4. Complications
CHAPTER FOUR
Complications
“This is no state my test subject should be in.” Al clicked his tongue.
I resettled on the stool he ordered me to perch upon and continued nibbling the loaf of bread he’d shoved into my hand.
“Rest your arm here,” he said, tapping the work table. I did as he ordered, studying what he was organizing on the surface. He took a rope and wound it above my elbow, fastening it. “No need to be so tense. I am only taking blood.”
Nothing he could have said would truly calm me, but I forced my shoulders to relax. I did not want to give him a reason to return me to the cage. The spongy bread eased the hunger cramping my belly. I took another bite, watching him carefully prepare the syringe.
“Why are you taking more blood?”
“To study the properties that will be different when you Awaken.”
My mind raced. If I spoke about the Lore of Old, he would know I took it, and after I denied it to Vaner, I did not want to know what he would do to me. But I was not the only suspect, Lucinda and the prophet also were.
“The prophet told me Awakening only happens when I stop receiving the viral injections,” I said.
His bushy eyebrows twitched.
“Why yes.” He sounded impassive. “Which is why your vaccination record from Kinsley Village arrived at dawnlight.”
I leaned over to peer at the scrawl on the parchment: a court missive made to the Kingdom’s Alchemist.
“Per the official Registry records in Kinsley Village, you have a sennight left since you received the Anti-Viral injection. Soon, you will begin to withdraw.”
I sucked in a breath. “And become an Omega?”
He stilled, the needle poised right over the inner side of my elbow. “You know the truth about the designations?” His eyes narrowed.
I kept my features fixed with innocence. “The prophet spoke of it.”
He studied me for a few breaths.
“You won’t become an Omega because you already are one.
You simply have not Awakened.” A pride-riddled smile spread across his face.
“My great, great grandfather conceptualized and created the suppressor injection. Of course we have yet to iron out the aftereffects.” He waved the hand holding the syringe in the air.
“But there are much more pressing issues than the deadly effects of the injection.”
I stilled. Such casual cruelty . . .
“That is what makes it so redbloods do not live long,” I whispered, coming to the realization. My lips had turned numb.
Al slid the tip into the crook of my elbow. The pinch from the needle was child’s play.
“Well, my dear, the injection suppresses your most fundamental essence. Of course there are dire complications.”
He spoke so callously of an entire group of people. We were naught but methods for him to learn, nothing but fodder for experiments. I forcibly relaxed my clenched teeth.
“Of course.” I nodded. “Some actions are necessary in the name of advancement.”
His bushy brows raised high. “Exactly.”
I gritted my teeth, but forced a smile. “I have not met many Alchemists.” Correction: any other than Al.
“Of course you have not. Alchemists are the only ones that have an inheritance gift.”
“So all the bluebloods in your past had been Alchemists?”
“All the male bluebloods,” he corrected, drawing the needle from my arm.
“You answer too many questions.”
I stiffened at Vaner’s invading voice. As much as I wanted to whirl around, I held myself as still as possible.
“Well, it is not as if she will be leaving here alive.” Al said it as easily as if commenting on the color of a gown.
“You are not incorrect,” Vaner said, much closer than before. He came into view. I clenched my hands in my lap, wanting nothing more than to rake my nails across his face.
“After my experiments, you will be rid of them anyway.” Al carefully placed the small vials he’d filled back into the little holder. He had only filled the first three in the lineup.
“Would you like me to place that on your shelf?” I asked, straightening.
“Perfect!” He patted my shoulder.
I scooted off the chair and carefully took hold of the tray. The circular tubes swung slightly as I lifted the tray. Al always wanted in-progress ‘projects’ to be shelved on a specific bookcase.
I shuffled away, slowly so I did not break anything. A sure way to send Al into a spiral was to make a mistake. Their hushed conversation reached my ears.
“Let her work for me. I will fetch her and return her to her cell. You may even assign that boy of yours to escort her.”
“Last time she served you, she managed to speak to the prophet. And look where that led.” Vaner’s tone remained even, but the thread of anger couldn’t be missed.
“You make an appropriate point,” Al huffed. “Have officers present with the order to not let her out of their sight. We both have a vested interest in the Elysian Pair. She must be as close to good health as possible. Both of them. Otherwise, my results could be compromised.”
Silence.
I reached the far corner shelves, located opposite to where it swung open into the private area where the prophet had been.
“What good is it if she’s comatose? I will not be able to have proper results,” Al insisted.
I did not turn to see how Vaner had responded, but I assumed he agreed based on Al’s exhale of relief. I crouched to reach the second to last shelf that was empty, and placed the tray down, sliding it to the side.
When I stood, a body pressed against my back, invading my nose with a moss ball scent. I inhaled sharply. Vaner flattened his palm against my belly.
“It is best to understand that which one wants to destroy.” His breath touched the shell of my ear.
I studied a few beakers set upon the third shelf from the top, holding as still as possible.
“Try escaping again, and you will regret it.” His hand tightened on my stomach even more, pulling me back against him.
A wave of nausea rose, and panic crept up my throat. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lord Vaner,” I whispered.
With a grunt and a final dig of his fingertips into my flesh, he released me. I listened to the retreat of his footsteps. He wanted to destroy me. But not yet. Not until Al had what he needed. That ‘not yet’ was the only weapon I had.
“Interested in them, eh?” he murmured. Al tapped the shelf I was at eye level with. It took me a moment to claw out of the dark hole my mind burrowed into. He was talking about the experiments.
“That is a trial potion I am working on perfecting. It stops bowel movements for a period of time. I am attempting to extend the timeframe.” The sickly sweet taste of me expelling it into the feeder wing toilet speared my memory. They had fed me this when I had lost consciousness for a fortnight.
I craned my neck to read the scrawl on the parchment.
Subject did not heal . . .
“And this one?”
“I am studying Lady Drusilla’s healing ability to create this one.
I can taste the atom bonds needed, but I cannot quite duplicate the healing.
We almost lost that young redblood servant because it did not work.
” He chortled. “That is why she lost feeling in the nerves of her foot when the ligament in her knee did not heal. Bah, I will figure it out. Perhaps by using His Highness’ blood,” he muttered under his breath.
He perked up again. “You were always much better behaved than Lucinda.” He shook his head.
“The brat knew how to test my patience.” A fondness coated his tone.
Just as suddenly, he clapped once. “Come, come, Vaner will send over some officers to escort you to a private bathing and toilet area. You would enjoy bathing, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Eat some more. We need to get some more meat on your bones.” He nudged the plate of bread he had offered me when I first entered. I gingerly sat down and took another loaf.
Drusilla’s shout echoed eerily, the hollow sound resonating through the hall where I froze at the cell entrance.
Neither of the officers on either side of me reacted.
One was the man who’d been with Egan and me at the brothel.
The same man who had stopped the other brutish officer from beating me unconscious. His name continued to elude me.
The other was the officer that had been ordered to escort me to the feeder wing during the ball. He stopped to shove a key into the lock and turned it. The door mechanism began to crank and turn as the metal door shut.
After utilizing the toilet chamber, I had bathed, rubbing every inch of my body with care, taking my time to soak in the large tub. Despite how much I scrubbed, it did not matter how much I rubbed at my chest, the warmth did not return.
I met the dark-haired officer’s gaze. His blue eyes were serious and observant.
He didn’t seem this attentive when we were at the brothel.
He jerked his chin down the path, and I trudged down the incline.
Torches lined the side of the wall, their flames flickering ominously across the stones, enhancing the shadowed divots.
“You damned boy.”
Grief filled her voice.
The fact that Drusilla was calling the centuries old creature a ‘boy’ said exactly what I faced. Drusilla was . . . an interloper in the body she wore. The very thing Vaner had tried to do to me on Nocturn.
Yet, he had not killed her for foiling his plans. He had seemed much too calm over it, and that frightened me more than anything.
There was no longer time to muse over his lack of reaction, because the same meaty thuds that resounded from Cassiel hitting metal with his fist continued.
Ahead, at the entrance of Cassiel’s cell stood Drusilla, bent in half, clasping her stomach.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight I encountered across from her. Onyx blood lay in small pools splattered around Cassiel’s feet. He kept ramming his fist into the same bar. Again and again.
“Please!” Drusilla screamed, kneeling on the ground. “Stop, stop.” She released another sob. All three of us slowed. The blond officer placed his hand on his waistband where a sword hung, but the second one shook his head.
“Admit it,” Cassiel bit out and rammed his fist into the bar again.
She flinched as if she had been the one hit. “Do not harm yourse—”
I felt his snarl grate against my senses. I hugged my arms. We had walked in on a conversation.
He sneered, his fingernails digging into his thumb until blood surged from the wound. Black liquid dribbled down his arm in streams. He bared his teeth as he dug harder.
“He is taking his finger off,” the blond officer muttered, face drained of rosiness. I could not breathe as inch by slow inch, he raked his flesh until there were flashes of white bone. Cassiel continued until he peeled off the skin on his thumb.
He flung the meaty strip of flesh and blood at her. It hit the front of the gown and plopped on the ground before her. A ringing clink echoed as if something metal hit stone. It took me moments to realize what it was.
The ring he’d worn.
He had told me his mother had given it to him.
“I want nothing from you,” he murmured silkily.
“I had to fake my death, Cassiel.” Her tone took a lower register. “When I left my original body, there were complications. My host was dying of an infection. I had to find another.”
“Is that why you left me in that squalor-riddled shack?” Cassiel slowly wrapped his hands around two bars. “I nearly starved to death waiting for you to return.”
His tone lacked any sort of inflection.
“The council was supposed to retrieve you.”
Cassiel scoffed. “They did. Years after I had been living as a street urchin, sleeping on the streets, begging for food.”
“What?” she whispered, shaking her head. “Lord Vaner promised me you would want for nothing.”
“And he has not.” Vaner’s voice from behind me startled me. “Wanted for anything since.” Vaner approached with a small smile. “It was simply easier to wait until he was closer to the age where he could be Awakened.”
Drusilla’s shoulders straightened, and she scanned all of us near the entrance to the cells. It was as if she dragged a veil around her shoulders as she collected herself.
“My lady, you are tormenting yourself with things out of your control.” Vaner reached Drusilla and gripped her hand, raising it to his lips.
“We are finally here. After everything we had planned. Do not allow your ungrateful bastard to cause you pain after everything you have done to ensure his future.”
Cassiel’s upper lip lifted, and he regarded him as if he was no better than sludge under his boot.
“Perhaps it is best we begin again. We can Awaken a—”
“No,” she snapped.
“Fine, fine, we will speak about this later.” He began to corral her toward where we stood frozen. “What are you two doing standing around? Put the girl away, Officer Jahrod.”
The dark-haired one grabbed my arm, forcibly shoved me toward the cell, then slammed it shut and locked it once I was behind the bars.
The revelations Drusilla and Cassiel provided dropped like a weight. Cassiel had also been one of their victims.
All their footsteps retreated, leaving only me and Cassiel within the daunting silence. Cassiel watched them, black blood plinking onto the stone from his shredded finger.
Neither of us said a word.