Dark Angel's Ward (27 page)

"Um, yeah." I saw it, all right, and it was fucking gross. Not to mention utterly bizarre looking. But it made sense to me after a long moment. I was still unconscious, still dreaming. What I saw was nothing more than an illusion.

"A psychic wound," Brax murmured, completing my thought. "Not a physical one."

Of course. A mental construct, symbolizing Zeph's pain as it filtered down to me through our mental link. No wonder it looked nothing like a real wound. The glimpse I'd gotten of his broken body had been brief and tainted by shock--I could only imagine what it might have actually looked like in detail. Just as I was praising myself for my lack of creativity, a thick loop of intestine welled up into the hole, glistening in an unnatural light.

I retched. "Oh, God!"

Brax moaned in apparent rapture and darted forward, his sharp teeth bared. I shot out a hand and caught him by the hair, intent on dragging him to a stop him before he could do me any more damage.

His head snapped back with no resistance at all. Startled, I released him. "Oh, hurt me again," he purred. He laid his cheek against my side, rolling his eyes up at me as he flashed an upside-down grin. "I've been such a baaaaad boy."

"Shut up. And no eating my insides!"

He snorted, straightening up. "You pretty girls are all the same. You hang it all out there, but you get pissed off when somebody stares."

"I didn't exactly choose to have my guts hanging out of my body, jackass!"

He flicked a narrow glance at me. "Then put them away."

"I can't."

Or could I? I glanced at the chair he'd created for himself, also a construct, a thought made real. Just as my thoughts, my sensations had made this wound. Hell, maybe I
could
unmake it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I focused my thoughts, picturing myself as healthy and whole, shoving the pain to the back of my mind. The edges of the gash slowly seamed together in response, like a gruesome mouth closing. It wasn't easy by any means, but by God, it was working.

"Good." Warm fingers stroked my shoulder. "Keep it up."

I clenched my teeth, fighting against sensation, imagining cool numbness to take the place of burning agony. I forced those feelings that weren't mine out of my head and slammed the door shut behind them. Finally the illusory wound squished shut, complete with a rather disgusting sound effect, and vanished.

"That's my girl!" Brax beamed, wiping a hand over my stomach. The blood sluiced away cleanly, showing nothing but perfect white skin underneath. Not even a scar.

"Wow. I did it, didn't I?" I grinned as I sat up, absurdly pleased with myself. "Now what happened to my clothes, you perv...oh, stop that, damn it!"

Brax raised a suggestive eyebrow at me, curling his tongue around a red-stained finger. "No sense in letting it go to waste, is there?"

"It isn't real. And even if it was, it's
mine
." I scowled at him and mentally zapped the blood out of existence. Sliding down from the table, I conjured a simple top and jeans for myself--plain, boring black ones again.

I expected him to pout. His satisfied smile surprised me. "Very good, dear heart. Finally you're exerting a little control over your life. Feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it sort of does. I think I could get used to it."

"Well, don't jump the gun. First we have to get you out of here."

"Right." I looked around, frowning. "What is this place, anyway?"

"Welcome to Facility A." He gestured to our surroundings with an expression that suggested he'd have preferred to be standing in a cesspool. "Birthplace of the technology which ultimately lead you and I to this miserable existence."

"It's a hospital, right?"

"A private research lab," he corrected.

"Same difference. So why did they bring me here?"

His mouth tightened. "You heard what Markus said. You are the culmination of two decades of scientific trial and error. He wants to make more just like you--but first, he'll need to take you apart and figure out what makes you tick."

Twenty-Eight

I gasped. "You mean they're going to...." My voice died in my throat as a parade of mad scientist horror movie images raced through my mind, too quickly to put into words.

Brax nodded grimly. "All that, and more."

"How...how do you know?"

"Personal experience, dear heart. Years of it." He grimaced. "Since you've been unresponsive all this time, they've only taken some blood and surface tissue samples so far. They won't start experimenting on you in earnest until you're awake and able to enjoy it."

Oh...oh God. "So you're keeping me asleep?" I squeaked.

"Trying to. And it would be easier if you'd cooperate." He moved closer, placing an arm around my waist for support. I must have looked ready to keel over. "I would've spared you all this," he murmured, rubbing slow circles on my back. "If only you'd trusted me sooner."

"I still don't trust you."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "That's a shame, princess, because without me you don't stand a snowball's chance in this place."

"Did you really think you could pull off the whole daring rescue thing, anyway? Aren't we in some underground bunker crawling with guards?" A faint edge of hysteria crept into my tone, despite my best efforts to contain it. "That's how it always works in the movies."

"This isn't a movie, dear heart. You're not underground, and there aren't as many guards as you might think. They're counting on weakness and fear to keep you here. But fortunately, both of those things are easily remedied."

"What, they didn't even lock the door?" I muttered.

He waved an impatient hand at my sarcasm. "Well, yes, the door's locked. But if you're prepared when someone opens it, you'll be home free. Here--you can start by memorizing the floor plan."

I stood still and waited for some sort of ghostly map to overlay my vision. It didn't, but when I found myself wondering what lay on the other side of the rectangular window, I suddenly knew as clearly as if I'd seen it a hundred times before. A dark and narrow room, set with two tables and four folding chairs. Several sets of ugly, oversized headphones lay on the tables, plugged into speakers set in the wall below the window. Which was actually a two-way mirror.

An observation room, eh? Thankfully, it seemed empty, at least in the dream state. I wondered if it someone occupied it in reality, and what an observer might be seeing--just my body, lying unconscious? It seemed to me that this amount of mental activity would show on the surface somehow.

Brax shook me a little. "Focus, Jandra."

My vision shifted into a long hallway, painted just as stark white as the walls around us. Identical steel doors lined both sides. "This is the view outside this room, facing to the left," he said. "You'll want to follow the hallway down to the second corner, then head right...."

"You sure do know a lot about this place, don't you?" The mental image faded away as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I ought to," he replied. "I grew up here."

"What?"

"You heard me." For the first time in our acquaintance, he avoided my eyes. "No one was interested in the impact a normal childhood might've had on
my
future usefulness."

"Wow." I groped for words. "That's...that's seriously messed up."

"Yes, it is, but there isn't time for you to pity me right now." He flashed me a grin that fell a bit short of his usual one. "You can kiss it all better later, if you want. As for now, how are
you
feeling?"

I chuckled dryly. "I've been better."

"Don't worry, sweetness. You can feed from me."

"I can...what?"

Brax rolled his eyes. "You need energy. You absorb it from other people, right? So take some of mine."

"No, I can't. I mean, I don't...." I stumbled backward in my anxiety, right out of his embrace.

"Now is hardly the time to be squeamish, dear heart." He sighed, looking chagrined as his arms fell back to his sides. "Besides, am I really
that
repulsive?"

No, and that was a big part of my problem. He didn't wasn't repulsive in the least. What did that say about me? He should have disgusted me, but even knowing he ate frat boys for dinner hadn't painted him as irreparably evil in my eyes. Despite what I'd told him, I actually found myself trusting him more and more with each passing minute.

"Glad to hear it. So what exactly is the problem?"

I squirmed at the question, but what difference did it make? He was inside my mind already--honesty was my only real option. "I don't just do this with people, okay? I...it's not...."

"You're
embarrassed
?" he cut in, his tone incredulous.

I scowled at him. "Nice girls don't eat souls."

"Oh. I see."

He most certainly did
not
see. He wanted to laugh at me--it showed plain as day on his face. I suppose compared to his appetites, mine seemed like no big deal. But he managed to hold his composure, and offered me his hand. "No eating, then. But how about a taste?"

After a long moment of hesitation, I took it, because unfortunately he was right. I didn't have the strength to fight off a kitten right now, let alone a mad scientist or twelve. And when they came for me, I
would
fight, whether or not I had any hope of escaping. I'd force them to kill me before I'd let them hurt me the way they'd hurt....

"No more negativity, dear heart." Brax's drew me close. "Everything's going to be all right."

He wasn't as certain as he sounded. His worry showed through in the tension of his posture, his guarded expression. I wanted to protest that we were royally screwed and I'd be negative if I damn well pleased, but what would be the point? Instead, I laid my hands over his shoulders again, as I had in the garden. "Hold onto me, okay?"

"With pleasure." His hands found the small of my back and pressed me more firmly against the front of his body.

"No, I meant seriously, hold onto me. We're not slow dancing here. Sometimes when I do this, I fall down."

He bent his head close to mine. "I would never let you fall, Jandra."

A shiver ran through me as his breath tickled across my cheek. "Hope you're serious about that 'I like pain' business," I warned him through clenched teeth, sliding my hands down to meet in the center of his chest, over his heart.

"Oh, I'm liking this already." His shirt vanished suddenly, and my hands rested on bare skin.

"Jackass," I muttered. But I shoved my irritation aside and forced myself to tune in to him. It took good bit more effort than usual, but eventually I began to sense the pulse of his azoth, a steady thrum just beneath the surface of his skin. And holy shit, did he have it to spare. I'd never felt anyone so powerful.

"Focus," he said again, his voice gone low and husky. Another shudder of reaction shook me. He slid his arms around me, clasping me tight. Well, it was now or never. I opened my mind to his, though I wasn't quite sure how to proceed beyond that.

It didn't matter--one touch was all it took. His azoth rose to meet mine more quickly than I'd ever experienced, pouring into me as if I'd opened a floodgate. It staggered me briefly, but Brax held me steady despite the startlement on his face. He grunted, his head falling back.

"Brax?"

"Don't stop," he breathed.

I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to. Apparently I'd been drained even worse than I'd realized, and his essence was as welcome to my voracious soul as cool water on a summer day. As I drank him in, I became more aware of the rhythm of his pulse, the texture of his skin beneath my fingers. Without a thought, I slid one hand upward to curve around the side of his neck, liking the way his thick curls fell over my fingers. When my hand skimmed over the pulse point in his throat, a spasm rocked his body, like I'd electrocuted him. He hissed a curse.

I snatched my hand back. "Did I hurt you?"

"Yes," he wheezed, his head drooping onto my shoulder as he whooped in a ragged breath.

"Damn it, I'm sorry." I hugged him.

"Oh, don't be." He peeked up at me through the screen of his hair. I could see only one blue eye, but it sparkled with mischief. "I only wish we had time to do it again."

"Jackass," I accused again, pushing him away this time. "You aren't hurt at all."

"It did sting just a bit," he argued, frowning as he straightened up. His breath still came in shallow huffs. "But you're looking better, and that's all that matters."

"Yeah. I feel better, too."

"Glad to hear it. I wasn't sure how well that would work over a distance."

"'Over a distance?'" I repeated, brows lowering. "You mean you're not really even here?"

"Not in the building, no, but I'm close by. Don't worry. I'll be waiting for you right outside."

"You mean you expect me to break out of here all by myself?" As soon as that the words were out of my mouth, I gasped. I hadn't come here alone! "Wait a minute! What about...?"

An anguished moan interrupted me. Flinching at the sound, I looked around for its source, noticing for the first time a second operating table behind Brax. "Zeph?"

Brax glared over his shoulder. "Quiet, you!"

"That
is
him, isn't it?" Of course, it had to be. The other table hadn't been there before, I was sure of it. As soon as I'd thought of Zeph, he'd appeared in the dream.

Eyes widening, I dodged around Brax as tried to block me. "Zeph? It's me, baby. I'm here. Can you hear me?"

No response. He was still unconscious. His alabaster skin had taken on a grayish tinge, and fine tremors shook his entire frame. A blank white sheet covered him from the chest down. A mental conjuring of mine, to be sure--I didn't want or need to see the ruin of his body again. I laid a hand against his cheek, wincing at its clammy chill. "Oh my God," I whispered. "He's dying."

"Of course he is." Brax circled around behind me, observing the scene from over my shoulder. "He's been draining your life away all this time in order to sustain his own. Now that you've put a stop to that, nature will gladly take its course."