Page 36 of Sergi
I couldn’t put a defining point on why I trusted him, but as I considered it in the silence of my cell, I believed it came down tohis eyes. Eyes that still held a fire deep within. Eyes that, when I’d first met him, seemed lost but now flickered with hope.
The day before, when I was on the third level, and before taking the second package of vials, something had changed with the vampire prisoner. The torture had stopped, but the guard expected his cell cleaned. The mug had been empty, and after refilling it, I noticed the cooler with blood vials was still under the table.
The guard hadn’t bothered to stay, and after I cleaned the floor, I dusted off the table where the sharp instruments still lay. I was tempted to take one of the knives, but it wouldn’t go unnoticed.
The waste bin had only one item in it—a syringe. The label identified it as MP-32 with a date of a month ago. They must have dosed the vampire with something. Perhaps some new drug that could induce him to talk or some other pharmaceutical form of torture. My gut twisted at another thought. Not a form of torture but an experiment. Though there wasn’t much difference. Would I come down here one day and find nothing more than pieces of flesh and bone?
The vampire had been quiet, as he always was. His head hung down, and a muscle occasionally twitched. I ran a warm towel over him, still fascinated by his tattoos and his muscles. He was a warrior or had been long ago. It was impossible to tell how old a vampire was, but the same could be said of most shifters, though most of us didn’t live nearly as long.
I was wiping his body dry when he lifted his head.
I fell back a step. His gaze glowed red with the beast. Something I’d seen often enough as a captive, but then his gaze quickly returned to the warm brown I’d expected to see.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rougher than before.
I stared into his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, vampire.”
He watched me for a long moment, and I could have sworn I caught a slight grin. It might have been a grimace of pain, but the fine lines at the corner of his eyes crinkled. “You should be.”
Then I laughed. It was short, and I couldn’t believe it had come from me. I placed a finger on his chin. “I’m not the one mounted on the wall.”
His gaze turned hard. Not mean but serious. “We’re both trapped here.” His head dropped. He’d expended too much energy.
I tossed the rags in a bucket, locked his cell door, and pushed the cart back to the elevator, where I waited five minutes before the guard arrived to take me to the labs.
After all the vampire had been through in a few short days, he still showed resilience. I doubt he’d given them any information. So, why had they stopped the torture? It had something to do with the empty syringe. I couldn’t think of any other answer.
The syringe had been empty but a thick, red substance had settled at the bottom. After seeing all the vials while deep cleaning the labs, none had been labeled MP-32. The consistency was the same as blood, but the MP made no sense.
I’d considered asking S-272 if he understood the labels, but there had been too many staff members in the lab, and I didn’t want to risk a vampire overhearing us.
I glanced at the far corner of my mattress. I wasn’t sure what to do about the blood vials or why I’d taken them. The safest thing to do would be to take two or three at a time and drop them in a third-level waste bin.
Before I could make a decision, the bang of the billy clubs snapped me to attention. When the door was thrown wide, I cringed. Did they suspect something?
“S-473. Hurry up. You’re eating in the cafeteria this morning.”
The guard stared at me as I scrambled from the bed. I slipped on my shoes and followed him, relieved my secret was still safe. S-272 was sitting at a corner table with two other shifters. He kept his head low as he gulped the porridge. It was rare to see him in the cafeteria, but I didn’t get to eat there often, so maybe they only let one of us eat there at a time.
His gaze caught mine as he dropped his tray on the wash racks then turned to meet the guard who would take him to the lab. I don’t know what I read in that glance—worry, irritation, fear?
After breakfast, I was led down to level three. Dallas, the guard who’d given me a tour on my first work day waited for me. I hadn’t seen him since that day. Had something changed?
“S-473. The guards have been given new rotations, and we won’t have time to babysit you anymore.” His eyes were kind. Unusual for the guards, or was something happening I wasn’t going to like? “Based on your work in the lab and down here, the Master believes you can be trusted to work on your own. Someone will still bring you down each morning, but you’ll be responsible for collecting and preparing your cart before your duties. Most of the prisoners have been moved upstairs in preparation for the next round of experiments. Those who remain will be secured during your cleaning schedule. You’ll be given two hours for your tasks, and a guard will be waiting at the stairs to escort you to the labs.” He gave me a long stare. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Then he turned and was gone. They trusted me?
I thought of the vials of blood under my mattress and smiled.
Sergi wokewhen the door opened. He’d been lost in memories again, but they were better described as nightmares. He suspected it had something to do with Gheata’s earlier visit and a second injection of what he’d been told was Magic Poppy.
“They tell me you’ll start feeling the changes after the second dose.” Gheata’s macabre smile didn’t get a reaction out of Sergi, at least not a visible one.
Gheata paced in front of him, his eyes shifting to the table of torture instruments, and Sergi was curious why he didn’t pick one up and start carving. They continued to feed him a daily vial of blood, but he didn’t understand why after injecting him with Magic Poppy. And why stop the torture?
Gheata’s hands flexed into fists. He wanted to inflict pain but had been told no. Maybe they wanted to see what the Poppy would do without adding additional pain.
There was one thing that would give Gheata his satisfaction. Sergi had already begun to feel the effects from the first injection. His beast, already irritated by the restraints, was doing its own pacing, pausing only long enough for it to howl with hunger. Maybe that was the answer. They wanted to bring out the beast without the emotions typically required to evoke it. Or maybe he was already losing part of himself.
