“Stand,” the taller one orders through his mask.
I remain sitting on my butt. “Why?”
A huff through a mask. “Get to your feet, now.”
I don’t like it, but not seeing an alternative, I get to my feet, the chains lugging with me.
“Put your hands out,” the other guard commands.
Feeling as though I shifted through time and landed back in The Colony, I obey, raising my arms. The guard clips a cuff to each of my wrists. The cuffs are linked by a short chain that forces my arms together. Then they cuff my legs together, leaving me just enough room to walk, and stealing away my chances of running. They unclip me from the wall and march, one in front of me and one behind, forcing me to move with them. We go back through the tunnel, upstairs, through the packed room, where everyone watches me like I’m some kind of foul creature that’s even worse than a vampire.
I’m not one to cower. I hold my head high, indicating I’m not afraid of them. But they fear me—the air reeks of it. I don’t spot Aiden in the crowd, but that’s okay. I’d rather not see him anyway. He’s already made it perfectly clear what he thinks of me—and he’s lost my trust because of it.
The guards take me down the hall, where the room is that holds the Higher. At first, I wonder if that’s where we’re going. Perhaps they’re going to shove me in with him and let him kill me. But instead they take me to the door opposite his room. They click a key in a lock and push the door open. Then they quickly unlock the chains, shove me inside, and slam the door shut. I hear it click as they lock it, then nothing but silence and my own breath.
The room I stand in is fairly large, all walls padded except for one, which is made of glass. From the other side, a group of people stare at me like I’m a science experiment, sitting in their chairs, fearing what they’ll see, yet they still watch.
I stare at them, not blinking, not moving and it seems to spook them even more. In some weird and sick twisted way, I enjoy that they are afraid of me. At least for the moment, anyway.
A few seconds later, the lights dim to a low blue and the door slowly crawls open. Then something I never would have anticipated comes stumbling inside.
A vampire.
What is this? Some kind of sacrificial ritual?
It slumps to the floor, unconscious, drooling out a puddle of red. Its wounds are fresh and foul, its body still, likes it is dead. But it’s not. When vampires die, their bodies lose all flesh, so there’s nothing left but bones.
I itch my nose, holding my breath, waiting for it to move. When it does, it’s sporadic and impulsive, like it’s overly crazed, even for one of them. Fangs sharpen from its blood-stained lips as it paces back and forth in front of me. Its bloody eyes are all over me, taking me in, deciding whether it wants to take a bite out of me.
I back away, pressing my back against the wall. It sniffs the air like a dog and its lifeless eyes lock on me. Then it charges and I’m shocked. But my leg reacts mechanically, giving a quick blow to the vampire’s stomach. The vampire staggers back, but regains its balance swiftly and comes at me again. I duck to the side, but it catches the hem of my shirt. I twist around and throw my fist into its nose. It screams, not out of pain, but with fury. Its fangs nip, ready to kill me. I try to squirm free, but it throws me to the ground and my skull bangs against the floor. I try to get up, but everything’s spinning.
The vampire shrieks and then moves for me, about to sink its fangs into my neck. But then it hesitates, a quick pause, its body freezing, almost looking human as it contemplates what to do next.
Then, just like the previous two times, it tilts back its head and shouts, “No!” It goes to the door and claws at the metal until its nails bleed raw. The people through the glass window gasp and I know I’m in trouble because obviously they’ve never seen this before.
The vampire continues to let out shriek after shriek as it scratches and bangs its head at the door. The room starts to flood with silver smoke and it collapses. I hack out my lungs but force myself to stay awake. I hear someone enter, a soft rustle, then a crash. I hunt for the door, but the smoke’s too thick and I end up running into the wall.
The door bangs shut, but I’m not alone. The pounding of a heart crams the room like a virus. I stifle my breath and scan the fog. Footsteps pad toward me and I lie down on the ground, flat on my stomach, and crawl across the floor.
The footsteps pause. I press the side of my face to the cold ground, where the smoke is thinner, and spot a set of clunky boots. They move to the left, then the right, before stopping again.
“Kayla.” The voice rings with familiarity, another lost person from The Colony.
I press my lips together, my gaze locked on the boots.
“Kayla.” The boots pace. “Either we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”
I keep still.
A breath of frustration. “Well, then.”
The boots disappear, but the door doesn’t shut. I start to crawl, but an army of boots rush in. A hand grabs my neck and a needle plunges into it, poison pumps through my veins like fire. My eyes roll into the back of my head as the world slips away.
Chapter 22
“Kayla, listen to me,” Monarch says, his voice a whisper, so far away. “This is important. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” I reply in a hollow tone as fog dances around me.
“Good, now I need you to remember, when the time is right,” he rushes his words, fearful of not having enough time. “I need you to remember that the answers are in the watch.”
“What watch?” I ask.
“The watch I gave you.” He sighs. “Everything happens for a reason, Kayla. And when the time comes, I need you to put everything together. I need you to fix all of this.”
“Fix all of what?” I ask.
“Fix the world, Kayla. Fix it back to what it was. Fix my mistakes,” he says. “You’re the only one who can.”
“What mistakes?” I question. “And how will I know when the time is right?”
I get no reply as the fog surrounds me.
My eyelids thunder open like zaps of lightning bolts. I need the watch—Monarch’s pocket watch. My cheek is pressed to a cold brick floor, my wrists and ankles adjoined by chains again, and a lantern sparks above my head. I sit up, only to find that I’m not alone. At first I think he’s a Higher, but his snow-white hair is more a sign of age then of purity. His eyes are a dull grey and his skin is creased with wrinkles. In a way, he kind of reminds me of Monarch, only older.
He’s sitting in a chair, his legs crossed as he stares at the pages of a book.
“Who are you?” I stand, maintaining my balance even though it’s difficult.
His gaze lifts from the book and he smiles. “Hello, Kayla.”
I recognize his voice as the one through the smoke. “Do I know?” I ask and he nods. “From The Colony?”
He rises to his feet, tall and brittle. “Do you know what these are?” He holds up the book, showing me the words.
“I don’t know how to read,” I admit, not ashamed, but wishing I did.
“Hmm?” He says tapping his finger against his lip.
“No one from The Colony does.” I feel the need to defend myself.
“Some do,” he says and then sticks out his hand for me to shake. “My name is Dominic.” I’m hesitant to shake his hand, but he insists so I do. “You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you,” he says.
“And how long ago was that?” I ask. “One year, two years, because I honestly have no idea who you are.”
“Yes, I know.” He takes a seat and gestures at the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”
Shackled and chained, I sit down in the chair. “Are the chains really necessary?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he answers. “But when in doubt, we leave them on.”
Always a prisoner. “What do you want from me?”
“That’s a really good question.” He picks up a cup and sips from it. “And it’s not what we want from you, but what you want from us.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” I say. “Except for you to let me go.”
“That, I can’t do.” He presses his fingers to the sides of his nose, a gesture that reminds me of Monarch. “You’ve put me in a very difficult situation. And I’m not sure what to do. I never thought Monarch would stoop so low … but I guess maybe it was a panicked situation.” He meets my eyes. “Was that it? Was that why he did it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say. “I really don’t.”
He gives a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “He built you well—making sure to include you are a brilliant liar.” He takes another sip of his water. “It’s a good tool to have, you know—keeps people out of your head.”
I start to say something, but stop. “I don’t … what are you saying?”
His gaze spears me. “You really don’t know, do you? About what we did? About where you came from?”
I shake my head slowly, my mind shifting back to the red door, the blood, the scream. “Who’s we?”
He sighs. “Me and Monarch … I used to be a doctor at The Colony.”
“But you’re out here, now.” I say. “I thought only Bellators were chosen for The Gathering.”
“I am a Bellator. Or was one anyway,” He says and when I eye him, he adds, “Don’t let this weak old body fool you. Looks can be deceiving, like yours.” He’s speaking to himself not me. He scoots his chair forward. “I’m going to get right to the point, Kayla. There’s no more tiptoeing around it. I think you’re Higher.”
I’m stunned, my arms loose on my lap, my mouth hanging open. “How can I be a Higher? No one can just become a Higher.”
“Someone can become a Higher just as easily as someone can become a vampire,” he says. “You just have to know the right people, who know the right medicine.” He stabs a finger in my direction. “And you know the right people.”