Part 23 (1/2)

”That's a good look for you.” Sylas approaches me, hands tucked in his pocket, a bit of a limp to his walk.

Tristan refuses to leave the doorway, gaping at the vampire with wide eyes, like he's never seen one before.

I clean my hands on my jeans. ”It's a good thing I'm immune.”

”Their blood has to get in an open wound,” Sylas explains. ”The virus can only be transferred from blood to blood.”

”Which makes me wonder how it spread so easily.”

Sylas gestures at the hall. ”Let's see if we can find out.”

Tristan scrambles by the ash and blood and squirms his way between Sylas and I. Fear leaks off him and weighs heavy in the air.

”Would you calm down?” I peek my head inside a room. ”Your fear is very distracting at the moment.”

”It's the first time I've seen one,” Tristan says with a tremble. ”It's alarming, you know. And really disgusting.”

”And this is the guy the Highers sent to track you down.” Sylas raises his eyebrows.

We reach a door. The steel is dented and bowed at the bottom. A small black box with a flas.h.i.+ng red light and b.u.t.tons is mounted on the wall.

”Do you remember this?” I ask Sylas. ”Have you ever been here before?”

Sylas stares at the door with a sickening look that makes my gut churn. ”This is where the gla.s.s cages are.” He points up to numbers and letters on the wall. ”This is Cell 7.”

”I don't remember this side of the door.” I drop flat on my stomach and peer underneath where the bottom of the door bends up. Lights flicker across a dusty floor. There are footprints tracking through the dust, along with fragments of gla.s.s and thin trails of blood and puss. I sniff the air, detecting a faint hint of decaying flesh.

I start to push up when feet whiz across the other side of the door. My fingers tighten around the knife and I slowly point it at the door.

”What are you looking at?” Sylas asks, getting down on his hands and knees.

”Just a second.” My vision moves with the motions of the feet as it dashes left and right, running its way back and forth. There's a slight pause and then the monster reveals, a ma.s.sive face pressing against the gap between the door and the floor. It's fleshless hand darts forward and its jaw snaps violently.

”Is it a vampire?” Tristan asks fearfully. ”What is it?”

”Nope, not a vamp.” I meet the monsters vacant eyes and jerk the knife over my shoulder. I flip it hard, darting it at the beasts face. The blade stabs between its eyes and it cowers back, shrieking.

”I think we might have another breed like Dominic on our hands.” I push to my feet and grip the handle of the door. ”Stand back.” The metal gripes against my strength and I rip the door from the frame. Down on all fours, with the knife stuck in its forehead, the monster springs for me. I force back and jump kick, slamming my foot into its chest.

It staggers backward with its misshapen legs and I bound forward, wrenching the knife from its head. Wanting to kill me, its arm sideswipes my leg and I flip back, slamming to the concrete floor. I roll over, leap up, and stab the knife into its chest. The monster falls to the floor, panting its last breath.

Sylas circles it. ”It's the same breed as Dominic.”

”I know.” I turn, taking in the familiarity of the room. Gla.s.s cells form the walls, just like I remember. But each cell is empty and at the end, there is no red door. Papers flutter the air as I proceed past the cages. ”Where did the red door go?”

”What is this place?” Tristan asks in awe as he stares at the inside of a cell.

”Be grateful you don't know.” Sylas glances inside a cabinet drawer. There's a tremor to his hand and he pulls back, flexing it at his side.

”Are you okay?” I take his hand and his skin is clammy.

He tugs it away and dries it on the front of his jacket. ”The light's been getting to me, but I'll be fine.” He avoids my eyes and clicks the cabinet door open. I run my fingers along the edge of the cabinet. It's just like the one in the hospital wing at The Colony. Something about it tugs at my brain. Without even knowing why, I tip the structure over. We scatter to the side as the gla.s.s and wood shatters.

”What the h.e.l.l was that for?” Sylas ask.

I point to the wall at a small square of silver. Sylas rips the rounded lock from it and the door swings open.

”Papers.” Sylas takes the stack of papers out and stares at the words neither of us can read. He sifts through them, his eyebrows knitting together. ”You knew these were here?”

I shake my head and pick up the top paper. I turn it around and wonder which way is up and which way is down. ”Any chance you suddenly remembered how to read?” I ask Sylas with a hopeful look.

He flips a paper over, shaking his head. ”But maybe Blondie does.”

”Tristan, can you read?” I glance over my shoulder, but the room is empty. ”s.h.i.+t, I think he ran off.” I hurry to the gla.s.s cells and check each one while Sylas searches the hall. We meet in the doorway, shaking our heads.

”Well, at least we don't have to take care of him anymore.” Sweat drips from Sylas' forehead and dribbles down onto the stack of papers he carries in his hands.

”But we don't know where he's heading.” I take the papers from him and fan through them. ”He could be going to the Highers. Or he could backtrack to the others.”

Sylas rests against the doorframe. ”You're worrying too much again.”

I freeze, hugging the papers to my chest.

Sylas waves his hand in front of my face. ”Are you alive in there?”

I hold up a finger, signaling for him to be quiet. My memories tug at my brain, painful and violent. My head rings and my eyes twitch. I grip the papers.

”Kaylaa.” Sylas' voice fades.

”You're worrying too much again,” Monarch says to Taggart as he rummages through the cabinet drawers. ”This is a flawless plan.”

Gla.s.s cells row the room. I watch from my cell as Monarch maneuvers his hand behind the cabinet in the corner.

”That kind of thinking is what got us into trouble in the first place.” Taggart says, his large shoulders stooped over as he scoots the cabinet from the wall.

”The cameras are off?” Monarch checks with Taggart.

Taggart glances at the ceiling corners and nods. ”But hurry. It won't be long before they figure out they're off.”

Monarch slips behind the cabinet and seconds later, emerges with a stack of papers in his hands. Taggart forces the cabinet back to the wall. Then they head to my cell and I back to the middle as they press the b.u.t.tons. Taggart waits outside, while Monarch slinks in. He's wearing his white coat, smudged with dirt. His grey eyes are warmer and he seems happy.

”This is the last time,” he says, handing me the papers.

I read over them quicker than my brain can process and give the papers back.