“If you’re going to fuck with the boys, don’t leave us out next time,” Gage says. “You know I enjoy the Trials, but with my son being in them, it’s the highlight of my year.”
Kent dips his head toward the computers. “Have you already begun the evaluation?”
“Yes.” Edward gestures to the two men and then the empty conference table. “Join me.”
“Should we invite Ames since he created the toxin?” Kent asks. “As the poisons master, he’ll be pissed if we slight him.”
Gage walks over to a chair and sits, resting his feet on the surface. “Ames isn’t a council member like us, so I don’t give a fuck what he wants. Besides, his empire’s earnings are shit compared to mine.”
Edward and Kent take up seats on either side of Gage. I stand still, grateful they’ve either ignored or forgotten my presence. I angle my head to keep my gaze on the monitors, while maintaining the trio in my peripheral. There’s not much I can do to fight them off if they come after me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
“Let’s start with the identification accuracy,” Edward says, peering closely at a monitor showing a recruit mixing clear liquids. “None of them has been successful thus far. However, a thorough process of elimination should lead them to an answer in the next half hour. You haven’t missed anything.”
Kent taps the tabletop. “If they’re smart, they’ll immediately test for the rarer toxins, given their symptoms. If they’re brilliant, they’ll gather the clue from the Sanguine Solstice.”
“Remind me of the criteria again?” Gage asks.
The door to the room opens once more. And once again, chills skitter along my spine. Professor Ames stands in the doorway with a calm expression. If you ignore the blaze of anger in his eyes.
“The criteria is identification accuracy, the speed of administration, and the efficacy of the antidote.” He pauses to adjust his sleeve. “And staying alive, I suppose. Although that’s more of a ‘pass-or-fail’ grading, which is the ultimate goal of this Trial but also besides the point.”
Edward rises to his feet. “Welcome, Ames. Join us.”
“Why is she here?” The professor asks, his gaze narrowed with suspicion.
Gage waves a hand. “Good old Donovan has decided to use her to fuck with his son. That’s all. Ignore her.”
Yes, please do that.
Professor Ames’s mouth tightens with disapproval, but he nods and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him. His aloof demeanor somehow adds gravity to the situation, a silent testament to the seriousness of the trial at hand. He moves closer to the bank of monitors, his eyes quickly scanning the images displayed.
“So, how are they performing?” he asks, his voice steady but carrying an edge.
Edward taps his legal pad with his pen. “Most are coping well. It’s too early to tell, although you can see how some of the recruits drank a lot earlier. Poor bastards are already showing signs of decline.”
Professor Ames hums in response, clasping his hands behind his back. He says nothing for a while before gesturing towards a screen showing a young recruit frantically mixing substances. “They must synthesize their own antidotes. Time is a luxury they cannot afford. Some more than others.”
His tone is distant, as though he’s talking to himself. The other men in the room must’ve come to this conclusion also because none of them make a comment. Instead, they jot down their own notes, the sounds of their pens scratching against paper the only noise in the room other than the speakers transferring the soundtrack of the recruits’ impending demise.
Ames takes a seat next to Edward, his gaze no less hostile than when he first entered the room. “The efficacy of the antidote—how are we measuring that precisely? Time to symptomatic relief or complete biochemical recovery?”
“Time to symptomatic relief,” replies Kent, who has been quietly making notes. “Complete recovery will happen with the assistance of a medical team, but immediate response gives us considerable data on the antidote’s effectiveness and the recruit’s skill in application.”
The discussion turns technical, losing me completely. I don’t even try to understand the complex medical jargon. In truth, my attention is firmly locked on the monitors displaying the live feed of Xavier and Ben.
Xavier seems to be doing okay, his face set in a mask of concentration as he methodically works on testing different substances. His calm demeanor offers a little comfort, but it’s fragile, easily shattered by the sight of Ben.
My foster brother’s movements have become sluggish, his face pale and glistening with sweat, easily seen even on the other side of the camera lenses. He grips the edge of the lab table, his breathing heavy and labored. Panic clenches my stomach, and it takes all my self-control to keep my reaction internalized and my face neutral.
The poison is killing him right before my eyes.
I stand here without the ability to do anything, the frustration strong enough to make me scream. And I will if either of them die.
Right after I’ve killed everyone is this room.
Or at least die trying to.
Chapter 27
