She barely heard the patron’s comments on the state of the barn as one of his guards pulled open the cheerful red door. They paused as he ducked inside. A moment later he reemerged, nodded, and held the door for the party to enter.
Her vision narrowed into a pinprick. She moved on automation as the patron guided her forward. Her father must have pointed out which cell was Otto’s because he led her right to it.
The urge to cry, scream, fight, run, or be sick all warred inside of her in the precious seconds it took for her father to step up and trace the sigil on dull metal door. Teeth gritted, he slid the bolt free and opened it.
The patron gently removed her hand from his elbow with a small, encouraging pat of her knuckles.
And there he was.My mate.
Josephine couldn’t decide if she was relieved or horrified to find him still chained to the wall, his shackles linked. He hadn’t even touched his breakfast.
He had, however, moved the blankets.
Josephine met his concerned gaze with a look of pure agony.I’m sorry,she wished she could scream.I’m sorry, my mate. I wasn’t fast enough.
If she’d acted the previous night, none of this would have happened. She’d had the keys. The chance. But he’d warned her not to move too quickly, that they had time to prepare, and that he would not tolerate her taking risks with her safety. They needed supplies, he said. They would be traveling through the wilderness to find his battalion. She was to be safe, to collect what they would need, and then release him. There was no rush.
She listened to him and now she bitterly regretted it.
If they somehow managed to escape, and if by some miracle he still wanted her after she killed his soul, then Josephine was quite certain she would never listen to him again.
The patron’s impressed whistle bounced off of the stone walls. “Quite the specimen you’ve got, Doctor.”
“Yes,” her father answered impatiently. “A strong, healthy subject creates a much stronger were. This is why the process takes time.”
“No, the process takes time because you are focused onitand not theresult.”The patron made an annoyed chuffing sound and waved an elegant hand at the wall of unused cells. “Every one of those cells could be full, and yet you claim to only be able to accept one subject at a time? For what reason? Your daughter could bite several soldiers a day, every day.”
“We do not have the staff—”
“Because you refused to accept ours,” he cut in, a hair-raising thread of censure entering his pleasant voice. “You requested only your assistant, if I recall correctly.”
“I don’t trust outsiders.”
The patron’s eyes took on a strange quality then. A ring of pure white light formed around his pupils when he answered, “And we do not trustyou.That is why I’m here.”
It was a terrifying thing to see the true, raw power of a person one moment and then watch the mask come down again just as quickly. In what felt like a blink, the patron was once more jovial, his smile bright as he eyed Josephine speculatively, “How many men could she infect in a day?”
Josephine could almost hear her father’s teeth grinding. “She only has so much venom. My estimate is three, if we were conservative with the dosage.”
The patron’s eyes glowed brighter. “Ah, another failing, then.”
“What—”
“My dear Miss Wyeth,” he said, turning to her with that unsettling fatherly look, “we are immensely grateful for your contribution to our efforts, but it appears you are not as efficient as we would like. Perhaps we will find better use for you when we return to the enclave. Tell me, Doctor, seeing as she is the only infected woman, have you attempted to breed her?”
Otto’s chains clinked quietly in the shadows of the cell. A growl, so deep and low it was not truly discernible to the ear, thrummed in the air. Josephine squeezed her eyes shut, desperately attempting to stop the swell of nausea that threatened to drag her under.
It was Harrod who dared to answer. “Not— no, not yet. We have plans for her to be… We discussed the possibility of her bearing children.”
“Ah, then perhaps we should investigate that possibility when we return. It would certainly be the long way ’round to making a were, but intriguing nonetheless.” His eyes moved back to her father, dismissing Harrod with obvious contempt. As they did so, his kindly expression melted into one of cool displeasure. “You see, Doctor, we have been conducting experiments of our own. Miss Wyeth may only be able to infect three men a day, but our maximum has been fifteen.”
Josephine swayed on her feet.Fifteen a day? They don’t need him.
He didn’t need to say it. The words hung in the air, nearly visible to the naked eye.
Her father said nothing. It looked as if he could not comprehend what the patron was telling him. Words tumbled from his lips, but they were plaintive, almost confused. “The… the lyssa Josephine carries is— thepurityof the—”
The patron waved a hand, stopping her father’s rambling. He turned back to her. “Now, my darling, let us get this over with so we might get some lunch and then begone from this dreadful place. A nip to the shoulder should do the trick.”
