I make sure to keep a healthy distance between me and the enclosure, afraid if I get too close, the creature will swipe through the bars and get ahold of me. Shadows cast over the structure, light and dark mingling over the small space. A space that looks even smaller than the one I had. My heart stills in my chest as my eyes catch sight of the cowering creature in the farthest corner.
There are so many conflicting things wrong with this picture. The glowing eyes and snarling mouth with rows of razor-sharp teeth are both on this otherwise seemingly normal…fae?
My mouth gapes open in horror. “What are you?” The question hangs heavy in the air, stretching thin between the empty space. The creature turns its head like it understood, and it very well could’ve. But the off-the-wall shit is that it looks to be half Demicrogen, making the already jumbled images in my head blurry, unable to make sense of it all.
It stares at me as I take sideways steps, crossing one leg over the other in slow, unrushed movements, needing to get to the other side to get a better look. I raise the torch higher, but it quickly tries to get farther away, shying away from the orange hue threatening to expose its face. My hip bumps something off a nearby table, knocking it onto the ground and startling not only me but the beast.
I swear for a moment he was embedded into the bars.
It bares its teeth at me as I bend down to pick up what fell, and I never take my eyes off him as I slowly wrap my fingers around the velvety leather binding. Luckily, there’s another holder close by, and I gently place the torch inside.
I remove the strap, and the journal nearly busts open. Turning to a random page, I hold it close enough to the flame that I can make out some of the words—words scribbled in Callum’s handwriting. Data entries litter the paper. Some of the information doesn’t make any sense, but others are just simple intake and outtake. My eyes shift up at the creature then back down at the notes, connecting the dots. He captured this creature? Studying it like a rat in a lab?
I flip all the way to the front, wondering if there’s a name written down somewhere. But all I find is more unanswered questions.
Name: Unknown
Origin: Unknown
Purpose: Unknown
Species: Demicrogen, Fae
Powers: Unknown
Do powers transfer once the transformation is complete?: Unknown
But in the midst of my research, I never heard the footsteps, never heard the stairs creak. And the sound of his voice transports me back in time, sending chills down my spine that has nothing to do with the dropping temperatures.
“Looks like you’ve stumbled into my playroom.”
THIRTY-SIX
Subject 763
Kallie whips around to face me, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says on a breath. I should’ve known she’d end up here. She never could help herself. Such a curious, prodding mind. My eyes don’t waver from hers, but there’s a slight tension in her shoulders, keeping her guard up by just a fraction, never fully letting herself relax.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Lucky guess.” My head tilts to the side, analyzing every dip and curve of her body and noting the dagger resting in the sheath around her thigh. Her body still doesn’t relax underneath my predatory gaze. In fact, she looks like she’s winding up even tighter.
Her heart thrums like a war drum, beating faster with each passing second. She’s scared—I don’t need to get into her head to know that—but I don’t think it’s me scaring her. No, I think it has everything to do with the secrets I’ve been keeping andwhatever truths she’s found inside the journal she’s clutching like a lifeline.
“I see you’ve stumbled upon my research.” My grin widens instinctively as the notes of my voice cause the creature to fling itself against the bars. Kallie’s neck stiffens, fighting against the urge to look toward the clatter. But she’s smart and keeps her wide eyes trained on me. Can she sense the shift? Feel the magnetic pull but know she shouldn’t follow it?
“Research is a bit of a stretch,” she quips. “I’d say it’s a log of all your sadistic torture sessions.” The flame on the wall casts shadows across her olive skin, flicking over it just enough to make out the hard set of her jaw.
My hand sprawls out over my chest, like I’ve been wounded. “Sadistic? Torture? It pains me to think you would associate me with such words.” Sarcasm drips from my lips, and even in this low lighting, I can see her eyes roll. I take a leisurely step forward, keeping a close eye on how her body shifts. “You think I’m the one who tortured that creature?”
She scoffs. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a fucking duck.”
I stop mid-stride, tilting my head to the side. “Neither of us are ducks.”
“You, owner of this home, have that”—she points at the creature in the cage, color returning to her fingers almost instantly after gripping the notebook so hard—“in your home, with this”—she shakes the pages vigorously—“with every word scribbled in your hand writing, and you’re saying that you’re not the one who tortured it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Her walls are up, like a fortress of steel, but I can see the wheels turning, trying to make sense of it all. “I was trying to save it,” I admit. And by the puzzled look on her face, I know I’ve only confused her more.
“I’m not following.”
