Page 89 of Infernal Hearts

The room suddenly gets darker, my vision swirling. The night shouldn’t be this black. I can’t think, and I can’t breathe. At last, my body gives out, and I go from being aware of every wretched scent, to pitch blackness, to nothing at all.

The unconsciousness gives way as my senses slowly return. The surface beneath me is cold and hard and firm, and the room is quiet. Soft steps pace around me as my head pounds. Hazy, I blink my eyes and try to focus. I try to bring my hands to my forehead, attempting to push out the pain, but they won’t move.

My limbs are strapped to a metal table. I pull against them with all of my strength, but the restraints don’t give. I try again, even harder this time, but they remain fixed no matter how hard I pull.

Digging deep, I summon up all the magic within me to transform. The magic bubbles inside of me, but nothing happens as it reaches the surface. What the fuck?

“I’d save yourself the trouble.” It’s the same voice as before.

I arch my head back, and a man stands at the head of the table, lighting candles. He turns to face me. Dirty-blond hair, sharp jawline. The same dark brown eyes that Jay has, and it sends a pang through my heart. He has similar features, but time has taken its toll on him. The man must be in his early sixties.

It’s definitely Jay’s dad.

He motions around the room. “Sigils on the walls—they stop you from changing forms. At least you don’t have that necklace this time.”

“This time?”

He purses his lips. “The night in the woods. And then of course Michael had to find it, and somehow it trickled its way down back to you. I’ve had to be extra careful so you don’t sense me. It was hard enough to ping my phone and make the police think I was in the Middle East.”

Intricately drawn patterns cover the cabinets and walls and ceilings. Other than that, everything is metallic and reeks of industrial cleaning products. Where am I? An operating room?

Fine. Plan B.

My eyes flash purple. “Release me, please.”

“Nice try.” With glassy eyes, he goes back to lighting more candles around the room. “I’m immune to your power.”

I cut my powers off and stare into those familiar eyes. “How?”

“Side effect of absorbing the heart. I’ve learned you’ve become close to my son, and I’m sure you’ve noticed that your powers don’t work on him, either. Jason inherited that from me. We’re both immune to most magic.”

I can’t help but run through every close moment we’ve had together in the last week and a half. All of the attraction he’s felt to me…every ounce of it that I sensed, it was all real. More real than anything I’ve ever experienced, no matter what doubt was clouding my thoughts.

Now I’m vulnerable in the worst kind of way. I’m trapped in here with a mad doctor.

I clench my jaw. “So you don’t deny it.”

“I’m afraid not. I’m a lot of things, but I own up to my mistakes.”

“Mistake? You murdered him. That’s more than a mistake.”

“You read my journal, I’m assuming. It was the only thing missing in the crypt. Therefore, you saw my thought process. It did what it was supposed to do. I’ve lived a long life, and I’ve saved many people. The cost was significant, but I try to pay it back every day.”

I spit in his direction. “You’re a fucking monster.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. I felt you coming as soon as your Maker gave you his dying command—your intentions and the moment you decided to come here. I’ve had a connection to you this entire time, whether you knew it or not. I wish you had stayed away.”

“Oh, yeah?” I’m doubtful he actually means anything he says. “And why’s that?”

“Because you won’t be leaving this room tonight.” Goose bumps cover my skin, and my stomach drops as he turns back to me solemnly. “I didn’t have long to prepare.”

“What do you meanprepare?”

“I tried to do this humanely with the knife dipped in chimera blood the first night you came to town. Weaken you, do the ritual, and take your heart. But you got away and ended up on the doorstep of the one person who could save you.”

My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Jason? He may be immune to me, but he doesn’t have any powers. I would have known.”

“He does.” Dr. Blackwell hovers over me. “Passive, but they’re there. He has a healing touch—another side effect. Add that in with his intellect and it’s what made him the perfect assistant and perfect person to take over for me once my work is complete. He’s saved so many lives over the years when it shouldn’t have been possible. The night he saved you, his powers combined and interacted with your blood and allowed you to heal, even though the poison was already rooted in your system.”

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