Making Monsters (9 page)

He watched her pull back the plunger, and a clear liquid rushed into the vial. She held up the
mechanism, and then tapped the tube with her nails to clear the air bubbles. With a sunny smile
on her face she approached him. Cool fingertips prodded his arm, and he fought to the point that
he was sure the
clacking
he heard was the bed coming off the floor.

“Ivan,” she called out.

 

Her thug appeared out of nowhere.

 

“Hold him down.” Victoria sounded frustrated.

“I swear, Victoria, I will kill you. I don’t care what form you try and put me in you twisted
bitch. I will fucking—watch—you—die!” Paul screamed as the man appeared above him and
pressed him into the mattress.

She tapped the junction of the inside of his elbow and stabbed the needle into his arm. His
veins burned, followed by a coolness that seeped into his limbs. His eyes began to droop.

 

“Don’t worry, baby. Just a little longer. I want you alive and well aware of what I do to you
… up until I take your beautiful head.” She combed her fingers through his hair.
Chapter Nine

Malia focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The dark halls were confusing, and
there was a blood trail behind her. The moaning caused her to stop short. Malia tilted her head
and listened. She followed the grunts, staying close to the wall. Find Paul and get them the hell
out of there. After that, she’d walk into the light or whatever the hell came for her. She clenched
her teeth when a wave of pain rolled through her, swallowing the screams that hovered on her
lips. The wails grew louder and sounded more like pleasure than pain. Malia eased up to the
doorjamb with the scalpel poised to strike out and slipped her head around the entrance.

She stifled the cough that choked her at the scene unfolding in front of her. Victoria was
slammed up against the wall by a burly man. Her legs were wrapped around his waist. And the
way he flexed his hips, there was no question as to what they were doing. His big hands held her
wrists above her head. Victoria’s words confirmed her suspicions. “Umm, Ivan, I only need you
to take the edge off. I still want to get the body from cold storage and prep it for surgery, and you
haveto check on doc’s progress with the body parts.” Disgust made Malia wrinkle her nose.

That bitch had some serious issues. Malia turned away and moved across the hall to the
deeper shadows, inching her way across the doorway. If the crazy heifer was there, Paul couldn’t
be far. She lifted her head and stared down the passage, thrusting out a palm to hold onto the
wall when the corridor swayed. Faint light beckoned to her, and she carefully made her way
toward it.

The brightness blinded her as she stood in the doorway. If there was anyone else in there,
she was fucked, but time was not on her side so she’d have to deal. She blinked several times to
focus. Two gurneys faced away from her with some kind of chair in the middle. The room
looked empty, and she stifled tears. At the rate she was going, she’d never find Paul before her
time ran out.

Low whimpers reached her ears, and she stopped. Venturing farther into the room, she made
out the top of a head on one of the beds. The brown hair beckoned her, and she kept moving
forward. Her shoulders sagged in relief when she saw who was in the bed. Paul was pale, too
pale, and he tossed his head back and forth mumbling. She touched his cheek, and his skin was
cool beneath her fingertips. Fear replaced her relief. Was she already too late? Her hands
shook as she skimmed it down his face to check the pulse in his neck. The slow thump made her
heart rate relax.

She leaned over the bar, and her side screamed at her, sending shots of pain along her
nerves. Malia swallowed and ignored the ache. “Paul, baby, please. Please, open your eyes.”

 

He didn’t respond.

 

She slid her fingers through his hair. “I can’t get you out of here. I need your help… I need
you Paul, please.” Malia rubbed her forehead against his jaw.

 

His arm moved beneath her, and the rail trembled.

 

“That’s right, baby. Fight. You are greater than whatever she put in your system. Fight for
me, love. I need you.”

 

His eyes fluttered.

Malia moved back and skimmed her hand down the side rails. She dropped the scalpel on
the mattress and fumbled with his bindings. He kept jerking and the strap slipped from her
fingers. She tried again, wiggling her digits into the thin gaps of the nylon material. Managing to
free one hand, she moved toward his ankle and started on that knot. She kept her voice low and
continued to talk. Paul raised a hand and dropped it. Malia got his foot untied and moved to the
next limb. She glanced at the doorway and hoped Victoria and her man toy were still humping
like bunnies.

Paul groaned, and she returned her attention to him. He lifted his hand and slapped himself
in the face. His control was still off but it was getting better. If their situation weren’t so dire, she
would’ve laughed. Her sense of urgency increased, and she hurriedly shuffled to his arm.
Outside the high windows lightening split the air, flashing in the sterile surgical room. Thunder
cracked
, and the glass panes trembled. Her side throbbed, and she took a peek. Fresh blood made
the circular stain wider. Her fingers on one hand weren’t as nimble as the other, and they kept
slipping off the smooth material holding his arm to the molded plastic.
Come on, come on, come
on,
became her mantra. Paul in his delirium, kept yanking his hand and destroying her progress.

A staccato echoed down the hallway followed by squeaky wheels, she looked over at the
doorway then spun in a circle. Their time was up and she needed to find a place to hide. In the
corner she spotted an old divider. Malia patted Paul’s hand, and he gripped her wrist. He opened
his eyes, and she could see him trying to focus. She could only imagine what she looked like
through his dilated pupils.

“Malia?” His voice was a gruff murmur.

 

“Yeah, babe, you have to let me go. Someone is coming, and I need to hide.”

 

“You’re dead.” His head lolled to the side.

 

“Not yet, but I will be if you don’t let me go.” She jerked her wrist from his grasp and
dragged herself to the corner.

Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks when she saw the cardboard boxes stacked
behind the divider. The squeal grew louder. She studied the tower in front of her, pushing at the
cases while hoping one of them would give. Tapping her toes against the cartons on the floor, her
foot went through the side. She dropped to her haunches and bit back the ache howling through
her. It would be a tight fit, but she could squeeze in. The noise stopped, and she glanced up, sure
she’d be found.

Victoria stood at the entry way, but she wasn’t looking at Malia. Paul had managed to sit up
and was trying to rise from the bed. He slipped off the side and crumpled to the floor. His one
arm was still trapped by the bindings. Malia took advantage of the distraction he made to fit her
body halfway into the box.

“How did you get free?” Victoria screeched as she pushed another gurney farther into the
room, next to the empty one. She brushed her hands against each other and mumbled.
“Medication was always my weakest study. I guess I didn’t give you enough poison.”

Paul grunted but didn’t move, and Malia squinted her eyes. She noticed how he kept his free
hand hidden. Victoria moved into her line of vision and stood above him, tapping her foot. When
he didn’t move, she dropped to his level. Suddenly, there was a rush of movement, and

Paul swung his unfettered arm out. The scream that bubbled past Victoria’s lips sent chills
skittering down Malia’s spine.

Her nemesis rose and swung around. The silver handle of a scalpel protruded from her eye
socket. Malia reared back and fell on her ass. Cases above her tumbled down around her,
blocking her sight. The painful yells continued as Malia crawled out of the carton and pushed the
other boxes out of her way. Victoria clawed at her face and bumped into cabinets.

Fear paralyzed her. The bed Paul was tied to slid across the floor every time he yanked his
arm. Malia took a deep breath and crawled to Paul. He swung at her when she touched his
shoulder. She ducked out the way and leaned in to grip his face.

“It’s me!” She raised her voice to be heard above Victoria’s wails.

He tilted his head, but she wasn’t sure if he saw her. Adrenaline spurned her on a
nd the
aches became dull throbs. She tried to work her fingers into the tight knots, ripping her nails at
the quick in her haste. The ties unraveled, and she pulled his arm loose.

“Paul. We have to get out of here. There is at least one more person here.” She shook him to
get his attention.

 

“Malia, leave,” he groaned.

Victoria toppled onto the bed above them, and Malia looked up and met her half gaze. She’d
managed to pull the instrument free and she’d drawn her eye with it. A clear, blue eye stared
back at her, but the other socket was a hollow void. The careful make-up she usually sported
dyed red on one side of her face.

She tried to snatch at Malia’s shoulder.

 

Malia slid back on her butt, trying to drag Paul with her. “Sorry lover, but there is no way in
hell I’m leaving you here!”

 

***

Paul could make out the faint outlines of the two women, but mostly depended on their
voices to tell him who was who. Somehow, Malia was alive, and he wasn’t going to make the
same mistake he’d made the first time. He would keep her safe even at the cost of his own life.
The hold she had on his collar was choking the life out of him. He gripped her fist and held them
tight while trying to stand. His legs wouldn’t hold him, and he dropped to his knees.

Behind him, Victoria was swiping at his back, her nails scraping his skin as she made her
way across the gurney. A tray of surgical tools crashed to the floor and scattered. Pain seared his
palm when he placed a hand in front of him. He half-crawled half-walked in the direction he was
being yanked. Malia released him, and he was lost. His shoulder bumped into a hard object, and
he skimmed a hand up the obstruction. It was the wooden chair in the middle of the room. Paul
heaved himself up, his heart beat pulsing in his throat. He leaned on the seat and flipped around,
looking for Malia. His vision began to clear. At least he could make out colors. He caught
movement and turned his head. Malia swung something shiny, and light glinted off its smooth
surface.

She made a connection, slamming the object into Victoria’s face. His ex-mentor roared in
fury and lunged for Malia, catching her across her middle.

 

“What the hell?” bellowed a deep baritone voice.

Paul turned his head and it dropped forward. He could make out the guy’s
shoes as he
moved closer. With no thought beyond stopping the person from getting to Malia, Paul
straightened his leg and placed it in the man’s path. The stranger fell forward, and the contents
he held flew across the linoleum. Beyond him, female grunts and painful screams rent the air.
The guy came to his knees and quickly scrambled to his feet. Paul pushed out of the chair, and
pain jutted up his thighs when his knees connected with the tile. Shots were fired. Bullets pinged
off the metal equipment and whined through the air. Someone grunted, and then a deadly quiet
enveloped the room.

Panic churned in Paul’s gut. “Malia?” He got one foot under him.

 

“Dammit!” Victoria’s henchman hollered. “Fuck it. Everybody dies then.”

Paul raised his head to see the bastard aim his gun at Malia. Victoria lay slumped at her feet.
He called on his last reserve of strength, hoping he could reach the guy, and pushed off the floor
to lunge at the man. Momentum propelled him forward, and Paul caught his target around
the knees. They both collapsed. The pain in his gut was nothing compared to the torture he’d go
through if anything else happened to Malia. He crawled up the man’s legs as he tried to kick
himself free. A heavy object brushed Paul’s temple, and he rolled, using his weight to move the
fellow beneath him. Grabbing at the hand that he thought held the weapon, Paul’s arms were
flung back and forth as the stranger tried to wrestle his loose. Paul hauled himself up the thug’s
body and wrenched his arm, pulling them in close.

He felt the cold metal on his skin between them. He tangled his fingers into the trigger
housing. A muffled
bang
… Then, Paul rolled away, and Malia appeared at his side, skating her
hands along his side.

“Paul! Babe.” She lifted his head. “Just hang on.” Malia released his face.

 

Her shadow fell across him when she leaned over. “What are you doing?” he sputtered.

 

“One of these assholes has a phone… Aha!”

 

“Malia?”

 

“I’m here.” She lowered her head on his chest. “Baby, I think you’re going to have to make
the call.”

 

“I love you,” he whispered.
“About damn time,” she tersely replied.
Epilogue – One month later

The local channel interrupted the regularly broadcasted show. Malia inched up on the
pillows surrounding her and picked up the remote to press the sound button. The volume scale
appeared on the bottom of the screen, and she stabbed the key until all the bars were lit up.

A newscaster held her ear and looked directly into the camera. “We now take you to the
courthouse steps where the independent investigation team is issuing a statement.”

The image on the screen flipped to pan the stone, art deco architecture of the courthouse.
Rain made the concrete façade darker in some places, and a garden of brightly colored umbrellas
stood out against the background of gray. A podium sat under the overhang. Visible drops of
mist fell from the material’s end in one long succession. Standing shoulder to shoulder, men in
dark suits wore scowling expressions. Malia snickered to herself,
must be a bitch to have to
police their own
.