Chapter 5
FIVE
Kallie
The last three days have been hell. I’ve been desperate enough to contemplate drinking the bucket. But the second I felt that indescribable tingle spark in the pit of my stomach, I knew I would do anything to keep that feeling.
Weak and disoriented, I don’t fully comprehend what’s going on until I’m halfway down the hall.
“Where are we going?” I muster the faintest sound, but nobody responds. Lolling my head to the side, I keep my eyes closed, letting the scent of eucalyptus calm me and the sway of whoever is carrying me rock me back to sleep.
A flutter starts deep within me, and when I open my eyes, they’re assaulted by the bright white light above. I try to shield them, but my arms are held captive, bound to the table by leather straps.
“Finally,” a feminine voice breathes. It takes me a few seconds to get used to the brightness and gain my bearings. Just as Kate’s face comes into view, white-hot pain laces down my arm, and I let out a gravelly cry.
The skin threatens to stitch itself back together, but I hold it off, letting the blood pour out of the wound. “What’s so special about you?” she spits, disdain coating her words.
“Wish I had an answer for you,” I push through clenched teeth. She rolls her eyes then punctures my side with the blade, pushing it all the way to the hilt. Gasping for air, I can feel my body begging to repair itself, but it’s not time.
Blood bubbles out the corner of my mouth, and I feel it pool at the base of my neck.
“I wonder how long I can wait to heal you?” An ominous smile pulls at her lips.
“Should we test the theory?” Her question gets lost in my scream as she rips the knife out.
“How many stabs does it take Kallie to see the light?” Anger with a hint of resentment coats her words as she brings the blade down once more, rehoming it in the top of my thigh.
Kate’s nose scrunches, and her eyes dart around the room. “What is that godsawful smell?” Finally, her gaze reaches me, but she’s too late.
The singed straps fall to the sides, and it’s like I can breathe again. Despite my wounds, I take in a beautiful lungful of air, letting the pain rest a moment longer to serve as a reminder.
Ripped tendons and torn flesh sew themselves back together, and I relish in it. My head tilts back just the tiniest bit, letting the euphoric tears skate down the sides of my face.
A wicked grin takes purchase across my lips, and I see Kate coming at me with a syringe. My hand lashes out, latching around her throat with punishing force. I don’t feel the claw marks she paints down my arms, only a tug as she tries to pull herself free.
The sweet aroma of burning flesh surrounds us, and I watch as her skin begins to blister and disintegrate beneath my touch. Her wails are like music notes dancing in the air, creating a symphony perfectly curated for my ears.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” I reiterate what she’s been telling me this whole time. When the air from her lungs ceases, true panic breaches her face.
Good.
“There’s a sense of beauty in your naivety.
For as long as you’ve known me, have you ever seen me give up?
It’s comical you would think this situation would be any different.
” A gust of air sends her flying through the room.
Her body whacks against the wall, and I watch her slumped form fall to the ground.
Snagging a scalpel off the tray, I saunter over toward her flailing body.
Gripping her hair at the roots, I pull her head back and place the tip of the blade at her throat.
“You deserve so much worse than this. Lucky for you, I don’t have the time.
See you in Mortis Regnum.” Then I slice the blade across her throat.
The line beads with crimson before a waterfall of blood gushes down the front of her body.
Letting go, I watch the life slowly drain out of her eyes and allow myself a moment to grieve the friendship I thought we had. My brain can’t process the loss. It doesn’t understand the picture laid out in front of me or that the tiles are stained scarlet with Kate’s blood.
I stand there for too long, staring at her already paling skin, waiting for the tears to come.
But they never do. Even though she is—was—a backstabbing bitch, she was still my best friend.
The closest thing I had to a sister. I would have thought her end would bring me some sort of sadness, though it was by my own hand.
Yet, my eyes stay dry. I’m not sad. There’s no trace of anger, and for that I guess I’m thankful—to be numb to the pain so it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
I fall to my knees, uncaring of the violent blow, as I allow myself a single moment to grieve as the weight settles deep in my marrow.
Freedom.
Keeping the scalpel firm in my grip, I try to open the door, but when it doesn’t budge, I see the blaring red finger scanner just to the right. Eyeballing the scanner and Kate’s unmovable body, I shrug my shoulders and walk back over to her.
Her arm is dead weight, but I don’t hesitate before sawing her thumb off, taking it over to the finger pad.
It doesn’t grant me access.
Throwing it to the side, I do this three more times until the thing blinks green when I place her middle finger on the pad.
What a stupid finger to pick. Rolling my eyes, I pull the door open just a crack, curious if there’s anyone waiting on the other side.
Leaving the scalpel behind, I keep her finger resting in my palm, swiveling my head left, then right, and one more time for good measure. I decide the coast is clear and debate on which way to go, ultimately making the executive decision to go left.
My bare feet don’t make a sound as I tread down the hall. The walls are white, and the doors would seamlessly blend in if it wasn’t for the metal frame holding them in place.
My body begs for water, for food, for rest. But I keep going down the never-ending hallway, through twists and turns, and battle with myself one step at a time as I trudge up a staircase.
Finally making it to the top, a sign is posted on one of the doors.
Authorized Personnel ONLY
How stupid. That’s like presenting a big red button and saying, “Don’t push.”
Bracing myself against the wall, I place Kate’s finger on the pad and breathe a sigh of relief when it turns green. I rush into the newly unlocked door, thankful to be out of the hall, considering sirens could sound or anyone could walk out and catch me.
My back rests against the door as it slowly closes, and I pinch my eyes shut when the lock sounds like a bomb going off.
I hold my position—my breath—preparing for a wave of guards to come racing in.
But they never do. However, when I open my eyes again, that breath I was holding hitches in my throat.
Glass cylinders line the walls on either side of me, filled to the brim with some sort of liquid and each housing some sort of unknown specimen.
Each creature—person? I’m not quite sure—floats inside the tubes, their eyes closed like they’re asleep.
Long tubes extend from the tops and are secured around each of their mouths, almost like they are frozen in time.
My feet move of their own accord, careful to not make a sound.
Getting closer, the specimens floating around are not unique at all.
They’re people. Mortals or fae, I can’t be sure, but they don’t look quite right.
Each looks slightly altered, and as I make my way down, that statement couldn’t be more true.
Gradually, my mouth falls open farther and farther until it’s basically dragging on the ground. My hand covers my mouth in horror as the final person comes into view. Person isn’t the right word. Whatever is in this tube isn’t natural. Not from either world.
There’s no face, like a blank canvas, and scales replace the surface where skin would be. A tail protrudes out, wrapping around the torso. Elongated fingers rest at its sides, talons formed at the tips, its feet matching.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, my words muffled by my palm. The strange creature’s head tilts to the side as if it heard me. My eyes widen in shock, and I take a step back when the smallest twitch of a talon reaches for me.
Turning on my heels, I hurry back toward the door. The sound of my feet carry behind me, and it feels like each creature is watching me flee for my life.
I don’t check for anybody in the hall as I open the door, rushing over the threshold as quickly as I can.
Allowing myself a few moments to catch my breath, there are two sets of stairs—one leading down, the other up.
Serena. I have to go back. I can’t leave her here to wither away in this fucking hell hole. She’s been through so much already, and I’ll be damned if I let her suffer anymore.
Mind made up, I descend the stairs, noting the similarities between now and when I was dragged down this hall against my will.
You’re not being held. You’re free.
But I’m not. Not yet, at least. The walls still feel like they’re closing in, wanting to keep me trapped here forever. The twists and turns are familiar, and I chase that feeling all the way to the door that once held me hostage.
This door doesn’t have a security system, so when I twist the knob, it turns freely. Ripples of nausea move over me, the smell of urine and feces wafting against my face. Bringing the back of my hand up to cover my nose, it does little to dilute the scent.
Serena sits in the farthest corner of her cell, looking completely dull of life.
Her legs are pulled to her chest, her bony arms wrapped around them, making herself as small as possible.
She doesn’t see me come in, keeping her forehead pressed to the tops of her knees.
I see her body visibly stiffen, every muscle locking up, but still she makes no move to bring her gaze to the door.