Page 85 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
Armed guards. Barbed wire.
Why was an animal shelter surrounded by barbed wire?
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Julian knew he was drugged by the way his limbs refused to answer his brain’s instructions to move.
He was thick-tongued and groggy, and his head weighed a thousand pounds. Maybe more.
“And the neocortex is considerably larger and more grooved than expected,” a male voice was excitedly saying somewhere nearby, “surpassing that of even a human brain, indicating both advanced evolutionary status and extraordinary intelligence. But the most remarkable aspect of this mammal—
and one that also suggests we are not dealing with a species we have seen before, in spite of its outward physical similarity to members of the panthera family—is a small organ located directly adjacent to the sinoatrial node.”
There was a click, some rustlings, more clicks, then murmurs of surprise as the voice continued on.
“As you recall, the SA node serves as the natural pacemaker for the heart by sending out the electrical impulse that triggers each heartbeat. In these MRI scans you can see how deeply entangled the nerve network is between the ventricles of the heart, the SA node, and this new, unknown organ.
What it suggests to me—and mind you, this is merely untested hypothesis at this point—is that this organ might be some kind of backup in case of heart failure, in the way a generator is used in the event of electrical failure. Or...” the speaker paused for dramatic effect, “...it might possibly be a separate electrical supply in and of itself.”
“To power what?” chimed a voice, this one female.
Julian tried to move his head but couldn’t, nor could he open his eyes. Jumbled memories surfaced. Strobing lights, pulsing music, screams.
“I don’t know. It’s a mystery. But since this subject”—Julian felt a touch on his spine—“who has, as you can see, been ear-tagged with the identifier TS-4187, is so badly injured, he’s been selected for vivisection, which will tell us more. As you saw, the other two animals are doing much better, so other testing on them will begin as soon as Dr. Parnassus arrives.”
Vivisection. Julian searched his foggy brain while the group—six people? Ten?—stood around murmuring words like remarkable and breakthrough and discovery. Vivisection meant...
Dissection. Dismemberment. Cutting.
While he was alive.
Fury gave him the strength he needed. Silently he lifted his head, opened his eyes, and looked around.
He was in a large, sterile room with white walls and white floors and shining metal surgical instruments laid out down the length of a polished steel shelf bolted to the wall like silverware on display in a wedding registry. In his animal form, he was laid out on his side on a long metal table with a tube attached with tape to a vein in his arm, a patch of fur shaved around it. The group of white-
coated humans stood clustered in front of an X-ray light box on the wall, staring at the illuminated black-and-white film hanging from clips along the top.
When he let out a ear-piercing roar that shivered the rows of metal instruments and echoed through the room like cannon fire, however, they all jumped and stared at him, gasping and bug-eyed, mouths hanging open.
“Jesus Christ!” one of them shouted, lunging for a recessed panel on the wall by the door. “The anesthesia’s already wearing off!” He slammed his hand against the panel, and it popped open, revealing a row of buttons. He stabbed a finger onto one of the buttons, and Julian felt a new heat surge up the vein in his arm.
He glanced down and froze, shocked and horrified by what he was seeing. Or more correctly, what he wasn’t seeing.
His legs—both his legs—were gone.
Morgan stood silent and pensive in front of the steam-misted mirror in the bathroom at the safe house, staring down at the necklace and heavy medallion glittering gold in the palm of her hand. She knew the symbol depicted on the medallion, and seeing the large, stylized Egyptian eye made her blood run cold.
It was the same symbol the feral males at the hotel had tattooed on their massive shoulders.
She’d found it when she’d gone searching for something to wear in the dresser after her shower. Most of her luggage had been abandoned at the hotel in the rush to get Xander to the safe house, but Mateo had allowed her to bring two bags. The contents of both had been placed carefully into dresser drawers and hung in the closet by someone—it had to have been Xander—when she was sleeping.
The thought of his big hands carefully arranging her things brought a prick of tears to her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily with the back of her free hand.
Stupid. Falling for an assassin. For her assassin. Incredibly stupid.
She shook her head, took a deep breath, and focused again on the necklace.
It had been coiled in a corner of one of the drawers, hidden beneath the glossy silk of a red chemise. It had to be what Xander had taken from the man in white that day on the street near the Spanish Steps. She remembered Xander’s kneeling down to search the clothing that feral Alpha had left behind when he’d Shifted to Vapor and disappeared over the rooftops, remembered the subtle flash of gold in his hand as he pocketed it. She’d seen that symbol somewhere else, too, she was sure of it, but where? Her mind, still heavy with the remnants of the Fever, refused to disclose it.
