I slowed my approach, pressing against the damp stone wall.Voices drifted from within—Gallow’s clinical monotone punctuated by occasional whimpers that tightened my chest with recognition.Thomas.
“Subject Four shows a promising response to threshold suppression,” Gallow was saying, his voice carrying the detached interest of a man cataloging butterfly specimens.“Note the decreased sensitivity to blood stimulus when compared to initial baseline.”
I edged closer to the door, positioning myself to peer through the narrow opening.The scene within froze my dead heart anew.The scriptorium had been transformed into something between a medical clinic and a torture chamber.Where monks had once illuminated sacred texts, metal tables now gleamed under harsh electric lights.Thomas lay strapped to one of the tables, his body rigid with pain, eyes rolled back to show only whites.Catherine occupied a second table, her slight form trembling violently as Gallow inserted a needle into her arm.
“Hunger cycle interruption requires precise timing,” Gallow continued, apparently lecturing to an unseen audience.“Too soon, and the subject retains aggressive tendencies.Too late, and we risk permanent regression to feral state.”
I caught sight of movement in the corner—a figure taking notes.Dr.Gallow’s assistant, no doubt, documenting every moment of this “experiment.”On a nearby table lay open files.
Thomas convulsed suddenly, fangs descending involuntarily as Gallow pressed a cloth soaked in blood to his face, then withdrew it.“Observe the delayed response time,” he noted with satisfaction.“Previous exposure required immediate restraint.Now we can measure resistance in seconds.”
Rage swept through me like wildfire.I shoved the door open with enough force to crack the ancient wood, stepping into the harsh light with fists clenched.
“What are you doing to them?”I demanded.
Gallow didn’t even flinch at my entrance.He merely adjusted his spectacles and made another notation on his clipboard.“Preparation,” he answered calmly.“For the mission you agreed to undertake.”
“I agreed to lead my flock into battle,” I countered, moving toward Thomas.“Not to have them experimented upon like laboratory animals.”
“You agreed to follow orders,” Gallow corrected, stepping between me and Thomas’s prone form.“The General was quite explicit that all unit members must undergo combat stabilization protocols before the Messines operation.”
“Combat stabilization?”I gestured toward Thomas’s contorted features.“This looks like torture, not preparation.”
“On the contrary,” Gallow replied.“I’m preventing torture—the self-torture your kind experiences when bloodlust overwhelms reason.These injections suppress threshold response while maintaining combat effectiveness.Quite humanely, considering the alternatives.”
I reached for the restraints binding Thomas, but Gallow’s voice stopped me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.He’s currently in a transitional state.Release him now, and he’ll attack anything with a pulse.Including our French liaison, who I believe has taken quite an interest in your welfare.”
The threat hung in the air between us—not just to Thomas, but to Dupont, the one human who had shown some understanding of our condition.
“You have no right—“ I began.
“He has every right,” interrupted a new voice from the doorway.
Captain Mercer materialized from the shadows, his uniform impeccable as always.“Dr.Gallow operates with the full authority of General Gantry and the United States government.Authority you agreed to respect when you accepted this mission.”
“I never agreed to donate my people as lab rats,” I protested.
“You agreed to make them combat ready,” Mercer countered, stepping fully into the room.“Dr.Gallow’s methods, while unorthodox, have proven effective in previous engagements.”
Previous engagements.The words sent ice through my veins.“You’ve done this before.”
A thin smile crossed Mercer’s lips.“How do you think I maintain perfect control after centuries, Alice?Pure willpower?Faith?”He spat the last word like a curse.“Science has provided what religion could not—predictability.”
Gallow removed the needle from Catherine’s arm and placed it carefully on a metal tray.Her trembling subsided gradually, her eyes focusing once more, though something vital seemed dimmed in their depths.
“The treatments are temporary,” Gallow explained, his tone suggesting he was granting me a great kindness with this information.“Three to five days of enhanced control, reduced blood sensitivity, increased combat aggression.Perfect for our mission parameters.”
“And the side effects?”I demanded.
“Minimal,” he replied, though something in his averted gaze suggested otherwise.“Some discomfort during administration.Temporary dissociation.Slightly increased light sensitivity.”
“He’s lying,” Catherine whispered, her voice so faint only vampire hearing could detect it.“Something’s missing...inside.I can’t feel...anything.”
The door opened wider as Ruth entered, followed closely by Rebecca and Constance.Their eyes widened at the scene before them, but none showed the horror I expected—only grim resignation.
“I told them you’d object,” Mercer said quietly.“That your spiritual approach would clash with tactical necessity.”
