Chapter 17 Echoes Through Flame #2
“May should be here soon,” Luz said, brushing the hair back from Amy’s face. “She had some car trouble on the way here.”
Amy let out a weak groan. “She doesn’t need to come down…”
“She’s your twin,” Luz stated. “She deserves to know. And she deserves to worry.”
Amy looked like she wanted to protest, but her eyes drifted closed again, exhaustion pulling her under.
We sat like that for a while. Three best friends clinging to each other, willing the world to give us one damn minute to breathe.
Luz whispered prayers under her breath, soft Spanish flowing like water. Now and then, she’d squeeze Amy’s other hand, like she could anchor her to this world through sheer force of will.
My phone buzzed against my leg, making me jump.
Leo’s name flashed on the screen with a simple message: Call me.
I slipped into the hallway, the quiet buzz of hospital life a strange contrast to the storm rolling in my chest. As soon as I was out of sight, I hit Leo’s contact.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Took you long enough,” he said, voice low and breathless.
“Leo? What’s going on?”
“I don’t have time.” His breathing was shallow. I could hear it in every word. “I’m in the sub-basement. Storage area. Melanie, there are artifacts down here. Old ones. Museum-grade relics.”
My mouth suddenly felt dry. “What kind of artifacts?”
“Minoan. Mesopotamian. Hellenic.” He was speaking quickly now, words tumbling over each other.
“Ritual objects, votive offerings. One has the name Kore on it, spelled out in ancient Greek. And there are genealogies, Mel. Bloodline charts go back centuries. You’re in here. We are all. All of us traced back to—”
A sound in the background. Metal scraping and heavy footsteps.
“Shit,” Leo breathed. “Someone’s coming. I have to—”
“Leo? Leo!”
The line went dead.
I stood frozen, staring at the phone screen. My hands trembled. Without thinking, I dialed 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.
I hesitated. What would I even tell them?
“I… I think my friend is in danger.” I stammered.
“Can you tell me his name and location? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know his location, we have evidence that Ekklesia Biotech is performing illegal experimentation on people, and my friend is trying to investigate—”
“Ma’am, this is an emergency line. If you want to file a report with the Sheriff’s office, you can do that, but we don’t handle complaints.”
Before I could respond, the line disconnected. Okay, maybe 911 wasn’t the right call. I made a mental note to call the Sheriff’s office.
The fear made me feel ill. I made myself walk down to the cafeteria, hoping caffeine would ease the twist in my stomach. Luz was already there when I arrived, hands full; one steaming cup, one iced. She offered the chai without a word, the smallest smile playing at her lips.
“Peace offering?” She asked.
I took it with a nod, not sure if I wanted to scream or sob or both. “Thanks.”
I gripped the paper cup a little tighter, frustration bubbling in my chest.
“Mel?” Luz asked, brow furrowing. “What is it?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat, taking a breath to steady myself.
“Leo called. He found something, but—” I looked up at her, feeling tears prick my eyes. “The call dropped. Someone was coming, and he hung up. He… he might be in trouble, and it’s all my fault.”
Luz swore under her breath, grasping my shoulder with a trembling hand. “No, amor, this isn’t your fault.”
I shook my head, unconvinced, even as she pulled me into a hug. The helplessness weighed on us. Luz’s entire body was stiff against mine, the worry etched in every line on her face.
“He’ll be okay,” she insisted. “He’s slippery. He knows how to get himself out of a bind.”
I sniffed, nodding my head. Aunt Reenie had been clever, too. That hadn’t saved her. I forced the thought from my mind, clinging to Luz’s words instead.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, far too casually. “I’m getting food.”
“More nauseous than anything,” I admitted.
“Hot professor didn’t knock you up, right?” Luz teased, a flicker of her usual mischief breaking through.
My cheeks flared. I scowled at her and turned with a huff. “I’m going back to Amy’s room. She shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll be up in a bit,” Luz called after me, that glint of laughter still in her voice.
I stepped off the elevator and approached Amy’s room. That sick twist in my gut returned in full force when I realized the door was cracked open, and Amy was no longer alone.
A man in a white coat stood beside her bed, his back to me. He was doing something at the base of her neck. I saw a flash of metal, a syringe, and a small black devise that looked like a chip being carefully extracted from behind her ear.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
He didn’t flinch or pause. He calmly finished what he was doing, capped the syringe, pocketed both it and the devise, and then turned to look at me. His eyes were ice blue and empty, like looking into a frozen lake and seeing nothing but your own reflection staring back.
“Vitals are stable,” he said. “Neurological response within tolerance parameters.”
“Who the hell are you?” My voice shook with barely controlled fury. “What did you just give her?”
“Standard protocol.” He smoothed a strand of hair from Amy’s forehead with clinical detachment. “Phase II participants receive ongoing monitoring and supplementation.”
My blood went cold. “That can’t be in her contract. She wouldn’t agree to that.”
His expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker. “She signed the full agreement, including all supplementary phases.” He paused, and the smallest hint of a smile touched his lips. “It’s quite binding.”
The way he said “binding” made my skin crawl.
“I want to see her contract,” I demanded, ignoring the waiver in my voice. “I want to see exactly what she agreed to.”
“That information is confidential between the participant and the research team.” He was already moving toward the door, walking past me, utterly unfazed.
I stood there, anxiety clenching in my chest, Amy’s shallow breaths the only sound behind me.