Every Other Day (23 page)

Like this was a house, not a laboratory.

Like her men hadn’t just killed Skylar.

Like I hadn’t killed her men.

“I didn’t know it was you until today,” she told me, like that made some kind of difference. “I didn’t know that the host was you, and now I do.”

Her words unlocked my frozen muscles. Claiming not to have ordered
my
death wasn’t enough—not when Skylar was ashes on the wind. In a single, fluid motion, I brought my knife down on the back of her head—hilt first.

She crumpled to the ground, and something threatened to give inside me. I pushed back against it.

Later
, I thought.

I could break down later.

I could miss her and hate her and wish I’d never heard her say my name later.

Right now, I had to find Zev.

31

After the Alan, I’d expected Chimera’s lab to be a little shop of horrors, but beyond the final door, it looked like any other research lab in any other facility in the country: clean, sterile, organized. Workstations lined a center island filled with enough equipment to give research types a geekgasm: electron microscopes and mass spectrometers and machinery I didn’t even come close to recognizing. It was easy to picture the place bustling with men and women in white coats.

So why was it empty?

A company like Chimera had to have hundreds of employees, if not thousands. Even if most of those people worked on aboveboard projects, there had to be more people involved in this one than just She Who Shall Not Be Named and the men in suits.

Then again, I’d triggered some kind of alarm upstairs, and the only reason I’d been able to find this place was because the FBI had already gotten a lock on it.

They’re already evacuating and shutting things down
, I thought, the silence echoing all around me.
What if I’m too late?

You’re not. You need to leave, Kali. Please.

Zev had been silent for so long that the sound of his voice took me by surprise, and I clamped my lips into a straight line, refusing to show any external sign of weakness.

Where are you?
I asked Zev silently, forcing myself to focus on the here and now.

Zev didn’t answer, but I quickly realized that he didn’t have to—hearing his voice had been enough, and now, I could feel his presence like a beacon, calling me home. My inner compass guided me toward the far wall.

Another door.

This place was such a labyrinth. Each time I thought I’d reached my destination, another door popped up, and I had to venture farther and farther into the belly of the beast.

Luckily, the card I’d swiped to get down here worked for access on this door, too, and I let myself into another hallway: one lined with metal doors. A tiny, slit-shaped window had been laid into each.

The smell of sulfur was overwhelming.

I walked down the hallway, trying not to look. I wasn’t here to hunt, but still, I felt them.

Closer, closer, just a little closer
…

“No,” I said out loud, pushing down the urge to hunt. I was there for Zev. Everything else could wait. I forced myself to keep walking, and with each step, I felt a little warmer, a little more sure.

I caught sight of the clipboards hanging outside each door, but avoided reading the labels. I forcibly ignored the feeling of bugs crawling under my skin, the sound of scales scraping against concrete from behind one door, the near-human screams of some kind of primate, enraged, behind another.

Like clockwork, as I walked past each door, the beasts contained behind it came to life. They could smell me.

They wanted me dead.

My body quivered with the desire to return the favor, the
ouroboros
burning on my stomach, my chest, my back.

“Zev. Zev. Zev.” I said his name out loud, focusing on the reason I’d come here—the reason I’d risked my life and others’.

Finally, at the end of the hallway, there was a door.

Unlike the rest, it didn’t have a window. I couldn’t peek in to see what it was hiding, but I knew. I tested the handle, then swiped the identification card. The lock gave, and a second later, I was standing in another hallway.

This place was a nightmare. An endless nightmare, with door after door after door, and I was never going to find him, never going to get out.

“Kali.”

It took me a moment to realize that the voice wasn’t in my head.

“Zev?” I rushed toward the end of this hallway. Toward the last door. I pressed my hands flat against the metal. My eyes were level with the viewing slit.

On the other side of the slit, there were eyes.

Dark eyes, light skin, lashes that belonged on a softer, more delicate face. They framed his eyes in a thick, ink-black fringe.

“Zev,” I said, his name catching in my throat.

On the other side of the door, I could feel him placing his hands against the metal. I could almost feel his touch against mine, his breath against my skin.

I tried my card on this door, and the second I heard the lock give, the barrier holding back my emotions threatened to do the same.

I was so close now. So, so close.

Disbelief coloring his features, Zev pressed the door open, slowly, and stepped out into the hallway. He was taller than I’d thought he’d be, thinner than he’d looked in my dreams. He brought his hands to either side of my face, and I had one moment of utter peace, of feeling that this was how it was supposed to be.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me like I was something precious. He ran his thumb over the skin of my cheek, and then he whispered, “I told you not to come here.” His voice was tender, and then it broke. “You should have listened.”

One second, his hands were on my cheeks. The next, they’d encircled my neck.

No
.

My palms pressed back against his shoulders, but he didn’t move.

I was fast. Strong. Inhuman. He was faster, stronger, older.

No matter how hard I fought, his hands stayed around my neck, like a metal collar. He squeezed, squeezed hard enough that a normal girl’s head would have popped right off.

I can’t breathe
, I realized.
His hands are on my neck, and I can’t breathe.

This couldn’t be happening. After everything, after
Skylar
—

Behind us, the animal screams of the other test subjects built to a crescendo, and I struggled against Zev’s hold.

People like me didn’t get scared, I reminded myself. We couldn’t feel pain. But we could feel betrayal.

We needed to breathe.

“I told you not to come,” Zev said, his voice wrapping its way around my body, steady and warm. “I tried.”

The last thing I was conscious of before darkness claimed me—other than an incredible tightness in my lungs—was the sound of yet another door opening and closing. Footsteps crossing the hallway. And then, a pinch in my arm and a woman’s voice.

“Hello, Kali. Welcome home.”

32

I woke up inside a cell made of concrete—four feet by four feet, only about a head taller than me. My body was slumped against the wall. I checked my watch.

Four hours and fifteen minutes.

This was not good.

I fought back the haze that had descended over my body and belatedly remembered the pinching feeling of a needle being inserted into my flesh.

They’d drugged me.

They’d drugged me, and I was lying in a concrete prison, and Zev
knew
. He’d helped them hurt me.

I thought of Skylar, poor, stupid Skylar, who’d followed me here and died for her effort. She’d been so sure that she was supposed to, sure that whatever the cost, coming with me would be worth it, because if she didn’t come, then I was going to die.

You made the wrong choice
, I told her silently.
You should have let them kill me when you had the chance
.

But she hadn’t. Skylar had chosen me, and now she was dead, and I was boxed in, the way Zev had been for years.

Zev
. He was the one who’d done this to me. After everything—

I struggled to my feet, still dizzy from whatever they’d dosed me with.

“It was supposed to keep you out until sunrise,” a female voice said. “I’m afraid we didn’t anticipate your feeding on the guards upstairs. We would have altered the dose if we’d known you were taking human blood.”

If the guards hadn’t killed Skylar, I wouldn’t have. Trying to rid my mind of that thought, I walked over to the thick metal door and stared out the slit, all too aware that this time, I was the one locked in. The eyes that stared back at me were a deep and mossy green. The eyelashes were light brown, the woman’s skin the color of cream.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’ve had many names,” the woman said. She smiled—even though I couldn’t see her mouth, I could see it in her eyes. “You could say I’ve been around for a while.”

She waited for her words to sink in, and I could see her eyes flicker with interest the exact moment I got it.

“You’re a vampire.” The word felt silly on my lips, even now, and the woman actually laughed at me.

“That word,” she said, “never ceases to amuse me. I’m as human as you are. Though,” she added with faux thoughtfulness, “I suppose that’s a poor example—at least for another four hours or so.”

Great. My captor knew about my shifting from one form to another—which meant that she knew that in another four hours, I’d be even more at their mercy than I was now.

“Why are you working for Chimera?” I asked her, my mind racing, trying to find a way out of this. “Do you have any idea what they’re doing—to people like us? To the preternatural?”

“Kali,” the woman said, thoroughly amused. “I don’t work for Chimera. Chimera works for me.”

One of these days, I was going to stop being caught off guard. I was going to be able to look down the road and see how the pieces of a puzzle fit together—but that day wasn’t today.

“Chimera works for you,” I repeated dumbly.

“Founder, president, and CEO,” she said. “Guilty as charged.”

“But why?” The question tore its way out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Do you know, Kali, what we are?”

I knew. We were strong and fast, and once we’d been bitten, we were stronger, faster, and thirsty—for blood.

“We’re hunters,” I said, unwilling to say the v-word again.

“Hunters,” the woman repeated. “Well, better predator than prey, I suppose.” She smiled, thoroughly delighted with herself and with me. “There’s a principle in evolutionary biology,” she continued indulgently. “It’s called the Red Queen’s Hypothesis. It’s taken from
Alice in Wonderland
—would you believe I actually knew Lewis Carroll? Tasty—but that’s neither here nor there. In the book, the Red Queen comments that it takes all the running in the world just to stay in the same place. Evolution’s like that, Kali. A species never reaches the point where it can stop evolving, because the rest of the world is always evolving, too. You can never stop, because the things you hunt will always be getting faster, stronger—and the same goes for the things that hunt you.”

I thought of the creatures I’d hunted in the past five years—beasts that normal humans never would have stood a chance against.

“Natural, preternatural—they’re just labels, Kali. If you took a giraffe and plopped it down in the middle of the Antarctic, it would look very strange, wouldn’t it?”

The question was rhetorical, but my mind connected the dots and led me to the meaning behind her words. We were the giraffes in the Antarctic—freakish and unnatural because this wasn’t the environment in which we’d evolved. My father’s lecture at the university rang in my ears.

Are preternatural creatures really unnatural? Or are they simply the product of a different kind of evolution—one with a different starting point, a different progression?

“Zev said that people like us are from another place,” I said slowly, my mind churning through the possibilities. “Another … planet?”

“Another planet?” the woman repeated, laughing gaily. “Little green men and life on Mars? How absolutely
precious
.”

If she’d let me out of this cage, I’d show her “absolutely precious.”

“We’re from another
dimension
, dear. Hasn’t that scientist father of yours taught you anything?” She held up her fist and then spread her fingers outward. “Big bang. Multiple earths. Flash forward forty million years, and all of those little differences from the beginning have yielded a very different environment—and very different creatures.”

Her eyes sparkled, and I bit back nausea. There was something deadly there, something cold.

“There have always been people who catch momentary glimpses of the other side. Myths, legends, all those little stories that humans just love to tell each other—they had to come from somewhere, yes?” She sighed, a delicate, girlish sound. “Unfortunately, a few hundred years ago, through circumstances far above anything your pretty little head can grasp—some of
us
ended up stuck
here
. Permanently.”

I got the feeling that she wasn’t just talking about “us” as in vampires. She was talking about “us” as in the preternatural. Hellhounds and zombies, will-o’-the-wisps and basilisks, and everything else I’d hunted on my less-than-human days.

“Humans from our world are relatively good at blending. The other creatures … not so much. We kept them under wraps for as long as we could, but eventually, the cat got out of the bag.”

Darwin. The hydra
. My mind whirred with the implications. We’d always assumed that the preternatural had been here all along, that we’d only had to go looking to discover the truth, but if what my captor was saying was true …

She smiled, amused at the fact that she’d blown my mind. “Eventually, the existence of our kind will be common knowledge, too, and we’re outnumbered here about ten million to one.”

That meant there were others—like me, like Zev, like the crazy woman on the other side of the door.

“So you decided to, what? Join them in their scientific exploration?” I asked, but my voice came out more bewildered than sarcastic.

The woman’s eyes crinkled—another smile that sent a wave of nausea straight to my gut. “They say knowledge is power.” She leaned toward me, her eyelashes nearly brushing the glass. “Do you know what
I
say, Kali? Power is power. Pure, brute force. This world thinks they have the monsters our kind hunt under control. They
protect
them.” She shrugged. “So I’m giving them new monsters. The less control they have, the more they’ll need us. And the fewer humans there are …” She shrugged. “Well, evening up the numbers a bit can’t hurt.”

I thought of the scientists—my father and Dr. Davis and Rena and all the rest, who, at some point, had probably all told themselves that the things they were doing were justified by the greater good. Knowledge. Better medicine. Exploration.

And all they were doing was building better monsters.

“If you’re concerned about the numbers,” I said, my voice remarkably steady, “why am I locked up? Why is Zev?”

Saying his name hurt.

First Skylar. Then Zev. My mother.

Why did I ever bother letting anyone in? People only hurt you in the end.

“Oh, don’t look like that, love,” the vampire said. “It’s not as if the poor boy had a choice. There’s always a dominant partner in any pair—against someone like me, he never stood a chance.”

People like us come in pairs
. That was what Zev had said. I’d known it, deep down. It just hadn’t ever occurred to me that Zev might already be part of a pair. That I might not be his other half. That there might be someone else out there who could take control of his body, his will, the way he’d occasionally taken over mine.

“If you and Zev are connected,” I said, forcing myself to say it, forcing it not to matter, “why are you doing this to him?”

Assuming that Zev really was a lab rat—that everything I’d seen and felt from him hadn’t been a lie.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Kali, but I needed to see if it was possible for one of our kind to play host to more than one chupacabra.” She seemed to find the scientific term amusing. “It took some tweaking, and some failures, and more than a little discomfort for poor Zev, but I have evidence now that it is possible. And if it’s possible for our kind to host two, then someday, it might be possible for regular humans to hold one. In the long run, anything that makes humans less human will be better for us.”

I digested what she was saying—the reason for the experiment that had resulted in Bethany being infected, the possibilities she’d discovered experimenting on Zev.

It was possible for Zev to have been bitten twice.

Possible for him to be connected to two others.

One who controlled him, and one he controlled.

No.
Zev’s voice was quiet in my mind, but it was still there.
I wouldn’t do that to you. Not unless you were in danger—and even then, I didn’t do it on purpose.

I wanted to believe him, but he’d brought me here. He’d strangled me. He hadn’t mentioned, even once, that this was a trap.

I couldn’t. She wouldn’t let me. I tried.

I could feel the hatred in his voice, loathing for himself, for her. I felt his emotions as intensely as my own and knew that he was wishing he’d killed himself before he could bring this kind of trouble to me.

I tried.

This was too much. It was just too much.

I’m sorry, Kali.

I wasn’t sure that mattered. I also wasn’t sure he had anything to apologize for—he’d tried to warn me; he’d tried to fight. The only thing I
was
sure about was that in another four hours, I would be human again. I would be weak, defenseless.

I would hurt.

“You keep looking at your watch. I have to say, that surprised us. We hypothesized that a successful hybrid might have a portion of our skills, perhaps muted. Maybe it has something to do with the exact graft we used on your DNA, but the idea that you shift from form to form according to some circadian rhythm …” She trailed off.

“We?”

On the other side of the door, the woman smiled and turned her head to the side. “Didn’t you tell her, Rena?”

The woman’s use of my mother’s name was like a knife, straight to my heart.

“I didn’t exactly have the chance, Colette.”

Colette. So now the psychotic woman had a name. I tried to concentrate on that—and not on the sound of my mother’s voice.

“How rude of me,” Colette said. “I haven’t even introduced myself. You may call me Colette, if you wish, Kali. Or,” she added, stepping back from the glass so that I could see her lips twisting into a smile, “you could always call me
Mama
.”