Page 121 of Haunted Prey

I pressed on a random floor but nothing worked. I turned to her, and she jumped, seeing the knife. “Hurry, go up!” I snapped, waiting for someone to grab me.

She fumbled with her keycard, then pressed on the top floor.

Just before the door closed, I saw Jackie with a couple of ward staff and security guards break into the main foyer. I didn’t get a chance to see their reaction to Cassidy and Lez. The elevator made its slow ascent, the tiny nurse backing herself into a corner away from me, using the tray as a shield.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.

I ignored her. My mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out where to go. There had to be a stairway and from there an emergency exit.

The elevator came to a standstill and the door opened into a short, dimly lit hall with a few doors. One was opened a crack, revealing only darkness.

It was quiet, much more quiet than anywhere else in the building. I stepped into the center of the hall, trying to consider where to go.

The elevator door moved again and I looked back to watch it close. Turning to the doors, I moved toward one on the right first. Inside was only a closet. I gazed over to the door that was open slightly on the left and moved carefully toward it.

The door creaked as I opened it. I stood at the entrance, poking my head inside. From the soft light coming from a row of large windows, I could see it was a fairly large room. All the way down one side a fire burned to nothing but embers inside a large fireplace.

It took me a moment to realize someone was sitting next to the fire. I could hear the sound of air pulsing, like a slow heartbeat, and the dull whirring of a motor.

I should be looking for the stairwell. Instead, my curiosity got the better of me. I remembered back to all those theories Rebecca had cooked up about the lone person on the top floor. Why were they alone? All alone in the dark.

I stepped closer, trying to see their face, the knife I still had was gripped tightly at my side.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I froze, a chill going up my spine. The voice was deep and yet soft, almost grating.

The silhouette of a man turned to face me. Even in the dark I saw the smallest glint of light from his dark eyes.

“I suppose that’s for me?” the man said, his long bony finger gesturing to my tiny knife. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised. A lot of people had to suffer for my cause in hopes of helping many more. Too bad it’s been much of the former. But Tyler…Ah, Tyler. He really proved me wrong of late and finally things can change.” The man shifted in his seat. “You look familiar though. Were you one of our special kids?”

Special…kids.

I almost asked who he was. But from his words, I already knew. Micheal had little information on him and my father had left behind nothing but his name.

“Mr. Mercury,” I whispered.

He tilted his head. “Ah, I haven't used that title in some time. Not since I was brought here.”

“You knew my father, Roman Martel,” I said in a shaky voice.

“Oh, Roman!” he gasped. “Yes. Amazing doctor. So sad to hear what happened, awful, truly awful.” He leaned forward in his seat, his movements were erratic and I could see his hands shaking. The way he was bent forward made him look wrong,twisted somehow. “I miss him, you know. He was so dedicated. One of my best.”

I tensed, gripping the knife so tight, my hand trembled. “You funded the testing on those kids. You…led it.”

“The project was started by me, yes,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate. He didn’t move for a long moment, his stare heavy and unyielding. Then, with a swift motion, he waved his hand—so sudden it made me flinch.

“Then my son, Tyler, had to carry on with the mothers. I wanted to help, but… idiot me got carried away.” His lips twisted into something resembling a grimace. “In the beginning, when I couldn’t get adult subjects, I started taking the drugs myself. Addictive, of course, before we fixed the chemical compounds. Crazy thing is, I saw results. Even now, I can see you clear as day. Smell you. Hear the mice scratching in the walls.

"I may look frail, sick even, but I could outrun you, you know. Take that little blade of yours and poke out your eyes, pop them like grapes.” He smirked, almost amused by the thought, but it quickly faded. “But alas, I have to contend with the side effects. Migraines, memory loss, loss of motor functions. Two heart surgeries, and I still need this machine to keep me alive. And my mind…” He paused, his gaze turning distant. “Hallucinations. Night terrors. Full-blown psychosis at times. The damage was done.”

He coughed, turning back to the embers glowing faintly in the fire. “But young, developing minds—they handled it better. Or so I thought. Until they didn’t. I should have known. We needed to start at the earliest stage of development…” His voice trailed off, thick with regret.

“Why?”

He looked at me. “So they would already develop the effects we wanted in the womb, of course.”

A part of me knew but I wanted to hear him say it. “All for what?” I whispered. “Kids suffering and dying, for what?”

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