“I’m not torturing you.” The crunch of gravel broke through the conversation. A large vehicle slowly moved past us before pulling to the side of the road.
“Hurry, get up. Since you handle toxins better, you get to help me move them. They might not wake up for hours; it’s hard to tell.” The driver of the SUV squinted at us through his window.
“No more yelling,” Orson added with a hiss under his breath before walking away. My head still felt thick as the drug slowly worked its way out of my system.
“Ivan?” Orson asked the driver.
“Yeah. Why are those two asleep?” The guy, Ivan, asked over the hum of his idling car. He peered at me through his cracked window.
“Drunk,” Orson offered. The driver went from apprehensive to irritated.
“That’s extra. They won’t throw up, right?”
“No, they’re out for the night,” Orson said. Ivan sat there, staring at Orson for a while, trying to decide whether he looked trustworthy. Eventually, a click sounded, the doors unlocking. Either this man was a terrible judge of character, or Orson had far too much experience pretending to be trustworthy. My guess was the latter. Orson trotted back to me.
“You get Bree,” he commanded. “I’ll get Nemo.”
“Where’s Levi?” I asked.
“We aren’t taking him,” he said, before walking away. I sighed and stood up. The book was still on the floorboard. Quickly, I slipped it into my pants. In theory, I could read it.However, it was going to take dusting off mental cobwebs since, at the ripe age of eight, I’d killed my French instructor.C’est la vie, orc’est la mort, in this case.
Really, I'd been fluent, but a couple of decades rotting my brain in Verfallen was going to make remembering difficult. My parents' twisted family line had mostly been in French-speaking countries before settling here. So the language was deemed necessary. Apparently, abominations need schooling too. A mini-peek inside the book earlier had revealed that it was a personal journal. I’d figure it out when I had more time.
The partially melted soles of my boots were somewhat uneven, making me wobble the first few steps rounding Orson’s car. I pulled my mask up slightly and spat the taste of chemicals from my mouth. Grass sizzled where my saliva landed.
Just past the tree line, I saw a body and made my way over. Levi had been dumped unceremoniously. We must not have been on the road for long because his eyes were still bright blue, facing the sky.
Levi was a mystery. The life he’d had at Verfallen was equivalent to torture and he’d been there a very long time. Long enough to know things no one else did. I tapped the journal in my pants, wondering why he was determined to give it to me. How did Levi know the man behind Supra, or that he’d be after me?
Could Levi have been there when the place was made? And why was he in that locked hall with no other creatures? There was only him and rooms filled with files—things Supra didn’t want anyone to know about. Why hide Levi?
I eyed the state his corpse was in, half man, half sea snake. The odd thing was that the asylum’s shifting suppressant had to be injected monthly and it held shifters in their human state. Levi had been stuck in the wrong form, and no one had visitedhim in years. I’d wiped layers of dust off his door when I first found it.
“Bise,” I imagined him saying again.See you later.
“Not really something I want to hear from a dead man.” I left his body there, trailing back to the car.
Bree was nestled into the front seat, sleeping peacefully. She looked fragile this way. My gloved fingers moved hair from her face. I’d never seen her in moonlight. Her skin almost glowed, and her long red hair begged to be pet. I could stare at her for hours. Part of me wanted to waste time doing just that. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to keep moving in the opposite direction of my fucked up home-slash-prison. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much argument left. Verfallen was gone, and I could hear bugs in the trees at my back. It sent a chill up my spine. The other inmates discussed insects in horror—miniature monsters that could crawl in your holes. Apparently, it was called a cockroach for a reason. I never ran across anything that traumatic before Verfallen, and I hoped I didn’t now.
With great care, I picked Bree up. Orson was fighting to move Nemo. His shiny dress shoes dug into the outside of the car while he pulled Nemo’s arms with all his strength.
“Good luck with that,” I said, moving Bree towards the large vehicle. Gently, I slid her into the back seat, then buckled her in. Orson stomped back to the driver and asked for his help. Eventually, they both managed to shove Nemo into the ass of the vehicle, tucking him in next to a cooler, a condom wrapper, and a suspiciously dirty towel.
“He's not going to throw up back here?” The driver demanded, needing more confirmation from Orson. Ivan seemed really concerned with vomit. Which was silly—it was nothing a high-powered hose couldn’t fix.
“I swear he won't," Orson said, smoothing over the driver's worries. Had to admit … I was impressed. Not sure I ever made anyone less worried.
“Shotgun!” I yelled. Quickly, I darted to the front and climbed into the seat next to Ivan. Orson slid in the back next to Bree while shooting me an irritated glare.
Ivan got in and flicked an electronic brick attached to the car's vents.
“Just to the hotel?” He asked no one in particular.
“That's right,” Orson said. The car pulled back onto the street and took off. I felt unmoored, like a lost animal. There were probably questions I could ask, the name of the hotel, how far it was, but I knew it wouldn't help. The issue was bigger than that.
The trees beside the road were shadows, and the car's vents expelled cold air, making me shift uncomfortably from the chill. It'd been months since the asylum air conditioning worked, and I'd grown used to the warmth.
After several minutes of silence, I looked in the backseat at Orson. We had some unfinished business to discuss.
