Page 12 of Unnatural
Genie came out of the bathroom, giving her a gentle smile. “Just buzz if you need me for anything, okay?”
“I will. Thank you, Genie.”
As soon as the door had shut behind her, Autumn reached in her mouth, swiping her finger under her tongue. There it sat on the tip of her finger: a wet, balled piece of silvery hair.
Chapter Six
The show swam before Samael’s eyes, his mind removed from what he was watching, the vision of her face the only thinghe saw.The girl.That was what he called her.The.As if she was the only one when there were many others. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t know any of their names. Only that he’d been given permission to kill her if he wanted.
It wasn’t wrong, Dr. Heathrow said, because they were sick—dying a slow, painful death—and sick things must be put out of their misery. It was humane, yet others made excuses for doing what was right, not because it wasn’t but because they were scared.Weak.Certain things were difficult for ordinary men because they didn’t have the physical power or mental strength to carry out that which was necessary.
Samael understood. He’d been sick. So sick and in so much anguish that he’d wished to be put out of his misery. And his pain hadn’t even been a death sentence. He’d known that he would heal. With time.How does she live, knowing she’s going to die?
And why does she fight for her life with such fire?
From what he’d heard, they all did in the end.
Instinct, Dr. Heathrow had said. Nothing more than that. Deep down, we were all lizards, followers of our instincts above all else.
One of the men on the screen plunged a hammer into another man’s head. Beside him, Amon gave a short laugh, leaning forward, his hand fisting as if he was the one holding the weapon.
Sam brought forth the girl’s face again. He liked to use the time they were given to watch TV to think about her, wonder about her.
He thought about the soft, red velvet book with the ribbon around it that she’d dropped in the woods, that he’d found after he’d fought Fenris off. He’d snuck it here in the back waistband of his pants. He’d first put it to his nose, hoping to inhale her scent, but it had smelled like a hospital. It smelled the same as the hallways of the place he called home. He’d let out a disappointed sigh and hidden it under his mattress. He hadn’t dared look at the book last night. He’d open it later and see what it was. Discover what the girl had brought with her.
Last night, she’d been stronger. She’d run faster. She’d dug a hole in the ground with her bare hands. She’d tricked him! He let out a disbelieving laugh at the memory alone, and Amon joined him, looking away from something that spurted blood on the screen that Sam had missed and then back at the show.
And she hadn’t smelled like poison. Not even the hint of it.
Why?
What did it mean?
Instead, she’d smelled like… Sam squinted his eyes, trying to remember her scent. Kind of like the red Jell-O they wereserved as a treat after surgery.Sweet.He massaged his temple, the one that was just bone, no metal plate beneath his skin. No…no, not like Jell-O. Butsort oflike that.Good. Happy. Relieved.
He didn’t have words to describe what she smelled like. All he knew was how it made him feel.
There was a shift in his peripheral vision, and he turned to see Zagan lean forward as something exploded on the screen, followed by Amon’s laughter again. Sam’s gaze moved to Morana. She wasn’t looking at the television. She was staring straight at him. The way she stared, paired with the intense expression she wore, unnerved him. Morana didn’t usually make eye contact. Her gaze was most often fixed on a computer screen. Not games though—numbers and columns of data. Sometimes she sat there and watched it scroll by for hours, jotting things down. He’d heard the doctors say her aptitude for numbers and patterns was impressive. He’d heard them say they might be able to amplify it. Sam wasn’t sure what that meant, but in any case, her stare continued to make him feel odd, like she was analyzing something abouthim, so he looked away, moving his mind back to the girl.
Her cheeks had been flushed with health, not with sickness, and her black waves were shiny.None of their hair was ever shiny.He’d wanted to touch it. He’d wanted to run his fingers through her hair and put his mouth on hers. But not like in the movies they watched. He didn’t want her to scream and cry. What would it be like to feel her lips curve beneath his own? Because he didn’t want to kiss her once but twice, and then maybe again.
No, no, don’t think that way. Anything more than temporary desire is weakness.
Amon stood up, dancing around with his head lowered, jabbing at the air as the final credits began to roll. “That was awesome!” he declared.
Sam gave a half-hearted nod. He couldn’t really remember much of what they’d watched. He’d been thinking of her. Picturing her. Wondering about her.
The door opened, and the nurse named Delia entered. “Sam, Dr. Heathrow would like to see you.”
A hollow feeling began in the spot right beneath his ribs. He’d been expecting this, and now he’d have to explain.Lie.
He wasn’t good at lying.
He’d promised never to lie to Dr. Heathrow. And he knew Dr. Heathrow would never lie to him.
Amon was slamming his fists into the punching bag that hung in the corner now, so without a goodbye, Sam followed Delia out of the room, walking down the familiar hall toward Dr. Heathrow’s office.
“Come in,” the doctor called when Sam rapped.
