Chapter 1 #2
While I was trying to work out if my parents had actually sold me or what, and if so, to whom and why, my doctor walked in.
Yes, seriously. My parents had always been kind of freakish about medical checkups, so once a month Dr. Tish would visit our house and give me a physical.
In retrospect, it’s weird, but when that’s literally all you’ve known your whole life, it’s normal.
So at first I was relieved to see my lifelong doctor—and then I realized he was the root of all my problems.
The next eight months were brutal. Most of the tests they ran were minimally invasive—things like vision and hearing tests, physical stamina and endurance.
And the blood tests, of course. There were so many damn blood tests.
And it was the same thing, day after day, sometimes with increased stimuli to cause stress.
The doctors and lab assistants talked freely in front of us.
Once I realized that meant they didn’t think we’d ever be able to repeat what they were saying to anyone else, it was pretty fucking terrifying.
But it means I know a lot about the tests they ran, even if they never really talked about why they were running them.
The base knowledge was something they didn’t discuss, and it frustrated the crap out of me not to know why they were doing this to us.
Because, yeah, I wasn’t the only one there.
I’m not actually sure how many of us were being tested, but the cell-slash-dorm I lived in had three other guys in it, and the hallway it was in was lined with doors.
I guess I could find out the number now if I really wanted to—there are records—but knowing how many others were victims like me isn’t going to make me feel better.
I stab the button for the elevator, trying to block out the sound of Andrew chatting with… someone.
“…keep telling them that if they didn’t bring the cookies, I wouldn’t eat them. That makes sense, right, Rania? It’s not my fault they bring delicious cookies that mesmerize me into eating them!”
Ugh. Seriously? It’s enough to make me want to take the stairs. Except I have no doubt he’s much fitter than I am and would probably talk to me all the way up.
Fortunately—unfortunately?—we’re not the only people who get into the elevator, so even though I still have to hear his voice, at least he’s not talking to me.
So… where was I? Right, imprisoned by my childhood doctor for tests I didn’t understand the purpose of.
Like that wasn’t horrible enough, there was something really weird about all the people at the lab compound.
Like, weirder than you’d even expect for scientists and guards who were conducting medical tests on unsuspecting teenagers.
At first I thought they were doing some kind of cosplay with fake fangs and horns, or that I’d ended up in the middle of one of those creepy Dracula-worshiping cults.
Or maybe Satanists—I mean, if you wanted to worship the devil, you’d probably be okay with wearing fake horns, right?
But then one day I saw one of the guards change into a huge dog.
If shapeshifters were real, that meant the vampires and demons probably were too.
Which made the tests they were constantly doing even scarier.
And then came a day when one of the lab assistants and two guards came into our dorm and started injecting us with some shit.
It wasn’t the first time—usually after the injection we’d have to do something physical, and then they’d take blood.
But it was the first time my roommates dropped unconscious to the floor after they’d been injected.
Major creep out, right? So when there was a distraction and nobody was looking at me, I just dropped and pretended to be unconscious too.
Whatever was in that syringe, I did not want it—and I can’t emphasize enough how damn lucky I was that day, because I found out about twenty seconds later that my roommates weren’t unconscious, they were dead.
The testing was done, and we weren’t needed anymore.
Ever been dragged through hallways to an incinerator? Also not on my must-repeat list.
My amazing luck kicked in again, because the guards decided to bring all the test subjects down before loading us in, and as soon as they left, I was out of there. I never considered myself a lucky person before then, but I can’t argue with the fact that something was on my side that day.
And for almost a year after. Because while I managed to escape being incinerated, I couldn’t find a way past the guards at the entrance to the complex.
The place was huge, though, and as long as I slept in short snatches and kept moving around, nobody knew I was there.
I had a few close calls, and every time I heard a guard or scientist muttering about the “human stink trapped in the HVAC system,” or one of the kitchen staff complaining that supplies were short, I’d break out in a sweat, but they were so damn arrogant that it never occurred to them that one of their test subjects might have survived.
The elevator doors open, and I stride out, leaving Andrew behind.
He knows where he’s going, and I don’t need to hang around so he can finish talking about the time he made cookies and “accidentally” used salt instead of sugar, then brought them to work and gave them to the hellhounds in one of the investigative teams. Although after having to deal with those hellhounds, I would have paid money to actually see it.
I head down the hallway, peering into each meeting room as I pass until I find the one I need. I knock on the open door.
“Hi. Uh, you wanted to see me?”
Percy smiles at me from across the table. “Yes. Thanks for coming, Noah.”
I enter the room and make for an empty seat at the table—coincidentally, beside Sam, who’s taken me under his wing whether I want to be there or not.
And I can’t tell him to back off, because his boyfriend is fucking terrifying, even for a demon.
The only time Gideon smiles is at Sam—the rest of the time, his face makes my balls shrivel back into my body.
So yeah, not going to hurt his boyfriend’s feelings and risk his wrath.
David, one of the other members of the senior team, looks toward the door. “Where’s Andrew?”
“Talking about cookies.” I can’t quite keep the disdain from my voice, and I bite my lip. These people all like Andrew.
Alistair growls. “He better not be telling the story about the time he tried to poison us ! That low-down son of a bitch.”
Well, Alistair might not like Andrew. Come to think of it, they do bicker a lot.
Suddenly I like Alistair a whole lot more.
“I’ll go get him,” David mutters, but he’s grinning as he leaves the room.
Sam leans in. “Everything okay? You seem tense.”
That makes me tense up even more. There’s no real privacy amongst the community—half the time they can smell what you’ve been doing or your feelings. Or sense them in some weird way. I didn’t even know that tension had a smell until I met these people.
I force a smile, because even if Sam is overbearing sometimes, he’s the reason I’m here and not still trapped in the lab complex—plus, his heart’s in the right place.
And Gideon is sitting on his other side, listening.
“I’m good,” I murmur. “Just, ah, some office politics downstairs.”
He frowns, but I’m saved from having to say anything else when David comes back, followed by Andrew. They close the door and take their seats, and suddenly all eyes are on me.
“Noah, we’ve been talking about your situation, and I want to thank you again for all the information you’ve provided for us. I know your time at the compound was traumatic for you, and I wish it had never happened, but the bits and pieces you picked up while you were there have been invaluable.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod awkwardly. These people freed me from the underground lab complex and gave me a job and a home. Telling them what I overheard while I was trapped there seems like a small price to pay.
Percy smiles his gentle smile that makes me feel like I should want to be a better person and continues. “We also appreciate having your permission to review the test results and other information that was in the file Dr. Tish and his team had compiled.”
I shrug, still feeling awkward. “None of the information in it would have made sense to me, and I wanted to understand what… I wanted to understand.”
Because I don’t. I don’t understand. Even though it’s been explained to me several times, I can’t quite grasp it.
The CCA wanted to enslave humanity.
To do that, they needed to improve the fertility level of the various community species so humans wouldn’t outnumber them. Community fertility is substantially lower than human.
They used sorcery to modify half-human, half-other fetuses in utero.
Then, two decades later, they took egg and sperm samples from those modified people to create the next generation—my generation—and see if we were born human.
Apparently, that’s what all the testing was for: to see if any of my/our community genes had survived.
The way it’s been told to me, if a person has any community blood at all, it will dominate.
So if your six-times-great-grandfather was a demon, you will be a demon, even if his partner was human and all his descendants procreated with humans.
Which means the fact that I have a vampire grandfather but am completely, entirely, one hundred percent human violates the natural order of things. The way the world works, I should be a vampire.
I don’t know how I feel about that. I hate everything that’s been done to me, and I definitely don’t like the idea of being the result of an experiment, but I was raised human. The thought that I should have been—should be?—a vampire is… creepy.
This whole situation is just fucked-up.