Chapter 14
Laurie
‘Stay put’ was what River had said.
Clearly, she still had a lot to learn about yours truly. I would not stay put, thank you very much. Instead, I stood on the outskirts of a massive warehouse in the industrial area—exactly where Arlon’s lead had pointed.
I kept low, pressed up against a rusted chain-link fence, squinting at the rows of crumbling buildings.
Most of them looked abandoned, graffiti scrawled across the walls, but as I crept closer I noticed the smaller details: a functioning security camera—green light blinking in the dark, tire marks on the loading dock.
Most of the windows were boarded up, but faint slivers of light cut through the cracks.
Movement drew my eye to the left—a car rolling into the lot.
I slunk lower, broken bottles and rusted cans crunching under my shoes.
Headlights cut a bleak path across the concrete before shutting off.
I watched from my spot in the dark as a blond guy—couldn’t have been older than twenty-five or so—stepped out.
He stood vacantly in the lot, staring into the distance like a sleepwalker.
A man in a neat silvery suit followed, placing a hand on the other guy’s shoulder. I watched him murmur something into the blond’s ear before urging him forward, toward the warehouse. A wash of light spilled out when a door opened, blackening their silhouettes as the two figures slipped inside.
So it was true. They really were collecting people like this.
It was a fuss-free method, I supposed. Why bother snatching people off the streets when you can thrall them into walking themselves to their doom?
Adrenaline turned my legs to jelly, but I crept closer, skirting the edges of the warehouse complex, on the hunt for a gap that might let me in.
Most of the ground-level entrances seemed locked tight and boarded shut, and I was pretty sure a front door approach would end in me caught red-handed.
I needed something subtle, so I broadened my search.
The faint glow of a flickering exterior light revealed a boarded-up window one story up. Better yet, there was a relic of old scaffolding alongside it—a creaking metal structure with patches of rust and a couple of loose boards. Bingo.
“Sure, Laurie,” I muttered under my breath, adjusting my backpack on my shoulders. “Scale the rickety scaffolding. What could possibly go wrong?” But I stepped onto the first rung anyway.
My foot made the entire frame shiver, but I got to climbing, cursing my frail body all the while.
Every time a gust of wind rattled the structure, my heart jumped. The board under my left foot cracked ominously, sending my stomach into freefall. I did not need a broken leg tonight. Or any night, really. Arlon would never let me hear the end of it.
Slowly, carefully, I tested each rung before putting my weight on it, feeling it flex under my foot.
At last, huffing like I did scaling the stairs to my apartment, I managed to climb high enough to reach the window. A couple of short boards had been nailed across it in a lazy attempt to seal it off. One was already coming loose at one end.
Balancing on the final rung, I clutched the window frame for support and lifted my leg.
“Don’t you dare break,” I muttered, glaring at the bar I balanced on that could damn well do me in if it felt like it. The entire structure wobbled but held.
I braced my foot against the boards on the window and kicked at the upper plank. Thunk. A muffled crack. The plank didn’t give. Of course. I had about as much leg muscle as a freshly born foal.
But I was on a mission and I would not be halted by one stupid plank that refused to yield. Besides, River would be showing up soon and damned if she caught me dead and buried in a pile of collapsed scaffolding. Here lies Laurie Montgomery: She never did get through that window…
That morbid thought urged my efforts and my cheeks burned at the shame of failing in front of someone like River. “Come on.”
Another kick—harder this time, fueled by sheer spite and a grim determination to not be one-upped by a vampire. This time, the wood splintered, letting out a resounding snap that felt about ten decibels too loud for my liking. My entire body went rigid, heart in my throat.
I froze, waiting for an alarm or shouts of discovery.
But nothing followed except the low hum of wind batting against the warehouse walls.
Wasting no time, I pulled at the broken plank, wiggling it until it came loose abruptly and clanged down the scaffolding, thudding to the ground below.
I grimaced. Very stealthy. Nancy Drew could never.
Then I hoisted my torso through the narrow gap, swearing every time my hips snagged on a splinter. Finally, I tumbled inside with a yelp, rolling through a crouch and landing flat on my face when the floor turned out to be farther away than I thought.
Thankfully, my woefully ungraceful entrance seemed to go unnoticed. The interior I’d crashed into remained silent, save for the subtle buzz and whirr of unseen machinery. I pushed myself upright, touching disgruntled fingers to the welt starting up on my chin.
Inside was… not the filthy, abandoned husk I expected. The floors were swept clean, rows of metal shelving neatly organized with plastic bins, sealed crates, and hospital-like instruments that made my skin crawl.
A flickering overhead light cast an eerie glow over the scene. I hauled myself to my feet, standing on shamefully shaky legs. A desk in the corner was packed with computer monitors, every dark screen reflecting my own pale face back at me.
My gaze flicked over the equipment splayed out on the shelves. It was all strangely familiar, in an unsettling kind of way. Like I’d stepped back in time.
I looped my thumbs under the straps of my backpack, shaking my head to clear the fog that crept in and blurred my thoughts.
But the memory flared anyway. Cold metal tables, bright fluorescent lights slicing through the gloom, screams echoing in the distance.
My heart lurched, and a haze of old fear rose like smoke.
I was back where I started—two years younger and terrified.
I pressed myself against the metal shelving, breath hitching. Not now. Please, not now. Another memory: alarms blaring, scorching chemicals burning my throat. A wave of heat, a corridor filled with smoke. Arlon’s voice emanating from somewhere beyond the flames. Stop—stop, you’re not there anymore.
It was like I was talking to myself from a distance, reaching through time to snatch myself back from the past.
I squeezed my eyes shut. My nails dug into my palms. The sound of my own ragged, wheezing breathing eventually brought me back. You’re free, you’re fighting back, you’re… I lifted my head, forcing the panic down into a tight knot in my chest. Breathe.
I exhaled slowly, unclenching my fists with gargantuan effort.
When I’d finally grabbed hold of myself, I edged toward the door on the far end of the room, poking my head out with my heart in my throat.
The hallway beyond was silent, empty. The walls lined with boxes and crates.
I dodged a metal trolley—packed with discarded medical equipment that churned my stomach—and pressed on.
The hallway stretched ahead, sterile fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete floor. I pressed myself tight against the wall, wary of the security cameras mounted high on the corners.
Move. Pause. Check. Breathe. Repeat. I could be stealthy when I wanted to—when climbing wasn’t involved.
I slithered down the corridor, keeping an eye on the cameras, sliding from one blind spot to another, my back scraping against cool cinderblock. Every step felt dangerously loud in the deafening silence.
My muscles were knotted tight, adrenaline pumping furiously through my veins. Every inch of this facility was rife with sickening familiarity, and it took every ounce of strength not to crumble to the memories that clawed at my mind.
At last, I reached what looked like a control room and the heavy steel door was slightly ajar. The universe seemed to finally relent and grant me a speck of good fortune when I peeked inside and found it empty. I slipped in quickly, gently easing the door shut behind me.
The room was dim, illuminated by the hazy glow of dozens of monitors lining the walls. I crept closer, inspecting the footage—and then wished with every fiber of my being that I hadn’t.
“What the–” My heart seized as my eyes darted between screens, horror creeping like cold fingers up my spine.
Each screen revealed a cell, each cell a nightmare—some holding terrified, weeping humans, others imprisoning twisted creatures with hollowed eyes that burned with a monstrous hunger. I stumbled back a step, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a gasp I couldn’t contain.
I recognized that agony, the same torment I'd barely escaped myself.
I gripped the back of a steel chair and forced myself to look, steadying my legs as a wave of nausea threatened to buckle my knees. A few screens showed individuals writhing in pain, their bodies twitching and contorting in the early stages of vampiric transformation.
My stomach lurched violently, sickness and rage battling for dominance. This wasn't just imprisonment—it was systematic torture, a laboratory of suffering.
One particular monitor caught my eye and my breath snagged in my throat. The blond guy I'd seen earlier sat motionless on a cot, eyes vacant and glassy. My breath fogged up the screen slightly as I leaned closer, and I hurriedly rubbed at the glass. He was just… sitting there.
Then footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, jolting me from my horror.
Fresh panic spiked in my chest, and I ducked behind a tall equipment rack, squeezing into the narrow gap between the cool metal and the wall. The door swung open seconds later and the room was filled with the acrid scent of cheap cologne.
The security guard—according to his labeled jacket—muttered something under his breath, completely unaware of my presence as he settled into the chair in front of the desk. He looked… human. There was nothing unnatural about the cracks in his features, the graying streaks in his hair.
Holding my breath, I angled myself gingerly, peering through gaps in the shelves to keep the screens in view. The guard scanned the monitors methodically, head tilting in increments as he looked from cell to cell—but he stopped abruptly at the blond boy's feed.
On the screen, the blond was moving, rising with deliberate slowness from his cot.
He turned purposefully toward the camera, and for one electrifying moment, his eyes locked onto it—piercing, defiant, like he could see straight through the lens.
“What the hell...?” the guard hissed, and I rose to my toes to get a better view past his head.
To my immense surprise, the blond on screen raised his hand, middle finger extended with fierce rebellion, before flinging his jacket over the camera and plunging the screen into abrupt darkness.
The guard cursed with vehemence, chair scraping violently across the floor as he sprang upright. I flattened myself against the wall and held my breath as the guy dashed from the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
Silence returned and I waited—until I was sure he wasn’t coming back—then I edged slowly out from behind the equipment rack, heart still slamming an aggressive tempo against my ribs. I stared blankly at the now-blocked screen, utterly baffled.
Well. That was… unexpected.
Blinking rapidly, I shook myself out of my confusion. Whoever the blond guy was, he clearly had his own agenda—and it involved ticking off security guards in spectacular fashion. I glanced back at the control panel, dread shifting gradually into something a little more determined.
Taking a deep, uncertain breath, I cracked my knuckles. This was not exactly how I'd imagined this mission going, but I was willing to improvise.
If blondie wanted chaos, then chaos he would get.