Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Iwrapped my arms tighter around my body. My stomach rumbled, but the thought of food made me sick. Being a pincushion at Killian’s palace had been a holiday compared to the last three hours with Dr. Karl. After being poked, prodded, and examined in every way possible, I felt violated and exhausted.
I dragged my feet walking to Istvan’s office, knowing he wanted me to come as soon as the tests were done. It was well after one p.m., and the offices were quiet as most probably slipped out for some lunch. Even his secretary’s desk was empty.
“Hello?” I knocked on the open door, peering into his vacant office, then stepped inside.
It was as familiar to me as my own bedroom.
I had been in here many times, usually because Caden and I were caught doing something Istvan didn’t approve of.
But he also would drag us in to teach us lessons about strategy and life.
Istvan was tough, but now being older, I understood that some of his teachings were actually for our good.
He pushed us to be more, to know more, to see more.
My hand grazed over his bookshelf behind his desk; I had read almost every book in here.
The ones he felt were the most important were stacked behind him, always within reach.
He even had a tattered first edition of The Art of War he bought from some antique auction from the Unified Nations.
The binding was so fragile he wouldn’t let us touch it.
The gold lettering peeled off, notes and odd dot marks fading among the pages and margins inside like some strange code.
Turning to go sit in the chair and wait for him, my gaze paused on the documents atop his desk.
My eyes caught on a few words in the open folder, rubbing something in the back of my brain.
Stepping closer, my attention flicked to the door, feeling like I was doing something wrong, before my eyes returned to the papers.
The papers were covered in handwritten notes, unfamiliar formulas, and sketches of people’s anatomy.
Some of the language was in the old Russian, in the dialect before the wall between worlds fell and everything changed.
People still spoke Russian, but similar to us, the Western world had invaded so often, the older dialects had mostly disappeared.
Istvan had Caden and me learn this old language when most others didn’t.
He wanted us to be able to speak with Ukrainian leaders and their children with ease.
The more we understood them, the better we could spy on them.
Always a chess piece.
My eyebrows creased as I tried to translate the scribbled writing, taking in the date and country which no longer existed, my eyes skimming over the page, reading quickly.
Georgia, 1991
The fae live among us, walk in skins like ours, pretend they fit in. But they want to destroy us, make us their slaves, feed off us, kill us. I will not stand by. I am testing a new formula to take humans to a higher being. In Science, there will be sacrifices, but it is for the greater good.
Fellow scientists laugh and condemn us. But they are the fools.
Not us. Without my studies, my experiments, humankind is doomed.
Fae are stronger, crueler, soulless. They deceive and use us for food and energy.
They cannot die as easily. It is up to me to save mankind from itself. To show I was right all along.
My ideas are far too advanced. I will be heading to America to work on advancing my formulation, while Dr. Novikov will stay here and continue his research into the power of fae food.
As of now, no human has lived long on Earth after consuming it, but he has not given up the hope of finding the nectar of life.
I will continue in my experiments to save humans from diseases, birth defects, and weaknesses, but I also believe my formula will eventually eradicate all weaknesses in human DNA completely.
Become better than them.
Fae must be destroyed at all costs.
And I will lead the charge in creating a superior human army.
Dr. Boris Rapava
Formula? What formula?
Like the pills?
Acid coated my tongue, my eyes still running over the page, desperate to believe I had read it wrong. Misinterpreted the old language. That everything in this didn’t hint at what Killian suggested about Istvan.
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
A scream jolted inside my head as I jumped back, my attention going to the figure in the door.
Fuck.
Istvan’s jaw locked together, his gaze serrated through my body, as though he could cut me in half.
“Ist-Istvan.” I gasped, slapping my chest as if it was trying to keep my heart from leaping out.
“I asked you a question.” Fury strained his shoulders as he took a step in, his eyes still glued to me, his nose flaring.
“I-I—”
“You know you are never to go behind my desk.” He came up and slapped the folder filled with documents closed.
“Nor are you allowed to read anything on my desk. Open or not. You know better, soldier. You shouldn’t even be in here without me.
There are highly classified intelligence documents I must look through, which neither you nor Caden have the privilege to see because of your relationship to me. ”
“Yes, sir.” I moved around his desk to the “guest” side.
“I was actually just looking at the picture.” I reached for one of the frames on his desk near the file, my brain working quickly.
“After what I had been through, I miss him. So much.” I touched the image, my father’s handsome face looking back at me.
It was several months before he died. My father had recently come back from a long trip.
Istvan, Rebeka, my “uncle” Andris, his wife, Rita, my father, and a few others had a party in the residence.
My father had returned earlier that day from a mission. He came and left all the time, but for some reason, this one really stuck in my memory.
“Apu!” I squealed, running to my father, my gangly teenage arms wrapping around him. “You’re back!”
“Kicsim!” My father’s eyes lit up, hugging me so tight. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I squeezed him harder, my heart feeling complete now that he had returned. Uncle Andris and my father had been gone almost three months this time, traveling to far-off places, but they would never tell me why. “Please don’t leave again.”
Dad leaned back, cupping my face. “You’ve grown so much. So much like your mother. Smart, strong, fierce, and so special.”
I saw a sadness in my father’s eyes as he searched mine.
“What?” I swallowed nervously.
“A battle is coming.” He gripped my face tighter. “I want you to remember no matter what, if anything happens to me, Andris will protect you.”
“Dad . . .” I tried to wiggle away. I hated when he talked about fighting and death. We had this conversation every time he went off to battle. The unrest between humans and fae was constantly flaring up, our country never at rest.
“I’m serious, Kicsim.” Dad’s brown eyes searched mine, making my stomach twist. “Andris can find your Uncle Mykel.” I had heard very little about my real uncle as my father was cut off after he fell in love with my mother. All I knew was he was a criminal and somewhere in Prague.
“Apu, you’re scaring me.”
“Promise me,” he demanded.
“I promise.”
A sad, strange smile tugged on my father’s mouth as he kissed my forehead. “I love you so much, Brex. There’s nothing I won’t do for you. You are my entire soul.”
Little did I know then, the battle he spoke of would take his life and Uncle Andris’s as well.
That night of this photo, Caden and I had spied on them from the patio while we sipped stolen booze.
I always looked at the picture with fondness, seeing my dad’s glazed eyes and happy smile, Istvan’s arm around my father’s shoulders.
They looked happy for once. Lifelong friends having a good time.
But now, something felt off about the photo, the memory of my father earlier that day shifting the way I looked at it.
Something was not right in their expressions. In my father’s eyes.
The way he spoke to me.
You’re being silly, Brex. Seeing stuff in the shadows now.
Tension shifted along Istvan’s shoulders.
His hand took the picture from me, his gaze scanning the photo, a faraway glint in his eyes.
“Yes. I miss him too. We could have . . .” Istvan cleared his throat.
“We were a great team together. I have no doubt we could have ruled it all, been feared and respected . . . if . . .”
“If?”
“If he lived.” Istvan set the picture down, his look sliding over the files on his desk.
His lips twitched as he closed them, his finger tapping on the folder.
“It’s good to know about your enemies. What they are thinking.
Doing. The more you know, the better you can fight.
” His voice was even, his regard knowing. “You understand?”
He wasn’t stupid; he knew I’d read it.
“Yes, sir.” My stomach was still in knots. Seeds of doubt had sprouted in my gut.
I should believe and trust Istvan completely. He worked to protect humans. Killian did not.
“I was hoping Dr. Karl’s results would be back, but he is making sure they are thoroughly done. No mistakes.” He motioned to the chair. “I would like to question you more about your time at Halálház and where you were after. A few things aren’t quite clear to me.”
I swallowed.
“Skip the part of how you escaped alive and alone from Halálház. I’m still confused about how you could have made it to the Savage Lands—so close to us—but it took you over a month to get here.”
“I barely made it.” I forced my tone to stay level. “They had soldiers out searching for escapees. Walking the wall. So I had to go into hiding.”
“Where?”
“Uh . . . an abandoned house.”
“You don’t know?”
“Only a shell remained of it.”