“You say tortured; I say motivated.”
All right, this was one of the moments in my life when I really wanted to knock someone through a wall. And I think she knew that.
“Let’s get to the point, Daemon. We need your help—your willingness. If things go smoothly for us, they will go smoothly for you. What will it take to come to an agreement?”
Nothing in this world should have made me consider this. It went against nature; that was how wrong this was. But I was a bartering man, and when it came down to it, no matter what Daedalus wanted, what Luc wanted, there was one thing that mattered. “There’s only one thing I want.”
“And that is?”
“I want to see Kat.”
Nancy’s smile didn’t fade. “And what are you willing to do to accomplish that?”
“Anything,” I said without hesitation, and I meant it. “I will do anything, but I want to see Kat first, and I want to see her now.”
Calculating light filled her dark eyes. “Then I am sure we can work something out.”
Chapter 9
Katy
My legs ached as I trailed behind Archer, limping our way to the training room. Who would I fight today? Mo? The guy with a Mohawk? Or would it be the girl with the really pretty red hair? It didn’t matter. I’d be getting my butt kicked. The only thing I did know was that they wouldn’t let any of the other hybrids kill me. I was too valuable.
Archer slowed his step, allowing me to gimp my way up to him. He hadn’t said anything since he left my cell yesterday, but I was used to his silence. I couldn’t figure him out, though. It didn’t seem like he supported any of this, but he never said it outright. Maybe it was just a job to him.
We stopped in front of the doors I’d come to loathe. Taking a deep breath, I stepped through when they opened. No point in delaying the inevitable.
Sergeant Dasher waited inside, dressed in the same uniform he’d been wearing since the first time I saw him. I wondered if he had an endless supply of them. If not, he had to have one hell of a dry-cleaning bill.
These were the stupid things I thought of before I was pummeled into one giant bruise.
Dasher gave me a once-over. From the brief glimpse of my reflection in the foggy mirror in the bathroom, I knew I looked like a hot mess. On the right side of my face, my cheek and eye were an ugly shade of purple and swollen. My lower lip was split. The rest of my body looked like a smorgasbord of bruises.
He shook his head and stepped aside, allowing Dr. Roth to check me over. The doctor took my blood pressure, listened to me breathe, and then shined a light in my eyes.
“She looks a little worse for wear,” he said, tucking his stethoscope under his lab coat. “But she can participate in the stress test.”
“It would be nice if she actually participated,” grumbled one of the guys at the control panels. “And not just stand there.”
I shot him a glare, but before I could open my mouth, Sergeant Dasher cut in. “Today will be different,” he said.
Folding my arms, I fixed my eyes on him. “No. It won’t. I’m not fighting them.”
His chin went up a notch. “Perhaps we’ve introduced you to the stress test incorrectly.”
“Gee,” I said, smiling inwardly at the way his eyes narrowed. “What part of this whole thing is incorrect?”
“We do not want you to fight to just fight, Katy. We want to make sure your mutation is viable. I can see that you are unwilling to hurt just another hybrid.”
A tiny smidgen of hope flared inside me, like a fragile seedling poking through the ground. Maybe making a stand, accumulating all these bruises, had meant something. It was a small step that probably meant nothing to them but everything to me.
“But we must see your abilities under high stress.” He motioned to the guys at the panels, and my hope crashed and burned. The door opened. “I think you will be more accepting of this test.”
Oh God, I didn’t want to walk through those doors, but I forced one foot in front of the other, refusing to show an ounce of weakness.
The door closed behind me, and I faced the other door, waiting while knots formed in my stomach. How in the world could they make this acceptable? There was nothing they could—
In that instant, the other door opened, and Blake stepped through.
I choked out a dry, bitter laugh as he swaggered into the room, barely paying heed to the door closing behind him. Suddenly Dasher’s words about being more acceptable made sense.
Blake frowned as he stopped in front of me. “You look like crap.”
The simmering anger sparked. “And you’re surprised? You know what they’re doing in here.”
He thrust his fingers through his hair as his eyes moved over my face. “Katy, all you had to do was tap into the Source. You’re making this harder on yourself.”
“I’m making this—?” I cut myself off as the anger heated up in me. The Source stirred in my belly, and I felt the tiny hairs on my body rise. “You’re insane.”
“Look at yourself.” He waved a hand at me. “All you had to do was do what they asked, and you could’ve avoided all of this.”
I stepped forward, glaring at him. “If you hadn’t betrayed us, I would’ve avoided all of this in the first place.”
“No.” A look of sadness crept across his face. “You would’ve ended up here no matter what.”
“I don’t agree.”
“You don’t want to agree.”
I sucked in a deep breath, but the anger was getting the better of me. Blake moved to put his hand on my shoulder, but I knocked his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
He stared at me a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “Like I told you before, if you want to be mad at anyone, get mad at Daemon. He did this to you. Not me.”
That did it.
All the pent-up anger and frustration whipped through me like a category-five hurricane. My brain clicked off, and I swung without thinking. My fist just grazed his jaw, but the Source had reared its head at the same time. A bolt of light shot from my hand and spun him around.
He caught himself on the wall, letting out a surprised laugh. “Damn, Katy. That hurt.”
Energy crackled down my spine, fusing with my bones. “How dare you blame him for this? This isn’t his fault!”
Blake turned around and leaned against the wall. Blood trickled from his lip, and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. A strange gleam entered his eyes, and then he pushed off the wall. “This is completely his fault.”
I flung my arm out and another bolt of energy shot forward, but he dodged it, laughing as he spun around, his arms out at his sides. “Is that the best you got?” he goaded me. “Come on. I promise I’ll go easy on you, Kitten.”
At the use of the pet name—Daemon’s pet name—I lost it.Blake was on me in a second. I darted to the side, ignoring the painful protest of my muscles. His arm came out in a wide sweep, and whitish-red light crackled. I spun at the last second, narrowly avoiding taking a direct hit.
Letting the rush of energy swell through me once more, I sent another blast arcing across the room, hitting him in the shoulder.
He stumbled back, hands dropping to his knees as he doubled over. “I think you can do better than that, Kitten.”
Fiery hot rage slipped over my eyes like a veil. Launching myself forward, I tackled him like an NFL linebacker on speed. We went down in a mess of tangled legs and arms. I landed on top of him, swinging my arm back and bringing it down repeatedly. I wasn’t really seeing where I was hitting, only feeling the flare of pain across my knuckles as they connected with flesh.
Blake shoved his arms between mine and swept them out, knocking me off balance. I teetered for a second, and then he raised his hips and rolled. I slammed onto my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. I aimed for his face, hell-bent on clawing his eyes out.
He caught my wrists and pinned them above my head as he leaned down. A cut had opened under his left eye, and his cheek was starting to swell. A vicious amount of satisfaction rushed through me.
“Can I ask you a question?” Blake grinned, turning the flecks of green in his eyes brighter. “Did you ever tell Daemon that you kissed me? I bet you haven’t.”
Each breath I took I felt in every part of my body. My skin became hypersensitive to his weight and proximity. The power built inside, and the room seemed to be tinted in a brilliant sheen of white. Fury consumed me, riding every breath and latching onto every cell.
His grin spread. “Just like you never told him how we liked to cuddle—”
The power burst from me, and suddenly I was off the floor—we were off the floor—levitating several feet in the air. My hair streamed down behind me, and his hair fell forward into his eyes.
“Shit,” Blake whispered.
Flipping upward, I tore my wrists free from his grip and slammed my hands into his chest. Shock rippled across his pale face a second before he flew backward, crashing into the wall. The cement cracked, and a fissure spread out like a wicked spiderweb. The whole room seemed to shake with the impact as Blake’s head snapped back, and then he slumped forward. Part of me expected him to catch himself before he smacked into the floor, but he didn’t. He hit with a fleshy splat that knocked the anger right out of me.
As if I’d been held up by invisible strings that had now been cut, I landed on the balls of my feet and rocked forward a step.
“Blake?” I croaked out.
He didn’t move.
Oh no…
Arms shaking, I started to kneel down, but something dark and thick spread out from under his body. My gaze flicked up to the wall. A Blake-size imprint was clearly visible, a form reaching through at least three feet of cement.
Oh God, no…
Slowly, I looked down. Blood pooled out from under his motionless body and seeped across the gray cement floor, stretching toward my sneakers.
Stumbling back, I opened my mouth, but there was no sound. Blake didn’t move. He didn’t roll over with a groan. He didn’t move at all. And the visible skin on his hands and forearms was paling already, turning a ghastly shade of white that stood out with such stark contrast against the deep red of the blood.
Blake was dead.
Oh my God.
Time slowed and then sped up. If he was dead, then that meant the Luxen who had mutated him was, too, because that was how it worked. They were joined together, like Daemon and I, and if one died…the other died, too.
Blake had it coming in more ways than one. I’d even promised to kill him, but words…words were one thing. Actions were a totally different ballpark. And Blake, even with all the terrible things he’d done, was a product of circumstance. He was only goading me. He’d killed not really meaning to. He’d betrayed to save another.
Just like I did—and would.
My hand shook as I pressed it against my mouth. Everything I’d said to him came back in a rush. And in that tiny second when I’d caved to the fury—nothing in a span of millions—I had changed, become something I wasn’t sure I could ever come back from. My chest rose rapidly at the same time my lungs compressed painfully.
