the creepy audience something different to glare at, I laid out a game of solitaire. At least I could keep myself occupied until this fucking stupid, pointless social experiment was over.
It felt good to sink myself into the familiarity of the deck of cards. To set aside all the crazy shit that had dogged me for the entirety of the summer.
I thought back to that rainy day of poker that Blaire and I had played when we’d first arrived on Greenrock. How restless she’d been. How we’d left the safety of the house, looking for something to ease her boredom.
I sighed, doling out the cards three at a time, looking for playable ones. I would have been happy to stay holed up in the house with her. But I’d also wanted to do anything to make her smile.
I wondered, if we hadn’t left that day, if we hadn’t caught the Kiddie Train into the village … if we hadn’t stumbled across the hidden vault, and Ellis and Farida … and Roman … would I have ended up here? Playing solitaire in a sterile prison, surrounded by government agents and a bunch of half-breed immortals who hated me at first sight … on first smell.
I snorted to myself. Who the fuck was I kidding? Michael and Mom would have handed me over one way or another. I was always ending up here.
The scent hit me seconds before the low, husky accusation.
“Why are you here?”
I froze.