“I can’t love someone I barely know,” I breathe softly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t feel it.”
He embraces me tighter, refusing to let go. I meet Sylas’ eyes and regrettably mouth, a little help please.
His eyes twinkle as he pops his neck and knuckles. “I thought you’d never ask.”
In a flash, he’s next to us. Before Aiden can react, he bashes him over the head with his elbow. Aiden collapses to the dirt. In reaction, I catch him. But he pulls me down with him and his heavy limbs confine me to the floor.
I try to scoot out from under him. “Sylas, a little help please.”
He rolls his eyes and hauls Aiden off. “You’re starting to ask for my help a lot.”
Ignoring him, I sit in front of Ryder. She stares at the wall blankly and the circle on her neck is faded to a dull glow. “Ryder.” I snap my fingers in front of her face. “Can you hear me?”
She cocks her head to the side. “Monstru.”
“She called you a monster.” Sylas bends down and claps his hands inches from Ryder’s face. “Ryder, give Kayla’s memories back.”
Astonishingly, Ryder listens to him. She reaches her hand out and places it to my temple. Then with her free hand, she gently touches Aiden’s arm.
“Conecta,” she whispers.
There’s a flash of blue light so blinding I soar backward.
Sylas’ face appears above me. “Do you remember anything yet?”
“No,” I say mutely. “I don’t.”
Because all that fills me is blood. Blood that stains my hands. Blood from the lives I took.
Chapter 12
I’m standing in a glass cage, fenced by others just like it. My hands are pressed against the glass as I stare at a girl trapped in the cage across from mine. Her skin’s like snow, her hair like ash. She’s crying, tears staining her cheeks and eyes. Outside the glass, Watchers roam, dressed in their black suits, masks concealing their identities. Belts strap their waists, securing Tasers.
Up and down, up and down, I watch them march, never taking my eyes off them.
“Kayla.” Monarch’s voice drifts through my cell. I glance up at the white ceiling, at a speaker mounted in the concrete. “Do you think you can try for me one more time?”
I nod, numbly. A beep and the door to my cell glides open. A Watcher steps in and I robotically show him the numbers on my wrists, like I’ve done it a thousand times. He scans my wrists with a hand-held machine and the screen glows red. The Watcher steps aside and I troop out. The girl across from me sobs hysterically and I consider shutting her up in ways I didn’t think were possible.
Sharply turning to the right, I march down the long, narrow hall squared with glass cages. Some are empty, others hold people. Some are crying, some dazed, others are asleep. I focus on the red door at the end. Above it, reads Cell 7 and I read it like it is the most natural thing in the world. When I reach it, I know it’s time. The Watcher slides a card through the ID scanner. It flashes red and beeps twice. Then the door clicks open. The Watcher backs away and I enter. The room is a square sheet of concrete and chains hang from the walls and ceiling. Blood stains the floors and walls. There are no screams, no noise, not even the beat of my heart.
I walk to a circle in the center of the room and stand with my arms slack to my side. Then I wait, unafraid. From the hall to my right, two figures descend. One stands tall, the other dragging their feet. Their heart’s pounding and fear leaks off them, tainting the air.
Monarch enters the room and beside him is a girl maybe twelve-years-old. Her blond hair is tied in knots and her blue eyes are bloodshot. She blinks at me, hopeful. But something in my expression sets her off and she starts to bawl. She falls to her knees and drops her hands over her head.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she cries, her shoulders trembling. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No one said you did,” Monarch’s voice is harsh—this is not the Monarch I know. “But we all have to make sacrifices. Kayla, whenever you’re ready.”
I inch forward, my eyes targeted on the girl.
“And whatever you do,” Monarch backs up to the wall, “don’t mess it up this time. Remember, this girl is not your friend. She is your enemy. You will not back down this time.”
I shake my head. “No, I won’t.” I creep forward and stare down at the girl. Feelings of guilt and a heavy conscious rise in me, but I shove them away. I grab the girl by the hair and hesitate.
“Turn it off,” Monarch commands. “Don’t let it get to you.”
I nod and attack. I’m aware of every detail in the horrible crime I commit. When I’m finished, I back away with the girl’s blood on my hands. Monarch proudly smiles, but sadness hues his eyes.
“Very good.” He nods and motions at the door at a group of people in white coats. There are ten maybe twelve of them—short, fat, bald, male, female—all kinds of varieties, but each one of them wants the same thing. They want to be like me. I recognize one in particular. Dominic. Only he has fewer wrinkles and more color to his hair.
“You think the virus is ready then?” A taller one with a crew cut asks. “You think it’s finally perfected?”
Monarch gestures his hand at me. “If she’s not proof enough, then I don’t know what is.”
A woman with glasses framing her narrow face nods excitedly. “Then it’s time.” She pens a few notes on her clipboard.
A shorter man with a bald head steps forward, his eyes disagreeable, “You said it was perfected the last time and it wasn’t.”
Monarch gestures at me. “Do you see her flesh decomposing? Her eyes bleeding? Do you see her feel anything but to obey?”
“Well, we don’t want to obey,” he says and the rest of the white-coat group is suddenly paying full attention. “We want to control.”
“Oh, I can assure you she can control,” Monarch says. “But if you want, I can show you.”
The man eyes Monarch warily. “Fine, show me.”
Monarch steps aside and motions the man to step forward. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The man reverses, taken back. “You want her to try and kill me?”
Monarch slips his coat off and drops it to the floor. “No, I want you to try and kill me.”
The man hesitates, glancing at his colleagues for assistance.
“What’s the matter, Gabrielle?” Monarch asks. “Afraid I might get the best of you.”
Gabrielle shucks off his coat, balls it up, and throws it in the corner. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
The men grin at each other and I step back robotically, giving them room to circle each other. They hunch over with their fists out—they are completely inexperienced fighters. Gabrielle takes the first jab and Monarch ducks.
Gabrielle laughs. “Nice move.”
Monarch grins and Gabrielle slams his fist straight into Monarch’s cheekbone. His head knocks back and blood splashes from his mouth. Monarch spits out a tooth and raises his fists.
“You’re not done?” Gabrielle questions with a smile.
“I told you to try and kill me,” Monarch says. “Not knock me around a little.”
Gabrielle shrugs and then lunges, cupping his hands around Monarch’s neck. My foot inches forward, debating whether to help.
Gabrielle’s knuckles whiten as he chokes the life from Monarch. Monarch clutches his arms, gasping, eyes bulging, his skin a pasty white. My other foot glides forward as I wonder if Monarch is hurt.
Gabrielle tightens his grip. “Had enough yet?”
“Never,” Monarch chokes, his heart murmuring. He reaches his last breath and that’s when I realize I can’t watch it. Dashing for him, I slam Gabrielle to the ground. He flips to his back, his green eyes glistened with panic.
Fangs slip from my lips and I tip my head back, growling
“Kayla,” he says. “I wasn’t going to hurt him. I swear.”
“You’re lying,” I say and sink my fangs violently into his neck, drinking his blood until Monarch pulls me off.
“That’s enough, Kayla.” His eyes are soft and he wipes a smudge of blood from my forehead.
Gabrielle sits up, pressing his hand to the bleeding wound on his neck. “She bit me. Monarch, what did you do to me?”
“You tell me?” Monarch asks. “Can you feel it?”
He eyes over his skin as the creases erase. Then he touches his heart and his eyes lit up. “Monarch, you’re brilliant.”
Monarch gives Gabrielle his hand and helps him to his feet. “Then it’s ready.”
Monarch nods and the rest of the white-coats file out of the room. Gabrielle’s still shaking his head in disbelief. Monarch shuts the door and his expression twists in puzzlement as he touches his neck where Gabrielle’s handprints imprint his skin.
I stand emotionless, blood dripping from my hands, trying not to think about everything I’ve done.
“You can go back to your room, Kayla.” Monarch meets my eyes. “You did very well today.”
I wait for the red door to open. A Watcher’s waiting for me on the other side, breathing heavily through his mask. He shuts the door and I follow him back to my cell, leaving a path of blood behind me. I step in and the door shuts. I stare straight ahead at the sobbing pale girl, only she’s no longer sobbing. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes rapidly. Her heart pumps hard until it stops pumping altogether. Her lips start to drool and she peels a chunk of her skin off. Her eyes bleed as she gazes at me. Then she rams into the glass over and over again, beating herself raw. She bangs her head, screams, rips out her hair until two Watchers appear with a Taser attached to a long metal pole. They crack the door open and shock the girl over and over again. She collapses to the floor and her eyes roll into the back of her head. They carry her out and I keep my gaze fixated on her all the way to the end, where they disappear behind the red door.