All Things Wicked (24 page)

“Why—”

The look she shot him spoke louder than anything that could have come out of her mouth. He knew that look.

Caleb forced himself to relax, staring at the ceiling. Every sound Juliet made, every muffled whimper tore at his heart. Fueled his rage, locked tight under a seal he could feel fracturing with every second.

He had to get them out of here.

He had to trust them enough to do it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jessie murmured, “They’ve tested the blood. Whatever they’re looking for, we all register.”

He frowned, gaze sliding to the mirror. The warped panels returned a shadowed reflection of them each, laid out like some kind of offering. He couldn’t see past the reflection, even worn as it was. If there was anyone there, he couldn’t tell.

He kept his voice down just in case. “Register,” he repeated. “As what?”

“Correct,” Jessie replied, but slowly. Already sluggish. “We all register as
right
. I don’t know what it means.” She shook her head slightly, her chuckle dry. “This thing . . . it plays like a movie, yanks me all over the place. I was . . . watching, the whole time I was out.”

All over the place. His frown deepened. “Your magic has been getting stronger, hasn’t it? Out of control.”

“Oh, yeah.” She flinched as Juliet hiccupped back her distress. “Juliet, please.”

Juliet laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just . . . I’ve been here, like—I feel the needles. They’re everywhere, they drill through bone and blood and—” Her voice rose, spiky and panicked. “They won’t let me go again!”

“Easy,” Caleb said, pitching his voice for calm. Soothing. “Easy, Jules. I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.”

She smiled. Barely anything more than a clenched jaw and peeled back lips, but even through her teeth, she was trying.

God damn the Church. “Jess, I have to tell you—”

“I know,” she said quickly, and dropped her voice. “Wait for it.”

The seconds ticked by, interminably slow. Aching with every manic breath Juliet took beside him, Caleb locked every muscle and forced himself to wait. Trust. He had to try.

Jessie had the advantage here. She could
see
.

Electricity hummed through the various cables and wires strung across the ceiling. The lights seared burning holes into his brain, but he counted slowly in his head. Counted each raw sound Juliet made and swore to turn it around on the Church that did this to her.

I see a mountain of corpses . . .

It welled in his head. His chest.

Boiled his blood.

Jessie stirred, lifting her head to stare at the mirror. Then, with a feral little grin, she jerked her head toward him. “Go.”

Caleb wrenched at the restraint. It stretched tight, popped free with a sudden clatter of nylon and metal, and fell away. He unbuckled the other one quickly, pulse hammering in his ears as he wrenched the straps free at his ankles.

Quickly, he rolled off, closed the divide, and unbuckled Juliet.

She sprang away from the operating table, rolled away from him so fast that she grabbed the last table for balance. Color filled her cheeks; Caleb hoped to hell it was anger. “Can you—”

“Get Jessie,” she said tightly.

There wasn’t time to argue. He darted across the room, unbuckled Jessie and slid his arms under her back and knees. She didn’t weigh nearly enough for his comfort. “Eat more,” he said flatly.

Jessie laughed, muffling it against his shoulder. “Yes, Mom.”

He helped her settle to her feet as Juliet carefully rounded the tables, her gaze averted. “How do we get out?”

“Follow me,” Caleb began, then frowned down at Jessie’s hand as it closed on his arm.

“Follow
me
,” she corrected, and tapped her head. “I’ve got the map.”

He hesitated.

Jessie’s eyes narrowed. “You just remember who’s older here,” she said archly, reaching for the door.

“But—”

“I know where they are, Cale.”

“God damn it.” Feeling as if the world balanced on a needle’s point, Caleb stepped aside. Juliet’s fingers slid into his, clenched tightly. Her palm was damp. Her pulse erratic.

He glanced down at her in surprise.

Her gaze remained averted. But she was so pale around the spotty color in her cheeks, her lips almost bloodless. So damned scared.

Caleb pulled her arm through his. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, and followed his sister out.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
hey’d done things . . . Terrible things.

The ghosts didn’t have to move to follow her. She saw them filling every inch of the dark laboratory, the halls. Watching her, crowding her. They called out with soundless voices, staring at her with eyeless sockets empty of life. Of hope.

Juliet clung to Caleb’s arm, concentrating on obeying the small signals he gave her. She stopped when he tugged at her grip. Walked when he did, slowed as he pushed her behind him.

But in her head, machines beeped. Babies cried, heartrending wailing that filled her ears until they rang. And the children, the grown children, so silent and reserved. Pale as ghosts, unsmiling. Deathly serious.

Locked away. Like animals.

“Juliet,” Jessie hissed.

She jerked her gaze to the blond woman. Blinked rapidly.

“I need you to focus, honey,” Jessie whispered. She crouched beside the door that Juliet vaguely remembered led to the main chamber.

The same place they’d shot Silas.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, nausea blooming in her stomach.

Caleb eased into place behind her. His fingers settled at the curve of her waist, strong and steady. “Come on, Jules,
focus
. You’ll be home free in no time.” The warmth of his body soaked into her sweatshirt, her back. She leaned for just a breath, her eyes closing. Absorbed his strength the way she needed to cling to his heat.

His fingers tightened reflexively.

Never going to happen.
Juliet swallowed hard and straightened, leaning away. “I’m listening.”

Caleb’s hand fell away.

Jessie nodded, though her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Silas is in there”—Juliet jerked—“so we’ll have to move fast. Run for the door, all right?”

“But he—”

“No buts,” Caleb said tightly. She glanced over her shoulder.

Saw the icy set to his features. The twisted line of his mouth. He knew.

He
knew
Silas was dead, and he wasn’t saying anything. “You can’t,” she began, and bit it off as his features hardened. Tightened to a mask of rigid obstinacy.

She sucked in a shuddering breath, shook her head hard enough to dislodge the memories colliding in her brain. The ghosts.

He didn’t give her time to argue. “Go.”

Jessie beckoned Juliet by, flattening her hand toward the floor in silent signal to stay low.

Juliet crouched, slid through the door frame and eased along the wall. Most of the lights still flickered, but at the far end, the bank of computers glowed vividly. The working screens flashed numbers, graphs, things Juliet couldn’t make out as Mrs. Parrish typed into the three-tiered keyboard.

Tobias braced one hand on the back of her chair, his eyes flickering almost white as they reflected the data he studied.

The shadows moved around them. Hungry, restless.

She scraped a hand across her eyes. It didn’t help.

“Go,” Jessie repeated, a low whisper.

Tearing her gaze away, Juliet followed the wall, staying to the shadows as much as she possibly could, holding her breath. She pulled every footstep, struggling to make no noise to alert them.

In the corner of her eye, she watched Jessie ease out of the doorframe and press herself against the same wall.

Juliet paused as Mrs. Parrish’s voice carried. “This makes no sense,” she said waspishly. “The Salem genome is present in all three, but only two of them should carry the amalgam.”

“He’s Jessica Leigh’s brother,” Tobias pointed out.

Jessie froze, half turning to stare toward the computers. The faintest edges of light cast her silhouette into rigid, shadowed lines.

“Which makes him related, fine,” Mrs. Parrish snapped. “That’s the Salem genome there. Look, both children and the donor carry it. The samples our agent brought back twelve years ago match exactly. But there’s no reason for his blood to be registering with the Lauderdale markers—here and here.” She touched several points on the screen. “He was born after the escape. The donor was never exposed— Wait.”

Juliet stiffened, fingers rigid against the floor as Caleb stepped into the chamber.

Unlike the women, he didn’t crouch. He didn’t sidle.

He strode across the goddamned floor like he owned it. His features were set in lines hard enough to cut; fury blazed in his eyes, even shrouded in darkness as they were.

Oh, God. What was he doing?

Juliet opened her mouth, fear thick on her tongue, but Jessie flung out a hand wildly.
Be still.
She didn’t have to read minds to know the signal.

Juliet shrank back against the wall and raged silently.

What did he think he was doing? What did he think this was?

A game?

Wasn’t it always?

“Here,” Mrs. Parrish continued, her tone brightening as she tapped the glass. “It’s not a full set of alleles, almost like it’s been spliced. Could it be?” She adjusted her spectacles. “Is it adapting— No, impossible. The donor would have to have conceived with someone else carrying the markers, wouldn’t she?”

“You killed my mother.”

Mrs. Parrish stood so fast, the chair recoiled into Tobias’s legs. He didn’t flinch, rounding to meet Caleb head on.

The woman raised a hand, halting him mid-step. “Wait, Mr. Nelson.” She dropped her chin, studying Caleb over her frameless lenses. “If you mean Jessica Leigh’s genetic donor—”

“I mean,” Caleb growled, fists clenched so tightly even Juliet could see them white-knuckled and shaking, “you killed our
mother
.”

Mrs. Parrish sighed. “Fine. Call her what you wish. She wasn’t supposed to die, if it’s any consolation.”

Jessie’s face paled in the dark as Caleb’s laughter cracked violently. “This.” He flung out a hand. “All of this. You can’t possibly think you could hide it forever.”

So many voices.

“And who would come searching, Mr. Leigh?” she asked, her expression pinched into what Juliet assumed was pleasant. “With the three of you here, the donor—excuse me,” she amended as Caleb took a step forward, “your mother dead, all traces of GeneCorp concealed, and the rest of the wayward subjects dying slowly—”

Behind her, Tobias flinched.

“—there is no one left to come looking. Time cures all ills. Including,” she added pointedly, “curiosity.”

Staying low, Juliet half crawled into the dark. Torn between the formless haunts in her head and the very real dangers in front of her, it was all she could do to keep from throwing her hands out and begging for a reprieve. One problem at a time.

She gritted her teeth, concentrated on Caleb. She couldn’t let him take this on his shoulders, too.

Don’t leave us.

“You don’t give anyone enough credit,” Caleb said, his voice low and terse. “You know what I can do. You know what I
see
, and mark my words, this
will
get out. You expect people to just swallow this?”

“I expect people will be happy to know that they are sleeping soundly in their beds.” Her glasses winked, reflecting back the computer lights. “I expect they’ll discount the rumors in favor of maintaining the strength of the Church that has protected them for decades. Centuries, even.”

His lip curled. “You’ve played them for fools.”

“No, Mr. Leigh.” Mrs. Parrish braced her hands on the desk, long fingers tense. “We’ve saved them. We’ve taken the criminals, the guardians, the worthy and the cursed, and given them all a new meaning. They
matter
.”

Tripe. All of it, sick tripe. Juliet shook her head, her hair sliding into her eyes as she mentally forged through the sobbing echoes of her memory.

If she could get to Silas’s body . . . The very thought sent chills down her spine. But the man had a gun.

She could shoot Tobias. If she had to.

Jessie waved at her furiously, but froze as Tobias shifted. She withdrew back into the shadows, her face pale. Set.

Caleb laughed, the sound harsh. “Bullshit. You and this doctor were down here playing God. How long?” he demanded, taking a step forward.

Juliet froze, staring at him. At the twisted shape of his mouth, thin and angry.

He was
angry
.

For her? No, it wasn’t about her. It couldn’t be. It was for this. All of this.

I see a mountain of corpses.
Of course. She straightened as the screaming in her head reached a crescendo, tearing at the confines of her skull. Of her own memory. “How many?” she demanded, hoarse with the effort it was taking her not to scream.

Caleb stiffened, but she ignored him. Ignored Jessie, somewhere in the dark.

“How many
case subjects
”—the words tasted bitter on her tongue, grated out like shards of bloody glass—“died?”

Mrs. Parrish folded her arms. “The number of failures is inconsequential. What matters is the data collected from each— Don’t come any closer!”

She wasn’t aware that she walked forward until Caleb reached out, grabbed her arm as she tried to pass him. “How dare you,” she whispered.

His fingers tightened, a painful vise around her forearm, but she didn’t shake him off. Didn’t look away, her temples bright, vicious points of pain drilling through her head. They reached out to her.

They wouldn’t let her go.

Don’t leave us!

Mrs. Parrish pushed away from the desk. “The very fundamentals of science precludes such constraints as morality and ethics.”

Juliet blanched. “And humanity?” Her voice rose. “What about all the lives you destroyed? All the people you captured? What about the children?”

“Witches,” Mrs. Parrish spat.

“And missionaries,” Caleb said, drawing Juliet behind him. He was too strong to fight.

She was shaking so badly, she didn’t know how to try.

“All missionaries are subject to a yearly physical,” Mrs. Parrish explained simply. “During this time, their genetic composition is harvested and stored. The best are then funneled to us. Under no circumstances are active missionaries ever taken.” She paused. “Processed agents are, of course, different.”

“You
monster
,” Juliet cried, fighting Caleb’s grip.

Tobias shifted, settling a large, cautionary hand on Mrs. Parrish’s thin shoulder.

She shrugged him off. “I won’t be spoken down to by this . . . test tube,” she spat, pointing a vicious finger at Juliet. “Dr. Lauderdale is a genius. Because of his absolute faith in this world, in this city, he strode through breakthroughs most scientists can only ever dream of. We are safer because of him. We are stronger, and you—no matter how much you look down your nose! You’re better than you could have
ever
hoped to be.”

Juliet bared her teeth, every muscle in her body tightening as violence filled her senses. Her head. Filled her skin.

They killed us.

Caleb stiffened. “Jules, stop it.”

Mutilated us.

“No.” The word grated out. Was that her voice, so rough and raw? Was that her body vibrating from within a fracturing shell of control?

Twisted us!

Juliet watched it all from a distance, formless in her own skin. Reaching out with hands that didn’t feel like hers; stretching, struggling to be heard in the raging tide of voices calling out for blood.

“You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him,” Mrs. Parrish continued, half snarling. “You and that whole lot of subjects owe him your life. You owe
me
your life.”

Eve!

The magic slipped free of shackles she didn’t know how to lock down.

Mrs. Parrish didn’t seem to notice, but Tobias lifted a hand to his head. His gaze sharpened, pinned on her.

“Jules!” Caleb spun, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her hard enough to clack her teeth together.

It wasn’t a pain she felt.

“They’re still here,” she said, her lips stretched thin over her teeth. She stared up into Caleb’s eyes, brilliant blue. White bled into his irises as she watched. White lightning, blue ocean, bright sky.

Her skin crackled.

Power unfurled like a banner. Snapped in the wind of her fury and Caleb staggered. Somewhere in the dark, Jessie cried out, and Mrs. Parrish lurched away as Tobias launched himself at Caleb’s back.

Make them suffer!

Ghostly hands grabbed her. Pulled at her, reached inside her chest and seized her heart in icy fingers. Magic coursed through her veins.

It burned. Oh, God, it hurt.

She threw back her head as her vision edged to black.

Choked as long, formless fingers of power pushed past her lips, bored past her tongue, into her throat. Fought for her heart, pushed deeper, drilling through her body and soul until it found that dark place where the power thrashed and leaked and twisted.

Avenge us!

Control shattered.

Her scream vibrated. Split into two voices not her own. Three. More. They wrenched loose from her throat, shrill. Ragged. Desperate. Not her scream;
theirs.
All the faceless, formless, nameless children
cultivated
beside her. The forgotten ones, the hollow ones, the witches and the babies and the sunken-eyed children.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Juliet watched herself break down.

And thousands of voices spilled free.

J
uliet’s power erupted.

Her screams didn’t ebb, even when Caleb shoved her out of Tobias’s lurching path. He staggered around, struggling not to fall on his face. Not to give in to the visions pressing in on his brain, twisting at it. Clawing.

The real world shimmered in and out of focus—
a mountain of corpses, tattooed limbs rotting in the dank air
—and Tobias came at him in fitful starts and stops.

He tried to reach out, to grab Tobias as he lumbered toward him. His fingers spasmed, knees buckling.

She sits at the top like a queen on a throne, her eyes empty—

“Holy Christ,” he rasped, sinking to the ground, body bowing, wrenching. “Stop it!”

—
and her legs spread wide. The tattoo burns like molten steel, smoke trailing from her blackened skin, and she says nothing as they—