Authors: Megan Morgan
“Fifteen minutes,” she said. “If we’re not back, get out of here, any way you can. Get out of this place and run.”
Jason gazed at her. June held her brother’s hands tightly, noting the marks on his wrists again.
“I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I failed you. If I don’t come back, make sure Mom knows I love her.”
“This is not your fault,” Jason said. “June, don’t—”
“Fifteen minutes.” She let go of his hands. “Promise me.”
“Come on,” Sam demanded. “We can’t stand here forever.”
“
Promise me
,” June whispered fiercely.
Jason nodded, clutching the watch, his eyes bright. June turned and stepped out of the elevator, followed by Muse. June looked back. Jason lurched forward and hit a button. The doors slid shut with a soft thump.
“Where’s he at?” Aaron asked.
“This way,” June said.
They started down the hallway, retracing the route the guards had brought them to the elevators.
“Was I getting that earlier?” June asked Muse. “You have my gun?”
Muse perked. Still walking, she pushed a hand down the front of her white leggings. “I took it in the van. They thought I was out. Luckily, they just patted us down and didn’t check our crotches. That’s the one shortcoming of most of these idiots. They’re always avoiding the crotch. It’s the first place I go for.”
Muse’s underwear were white silk with little pink hearts, absurd to notice in that moment but impossible not to. She produced the gun with a flourish and held it out to June. The metal was warm. And a little slippery.
“Tell me this wasn’t in your pussy.” If they were in any other situation June would have refused to touch it.
Muse shrugged. “I learned a long time ago how to hide a gun on your body. You do what you gotta do. Would you rather I didn’t take it and hide it?”
“So you’ve been walking around with my gun tucked up your vag this whole time?”
“Just the grip. It hasn’t been fun.”
“And they didn’t knock you out?”
“I’ve never been rendered unconscious, by chemical or physical means. I don’t know why. Something to do with my physiology. It comes in handy.”
“They probably used sodium thiopental on you,” Sam said. “Knocks a person out quickly. Muse has been injected with it several times and it has no effect on her.”
June wasn’t sure she wanted to know why Muse had been repeatedly injected with sodium thiopental. Or why Sam had such an intricate knowledge of knockout drugs. Or how Muse learned to hide a gun in her vagina. Maybe it was all some sex game they played.
They passed the bank of windows. The night pressed thick against the glass. Up ahead loomed the doors to the surgery room.
“There’s a bunch of researchers in there,” June said. “I don’t know if any of them have guns.”
“We’ll take care of them if they do,” Aaron said.
June pushed through the doors first and went right for the second, inner doors, raising the gun, hand steady, determination driving every step. She felt a bit like the hero rushing in to save the damsel in distress. For once, it was nice not to be the damsel.
When they burst into the room, they moved as though they had everything planned, confidence outweighing good sense. The researchers, most of them gathered around Micha’s bed, scattered.
“Get back! Get back!” June didn’t need to use her power yet.
Aaron and Sam approached the bed, guns raised. Micha was convulsing in his restraints, white foam oozing from his lips.
“Get those off him!” June yelled at the woman researcher who had injected him. She stood a few feet from the bed with her hands up.
Muse hurried over to the bed and jerked at the restraint on Micha’s left ankle.
June pointed her gun at the woman researcher. “Take them
off
.”
Aaron swept the room with his gun, and the researchers still standing nearby backed away. June rushed to the bed.
“Get in that room, over there.” Aaron jerked his gun at a door on the other side of the room. “All of you!”
The woman researcher worked frantically at one of Micha’s wrist restraints. Micha jerked against the mattress, his skin bright red and shiny with sweat. His eyes were rolled back in his head.
“What’s wrong with him?” June asked. “What’s happening?”
“He’s having a reaction to the hormones,” the woman said.
The restraint popped off, and Micha’s hand jerked wildly as it sprung free.
“I need to give him a shot of epinephrine to stop the seizing,” the woman said.
“Then do it!” June placed her gun on the bed and started working on the other wrist restraint. The woman hurried over to a nearby cart.
Aaron continued forcing everyone into the other room with Sam at his back. Muse undid the restraints on Micha’s ankles. He was making hideous wet choking sounds, as if asphyxiating on his own saliva.
“Hurry the fuck up!” June yelled at the woman.
She rushed back to the bed with a syringe, her hand shaking. “I need to get this in his arm. Hold him down.”
June flung herself over Micha’s quaking body and grabbed his arm. His skin was hot, and the sweat made him hard to hold. Muse helped, both of them forcing down his arm.
“Do it,” June said.
The woman, despite her shaking hands and Micha’s uncontrolled jerking, got the needle in after two attempts. She pushed the plunger. “It’ll take a moment.” She looked up at the wildly beeping monitors above the bed.
For a hellish minute they continued holding him down. Then his tremors tapered, and his bucking body gradually stilled. June let go of his arm and slid off. Micha took huge gasping breaths that sounded much better than what he had been doing. The woman grabbed an oxygen mask.
“Is he all right?” June asked.
Micha’s eyes were rolling, his lips tinted blue. He was still shuddering, though not as badly as before.
“I don’t know.” The woman pulled the mask over his mouth and nose.
Aaron had herded all the researchers into the other room and blocked the door with a chair under the knob.
“Please don’t hurt me,” the woman begged.
June picked up her gun. “We’re taking him out of here. Don’t try to stop us and we won’t.”
“He’s not stable.” She looked at the monitors again. “You can’t move him.”
June leaned over. “Micha, can you hear me?”
Micha’s eyes rolled and focused on June, or somewhere in her proximity. He reached up and grabbed clumsily at the mask and pulled the plastic dome from his mouth. “June?” he wheezed out.
“Yes.” Relief sped through her. “We have to get you up. We have to get out of here.” They couldn’t wait, stable or not. “Help me get him up, Sam!” June looked around at the doors to make sure no one had arrived yet to stop them. When she did, she got a rude surprise.
Rose, in all her ghostly glory, stood a few feet from the end of the bed. She stared at June. This time, she definitely wasn’t a dream. June almost yelped, but managed to stifle herself.
Aaron and Sam walked toward the bed and both passed Rose without noticing her presence. June tried to ignore her. She had no time for the dead when she was trying to keep someone alive. But Rose spoke.
“Don’t leave without the truth,” she said.
June almost couldn’t hear her over the noise of the monitors.
“The worst is yet to come,” Rose said.
“Awesome,” June muttered. She started pulling the sensors off Micha’s chest, making the monitors scream. She tried to sit him up, but he was limp and heavy, and June’s muscles were still the consistency of warm gelatin. Sam slipped an arm under Micha’s shoulders.
“Let me do it,” he said.
June looked back at the foot of the bed. Rose had disappeared.
Sam got Micha on his feet and hauled him across the room, Aaron leading the way, June and Muse following Sam. Before they reached the doors, voices came from outside.
They were too late.
“Shit,” Sam said. “They’re coming. Take him!” He turned and heaved Micha off on June.
June stumbled under the full weight of Micha’s body, but filled with both desperation and adrenaline, she managed to drag him back to the bed. The woman researcher screamed and scurried into a corner.
After depositing Micha on the bed, June turned and pointed her gun at the doors, trying to get ready for whatever burst through them.
When the doors flew open, Eric strode through—clearly, positively, fear-inspiringly livid. Huffing with rage, he focused immediately on Aaron. Four security guards poured in behind him. June didn’t know where to aim. She didn’t even know if she could hit anything.
“I should have known it would come to this,” Eric said. “The SNC and the Paranormal Alliance, breaking into the Institute. Taking our research subjects hostage!”
“Oh, please, Eric,” Aaron said. “Cut the theatrics.”
“Take them down!” Eric bellowed at the guards.
The guards didn't decide whom to shoot first fast enough. The second of hesitation cost them.
“Get down on the floor!” June yelled. “Throw away your guns!”
The air vibrated and rushed around her like a hot wind. The security guards dropped, sprawling face down on the tile as if a weight had landed on their backs. All four guns were flung away and skidded toward them. June had to step aside to avoid being hit by one.
Eric’s self-righteousness morphed into incredulous fury. “Filthy Siren. I should have killed you at the park.”
“Why did you only target the guards?” Aaron asked June.
“My power doesn’t affect him for some reason.”
Eric strode boldly toward them. “You are not leaving this place alive.”
“Oh yes, we are.” Sam aimed his shotgun.
And fired.
The blast echoed through the room, huge and startling, and immediately sent June’s ears ringing. Eric’s chin flew back, and blood burst from his throat like a grisly water balloon. The woman researcher screamed. June screamed. Eric fell to the floor, hands at his throat. June went numb with horror.
“Don’t kill him!” Aaron yelled, his voice muffled in June’s ears.
“We can end this right now,” Sam said.
“No one knows as much as he does! His secrets need to be spilled.”
“His blood needs to be spilled!” Sam said.
Aaron grabbed Sam’s arm and directed his gun away from Eric “If we kill him, we’ll only be murderers. Get Micha up. We have to get out of here before more guards come.”
Sam growled. “Dammit, Aaron.” He jammed his gun under his arm and marched toward the bed. “You better not make me regret this.”
Eric was bleeding and writhing on the floor, a bright red puddle spreading around his head. June couldn’t look away.
Aaron spoke to June. “Don’t take this as pity, just prudence. We
can’t
kill him. But we can take him hostage and make getting out of here a hell of a lot easier.”
“Oh God,” June said. “This is some messed up shit.”
“Just lead the way out of here,” Aaron told her. “Get us back to the elevators.”
June was too far in shock to think, so she was glad for the order. She moved past the guards, all still face-down on the floor. Aaron grabbed Eric by the lapel of his jacket and hauled him to his knees. More blood gushed from his neck, spilling down his front and saturating his shirt.
“Let’s go, Eric. Make yourself useful.” Aaron let go of Eric’s jacket, grabbed his wrist, and dragged his body.
June went first through the doors, through the outer room, and into the hallway, gun raised. She expected a battalion, but found the hallway empty. Sam followed with Micha, Muse hurrying after them. Aaron walked out last, dragging his twitching, choking, bleeding load.
“You should have brought more guards with you, Eric,” Aaron said. “Afraid of letting too many people find out what you’ve been up to?”
Every time they went around a corner or past an open door, June tensed, expecting someone to spring out at them. When they got to the elevator, she pounded on the door.
“Jason!” She looked over her shoulder. A bright red trail marked their progress. She was glad she was too focused on survival at the moment to process the horror going on around her. She’d surely have nightmares about it later.
The elevator doors slid open, and June was ecstatic to see Jason still inside. Alive. As whole as she’d left him.
The worst is yet to come.
A man suffering such massive blood loss as Eric Greerson shouldn’t have been able to get to his feet, let alone as fast as he did, and in the same blinding, startling instant take Aaron’s gun. He placed the muzzle to the back of Micha’s head and wrenched him away from Sam. Eric then stumbled backwards, reeling away from them and holding Micha upright, with what looked like little effort.
“Come near me and I’ll blow his brains out,” Eric snarled, bloody spittle flying from his lips. His chest heaved. The ragged hole on the right side of his neck gaped with each breath, oozing fresh blood. His clothes were soaked black.
Micha was alert and wide-eyed.
“Eric,” Aaron said. “What the hell…”
“You’re not taking this from me,” Eric said. “What I’ve accomplished here is the greatest scientific achievement the world has ever known.” Pink saliva dribbled down his chin. “You’ll thank me for what I’ve done,” he said to Micha, almost tenderly. “When you see what you become. It’ll be glorious.”
“Fuck me.” Sam groaned. “He’s a fucking vampire.”
Eric laughed, wet and gurgling. A bubble of blood formed between his lips and popped. “I’m sorry, Micha,” he slurred. “I lied to you. I did the first experiment on myself.” He lowered his bloody mouth to Micha’s ear and whispered, “But I won’t tell anyone you’re not the prototype. I promise.”
“Get off me,” Micha growled, squirming.
“Are you serious, Eric?” Aaron said. “You gave yourself the vampire virus?”
“It’s never quite worked right,” Eric said. “Not the way it does when it’s transferred right from the source. But it works well enough.”
“That’s why your voice didn’t affect him,” Sam said to June.
“And why he’s having meetings at ten o’clock at night,” June said. “And why he was wearing that ridiculous fedora at the park.”
“You’ll regret what you’ve done here,” Eric said. “You’ll never get out of here alive. All exits are blocked by my security force. And even if you do, all of Chicago will know the SNC and the Paranormal Alliance launched an attack on the Institute and tried to kill me. They’ll hunt you down. The whole city will condemn you. I’ll tell them how the two of you tried to assassinate me.”